Chapter 6
“Sorry, hyung.” Haltingly, he explained that it was Leila who called, and that Denny must have blocked her past attempts at getting in touch. “I haven’t talked to her in years. I wasn’t ready for it.”
Eunjae managed a miserable nod. He was grateful for Jaehwan, whose presence was a comfort he'd sorely needed, but Leila’s words were now buried in his heart like shards of ice.
His mother knew about Jiyeon. All too soon, profound relief gave way to deep, pervasive dread.
It sparked an irrational urge to dial Jiyeon’s number, to hear her voice on the line and confirm that she was okay, as if Leila might have harmed her already.
At the next juncture, his brother mentioned that he’d ordered dinner. Denny had gone to meet the delivery driver. “He’s taking the news better than you,” Jaehwan remarked.
“That’s usually how it goes,” murmured Eunjae. Denny was unshakable.
“Best manager on the planet. I owe him my firstborn child.”
“Ah, but wouldn’t that be Nicky…?”
Jaehwan chuckled at this. “No returns or exchanges.”
These basement floors were a warren of practice rooms and recording studios.
Apollo had their own designated space, the door marked with their logo.
Since debut, it had served as their second home.
They’d eaten here, slept here, triumphed and failed here.
It rarely went unoccupied for long. But the next time they worked together, whether in units or with all nine, the members of Apollo would be signed to Zenith.
They’d never have a reason to practice here again.
Their last dance practice in this room. It saddened Eunjae to think of it. And yet, the sadness came with another realization: this was just a room. What warmth it held came from the presence of his brothers. It only felt like home because they were here with him.
No other groups were at this end of the hall, tonight.
Jaehwan grimaced at the noise level. “Maybe I’ll turn around now,” he muttered.
Scraps of arguments leaked through the gap in the door, all the various conflicts growing more tangled by the second.
Interwoven through the racket was Kazu’s mournful howling, louder than all the rest. He’d reverted to Japanese, as he often did under stress, and Eunjae thought he could pick out the words I just want to go hooommmeeeee.
“Shit," said Jaehwan. "He was supposed to stay in Tokyo all the way through January.”
“I hope we can make it to the wedding, at least." Kazu’s cousin was getting married in November. She’d invited the whole group. “Now he’ll barely get two weeks at home before we start filming.”
“So that’s settled, then? This is definitely happening?”
“Doesn't seem like we have much of a choice.”
In their provisional contract with Emerald, there was a clause stating that the members couldn't be forced to participate in anything; they were free to opt out of scheduled activities if they wished.
For a price, of course. Rejecting a gig could be costly, whether it was a few hours on stage, a day on a variety program, or eight weeks filming a show.
Brand sponsorships might be withdrawn. In this case, the production company could sue for financial losses incurred when the stars backed out or postponed filming.
“It's not what anyone wanted or expected right now. We've had to deal with worse, though. Two months is better than four. And I know it won’t be easy on you or Jiyeon, but that’s one less thing for you to worry about. Can you imagine if the agencies let them cast the whole family, including her? You’d get yourself caught after one episode. I’d bet money.”
Eunjae was spared from having to admit that Jiyeon didn't even know about the show yet, or the agencies’ demands. For this, he could thank the sudden cessation of Kazu's howling. He’d gone silent on the other side of the door.
“Oh, god. That's the sound of him giving up.” A tremendous, world-weary sigh. “Let's go scrape Zu off the floor. It'll be just like the good old days.”
Jaehwan went striding through the door and was almost immediately overrun.
Eunjae had to laugh, hanging back as the others cycled from shock to disbelief to pure elation.
It took a while for Apollo’s leader to break himself out of the pile of shouting, whooping brothers.
At long last, he made it to where Kazu had collapsed in the middle of the room.
“Up you go,” said Jaehwan, hoisting him off the floor. “They’ll still let you fly out for Mika’s wedding. Very few people are stupid enough to get on the wrong side of Tachibana Group, and by that I mean the wrong side of your aunt.”
Excitement fizzled out into a collective shudder. Kazu’s aunt was terrifying.
“Filming wraps in November,” Jaehwan continued in his most soothing tone. “You get to be home for Christmas this year.”
“You don't know that for sure, Hwannie. You don't know anything for sure. Nobody does. Life is the worst.”
“You're the worst. Thought you were supposed to be the leader right now.”
“I quit. I need to go home. I missed my mom's birthday again.”
