Eunjae decided not to take the bait. He looked to Soyeon instead, voicing a theory that had been percolating in his head for a while. “You had the same clause in your contracts, didn’t you? Back then, when you were still part of Jewell. When you wanted to quit too, just like me.”
The arguments died down. Soyeon did not respond, but her knuckles were white as she gripped the armrest, nails digging into the leather. Haewon predictably spoke for her.
“Yes.All for one, one for all.The musketeer clause, as it was known at the time. This may be difficult to understand, but the clause is meant to keep groups together. It’s designed to remind us that we’re part of something greater and there’s no room to be selfish — that the group comes first. We’re all human, aren’t we? And humans are self-centered. Inevitably, we lose sight of what’s important. Rules like this one prevent us from making terrible mistakes.”
Haewon went to join Soyeon behind the desk. She wrapped an arm around her co-founder, her sister, her oldest and dearest friend. Eunjae couldn’t help noticing that, for her part, Soyeon remained as cold and distant as the moon.
“Soyeon stayed with Jewell because of that clause. It helped her find the strength to continue, for the dream we shared and for the sake of keeping the four of us together. We were a family, just like you, and that's why I was determined to have the same clause written into your contracts: it saved us. And it can save you, too. All you need to do is endure the pain, like she did. But again, ultimately it’s up to Ari. Will he set off on his own, leaving the rest of you high and dry? I’d like to think he wouldn’t. Surely he has too much love for you and what you’ve built together.”
From the beginning, Apollo had felt like its own independent universe, nine planets sharing a single, bright dream that blazed like the sun. Up until that moment, Eunjae’s love for his brothers had acted as a force that kept him tethered to his place in the world, a place where he belonged. With the founders watching him, and while the others waited for his choice — a choice that hardly felt like a choice — those invisible bonds of brotherhood reforged themselves into chains.
Eunjae had hoped that speaking to Haewon and Soyeon would change their minds. Now, he saw that it was simple, really. There was only one answer and he gave it.
“Don’t disband us,” said Eunjae. “I won’t break my contract. I’ll stay.”
Sourced from unused footage recorded for Ari’s episode ofSunshine 24/7: Apollo on Tour; cut from the docuseries at the request of Emerald Entertainment
“Because I ran away.” These words are scarcely out of Ari’s mouth before the interview is interrupted by a scuffle out in the hall. The cameras are left rolling, forgotten, as a muffled argument takes place off-screen. The producer steps out of the session to deal with this outburst. Ari stays seated at the foot of his hotel room bed, staring at the photos gathered for the segment. He doesn’t acknowledge the noise emanating from the doorway.
Nami walks past the camera. Wringing her hands, she slows down to talk to him. Her words are unintelligible. We see Ari nodding mechanically in response, then falling backward onto the mattress as soon as his manager steps away. He lies there in silence, staring at the ceiling. It's as if he's withdrawn into his own head, leaving nothing but a shell behind.
When Jaehwan strides into view, his mood is evident from the start. One scathing glance sends the remainder of the film crew packing. None of them return for their equipment. “You should've told them to drop it,” he tells Nami. “You’re supposed to be looking out for him. Isn’t that your damn job?”
“Just go,” says Kazu. Anger smolders in every syllable, kept in check only through careful control. He’s speaking to their manager, but his eyes are on Ari. “We’ve got him. Take the rest of the night off. We won’t be needing you.”
Nami scurries away with one last backward glance. Jaehwan sits on the bed. “Who did they get that stuff from?” he asks. “Leila?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s what I figured, but I was hoping to be wrong for a change.” He scowls down at Ari. “They’re gone. You won’t have to record this interview again. They can ask, but only if they get past me.”
Ari sits up. He blinks at Jaehwan, whose frightening expression is completely at odds with the rest of his appearance. The man is dressed from head to toe in a cashmere loungewear set that seems to have been spun from actual fluffy clouds. The sweater and joggers are the same color as the top layer of a cold foam latte. These soft details combine with the icy beauty of Jaehwan’s face, a study in contrast.
Apollo’s leader is an avenging angel come to deliver judgment while looking as cozy and luxurious as possible. No one ever made matching sweats look so formal. Meanwhile, Kazu looks like he tumbled out of bed two minutes ago because this was the actual chain of events. His hair is mussed, both feet are bare, and he didn’t bother tying the hotel bathrobe when he raced out of his room. If Apollo fans were to see this footage, they’d be peeking through their fingers at the amount of skin Kazu’s showing on camera. And are those the same silk pajama pants he wore down the Vuitton runway two months ago?
The easiest thing to see is how much comfort Ari derives from having his brothers here — the calm certainty of it, like the beacon of a lighthouse sweeping across an expanse of dark water.
“I should've declined to answer,” he murmurs. “I wasn't thinking straight.”
“And they knew you weren't. Why else would they schedule your interview right after we walked off the stage tonight? They wanted you to come in exhausted because then they could catch you off guard, dig into your business.” Jaehwan shakes his head. “If I'd known that the producer was playing this game… but I guess it's too late to do much about it now.”
“I'm sorry, hyung.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Kazu protests. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”
Ari tries to compose himself. He fails. “I can’t do this anymore,” he says, burying his face in his hands. “I just can’t.”
Instantly, Jaehwan’s arms are around him, and then Kazu’s arms are around them both. They sit this way for a while, and most of what the older brothers say to Ari is pitched too low for the camera to pick up. We do hear Jaehwan say this: “There’s a fire pit downstairs. We can burn that picture of your mom.”
“Hey, let’s make some of those things Max was talking about. What were they? Snores?”
“S’Mores, hyung.”
“Yeah! Some-mores. I knew I was close.”
“Whatever you feel like setting on fire, Ari.” Jaehwan’s expression softens. “We could find her, you know. Miss Vivi. If you want to.”
Ari’s tentative laughter dies down, a spark extinguished. He shrinks back, retreating again to a place far removed from here. He glances at the photos scattered on the hotel’s snowy white sheets.
