Mark Tuan is the first thing I see as soon as I walk out of our front door that Monday morning. He has his back to me, hands in his pockets, and one foot on his skateboard like some teenage shoujo manga hero straight from the live action movie. I’m only halfway out the door, and am seriously considering going back inside if only there was another way out the street. But my house only has the one door and I don’t want to be late for the first day back to school. I step out and close the door loudly behind me.

Mark looks at me from over his shoulder and shrugs. “Hey.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Let’s walk together.”

That’s it. Simple. Straight to the point. Annoyingly vague and not a proper answer to my question. And then, just like that, everything clicks. It all makes sense. It’s like the clouds have parted to reveal the holy light of revelations. Play the Hallelujah Chorus. I get it now.

“Do you really have a death wish on me? Is that what this is about?”

It’s not always that Mark’s face moves to indicate any form of reaction or emotion, so when his face pulls into a large grin and his eyes crinkle in the cutest way ever, I’m unable to hold on to my accusations. Mark starts laughing. Loud. Very loud. The can’t-breathe-stomach-clutching-tear-in-your-eye kind of laugh. Rude.

I scowl at him. “What now?”

“Why would you think that?” He asks between gulps of air.

“Because…” It comes out as a whine. “This is like I’m asking for the entire universe to hit me with their best shot. Walking with you is like confirming all the things that aren’t actual things because people are so stupid.”

I know I said I wouldn’t look, but my new social media notoriety is a train wreck I couldn’t look away from. Nari and Youngjae had warned me of the dangers of going to the deep end of the cesspools of social media, but I was curious. I needed to know what people were saying about me. Not because I enjoyed being talked about, but because I had to know what I’m up against. I had prepared myself for the worst, so when I did see what people are saying about me, it didn’t hit as hard as I thought it would. Really, some people need to be more creative with their curses and their insults.

“People are stupid. Let’s go. I don’t want to be late.”

I conditioned myself to walk with Mark’s shadow, but every time I lag a step behind, Mark seems to just know it’s going to happen that he looks at me and stares at me so we walk together at the same time. With the same footfalls. It’s ridiculous. I can’t catch a break.

“Did you make up with Nari and Youngjae?” he asks as we turn the corner towards the main road.

“I did. What about you and Jackson?”

He shrugs. I’m not even annoyed anymore. “Hasn’t talked to me in two weeks.”

“I’m sorry.” Wait, why am I apologizing? This is all Mark’s fault. “No, I take that back. I’m not sorry.”

He chuckles to himself. “Whatever. He’ll get over it. He was in training camp the whole time anyway so I’m sure he’s already stabbed a couple of guys and imagined it was me. So all that aggression’s been taken care of.”

I can never tell if Mark is serious about all these allegations of Jackson stabbing him with his sabre. The worst part is I can imagine it happening. Regardless if it’s my fault or not. The rest of the walk is silent, punctuated only with random topics that don’t really take root and are never fully developed into actual conversation. It occurred to me, as we entered the school gates, that maybe Mark was just looking for someone, anyone, to go through the disaster we were both willingly walking into.

That someone was me.

I mean, sure it’s not like he has a choice because I’m the other half of this crazy debacle, but the thought sends something warm running through the back of my neck and to my cheeks. Did all of his and Jackson’s mutual friends team up with Jackson instead? Did Mark have no one?

“This isn’t so bad,” Mark says as we go through the entryway to the main building.

Sure, there were stares and pointed fingers, and whispers, and judgey looks, but overall it wasn’t the chaotic dystopia-esque opening sequence I had mentally prepared for. No Battle Royale, no fire cannons ready to shoot at me, no buckets of water or potted plants ready to fall on my head and kill me. There isn’t even a red card in my locker.

“You don’t actually have to come all the way here, you know.”

I’m not even looking and I know he’s shrugging. “Just making sure.”

I didn’t ask for this, I remind myself. Not this, exactly. Mark leans against the locker next to mine and lazily scans the hallway for anything that might jump at us. “Why do I feel like we’re in a horror movie?”

“You brought this upon yourself,” I remind him. “For The Incident at the beach.”

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

I scoff. “Why are you still here?”

“I’ll walk you to your class.”

I’d negotiate, but the tone of his voice made the decision final with no room for objections. “You’ll tell me if people give you a hard time, right?” I ask, just before the threshold of my classroom. Not that I can do anything about it as I’m a mere second year, but Mark should at least know that I’m, for the lack of a better term, his friend.

Mark tilts his head to the side and gives me that lopsided smile. “Yes, honey.”

I’d punch him if I weren’t imploding against my will. “I hate you. Now go away.”

Mark peeks inside the classroom first, and after he’s sure it’s safe, walks off to the direction of the stairs to the third floor.

