Chapter 37
“Eric wants you on Star-Connect tonight,” said Denny. “Couldn’t get you out of it, so just keep it short. Don’t forget.”
Eunjae had forgotten, although it might be more accurate to say that he’d repressed it on purpose. Prism kept pushing him to talk to the fans via livestream, insensitive to his exhaustion. Eric called it ‘proof of life’ and ‘reassuring the audience.’
Reminder issued, Denny left without another word, off to continue doing his work with the same efficiency as ever. Just his work, nothing extra. Their manager barely spoke to them these days. He’d plunged into a deep, wounded silence.
Shoulders slumped, Eunjae stared at Langley House, shining in the late afternoon sun. His gaze always went straight to Jiyeon’s window on the second floor. He looked despite knowing she wouldn’t be there.
They still had another hour of filming up ahead, even after a full day at the diner.
The producers brought special guests, so it was a lot of talking and a lot of pretending to talk.
Apollo managed the way they always did, drawing on dwindling reserves of energy, but it was Ezra who got the most screen time.
He’d researched their visitors ahead of time.
His list of questions was a mile long, and he asked every single one.
He had questions for Eunjae, too. “Why aren't you guys saying anything about Wanna Waffle?” he wanted to know, when Leila drove him to the house. “Your fans ruined everything. Shouldn't you guys tell them that was wrong?”
Their mother overheard. “The fans are customers. As they say, the customer is always right. Correcting them would be a mistake.”
“Yeah, but that was property damage. They should have to pay, at least. If I was a customer at the diner and I punched a hole in the wall, wouldn't I have to pay for it?”
“Someone did pay,” Leila replied. She sent her younger son ahead, lingering to speak to Eunjae.
“Think about what you're doing to that poor family, Ari. You could do a better job of protecting them. And if they find out about the girl? What then?” She held up a hand, the fingers long and graceful.
“No, don't make that face at me. I'm not telling you to put an end to whatever it is you think you have with Emma.
As if you'd listen to me! I'm telling you to hide it better.
Let Arthur help you. I can't believe you'd let your pride get in the way of keeping her safe.”
But he was keeping her safe. It was safer to stay apart.
That’s what Eric counseled, because there had been another clip buried in that weekend’s digital wreckage, discovered on an elderly wedding guest’s Facebook page.
Sunshines had zoomed in to the point of obliterating clarity, extracting footage that lasted just eight seconds.
In an endless loop, it showed Apollo’s Ari reaching for someone's hand.
There was nothing shy or awkward about it.
He'd clearly reached for that hand before. Emma’s hand, the comments screeched.
Look at the way he's smiling at her. Look at how her hand fits so perfectly in his.
Prism suppressed the post before it could gain much traction. When Eric made him watch the video and read the comments, Eunjae had just one thought in his head: why would I ever want to hide this?
He was so tired of hiding. And he almost said it to Leila, right then and there, but Ezra cut between them. “Mum, stop talking to him. They’ve already started rolling. Oh, and I’m staying after. Eunjae said I can, if I want.”
Leila smiled, icy and serene. “Best friends now, are you?”
Shrugging, Ezra pulled Eunjae to the cottage. Cameras were aimed at the patio and rigged inside the kitchen. The producers wanted to recreate a scene from the first season of Sunshine 24/7, still a fan favorite two years after it aired.
Inside, Max stood at the kitchen counter, holding up a bag of marshmallows like the plastic was porous and the contents were a fast-acting poison. “What is this? What the hell did you buy?”
“I bought marshmallows!” Kazu exclaimed. “That's what you told me to buy!”
Rather than berating him, Max focused his ire on Eunjae. “Why did you let him buy the wrong marshmallows? What are we supposed to do with these? They're tiny, we'd need a million of them. And how are we supposed to roast these on a stick?”
“Ah, sorry,” said Eunjae. “The jumbo marshmallows weren't on sale. Hyung bought double of the mini marshmallows instead.”
No further explanation was necessary. Max groaned and went back to unpacking the spoils of their grocery run. Discounted spoils, brought down to a fabulously low price using coupons and a borrowed Lowell’s rewards card. Jiyeon's was tied to her phone number, and Eunjae had the number memorized.
“I’m leaving if you bought the wrong ass graham crackers, too.”
“No, those are right. I put them in the cart while he wasn't looking.”
“Edit that out,” said Eric, making notations on his tablet. “We can’t have any mention of leaving. It’s unity, unity, unity. That’s our message now and it’ll still be our message when people are streaming this in January. Try it again, Max.”
So they ran it a second time, grasping at the spontaneity of the first and falling short.
Afterward, Kazu explained the dessert menu to Ezra.
The dog capered at his feet. Momo had a massive blue bow around her neck, almost the same blue as the hand-glazed tile on the backsplash.
