West Seoul University Series

by Leigh Ban

  The professor tucked his clipboard under his arm. “Also, please make sure you’ve exchanged phone numbers. You’ll need to contact each other and meet up outside of class hours. At least when you’re in the process of finishing up your project.”

  Once the professor left, Gusun observed me pensively. Although I half-expected him to tell me he wasn’t able to give out his number because he was a celebrity, he eventually took out his phone and passed it to me.

  “Don’t you need my number too?”

  “Right.” I lifted my bag off the floor and groped around for my phone.

  Once we added our numbers to each other’s contact lists, he said, “I know this goes without saying, but please don’t share my number with anyone.”

  “Of course not. What makes you think I’d do that?” I asked, unsure of whether to be offended. After all, I hadn’t been overeager or starstruck upon discovering who he was.

  When Gusun saw the look on my face, he explained, “I’m sorry if I come off as accusatory. After my debut, some people from the Department of Music discovered my phone number. They called me in the middle of the night and even posted it online, so I was bombarded with a bunch of creepy messages. I changed my number as fast as I could, but it was a stressful experience, to say the least.”

  “Students from our university did that? Gee, you’d think they were mature enough to have some respect and self-awareness. Don’t worry. I won’t,” I assured him.

  “Thanks. My agency gets me to change my number a couple of times a year, just in case, but the process is always a bit of a hassle.”

  Chapter Four

  Once I returned to my suite that afternoon, I tried to process what had happened. There were tens of thousands of students at West Seoul University, including many devoted fans of Undone, like Christy or the girl who approached Gusun at the beginning of class. Yet I was the one who’d been partnered with a boy band member for three weeks. I couldn’t believe it. How had I not known he was a celebrity? In my defense, a lot of people in Seoul covered up with a mask or a hat when they weren’t feeling their best. He simply came across as a reserved, self-conscious person. But the details were glaringly obvious now, from his unusually good-looking appearance to how startled he’d been when I claimed to recognize him at the festival.

  As I sat on the sofa and stretched out my legs, I wondered whether Christy would be upset if she found out I’d been paired up with her favorite celebrity. I mean, I even had his phone number. Then I laughed to myself. Why was I getting myself hyped up when I wasn’t a fan of Undone? Gusun wasn’t an open book, but I could sense that he was relieved to work with somebody who didn’t fawn over him.

  Though I didn’t plan on instantly joining the Undone fan club, he’d urged me to question my assumptions about boy bands. I heard their most popular songs whenever I went out to bars, so I was aware of how annoyingly catchy their hits were. However, I began to wonder if I might like one of their lesser-known songs. I whipped out my phone and tried to remember the name of the song mentioned by the girl in our class, since she’d said he wrote the lyrics. When I opened a video-streaming app, typed “Undone Lyrics Sun,” and pressed enter, I was overwhelmed by the number of results that popped up. There were too many songs to sift through, so I just clicked on the first song, called “Her Eyes.” Right after the song started playing, the front door swung open.

  I grinned at Christy. “Hey, how was class?”

  As she took off her shoes, she muttered, “I’m not sure how I managed to survive the longest three hours of my life. My professor for Dream Writing wants everyone to keep a dream journal. She’s forcing us to start the day off by writing in it, even on weekends, ‘because dreams don’t take the weekend off’ or whatever. Dana, she genuinely believes our dreams reflect our identity and predict the future. I think she’s a bit mad. Serves me right for trying to take an easy elective for the summer. I read that she’s extremely generous with grades, at least toward students who pretend to buy into her bizarre dream theories.”

  I cracked up when we exchanged glances. “What are the class discussions like? Do you have to talk about your recent dreams in front of the entire class?”

  “Yeah, we do, which is probably going to get awkward and embarrassing. I don’t want to divulge details about my steamy group session with the members of Undone.”

  “Gross, Christy,” I said, automatically picturing Gusun in my head.

  She came over and joined me on the sofa. “However, if my professor’s right and my dreams are precognitive, I might have to figure out a way to hypnotize myself into having more juicy dreams with my boys.”

