일
NIKKO
“ G ood night,” Lux says, rolling over to face the wall and pulling the covers up over his head. The light from his phone screen glows through the fabric and I know it will be at least another couple of hours before he falls asleep mid-scroll. For his sake, I hope he’s reading another one of those dystopian romance novels that he likes and not looking through the comments on some social media site that are only going to make him feel terrible about himself.
The few feet between our beds is about as much privacy as we ever get, outside of the shower. It is better than it used to be, with each of us only having one roommate now, instead of the entire vocal line shoved in one cramped room and both rappers sharing what was really no more than a glorified closet. The three bedrooms of our current apartment make for a much more agreeable arrangement. But we are still six 20-something guys living together and there are days that the situation is far from ideal.
As much as I love the other members—they are truly my best friends; my family, really—I would like to have some time to myself every now and then. I probably wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I had it, though.
I sit back up to punch at my pillow, hoping that will somehow make me comfortable enough to relax. Despite being physically tired from the intense practice we had earlier and full from the late dinner that Ryo made, I feel restless and wide awake. It is not unusual for me to toss and turn for hours, my mind unhelpfully pulling up some long-past incident for me to replay and agonize over like there is anything I could possibly do about it now.
It is not anxiety keeping me up tonight. I hadn’t had time to think about it when I was running off to rehearsal or caught in the chaos around the table with the others, but now I’m alone, and I can’t help it.
I know I made the right decision by taking the next step in improving my English skills and finally working with a tutor. I had put it off for nearly a year after deciding that I had to actively try to learn more. I hadn’t even felt that nervous about the lessons until I was actually there, looking into the computer screen.
Despite all the practicing that I’ve been doing for the past year, using the apps and trying to speak to Chita and Lalo in English when we have the chance, it was like I forgot everything I knew when I saw Jase. I worry that I made a terrible first impression, that I didn’t represent myself or the work I have been doing well. Jase did not seem to mind being patient with me, but I want to do better next time we speak.
Looking back on our chat, I am not sure what I was expecting of my new tutor. I knew that the person was a good friend of Kija-hyung. I probably should’ve realized that he would be younger. Handsome like Kija.
All of the other men at the label are older, rounder, nothing special. But Kim Kija is attractive in the kind of way that makes people easily mistake him for an idol or k-drama actor. It only makes sense that his friends would be the same way. I was surprised by his light hair and bright blue eyes, what I think of as being so typically American.
I wasn’t prepared for that. For his smile or the easy, casual way he spoke to me. I think that caught me off-guard as much as anything else, the way he just talked like I was another random student, a person he might be starting to get to know.
At first I thought that maybe Kija-hyung had told him not to make any mention of who I am or what I do, but the longer the conversation went on, I became convinced he really did not know anything about me. And there was something wonderful about that.
I haven’t been able to meet anyone new, who didn’t have a preconceived notion of me, in years. Being an idol automatically sets all of us apart, gives people ideas about who we are and how we are and what we might be able to do for them. The possibility of having someone to talk to outside this bubble that I live in is both scary and kind of amazing.
Honestly, I’m not sure if I even know how to make friends with someone anymore. Everyone I have met and gotten to know since I became a trainee at 15 has been associated with the label in some way. The friends I had at school, before I joined Task Force, are a distant memory at this point. Rightfully, most of them gave up on maintaining any kind of relationship when I started working 16 or 18 hours a day and was too tired, hungry, and stressed out to even check for text messages at the end of the day.
Not that I have a whole lot more time or capacity for anything outside of the group now either, though. As we rehearse for our world tour, the days are still long and exhausting. They are packed with dance and singing practice to perfect our choreography and vocal arrangements, filming promos for radio stations and content for our official accounts to make sure we are as visible as possible before we actually begin the shows.
I’m probably crazy, deciding to take on something else, giving up the little free time I can squeeze in talking to a stranger in a language I still do not feel particularly good at. But the idea of sitting on the couches of more late-night shows or in the swivel chairs of satellite radio offices or wherever else we might go for interviews and having to watch Chita-hyung spend the entire time doing twice as much work as he should to keep us all a part of everything makes me feel terrible.
I will probably never not worry that I’m not contributing enough or not pulling my weight in the group. Even today, talking to Jase about the responsibilities around the house, the familiar feeling of guilt at relying on the others for the basics bothered me. Lux and I were both banned from any kind of kitchen duty beyond clean-up years ago, and even then we are a last resort as we both have terrible track records with all the dishes surviving our turn at the sink. So Lux does most of the vacuuming, dancing around the rooms like he is twirling a partner, and I try to keep everyone’s shoes out of the way, their jackets within reach as they walk out the door, and the phone and laptop cords untangled.
At least until my anxiety kicks in, and I find myself on the floor of someone’s closet, sorting their hoodies by color or brand. It’s a little more specific than that, really: Tang’s closet is arranged in a reverse rainbow, as he is the most adventurous with color. I sort Lux’s clothes by designer, and Lalo’s all black everything is essentially just separating items by sportswear labels. It is a bit of a joke, the way I find solace in being trusted with organizing someone’s possessions, but it never fails to make me calm.
If I had not already reworked everyone’s wardrobes within the last month as a way of coping with the upcoming tour that is only weeks away, I’d be in someone’s closet right now, as I try not to think about Jase.
I have no reason to think about him. At least not beyond the fact that he’s going to help me become more confident in conversational English so I can communicate better in interviews and with the fans.
But I still wonder, how did he know Kija-hyung? Where did they meet and become friends? What time was it for him when we were talking? Where did he go after we hung up? Have I crossed his mind after he closed his laptop?
It’s silly for me to wonder if someone has been thinking about me. I know that thousands of people are having thoughts about me at any given time. The same is true with the members of the group or any other idols. Everything about us is carefully crafted for just that reason—to make each of us unforgettable. We all have our looks and our roles within the group to appeal to anything that someone might want—and it works. The formula has proven to be successful because of the attention to every detail.
So what does it matter if one specific person is thinking about me? Why would I want him to? Maybe it’s the idea that I’m nobody special to him that makes me wonder—or want to be. Somebody special. To Jase.
Or it could be that deep down, there’s still that 14-year-old version of me whose insides turn to jelly when he sees a pretty boy. Having thrown my entire life into idol training, I never really had a chance to move past that. Sure, I’d had crushes on other members in the group at the beginning, but they passed—some more quickly than others—as our relationships developed into friendship and something deeper, our worlds shrinking to the point where we really only had each other.
And now here I am at 22, just as unsure about what it means to find someone attractive as I was almost a decade ago. I tell myself that it will pass, that these thoughts are just because the situation is novel. Jase is something new and shiny, and that’s why he has my attention. Eventually that will fade and I’ll be able to see him as my teacher, the way I should. I will be polite and respectful, and we will work together just fine.
I glance over at Lux’s bed again, surprised to find that I cannot see the light from his phone anymore. Checking the clock, I notice it is much later than I realized, having lost myself in thought for far longer than I expected. I fluff my pillow again and reposition myself before closing my eyes.
I can still see him smiling as he says that he is looking forward to speaking with me again.
I don’t hate it.