Nari flies the distance between her class and mine and Youngjae’s, and the three of us are huddled by my seat, incoherent and not calm. Nari isn’t even speaking in intelligible sentences. It’s all gurgles and blurbs of random syllables and squeals put together. Youngjae is slapping Nari’s arm and shaking me senseless. Meanwhile, I’m brain dead, probably.

“What was that?” Nari finally manages to say. “Did I just really see that?”

“How? When? Why?” are Youngjae’s first words.

“I don’t know. He was waiting for me by my house this morning. I think he’s just as worried as we are about what’s going to happen today.”

“Did anyone see you?” Nari means if Jackson or Namjoon saw us.

“I don’t think so.” But I didn’t really see anyone else either. The walls have eyes and ears, and the news would travel faster than the speed of light. “But that’s impossible, right? Someone’s going to tell someone and we’re doomed.”

“Okay, we’re over-reacting,” Youngjae says. “Let’s be calm. The worst wave will probably hit by lunch. We’ll regroup for lunch, okay? Then we’ll figure out how to mitigate the damages.”

I sincerely hope we’re over-reacting.

“Did Mark say anything?” Youngjae asks.

I’m trying not to remember what Mark just said. “Just that Jackson hasn’t spoken to him either. I really hope I get the worst of the beating in this. Mark was just being nice to me.”

“And you’re being heroic,” Nari points out. “At least he’s looking out for you? That’s big.”

I hope it’s not big enough to blow over my face once all this is yesterday’s blog post.

For the rest of the week, I tread through school like I would piranha-infested waters. Maybe add in a few sharks, a bunch of venomous snakes, rabid werewolves, blood- vampires, and maybe an asteroid or two. Throw in the zombie-apocalypse for fun.

Sometimes, I use hyperbole for humor. Other times, I use it to maintain my sanity.

Mark was ridiculously religious with this new routine of his. He’d be at my door in the mornings, walk me to my locker and my classroom, stare Jimin and Taehyung down if he has to, discreetly checks in during lunch (he doesn’t come over or anything, but I did see him walk by our hallway that one time), and walk me home in the afternoons. I get it. People were still looking at me weird, some were calling me names, people who didn’t hear of me the first time heard of me this time, and one time (okay, three times) in the girls room I heard some girls talk about me like the latest drama on cable.

I didn’t think it would get this bad because news like this fizzles in the amount of time it takes to refresh your news feed, but Jackson and Mark were still not talking, and there are talks about Namjoon planning something. Because of Mark, I’ve been safe from Seokjin and the inevitable conversation we should be having. Jimin’s been eyeing me lately and with Taehyung in our room sometimes, I’m scared again for the first time in a very long time.

I don’t like this. I don’t like losing agency over my own life.

“How bad is it?” I ask Jaebeom. We’re in the open field, our P.E class coincides with 3-A. Jackson is at the other end of the soccer field, playing striker. Mark is somewhere in the left wing side playing midfield.

“Weird, mostly. It’s like we’re just waiting for them to start punching each other.”

“I hate my life.” I should be running around the oval like the rest of my class, but I’m taking a five-minute break for my mental health. “Does it look like permanent damage?

“Relax. This is between men. You’re in the clear.”

“I still feel bad because all of this could have been avoided if I just, ugh.”

Jaebeom laughs. “So we’re having this garage showcase with Youngjae later tonight. You think you can ditch your bodyguard and come see us? Nari’s coming.”

I heard about the showcase. Youngjae wouldn’t stop talking about it as soon as they were confirmed for one of the time slots at the street busking park near the university. Nari also heard about this new band, Day6, one weekend she hung out there with her not-boyfriend Jongin. She says they’ll be out there tonight, too.

“Yeah, I think I can ditch him.”

I don’t mean to be ungrateful, but it’s getting weird. It’s not like someone’s going to grab me from behind and stab me in the jugular then leave me to exsanguinate on the asphalt. Give me a bit more credit. I can totally ninja my way out of that.

My P.E teacher blows his whistle at me, and I guess some things I just can’t ninja my way out of. I say my see-you-later to Jaebeom and start jogging down the track. I need to come up with a contingency for tonight.

Turns out ditching Mark is easier than I thought. I meet with Nari and Youngjae at the long strip of park that doubled as performance avenue for aspiring performers. Friday nights were one of the best days to come here, so I’ve heard. The energy was electric. Alive. University students mingled with high school students and entertainment company trainees in the tree-lined avenue and exchanged notes on singing and dancing. Music could be heard from all directions, and when you’d look you’d see dancing, singing, and busking.

“How’d you ditch him?” Nari asks.

“We walked home and then when he left, I just left the house again after fifteen minutes.”

“I never thought I’d see the day you’d actually be annoyed getting all this attention from Mark,” Youngjae says.

“I know, right? But I think he’s just scared I’d get into more trouble than already. I don’t know. He’s just being nice. But, hey, I’ve handled myself pretty good without him.”

“That’s because you’re nearly old news by now.”