  “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

  Her face lightened up. “Speaking of my boys, do I hear ‘Her Eyes’ playing in the background? Are you finally coming to your senses and joining the Undone fandom?”

  I giggled. “Not exactly, although I have news which might make the fandom go wild. Christy, do you want to guess who’s in my Creative Music Projects class?”

  “Sun!” she squealed as she sprung up from the sofa.

  When I nodded, she started huffing and waving her arms up and down. Considering I hadn’t even disclosed any details, I was a little taken aback to witness such a fervent reaction.

  A minute later, Christy clutched my shoulders. “Oh my gosh, have you talked to him yet?”

  I smiled. “Well, actually, I—”

  “Dana, could you please find out his number?” she interjected, shaking me as if she was looking for hidden pennies. “I’m sure your classmates are spreading it around. Please, I need to know. I’ll pay you if you want.”

  “Pay me?”

  “Is that too transactional? I’ll pay for our fried chicken delivery until the end of the year then.”

  “Christy, you still owe me money from the last two times we ordered. Anyway, you’re nuts. Are you asking me to hand over his personal information to you?”

  “I wouldn’t share his number with anyone, Dana. I’d probably be way too nervous to contact him anyway. You know how anxious I get when it comes to calling strangers. The only reason I want his number is to… feel closer to him.”

  “Okay,” I said, thinking of how Gusun had been harassed by a bunch of students after his phone number was leaked in the past. Frankly, the possibility of the situation reoccurring seemed far too real. “I doubt I’ll ever figure out his number though. I don’t know a single person in my class.”

  Christy groaned. “I’m so jealous. Why did I sign up for Dream Writing instead of your course? Were there a lot of fans going up to him and asking for a photo?”

  “Not really. I mean, people seem to recognize him, but I guess they don’t want to bother him considering he’s just trying to take the class like everyone else.”

  “Dana, even if you never say a word to him, you should know how insanely lucky you are. Undone is on track to be the biggest boy band of all time. Their international fanbase is huge. They have a massive world tour in autumn. Also, as much as I love all five of them and think they’re all gorgeous, Sun’s known as the most attractive one. Millions of fans would give up just about anything to be in your shoes.”

  After Gusun and I embarked on our new project, we decided to spend the first week contacting our interviewees. Since he had an impressive list of industry connections, I didn’t have to worry about the logistics of arranging an interview. After we discussed some singers and record producers he could reach out to, he told me he would call them to schedule an interview next week. During class on Friday, we finished outlining the content for our online magazine and decided to go over to a computer lab in the Sul Student Center to set up the website.

  When we stepped out of the College of Music, Gusun pointed out, “Isn’t the weather awfully gloomy today? Like we’re about to get caught in a thunderstorm.”

  The sky was covered in puffy dark clouds. As I realized how dreary the weather was, a strong gust of wind whipped past me. I shivered; I was in a
pair of shorts and a tank top.

  Gusun unzipped his backpack and peered inside. “I forgot to bring an umbrella today.”

  “You’ll be pleased to know I always carry an umbrella with me during monsoon season.” I pointed at my bulky tote bag. “We can share my umbrella if it rains.”

  Five minutes later, when we were halfway between the College of Music and the student center, the rain came pouring down with intensity. I swiftly dug into my bag and took out my yellow umbrella. While he stood by my side with beads of water falling onto his full, dark eyelashes, I popped the umbrella open.

  “Oh no,” I muttered.

  There was a huge tear in the fabric; I’d forgotten that my umbrella had ripped.

  “With an umbrella like this, no wonder you came to class sopping wet on the first day,” Gusun joked.

  “I forgot to replace my broken umbrella. What do we do?” I said, quivering with my arms wrapped around myself.

  He pointed to a nearby building. “Let’s go there.”

  As we sprinted over, I lost my footing. Once he realized I wasn’t beside him, he turned around and saw me flailing my arms to regain balance.

  Gusun ran toward me and called out, “Hey, Dana, are you alright?”

  “I’m fine, I’m fine,” I assured him, panting.

  A moment later, he slipped on the rain-slicked brick path. Although he didn’t fall, for a second, he resembled an amateur gymnast attempting to do the front splits.

