by Axie Oh
We hurry forward, Jaewoo dropping my wrist.
Past the unmarked door is a hallway crowded with idols, backup dancers, stylists, makeup artists, managers, production assistants, and a ton of other people whose purpose I’m unclear on, but who look stressed out enough to belong here. As we pass by different idol groups, they either bow to Jaewoo or vice versa. I know from Gi Taek’s K-pop lesson 101 that there’s a hierarchy between idols depending on who debuted first, and I follow Jaewoo’s lead, bowing like I’m part of his entourage.
Ji Seok leads us to a dressing room with a sign on the door that reads: XOXO. He opens the door without knocking. Inside, Youngmin swivels on a chair in front of a mounted wall TV, while Nathaniel is playing with a baseball, throwing it in the air and catching it, and Sun is reading a book. All three look up at our entrance.
“Jenny-nuna!” Youngmin says, jumping out of his chair. “What are you doing here? Have you come to watch us perform?”
Nathaniel grins, standing. “Oh, who’s this? Have you brought us a new backup dancer?”
“Har, har, very funny,” I say.
Sun closes his book with a snap.
“Why are none of you dressed?” Ji Seok groans, exacerbated. “Or at least in makeup?”
“We were waiting for—” Nathaniel begins. Behind us the door bursts open and men and women carrying piles of clothing, accessories, and makeup kits rush in. Suddenly it’s chaos, Youngmin getting cornered by a stylist, a makeup artist chasing Nathaniel down, and Sun consulting calmly with a hairstylist. As for Jaewoo . . . our gazes meet. He makes a move toward me, but suddenly Ji Seok’s between us, pushing me out of the room.
“The boys need to get ready,” he tells me. “You can wait over here.” He starts shuffling me down the hall to a door that opens backstage. Loud music fills my ears, the floor seeming to thrum with it. “You can watch the performance from the wings. It’s the best seat in the house.” His phone then lights up and he scurries away, leaving me alone backstage during the middle of a full-blown K-pop show.
I watch through a monitor as an idol girl group dances in perfect synchronization, their voices smooth and dulcet. The camera pans to the audience. Someone must have let in the crowd that was waiting outside because the studio is packed. Dozens of boys, mostly, shout-sing along with the lyrics, holding up signs and soaking in the excitement of the performance.
After the girl group’s performance ends, the show goes to a commercial break. Several security guards rush into the crowd, ushering out the people standing in the front and letting in new people. As I observe, I realize what’s happening. Though the main audience seated in the stadium remains the same, the people standing in front of the stage changes depending on the idol group they support. The group entering the roped off area now have with them a banner with the words Kiss and Hug Club written across. All of them are gripping lightsticks shaped like either an X or an O, and a few hold signs with the members’ names written on the front. Jaewoo. Sun. Youngmin. And Jihyuk, which I know is Nathaniel’s Korean name.
There’s a shift in the noise backstage and I look over to see the members of XOXO, Sun leading, and then Nathaniel and Youngmin.
They look incredible. Their stage outfits can only be described as post-apocalyptic chic, artfully ripped designer wear, their hair seemingly wind-tossed—well, not Sun. Sun’s long hair is impeccably straight.
And then I see Jaewoo.
Somehow, in the span of a few minutes, he’s transformed from a handsome high-school boy to an alarmingly attractive K-pop star.
He’s in all black, a silky, ripped top and tight-fitting pants. His hairstylist has managed to give his dark tresses a sort of wet appearance, as if he’s stepped in from the rain. His eyes, as they meet mine, seem darker than usual—or is it the makeup?
Sun walks by without acknowledging me, but Youngmin grins and waves, doing the heart sign with his fingers.
Nathaniel pauses to say, “Wish me luck.”
And I answer, “Break a leg.”
Then Jaewoo’s in front of me.
“Will you stay?” he asks. “Until after the performance. There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
Before I can answer, he’s being called onstage. I watch as he moves to the front of the formation.
Then the stage lights go on and the music begins.
