Chapter 24
“Don't ask questions, Ryan. Just get in the boat.”
It wasn't the strangest directive he'd ever gotten from Denny, but Eunjae was perplexed nonetheless. Had the plans changed? Why had he been brought to the lake on his own? Last he'd heard, the crew wanted Apollo to gather at the midway. There, they would find out if they’d gotten the weekend off.
“Take this,” Denny said now, passing a reusable grocery bag over the side. “Should have everything you need, and then some.”
Eunjae stowed this mysterious cargo at his feet. “Don't we have to pay to ride these?”
“Already done.”
“This sign says the attendant has to explain the safety measures—”
“The attendant,” Denny replied, “is indisposed.”
“Right. Okay.”
“And there’s nothing to explain, anyway. One, wear your life vest. Two, don’t fall overboard. Easy.”
A cheer rose up from the fairgrounds, cresting the hill and reaching Eunjae as a muffled roar.
While he adjusted the straps on his life vest, Denny checked his watch.
Then he dispatched a text message, muttering to himself about the death of punctuality as a character trait.
Also, he mumbled something about a horse. A horse…?
Another minute ticked by. A couple approached the dock, but Denny redirected them. Planting himself in front of the ticketing booth, he said, “Temporarily closed. Low level biohazard situation.”
The next would-be boating enthusiasts were dismissed in a similar manner.
Eunjae checked his phone, noting that the group chat was suspiciously quiet.
And there was nothing from Jiyeon, even though the stall should be closed.
Where did everyone go? Maybe they were headed here.
He waited, watching the water, listening to the creak of wooden planks as Denny paced the dock.
It was a moment of much-needed tranquility after everything that happened with Ezra, who wasn't here tonight. Not feeling well, according to their dad, when he called the producers that morning. Understandable. In a lot of ways, Eunjae wasn’t feeling well either.
“Any minute now,” said Denny. He motioned at the boats. “Ever tried one of these?”
“Ah, yeah. We were filming for this show in Tokyo and we had to race swan boats for one of the games.”
“And you all made it out alive. Miracles do happen.”
Eunjae reflected on the experience. The members had somehow gotten the idea that they were supposed to sink each other's boats instead of competing to see who could cross the lake at the fastest speed. To this very day, Nicky insisted he had nothing to do with that crucial bit of misinformation.
“I got lucky,” he concluded. His partner was Namgyu, and they had yet to invent a game that his brother couldn’t win.
Another pair came down the hill. This time, Denny didn't warn them away. “Finally,” he grunted. “Better stick to songwriting, Orpheus. Can’t say you have a promising career in delivery services.”
“Jungwoo did his best.”
Eunjae leaned so far over the side that he almost tumbled onto the dock. That was Jiyeon. She climbed in next to him, snatching the second life vest from the floorboards. “This is the one we're taking? Did it have to be the most boring boat they've got?”
“Boring?”
“You heard me.”
“Have you seen the rest? They look deranged.”
Their boat was a plain, boxy variant designed for practicality over whimsy.
The others were shaped like swans, but also ducks and flamingos, even a dragon.
Jiyeon argued that the ducks were cute. Denny countered that their eyes were big, empty, and psychotic.
Meanwhile, before making the return jog uphill, Jungwoo paused to apologize.
“For what?”
“I hope you never find out.” Somehow, his expression came across as regretful and wistful at the same time. “Anyway, have fun. Maybe Max will stop yelling in the chat about all the date nights you’ve had to miss.”
“He’s been yelling about that?” In the group chat? When?
But Jungwoo took off in a hurry, shooed into the night by their manager. On the seat next to Eunjae, Jiyeon braced her feet against the pedals as their boat slipped free of its moorings. Her brother made short work of the knots.
“Forty-five minutes, Yeonnie. I’ve made the arrangements.” He pointed at Eunjae. “Don’t drown. We’re driving tomorrow.”
They did get the weekend off, then. That was good news. Mission accomplished, Denny turned to go. Eunjae called to him at the last second.
“Boss,” he said. “I know it's too busy right now, but I thought… if you're still offering, I do want to find her. Vivian, I mean.”
His manager slowed to a stop. Trading a loaded glance with Jiyeon, he replied, “Changed your mind, huh?”
Eunjae nodded, although it was more complex than just changing his mind. He supposed it was also a change of heart. “I won't bother her. I'd be happy just seeing that she's out there, and knowing she's okay. If we could find her, that would be enough.”
A snort. “If we can find her? Ryan, come on. Believe in the network. Trust the resources.”
Jiyeon reached for Eunjae’s hand. “Of course we’ll find her. Don’t worry.” And then they were off, pedaling slowly, the shoreline receding behind them.
The seats were cold, no cushions, but they found a blanket in the bag Denny had packed.
Folded into a tidy square, it was the most glaring shade of yellow known to man.
“Vacuum-metalized polyethylene,” Eunjae read out from the label.
“Windproof, waterproof, heat-reflective. Designed to boost odds of survival and rate of rescue.”