  When I saw the startled look on his face, a complete change from his usual brooding expression, I couldn’t contain my laughter.

  “Yeah, no need to ask me if I’m okay,” he said.

  “I’m sorry. You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?” I tried to stifle my giggles.

  Although we hadn’t fallen into any puddles, we were both absolutely drenched wet. I wasn’t sure how long we’d been out in the rain for, but I was slowly getting used to the sensation of raindrops pelting my face and bare limbs.

  I adjusted the back of my denim cutoffs. “These shorts feel soggy and heavy, like I went swimming wearing two pairs of pants.”

  “I think we’ve missed our chance to stay out of the rain.” He chuckled and stretched out his arms. “We might as well ignore the pollution and enjoy the free shower.”

  “You’re crazier than I thought.”

  “Maybe rain is to me what a full moon is to werewolves,” he replied.

  “What is it with you K-pop stars and wolves? Isn’t there an Undone song about wolves growling?”

  “Nope, wrong boy band.”

  We walked the rest of the way, laughing at the absurdity of the situation. Although I hadn’t forgotten we were supposed to be headed to a computer lab, I didn’t feel any urgency. When we entered the building, the university gift shop was right in front of us. After Gusun saw me wipe droplets off my face, he opened his backpack and handed me a small packet of tissues.

  “Thanks. My face is a mess,” I said.

  “No it isn’t. You look—”

  “Like a drowned rat?”

  “No, you look vibrant.”

  “Perhaps rain is to me what a full moon is to werewolves too.” I stuck my tongue out.

  He gestured toward a bench right by the shop entrance. “Do you want to wait here? I’ll go and buy an umbrella.”

  Once he stepped into the shop, I sat on the bench and peered through the glass wall to check out what he was up to. Although the umbrellas were hung up on a hook next to the counter, he went over to the aisles with West Seoul University–branded merchandise. As I felt a little silly bending my neck at all sorts of angles, I turned my head away to curb my curiosity. I blotted my forehead with the tissues and waited for him to come out.

  When Gusun came out, he was carrying an umbrella and a beach towel. He joined me on the bench and used the towel to cover my shoulders, putting his arms around me for a brief second. I gasped. My back tingled from his touch.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled.

  I gazed into his eyes, stumped for words.

  The third season of K Hip-Hop Hustle was the talk of the town from the very first episode. At least once a day, I came across the show’s flashy gold advertisement on the street. I thought the poster looked ridiculous and campy; the judges looked like wannabe thugs with clunky, bedazzled chains on their necks. Although I avoided watching the show, since I didn’t want to be reminded of Joon, I couldn’t use the Internet without coming across articles, reviews, and comments on the latest episode. Whenever I went over to the laundry room in International House, I had to scurry past the student lounge, where there was always a group of people watching a new episode or a rerun.

  On Saturday night, I met up with Yumi and Stella. I hadn’t seen them since the beginning of summer break, since Yumi was busy with her internship and Stella was staying at her grandparents’ house until the fall semester. When the three of us decided to meet in Sinchon, they insisted on having pizza at The Grind. Although this was a place Joon had introduced us to at the start of the spring semester, I begrudgingly agreed to go. After all, if he was a serious contender for such a popular show, he’d be too preoccupied with practicing and filming for K Hip-Hop Hustle to hang out at an ordinary pizza pub in a college neighborhood.

  “Which pizza should we order? Pepperoni? Barbeque chicken?” I asked.

  Stella replied, “I don’t mind either. Can we please order the hot wings as our side dish? I’m a little addicted to those.”

  “Me too. I love those wings,” Yumi said.

  I got up from my seat. “Should I go and order pepperoni pizza with hot wings on the side then?”

  “As well as three pints of draft beer. It’s Friday after all.” Yumi gave me a high-five.

  “Of course,” I called out in a sing-song way.

  When I returned to our table with the buzzer, Yumi and Stella were watching a movie trailer on television.

  “What are you guys up to?” I asked.

