CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
JASE
“ J ase? Hey Jase. Are you okay, man?”
I look up to see Tyler standing in front of my desk, looking more than slightly concerned. “Oh. Uh. Hi. Yeah. I’m okay.”
“You lie like a dirty rug,” Tyler retorts.
He’s right. I’m absolutely lying. If even he, with the emotional intelligence of a teaspoon, can pick up on that, I must look as bad as I feel. I shrug. “I guess I’m still kind of sick.”
“Damn. Some of that shit really sticks around,” he says, nodding sagely like he’s wearing a white lab coat instead of gym shorts and a tee shirt with the high school’s dragon mascot on it. “You have to shake it off. Do some shots of wheatgrass or vitamin whatever it is.”
“Yeah,” I mumble, not even entirely sure what I just agreed to.
Tyler reaches over to give me a very coach-y pat on the shoulder. “It’s the end of the year, my guy. We’re gonna be out of here in three days. You need to get back on your A-game so you can enjoy your freedom!”
I give him an incredibly half-hearted thumbs up.
“You’re killing my pre-victory vibe,” he informs me. “I’ll catch you next week for the final countdown.”
Grunting something that kind of sounds like, “bye,” I watch him leave and fold my arms on my desk, letting my head drop. Between Tyler noticing what a mess I am and Brenda finding me so pitiful she was actively nice to me, I know that I have hit rock bottom.
It’s been a pretty steady descent for the last week, starting with the flight that I spent trying—and failing—not to cry while I attempted to figure out what the hell went wrong and how things changed so quickly.
Three hours of staring out at the clouds and replaying every single moment of that morning had not given me any answers. Nikko and I had woken up in a tangle of limbs and gone to shower together, spending nearly an hour kissing and letting our hands roam while huddled under the spray without any legitimate efforts at getting clean. Nikko had gone to get dressed while I used the pathetic little hair dryer in the bathroom, and when I’d come out to finish packing my bag it was like having whiplash.
I still have no idea what had actually happened. There has been silence from him since then, leaving me alone with my thoughts, which are becoming more and more unhinged. With the school year ending, I feel increasingly out of sorts. Normally, I would already have a summer job lined up or have found extra students to tutor, but with the way it had been all-Nikko-all-the-time for me, I hadn’t done either. So now, I have all the time in the world to just think. To wonder. And that is bad.
Being in the moment with him had been so good for me, and now I just don’t know what to do with myself. Maybe Noel and I will do a tour of all the parks in the city. Make some sort of scale of good park criteria and rank them all. I could visit my parents for a bit, but that does not seem especially appealing. Ironically, I probably have the money to go see Kija now, but I’d rather sit around a table making meaningless conversation with my mom and dad than be anywhere near Seoul, given the current situation.
I sit up and glance around my office. Despite the fact that Nikko has never stepped foot in this space—nor is there anything specifically about him or even RYSING—there are reminders in everything I see. No matter where my eyes land, he is the first thing that comes to mind.
Maybe it’s a kind of hallucination. I have barely slept since I’ve been home, so maybe I’m just making up stuff that isn’t there. Every night I lay in bed, feeling the empty space beside me like it’s a phantom—looming, waiting for my tears. I want to feel him wrapped around me, the warmth of his body pressed against mine, to hear the soft snuffle of his breathing across my neck. I just want him .
Getting up from my desk, I trudge around to grab my things. I know I should be happier about going home, but being there is kind of worse than being here. At least in the library I have the students popping in and out, Brenda constantly looking over my shoulder, and responsibilities I have to attend to. In the privacy of my own home, I can fully wallow, settling in on my couch with my dog and the tv remote like the glutton for punishment I have clearly become.
As I turn off the lights and lock up, I contemplate calling Kija while I walk to my car. I know he’d try to make me feel better, but I’m not sure I want that right now. I also have no idea what I would actually tell him. Yeah, I had some of the best days of life, and now I’m back home and so heartsick I can’t stand it. I wonder if he’s talked to Nikko. Probably not. I have to assume he’d have contacted me if he knew what happened. That would make one of us, at least.
??
“Welcome RYSING! Chita, Ryo, Lalo, Lux, Tang, and Nikko!” the late night show host yells as the audience goes wild.