I hope Nari is right. I’m still That Girl to some students, but at least no one was physically antagonising me or anything. Verbally maybe, online. But I’ve grown a thick husk of skin. I can’t wait to graduate high school already. I am so over this.

Jaebeom, Jinyoung, and Yugyeom are waiting for us at their side of the lane. With them, are a group of boys Nari has to hold tightly to my arm just to get through introductions. We’re introduced around the group, and Jaebeom has figured out a name for their little crew: Got7. I comment that there’s only five of them, but Youngjae just shuts me up and tells me to just go with it.

After Got7 and Day6’s separate performances, they agree to do an encore together. The band starts a song I don’t recognize, and Nari fills me in that it’s an original. Jaebeom and Youngjae sing together with Day6’s lead vocalists Sungjin and their rappers Jae and Brian. I’m about halfway into the song when I feel a looming presence from behind.

“I’m hurt you come to see them and only them when we’re just a few paces down.”

I look over my shoulder. “Hi Seokjin.”

“It’s so hard to set an appointment with you these days. All I want is a few minutes of your time.”

Nari is too engrossed with the performance to notice what’s happening next to her. I am legitimately freaked out by, and a little in awe of, Kim Seokjin. I look behind him, and on the other side of the street is Namjoon, Hoseok, and Yoongi in the middle of a rap performance. I wish I knew about them being here, too. I would have loved to see them perform again.

“You could’ve called my phone? Sent a message?”

“This isn’t the kind of conversation you have on the phone.”

Oh, well. I tried.

“Is it the kind of conversation you have in the middle of a busy street?”

Jin chuckles, maybe a little too sinister than acceptable. “I’ll see you by the bus stop on the cross street before you turn left to your street. 11:00 p.m.”

“I’m completely over OYE! now,” Nari announces. “Day6 is my new life.”

Seokjin is gone. The song is over. I’m clapping because everyone else is too. The next three hours go by faster than I like. After a snack with everyone, we all go our separate ways. Nari would notice how deep in thought I was, so all throughout I had to put on a smile and push back my worries until I can think about them. It’s not until I’m a block away from the bus stop that I have the chance to.

“Hi.”

I’m not surprised to see Namjoon waiting for me. I wonder how long he’s been sitting there. If he had to wait. Again. “Hi.”

He pats the space next to him on the bench. “It’ll only take a while, I promise.”

I ask myself if I’m scared, and the answer is no. Namjoon is incapable of hurting anyone on purpose. I know that. It’s easy to forget that, sometimes. “We should have had this conversation a while ago. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not really sure what’s going on,” he admits. “So what’s the deal with Mark Tuan?”

I spy the vending machine across the street. “I think I should buy you a soda first.” I do that. Cross the street, get two cans of soda, pretend I’m not stalling, then return to my spot next to Namjoon. “So I think I’m just going to start from the very start. Just let me finish talking first. I owe you a really big explanation.”

Namjoon smiles at the ground and cradles the cold can in both hands. “Why do I get the feeling I’m gonna get dumped before I even try.”

I try not to think of the implication. “You? You should be mad at me.”

“I’m not. It’s not your fault. Part of it is mine.”

“Hear me out first then decide after.” I take a deep breath, then start from the very beginning.

Namjoon sits and listens quietly as I tell him the entire story from the very beginning. I thought this would be harder, but there are reasons why this isn’t so: It’s Namjoon, and he’s the most genuine person I know; I’ve gone through this story in my head so many times, it’s automatic; and finally telling someone the truth is cathartic. I tell Namjoon about Mark, that the candy was for him not for Jackson, but that I hung out with Jackson anyway because I thought if Mark doesn’t like me, I could at least spend time with him. I told Namjoon about the scarf, too. I tell him I was wrong about him and the Boy Scouts. I get to part of the story about the beach festival, and this is where it gets messy. But I get through the story somehow.

“So that’s it,” I conclude. “It actually is my fault. Because I was too scared to say anything.”

Namjoon is scowling absently at the asphalt. I give him time to process all this new information. I know this is the right thing to do, but it . I sniff and wipe my nose with the back of my hand. At least Namjoon is graduating soon. I’ll just be a distant memory for him. Some silly girl he knew in high school.

“I’ll walk you home,” is the next thing Namjoon says.

“Is that all you’re gonna say?” We’re just about a block away from my house so this is going to be a really short conversation.

“It’s a lot to process.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No,” he gently counters. “Thanks for telling me the truth. I kind of feel stupid now. I should’ve...Well, I’m embarrassed.”

“That’s never been my intention. You can hate me. I totally deserve it.”

He sighs into the midnight air. “I can’t hate you. Not even mad at you.”

I walk the rest of the steps to our front gate. “You should be.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re a good guy.”

Namjoon’s ears burn pink under the streetlight. “You tell anyone that and you’re dead. Got that?”

“I’m really sorry, Namjoon.”

He drops his gaze, then stares out into the empty street. “Yeah. Me too.”