  “We were just waiting for you,” Stella replied. “By the way, have you watched K Hip-Hop Hustle yet, Dana? I’ve been meaning to watch an episode and see what the hype is about, but I don’t think my grandma would enjoy the rap battles.”

  “Nope. Why?”

  After watching Joon perform on the last day of the festival, I chose not to disclose everything that happened with him to Stella and Yumi. The only thing I revealed was that the likelihood of ever being with him was close to zero. I simply didn’t want the topic to come up again. Unfortunately, K Hip-Hop Hustle had become a nationwide sensation, so now I had to pretend I was oblivious to Joon competing on the show.

  “Ooh, should we watch the show for a bit while we eat? It starts now,” Stella said.

  Yumi chimed in, “Are you telling me you haven’t watched a single episode, Dana? I thought it would be your kind of show.”

  Stella chortled. “You’re right, Yumi. This is a show dedicated to edgy bad boy rappers.”

  “I’m not into that type,” I protested.

  Yumi snorted. “If you say so. You better not freak out when a hot guy appears on the screen.”

  When the buzzer rang, Yumi winked at me. “I’ll bring the food.”

  While Stella and I waited for Yumi to return with our food, Stella’s eyes were transfixed on the television screen. I peered over at Yumi and saw that she had a huge tray to carry over to our table.

  I got up and called out, “Would you like some help?”

  “No, I’m fine. Let me do this.”

  “In that case, I’ll get the napkins.” I ran over to the shelf next to the water dispenser and grabbed a pile of napkins.

  Once I returned to our table, I clinked my pint glass with Stella’s and Yumi’s. While I promptly grabbed a slice of pizza and took a bite, they seemed too distracted by the show to eat. I looked around the pub and realized most of the other people were also watching the television. The Grind had turned into an unofficial screening party for an episode of a stupid talent show.

  “D
ana, look,” Stella said.

  Though I was in the middle of chowing down on my first slice of pizza, I managed to catch a glimpse of the television screen. I almost choked on my food when I realized Joon was talking to the camera.

  While I coughed violently, Yumi patted my back. “Are you okay? I don’t think Stella meant to choke you to death without laying a finger.”

  Stella tittered. I tried to laugh along with her, although I felt uncomfortable. I didn’t want us to continue watching the show. However, as most of our food remained untouched, I couldn’t exactly tell them we needed to go elsewhere. Besides, people were probably watching K Hip-Hop Hustle at other pubs and bars as well.

  On the show, Joon ruffled up his blue-black hair and grinned confidently, as usual. He wore a big burnt-orange T-shirt and one of his arms was blurred out. Had he gotten a tattoo? Since tattoos were censored on television in South Korea, this had to be the case. I was a little surprised. Although most of his friends seemed to have a couple of tattoos and Joon did have a nose piercing, he’d previously told me he wasn’t going to get one because he didn’t want to intimidate little kids. At the time, I was head over heels for him, so I was convinced this meant he would be a great father one day. I cringed as I reflected on how foolishly I had romanticized every word he uttered.

  A male voice behind the camera asked, “Is there anything you’d like to do if you go through to the finals?”

  “If I perform at the finals, I would like to dedicate my last song to a special girl,” Joon replied.

  “Who’s the lucky girl?”

  Joon flipped his hair. “Well, I can’t tell you her name. She’s an ordinary college girl.”

  While the man behind the camera chuckled, Joon cleared his throat. As I watched the screen, there were knots in my stomach. Though I wasn’t in love with him anymore, I wasn’t ready to hear him gush over another girl in a way he’d never talked about me.

  “Last winter, I took part in a community service program at my college, West Seoul University, because I think volunteering is an important way to give back to our community. Believe it or not, people left me in charge of impressionable teenagers. I was a mentor for middle school kids. What’s up, guys, if you’re watching.” Joon laughed. “My special girl was another mentor for the program. I didn’t mean to fall in love, but she was irresistible. She has such a sweet and bubbly personality. We get along perfectly. I’m not going to lie, she’s a bit of a party girl, but… she’s not like those stuck-up party girls. She’s super down to earth. I like how she’s always down to try new things. Plus, she’s insanely gorgeous. She’s literally an angel.”