Twenty-Three
At the beginning of the song, the fans chant each member of XOXO’s names. Oh Sun. Lee Jihyuk. Bae Jaewoo. Choi Youngmin. It sets the mood and the boys give a spectacular performance.
Afterward, the rest of the idols who performed earlier make their way to the stage. It’s getting crowded where I am, so I go in search of a quiet area to view the show’s awards ceremony. I wind up in XOXO’s dressing room, after remembering the TV there. Sitting on Sun’s couch, I pick up the baseball Nathaniel had been playing catch with earlier and click on the monitor. Two MCs with a bouquet of flowers and a crystal award walk over from where they’d been hosting the show from a separate area of the studio. They approach XOXO and the rest of the idols.
“Wow, what a great performance by XOXO!” the boy announcer says.
“Right, Seojun-ssi?” the girl concurs. “Maybe they’ll have their first win this week!”
“We’ll find out soon! It’s time to tally up the votes.”
On the monitor, a graphic appears showing the three idol groups in contention to win the award.
“Who will take first place this week?” the boy announcer says.
I stand up, holding the ball tight.
The numbers tallying up the votes begin to spin upward, presumably measuring how well the single performed on digital charts and social media, as well as album sales and real-time voting.
“And the winner is . . .” the girl says.
The numbers suddenly stop, with the highest number belonging to . . .
“XOXO!” The two MCs shout together and I scream, accidentally releasing the ball, which goes flying across the room and behind a rack of clothes.
As confetti cannons explode onto the stage, I head over to the rack, getting down on my hands and knees.
Still, I’m beaming. I’m so happy for them! What did the female MC say before? This is their first win. I can hear Sun accepting the award on behalf of XOXO, thanking their fans and families for supporting them.
The door to the dressing room opens. Voices flood in, drowning out Sun’s on the television. I’m about to pop out from behind the rack like a ghoul when one of the voices says, “Did you see that girl with Jaewoo?”
“Nathaniel says she’s a classmate of his,” another voice answers. “From his high school.”
I press my back against the wall and peek around the rack. Two of XOXO’s stylists are in the room, cleaning up their stations.
“Tonight was the boys’ first win. This is probably the most important time in their career. If they can keep the momentum going, they could be huge global stars. They can’t afford another scandal. They almost didn’t come back from that last one.”
There’s a brief silence, then the other murmurs in agreement.
“She could ruin everything.”
Once the stylists pack up their things and leave, I’m quick to follow. Outside the station, the crowd from the audience is making their way to the subway. I join them, blending in. Reaching into my jacket pocket, I wrap my hand around the ball, which I totally stole from Nathaniel. I will give it back. Eventually. I just need something to hold onto right now.
I think I understand now why Jaewoo left that day after my cello performance. Because he realized that our lives are too different. Not just that he’s an idol, though seeing him now perform on stage, hearing his name cried out by his fans, the circumstances of his life are so extraordinary as to seem unreal. But it is real, the success of his band and all the people whose livelihoods depend on them, as are the consequences. She could ruin everything.
Seeing the light of the subway exit up ahead, I hurry fo
rward.
A hand grabs my shoulder, twisting me around.
I look up into Jaewoo’s face.
He’s wearing a ball cap that shadows his eyes, and a cloth mask over his nose and mouth.
The crowd parts around us, though a few throw curious glances in our direction. He takes my hand and we make our way out of the crowd, dropping it once we’re clear.
Jaewoo must have a destination in mind because he walks without hesitation, leading me down an alley narrow enough that if I were to lift both arms, my fingers would skim the walls on either side. We climb a short flight of stairs, turn down a few more streets and alleys, and finally walk up such a long staircase that when I reach the top, I’m breathless.
We’re in a small park that overlooks the city. It has a running trail, a few public-use exercise machines, and a children’s play area with a set of swings.