“Yeah, and who ran away from home in the first place? Wasn't that you? Came all the way to Seoul to be a teen father—”
“Not my father,” said Kei, under his breath.
Nicky lounged on the bench beside Kazu. “Oooh, not anybody else’s father either, right? I didn’t miss any scandals? You know I hate to miss a scandal.”
“Nicky.”
“What? Hear me out, leader-nim. He could’ve had a fling or something. Teenagers do that.”
Jungwoo hid behind his notebook. Eunjae longed to do the same. “Oh my gosh,” said Jesse. “Ohhhh my gossshhhh—”
“Awww! Hyung really was that young before, I forgot he was a teenager long ago.” Namgyu patted Kazu on the head. “It was just so long ago, though. Nobody's brain can remember that far.”
Jaehwan squeezed his eyes shut, summoning patience from some ethereal plane. Then he glared at the lot of them. “Missing one. Where’s Max?”
“Here. Found him wandering around upstairs.”
Denny had entered the room with a level of stealth more commonly attributed to cat burglars and assassins.
Behind him, Max spotted Jaehwan and attempted to bolt.
This attempt failed. While the others clamored over the bags containing their dinner, Eunjae tried to remember the telltale signs of cardiac arrest. How did Denny manage to sneak up on him so often?
“Ryan.” A pair of chopsticks passed back and forth across his field of vision. He looked down to find a plate under his nose, loaded with food. Denny had a drink for him, too. “Eat,” came the gruff command. “You’re running on empty.”
He had no appetite, but Eunjae did as he was told. In his head, he worked on how to properly apologize for the myriad ways in which his fame complicated the lives of those around him. Was there anything that it couldn’t ruin?
“Hey,” said Denny, reading his mind. “Quit blaming yourself. You don’t get to take credit for every catastrophe. I’m the one who should be sorry, yeah? Yeonnie told me you don’t talk to Leila. I was supposed to have that handled.”
In a rush, Eunjae said, “It’s okay. That’s… I mean, she’s my mum. She should be my problem and nobody else’s.”
“Nah. She should figure out what I mean when I say ‘by appointment only.’” Denny confiscated Jesse’s cup before he could trip and spill its contents on an unsuspecting Jungwoo. “It’s my job to screen your calls. I’m your manager until the end of November.”
“You’re my friend,” said Eunjae. “A really good one. Thanks, Den.”
A grunt. Translated into words, it meant something along the lines of, “You’re welcome.” But then he also went on to say, “You know that nice lady who raised you? We should look for her. See how she’s doing.”
“Miss Vivi?” Her name came with a rush of memory, images bound up in songs and stories, in the scent of lemon soap. Just like always, it hurt to think of her. It hurt less, though, and in a different way.
“Bet I could track her down. Just say when.”
Jaehwan clapped his hands, calling the room to attention. “One last dance practice,” he announced. “Let’s make it count.”
Thunderous applause. “Shine bright!” Jesse yelled.
“SHINE brIGHT!”
Kazu’s face crumpled again. “Shine bright,” he echoed, sniffling into Eunjae’s shoulder.
“Here’s what’s happening: you’ll go shoot the second season for eight weeks.
We’re negotiating for reasonable hours and time off in November for the wedding in Tokyo.
Cameras in common areas only. If we can swing it, those stop rolling by 10:00pm.
No guarantees, though.” He rubbed at his temple.
“Just keep your heads down. Do what Prism tells you to do. We hired them to help us, so let them do their thing.”
“Yeah, Max. Do what Prism tells you to do. Break up with Hazel and give her back to Jungwoo so we can all live in peace—”
“Why the fuck should I break up with her just because they want me to? It’s my life.”
“Don’t break up with her, then,” snapped Kei. “Do whatever you want. Just don’t drag the rest of us into the mess with you.” With a clatter of cutlery, he added, “You too, Ari. They want you to stay away from Emma-noona, so listen to them. It’s just for two months. Put up with it.”
Jungwoo murmured that a workaround was more than possible. He offered the words as reassurance, but Eunjae stared down at his plate, not trusting himself to speak.
“Keiichi, be nice,” Namgyu said, appalled. “It’s just too sad. I love them so much. They belong together.”
“We belong to our fans.” Jaehwan issued this reminder with gentleness, even a measure of regret, but his words bore the honed edge of a knife. “They got us this far. They’ve believed in us all this time. We promised them we’d stay together, and we will. We’ll make that happen no matter what.”