I watch as each member introduces himself briefly, saying his name and maybe a few words in English. As always, Chita is sitting closest to the host since he does most of the talking. It’s one of the first things I noticed about how they handle interviews like this—they arrange themselves strategically according to English skill level and perceived visual appeal. Chita next to the host, Lalo beside him, and Ryo or Lux taking turns in the front row, then Nikko, Tang, and Ryo or Lux in the second. I’m immediately surprised when Nikko joins Lalo and Chita in the front row. He’d told me before that he prefers to sit in the back, both because he’s easily anxious in those kinds of situations and it usually prevents him from having to participate much in the conversations.
Nikko looks so good it makes me feel worse. I’m a hot fucking mess in the dark cave of my living room and he’s on television, under bright lights, looking every bit like the superstar he is. Maybe I get it now, just how far apart our lives are. Why wanting to be together isn’t enough to make it work.
Chita answers a few questions about how the tour is going and what they’ve been doing in each city, if they ever get to go out and enjoy things or not. He talks about how packed their daily schedules are, and how they usually only get to see the city from the airport to whatever hotel they stay at. Inevitably, the host uses this as a segue to ask if they have time to date. While all of them scoff, Tang shouts, “Busy, busy!” and Chita gives Nikko a subtle glance that I probably wouldn’t have even noticed if I wasn’t watching so closely.
“If we are lucky, we might find time to talk to someone a little, but that is it,” Nikko says, the slightest tremble in his voice from nerves.
My jaw drops in shock. Not only has he voluntarily chosen to speak up, but he basically admitted there was someone he’d been at least chatting with.
He was talking about me.
Vaguely and indirectly, but still.
Me.
I don’t hear a single thing that’s said after that. I see Ryo say something that makes everyone laugh, but I have no idea what it was, because I’m staring so hard at Nikko’s face. I can tell that he’s not as engaged in what’s going on around him, either, the faintest hint of sadness around his eyes, in the smile that’s just a little too forced.
I’m overwhelmed by so many emotions at once—the desire to hold him, kiss him, breathe him in and never let him go, but also to demand answers, to try to make him explain what, why, how and if we’ll ever have any kind of chance. I want him to miss me the way I miss him.
But mostly, I just want any part of him he’s willing to let me have.
I don’t know if it’s hope or delusion, but I’ll take either one right now.
??
I’ve never caught any of the members going live on their fan app before. The timing hasn’t been right, or they’ve been busy, or whatever the reason, the first time I see the notification that they’re about to start a broadcast totally catches me off-guard. I click into the video right away on my phone, letting Noel sniff the fire hydrant we’ve been standing by for far too long already a little more thoroughly.
All six of them are sitting on the floor crowded around a table piled with take-out boxes of food. The labels are obscured but it looks like it’s Korean, which makes sense. Nikko has said they seek out Korean food no matter where they go, like they’ll die if they have to go more than a day or two without kimchi or gimbap. I laughed when he told me several of the members have been known to pack emergency ramen rations in their luggage when they traveled internationally, as though the cheap noodles couldn’t be found basically anywhere.
The comments at the bottom of the livestream are flying so fast and are in so many languages that I can’t even begin to keep up. While the rest of the members dig into their dishes, Ryo scans the screen, pointing out snippets of things he manages to see. Beside him, Chita talks between large bites of chicken, telling a story of something that happened backstage the night before, and Tang nearly snorts a noodle laughing at his version of events. Nikko is flanked by Lalo and Lux, and for just a second, I feel happy he’s sitting between the two people he’s closest to. I quickly notice he’s nibbling somewhat uninterestedly on a piece of bulgogi, and Lalo is watching him out of the corner of his eye. Lux nudges him a couple of times when everyone else is laughing, a cue for him to do the same.
The conversation gets chaotic pretty quick—a mix of rapid-fire Korean inside jokes, taunting each other, and Chita answering questions in both Korean and English, as well as some Japanese. I understand the appeal of these videos as I watch, walking slowly back to the house with my phone in one hand and Noel’s leash in the other. Each member clearly has his own approach to participation. Chita, Ryo, and Tang do the most talking and laughing, Lux acts cute doing silly faces and poses when he’s not stealing food off everyone else’s plates, and Lalo seems to prefer staying quiet, smiling at the antics of the rest of the group.
And then there’s Nikko. Since I’ve not seen him do one of these before, I don’t know if this is one of those situations where he sits back because he’s uncomfortable and doesn’t feel like he has to be so outgoing when the other guys are around to take the focus off of him, or if he’s just not feeling it tonight.