“Want to . . . ?” Jaewoo asks, and I nod. We make our way over to the swings, each taking one of the single seats. We face the same direction, toward the ledge. Beyond the railing, Seoul spreads out for miles and miles, hundreds of thousands of bright lights, twinkling like stars.
I haven’t been on a swing since I was in elementary school, so I kick off the ground, enjoying the rocking motion and the wind on my face. Jaewoo’s legs are longer so he doesn’t swing, leaning his head on the chain as he watches me. He’s removed his face mask and taken off his ball cap, and though he’s changed out of his performance clothes and washed the makeup from his face, he’s so handsome, it’s hard to look away. I give one final pump of my legs and as I’m swinging forward, Nathaniel’s baseball plops from out of my pocket onto the grassy floor.
Jaewoo leans down and picks it up. “Is this . . . ?”
I dig my feet into the ground, slowing my momentum. “Yes,” I say, though now I’m blushing.
When Jaewoo says nothing, I look over to find him studying the ball, a contemplative look on his face.
“What?” I ask.
He shakes his head. Laughs. “This ball”—he tosses it up in the air, then catches it—“is the reason I broke my arm back in November.”
I stop swinging altogether. “What?”
He grips the chain, grinning at my expression.
“It happened the last night of a long three-night shoot. We were filming in this warehouse, which we were warned had parts left unfinished, but we were feeling bored and stressed. During a break in the filming, Nathaniel and I decided to throw a baseball around. We were both in a little league, when we were younger.”
“Oh my God, that’s so cute,” I interrupt. “Sorry, continue.”
“So, yeah, we were passing it back and forth, having a great time. And then he threw it long, and I went for it. I felt the satisfaction of it hitting my glove just as I crashed into a plaster wall. The whole thing came down on top of me.
“The music video director was livid. He scolded us for an hour. He said that we weren’t grateful, that we were a dime a dozen, that if we wanted to be successful we needed to take this seriously.”
“I don’t like that director,” I declare. “I don’t care how gorgeous the music video ended up being.”
Jaewoo shakes his head, though there’s a smile on his face. “We had to cut filming prematurely. Luckily we had an alternative ending, which was the one they eventually used. But still, I felt like such a disappointment. I broke my arm, and for what? A moment of fun. So after the shoot was over and we were at dinner, I excused myself from the table and just . . . left. I left the restaurant and walked and walked, until I saw the light of your uncle’s karaoke bar.”
He hesitates, and then says, softly, “I even saw you that night, laughing with your uncle as you sat on the barstool, your hair loose down your back.”
I stare at him in shock, rearranging that night in my head. Not that it makes a difference on how the night eventually played out.
I press my foot against the ground, but I must push at a wrong angle because the swing rocks crookedly.
“Why did you leave, Jenny?” Jaewoo asks, and my heart stutters in my chest, even though I knew he would ask me eventually.
This is the end. Once we have this conversation, there’s no reason to keep stubbornly holding fast to this connection between us. He needs to concentrate on what matters, his career.
And I need to get my act together and focus on what matters, my cello playing, the showcase, my future.
“For the same reason you left me the other day at the clinic,” I say, and I’m proud of myself because my voice comes out steady. “Nathaniel more or less spelled it out.” Jaewoo frowns. “It’s because you have more at stake. I get it, really. Our lives are too different.”
“Our lives are different,” Jaewoo says, and my heart sinks, even though I literally prepared for this. “But that’s not why I left.”
My swing rattles, and I look up to see he’s seized onto the chain of my seat, pulling me close. I have to grab onto his chain in order not to fall back.
“I do have more to lose than Nathaniel,” he says, and the miserable feeling rises up. “After all, his heart’s not at stake.”
My breath catches. Is he saying what I think he’s saying?
“I like you, Jenny,” he confesses. “More than I’ve ever liked anyone before. It hit me that day at the clinic how much. And I did what I always do when I feel overwhelmed. I ran.”
“And now?” I ask.
“I’m not running anymore.”
With the hand that isn’t holding my seat, he lifts my face to his and kisses me.