“Oh, goodness.” Jiyeon peered inside, examining the rest of their provisions. “Why did he think we’d need a fire-starting kit…?”
Out on the water, the night felt impossibly vast, its edges distant and undefined.
This was the most solitude they'd managed in ages.
There were no brothers and no producers and no cameras.
They worked the pedals, finding balance, falling into a rhythm underscored by comfortable silence.
The breeze had died; they pedaled to the center of the lake, until the fairgrounds felt like a world removed, and then they allowed the boat to simply drift.
Eunjae had a hundred, hundred things he wanted to tell her. The words that tumbled out were not his first choice, but also felt like the only choice.
“Ezra thinks I left because this was my dream. Mum told him it’s what I’ve always wanted. And he thinks Vivian tried to ruin that for me, that she’s this terrible person.”
“But that’s not true,” Jiyeon said. “Did you say that? Did you tell him?”
He shook his head. “How?”
“He’d listen, Eunjae. Give him a chance—”
“I can’t!” He stared out at the lake, tracking moonbeams as they skipped like stones across the surface.
“It’s like Ezra’s had a different mum all this time.
He doesn’t see what I see. Even if he doesn’t believe me, there’s no going back.
He’d never be able to look at her the same way again.
How can I be the one to tell him? Why does it have to be me? ”
Jiyeon didn’t have an answer for that. Of course not, because who would?
“What if Mum’s doing it again? Everything she did with me… all the choices she took away… what if she takes them from Ezra, too?”
Without hesitation, Jiyeon replied, “She won’t. You’d never let that happen. We’d never let that happen.”
If they floated any longer, they’d drift off course.
He missed a beat, leaving her to handle it alone for the barest fraction of a second, and the boat listed to the right immediately.
Eunjae hurried to pick up the rhythm. As usual, he was the one who slipped and lost balance. He was the one holding them back.
She didn’t call him out for it. She just kept going. When strength was needed, when there was something to be solved or mended, it was her hand that held them steady. And did she have a choice? His brother, his career, his relationship. Across the board, Eunjae had no idea what he was doing.
“Your brother deserves to know what really happened,” Jiyeon said, her gaze locked on the opposite shore. He heard her sniffling. “Tell him the truth. I know he’ll believe you.”
“He won’t. He hates me.”
“Ezra doesn’t hate you. That’s not true, either.” Her eyes were bright with tears. She regarded him with such sorrow that he wanted to apologize for being the cause of it, no matter how unintentionally. And then she said, “Lose the vest.”
Eunjae thought he must have misheard her, what with the sudden, deafening roar of his pulse.
“Lose the vest,” she repeated, shrugging out of her own.
“It’s in the way.” A tear rolled down her cheek.
Jiyeon scrubbed at it with the heel of her hand.
Fiercely, she said, “Please. I need to hug you. No one will see, it’s dark, and it doesn’t have to be for long—”
Eunjae tossed the vest. He pulled her in close and held her so tight that she lost track of what she was saying.
And he didn’t have a clue about tomorrow, but in that moment there was only clarity.
A certainty that endured without faltering or fading.
Here was a fixed star on an ever-changing horizon.
Here was the lamp in the window, leading him home.
Much too soon, their boat reached the shore. The lights and noise of the festival surged up to meet them. They had to get up, return to reality, but the idea of resuming that charade left him sick at heart.
“Yeon-ah. Let’s just run away.”
“Where would we go?”
“Anywhere. The moon. San Bernardino.”
She laughed. “Oh, sure. Ryan Kim: The Origin Story. Good choice.”
Water lapped against sun-bleached boards. On the dock, Jiyeon said, “I know it won’t be easy, talking to Ezra, but Leila’s kept enough from him. He needs to hear your side of the story. We can’t control what happens after, but I think we need to trust him.”
She reached with her free hand, pulled the elastic out of her hair, and slid the faded black band onto Eunjae’s wrist. After so many years, the flowers were more pink than red, worn in the sun too often and thrown into the wash by mistake dozens of times.
“This thing’s gotten me through a lot. Take it with you. ”
Eunjae protested immediately. He tried to give it back, but Jiyeon stopped him, smoothing the band where it had twisted.
She tugged at the cuff of his sweater until the elastic was hidden from view.
Overwhelmed, driven by impulse, he leaned in to kiss her.
"Let's run away," he said again, his mouth on hers. "Let's just go right now."
"I want to. I think about it more than I should." In a whisper, Jiyeon said, "Feels like I'm going insane."
"We're in a forbidden romance. I think we're supposed to feel insane."
"So it's fine, then?"
"It's normal."
Months ago, Jiyeon wrapped her arms around him in a parking lot, saying goodbye.
For Eunjae, it was a lesson in two parts.
He learned that goodbye could be harder than he'd ever imagined, and he learned that holding her close was the easiest thing he'd ever done.
Easier than breathing. This made it difficult to leave her, every single time.
Reluctantly, they stepped apart. Arthur came down the ramp just seconds later. “What are you doing?” he demanded. “How could you be so careless?”