I’m not sure my assessment of how he looks or acts can be objective or unbiased by my own feelings right now. I’m upset and unhappy, and I fucking miss him. While I don’t want him to be miserable, there is a part of me that can’t stand the idea that he’d be totally unaffected by basically sending me away.
As we get back to the house, it becomes obvious I’m not the only one who has picked up on Nikko’s sullen disposition. I’ve seen more than a few comments asking about him: Is he sick? Is he sad? Did he get hurt?
Lalo is the one who finally addresses it, asking him in Korean, “Nikko? You’re quiet tonight. You’re okay, right?”
“Of course, hyung,” Nikko replies, smiling at Lalo and then into the camera. “I am sorry, friends. I have not been sleeping much the last few nights,” he says.
Immediately the screen is flooded with exclamations of concern and inquiries as to what is keeping him up, as well as potential solutions to help him get more rest.
He bows in gratitude. “Thank you for your thoughts. I think I am just missing my… bed. I will sleep well tonight and dream of you all.”
The members tease him while the chat goes crazy, and everyone moves on, except me. I keep staring at my phone, Noel circling my feet, and all I can think is, can he not sleep like I can’t? Is he lying awake feeling alone like I do?
Does he wish I was there?
?? ???
“Bye. Be safe. See you in August,” I repeat, waving to each of the students who call out to me as they go running past the door of the library, headed out into their summer free from school.
I’m envious of the joy on their faces—the excitement they have to get out of here and spend days at the pool, on trips, lounging around gaming, or working first jobs where they’ll make questionable friends.
When the halls are finally empty, I turn to go back into my office so I can grab my own things and escape, but find Brenda standing next to me. I jump, surprised by her sudden presence, and she laughs, a condescending snort. “Uh. Hi.”
She gives me an intense look and reaches up to poke me in the chest. “I don’t know what’s been going on with you the past couple weeks, but sort your shit out before we get back here.”
“I. Um. Yeah. I’ll work on that,” I sputter, unnerved by everything about this interaction.
Brenda nods once and spins on her heel away from me, lugging her weird little rolling cart of miscellaneous things behind her.
“Have a good summer!” I say loudly and get absolutely no recognition from her. The fact that she ignored me actually makes me feel better, like things are still normal and there hasn’t been some weird cosmic shift in the universe that I need to worry about on top of everything else that’s been weighing me down.
Since I’d had the library workers help me pack up and complete the end-of-the-year checklist with me, I’m free to go as well. Leaving for the summer is always bittersweet for me, because as much as I like being able to sleep later, no meetings, and having a tiny bit of free time, I really miss the students.
Earlier in the day, Harper, Alita, and Savannah had come by to make me promise I would keep up my k-pop education and wow them with my knowledge when we returned. I wish I could have given them some kind of tidbit now, just as a thank you for what they’d unknowingly done for me. All three of them had hugged me before they left and for a moment, I didn’t feel so bad.
I do, however, believe I’ve been a terrible pet parent lately, so I dropped Noel off at doggy day camp this morning to spend some time with her yappy little friends. That gave me the opportunity to take a respite for myself in the afternoon.
I knew I needed to do something out of my ordinary routine, so I’d decided while getting ready this morning that I was going to take myself for a picnic by the lake. I wanted to sort through my thoughts, and the idea of sitting by the water to do that seemed like the right call.
Ever since Nikko and I daydreamed our alternate universes, I’ve been thinking a lot about the beaches in Busan, and how much I missed having fairly easy access to the sea. Being landlocked here is a bummer for me sometimes, but at least we have a couple decent lakes nearby.
Forty-five minutes later, I’m throwing an ugly ass blanket from my college days down in the shade of a giant tree, with a sandwich and sweet tea from my favorite cafe. All things considered, this is a pretty great place to have an intervention with myself. The sky is blue, the weather is nice, and I would give anything to be able to have Nikko here.
That’s just where my mind goes.
To him.
Always him.
I allow myself a few more minutes to go down that path as I eat my ham and cheese, imagining sitting with him and talking about anything and everything and nothing at all. Because that’s what we did. That’s how we were.
Were.
Past tense.
Could I really accept that? If I never speak to him again? If the last time I would ever see him in person was in the hotel room we shared together?