At first, it’s a close-mouthed kiss, soft and sweet. But then he leans forward, and I feel my ball cap tip off my head as my lips part beneath his. I would collapse, weak-kneed, if I wasn’t already sitting. He runs his hand through my hair, as I wrap one arm around his neck, holding him close.
I don’t know how long we kiss in that park, with the city below us and the stars up above.
I don’t know what this will mean for us going forward. Will we ever have a moment like this again? But none of that matters. I push it all to the back of my mind. Because tonight, the world is ours.
Twenty-Four
The next day is Monday. I wake earlier than usual, rolling over in my bed to look across the room. Sori’s already gone for her morning workout. She’d been asleep when I returned last night, otherwise I’d have asked her to wake me up. I’m not a huge fan of exercise any time before eight a.m., but I need an outlet for all the adrenaline coursing through my body. I hurry up and change into my uniform, waiting in the long line for the bathroom to wash and examine my face in the mirror. Do I look like a girl who’d been thoroughly kissed the night before? I glance around at the other girls, but no one is paying me any attention, too busy pulling out their hair rollers and catching up on what they did over the weekend.
Homeroom is much of the same. The teacher takes attendance and then leaves for a faculty meeting. Jaewoo isn’t in class but he told me he wouldn’t be. Last night, we’d caught a taxi to the academy, and though we hardly spoke to each other, our faces turned toward opposite windows, we held hands the entire way. He’d had the taxi driver drop me off at the back of my dorm, not leaving until I was safely inside, before heading to his own dorm.
I spend homeroom chatting with Sori about our weekends. I want to tell her about what happened with Jaewoo but not in a place where others might hear. I haven’t told her before now because I wanted to respect Jaewoo’s wish to keep whatever we had a secret, but now things are getting more serious, and I’d love a friend to talk to, especially Sori, who understands what it’s like not only to be an idol but to date one.
Instead, I hold up her pink Kakao Friends mirror for her while she applies eyeliner and lip gloss.
“This is my morning workout,” I joke.
“Stop shaking. Keep it straight.”
Nothing can bring down my mood, not even Jina, who tries to take my head off in dodgeball.
At lunch, Sori joins Angela, G
i Taek, and me at our usual table. Neither Angela nor Gi Taek comments on this new development.
“You can sit next to me,” Angela says, pulling out a chair for Sori, who sits primly at the edge.
“Why is the lunch line so long today?” I ask when I notice the line stretching out the door.
“They’re serving macarons!” Angela exclaims. “It’s the most popular meal item at SAA. The kitchen only gives one per tray. I’ve known people who’ve purchased two meals just so they could eat two.”
As if to demonstrate, Sori picks up the tiny pink confection from her tray, placing it delicately between her lips. She bites down, chewing slowly, swallows, then sighs.
“You should do commercials for SAA,” I say.
“She has,” Gi Taek and Angela say at the same time.
“Is this seat taken?” Nathaniel pulls out the chair on Angela’s other side.
There’s similar movement beside me. I turn and gape. “I thought you said you weren’t coming to school today?”
Jaewoo takes a seat. “Change of plans.”
Last night we didn’t exactly discuss what that kiss—kisses—would mean for our . . . relationship. We’re no longer just friends—though it seems clear without saying that, whatever it is, we’ll keep it to ourselves for a while longer.
Though I already know I’m going to be so bad at this. My face is turning red with just the thought of his kisses.
“Did you cut the line?” Sori asks suddenly.
Like all of us, Nathaniel and Jaewoo have trays with the coveted pastry.
“It pays to be nice to the lunch ladies, Sori-yah,” Nathaniel says. Seeing as how last time they were in this lunchroom together they got into a huge argument, they’re acting fairly civil. Sori rolls her eyes, while Nathaniel plucks the macaron from his tray and stuffs the whole thing in his mouth.
When he catches me looking, he says, “What? I have four older sisters. When I was growing up, if I left the good stuff for the end, it was stolen right off my plate! I’d never get to enjoy it.”