Wait, wasn't her name Cosmos now? Jiyeon had posted about Apollo’s dog while they were in Tokyo.
Sunshines sent names from every corner of the world.
“We’re making s’nores. We made them on that last tour, before Hwannie left.”
“S’mores,” Max corrected him. “Goddamn, hyung.”
They assembled ingredients and stacks of plates, learning why these smaller marshmallows were inferior to larger marshmallows.
Minis wouldn't roast evenly. You'd have to use a ton just to cover the full surface area of the graham cracker, not to mention the issue of how to melt them over the fire without charring everything else.
And that signature gooey texture? You needed jumbo for that.
This lesson on the art of making s’mores came courtesy of Nicky, with additional highly opinionated commentary by Max.
The idea of making them in the microwave was Kei’s contribution.
Brothers booed him away from the fire pit.
But in the end, they didn’t make the food themselves.
At Eric’s insistence, the production prepared a tray in advance.
All they had to do was eat. No more bickering.
Nothing but unity, unity, unity. And that was it for the day, filming complete.
“Aww, let’s make s’nores for real,” Namgyu said, brokering a truce. Fragile and tenuous as a soap bubble, but a truce nonetheless. Jungwoo stuck around with his guitar. Eunjae invited Denny and received no response.
“Do we really have to use that?” Kei persisted, balking at the fire.
“It makes my clothes smell like smoke. The smoke gets in my hair and then I have to wash it.
Gyu hogs the bathroom, so then I have to wait, meaning I need to stay up later, and I won't get enough sleep, so then I'll be tired on set tomorrow—”
Ezra studied Kei’s face like it would show up on a final exam. “You're the one who wears black,” he said, “and you hate it here. You say that as much as the Max guy says he's faking his own death.”
“I do hate it here.”
A blank-eyed stare. “So leave.”
Kazu heard this and prodded Eunjae with his elbow. “Ya. Who taught this kid to be so rude?”
“Hear me out,” said Nicky, producing a lighter. “I've got a theory about this. Siblings tend to be opposites, right? Jungwoo's the only musical one out of five kids. Max’s sisters are total babes and Max is a big, giant baby—”
“You can fuck right off, hyung.”
“Oh, and Actual Ari keeps his rude thoughts up here, in his head, but Aspiring Ari says them out loud.”
“Don’t call me that!”
“Ooh, my apologies, Ari the Younger.”
“Stop.”
“Anything for you, Wannabe Ari—”
Suddenly, the fire was blazing. The lighter vanished up Nicky's sleeve and Eunjae shook it out.
“Quit, hyung.” But it was better this way, with their voices warming the crisp air, and no cameras locked in orbit around them.
He preferred Nicky laughing to Nicky gone cold and remote.
He preferred Kei complaining to Kei saying nothing, defeated and withdrawn.
The light faded, along with the chatter on the patio. Max scurried inside for blankets, his hoodie, another jacket. “So what are we doing?” Jesse asked, in a small voice. He sat squashed between older brothers, the dog tucked inside his shirt so she wouldn’t get cold.
Ezra looked up from his homework. “You guys stopped fighting after you made these marshmallow things, last time.”
“You watched our show?”
“I've seen all of your dumb shows. Like, every episode.”
Was he indignant or embarrassed? Both? Eunjae couldn’t tell. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Max fidgeting with the hem of his blanket. He also had something to say and just wasn't saying it.
“Anyway,” Ezra continued, “food is how you fix your problems.”
Jungwoo disagreed. “I don’t think food will fix this. It’s just not that simple.”
“Not to you, but you're the one who never thinks anything is simple, right?” The teenager squinted at him. “I think your name starts with a J. Can't keep track. There's too many of you.”
The dam finally broke. Max let out a strangled noise that devolved into crazed, hysterical laughter. “This is fucking incredible. If you think we're so lame, why do you know everything about us? I can't stand this kid. Get him the hell away from me.”
“I don't know everything about you!”
“Yeah you do, you just said Keiichi’s an edgy brat and Jungwoo's an edgy loser!” Max pelted Ezra with a fistful of marshmallows. “Admit it. You watched our shows because you don't think your brother is lame.”
“I watched your shows because everybody at school asks me about Eunjae,” Ezra yelled, seizing a whole bag of marshmallows and volleying right back.
“It’s research! I have to pretend like I know him!
And by the way, you’re all lame, because you’re fighting each other instead of Eric, and your fans trashed Denny’s restaurant but you won’t say anything—”
Eunjae felt like he'd been sucker punched. Max caught the bag, too shocked to return fire. Wearily, Kazu got between them, braving a potential hail of marshmallows. “Settle down. I agree, but Jungwoo's right. It’s not that simple.”
“It is. You could just do the right thing, but you won’t.” Ezra took a breath, then yelled some more. “I wish you’d fight back! I wish you didn’t suck!”