I should be the rational one here. I’m older than him. I’ve been broken up with before. I have experience. Not with anything like this, though, because I’ve never cared about anyone the way I do him.
I’ve never been in love like this.
It’s not an epiphany or a revelation, knowing that I love him.
I knew from the moment he wrapped his arms around me in front of everyone in that green room.
I probably knew before that, when I’d found myself wondering if it was too soon, too new, too impossible.
Nothing in my life prepared me for this, for him. To meet someone who seemed like a dream, all the way across the world. For the way I’d feel like my whole life got turned upside down when he thanked me and dismissed me in the same breath.
I can’t stop wondering if I should have said I wasn’t leaving. If I should have put up a fight. If I could have made him talk things through with me or maybe changed his mind. If it’s too late for any of those things.
My phone dings with a notification; Nikko has posted something to social media. I snatch it up and jab at the screen, desperate to see anything he shares, even if it’s not just for me.
He’s done a photo dump—a collection of five images with a caption in English that says “these days.” The first slide is a book sitting on a chair, and I can tell from the cover that it’s an anthology by a Korean poet we both like. A shot of a city from a rooftop, followed by a photo of three of the most precisely packed suitcases I’ve ever seen. The next one is a selfie of him and Lux, each with a cream colored rose caught between their teeth. And the final one, the most devastating, is a picture taken from across a table with Nikko poised to take a bite—the cocoa-dusted custard and cookies of tiramisu unmistakable on his fork and the plate in front of him.
What was he thinking when he chose those? Did he expect me to see it? Did he want me to? The whole post feels kind of like it’s targeted, but also makes something in my chest flutter with hope. I understand each of those photos and where I fit in. The poet we spoke about, the view from our rooftop hideaway. The suitcases—which I can tell are his, Lux’s and Lalo’s—that he’s organized because there are no closets for him to rearrange. The roses I left him and the dessert I introduced him to.
I know him.
And I love him.
I wish that was enough.
??? ??
“Noel’s dad is here!” The front desk attendant at the doggy day care calls out over the walkie as I step through the door. “Noel from small camp, please.”
“Hey, Conner. Thanks,” I say, watching the dogs through the large windows that surround the lobby while I wait. Maybe I should think about a part-time job somewhere like this for the summer. I could totally hang out with dogs all day.
Conner picks up a call as it comes in, and I wander over to the rack of treats and toys recommended by the trainers at the camp, perusing in case there’s anything I think Noel might enjoy.
It only takes a second for my whole body to freeze in reaction to hearing it as I reach for a box of peanut butter treats shaped like palm trees. Nikko’s voice, echoing through the space as a RYSING song begins to play over the speakers. I know I flinch when I hear him sing the line from ‘ fate (red string)’ about recognizing someone even though you’ve never met them before.
Moving away from the display, I look around for someone to bring Noel to me so I can go have a breakdown in peace in my car.
“Here you go!” A tall girl with dark hair approaches, Noel wiggling in her arms. “Sorry that took a sec; she wasn’t ready to leave Daya.”
I take Noel from her, letting her lick me a few times before she chills out. “Who’s Daya?” I ask, fully expecting a worker in the play yard.
“She’s new. A pomsky. Super cute. I think Noel is in love with her,” the girl giggles.
I chuckle. “Well, good for her. I’ll have to bring her around more so they can hang out.”
“Yay! We love having Noel here, so that’d be great for everyone!” she tells me, then bounces off to take care of someone else who has come in.
Noel and I make our way outside, and I open the door to let her hop in before dropping down behind the wheel to take a moment.
I can’t get away from him.
I don’t want to, but I also just can’t .
Even when I’m not seeking him out, he’s there.
I know I can’t keep doing this. I’m not good at pretending things are fine. I never have been, and I certainly can’t now, not when I’ve fallen this hard.
I take a deep breath, pull my phone out of my pocket, and open up the chat I have going with Kija. Type out the words, then stare at them a bit. Debate if I should send this or not. Put it out there in the world. Make it real. No, make it official. I know it’s real. If it wasn’t, my heart wouldn’t hurt like this.
I delete the text. Set my phone down in the cupholder and close my eyes for a moment. I can hear Noel turning around on the seat beside me, getting comfortable.
Maybe I need to get it out before I choke on it.
“I’m in love with him,” I tap out and hit send before I can talk myself out of it again.
Kija’s response comes quickly. “I know. What are you going to do about it?”
Hell if I know.