“There’s probably no way to get off easy on good behavior, Jungwoo. Too late for that.”
“I know that, too.”
“So you might as well come with us,” ventured Namgyu. Nicky and Kei murmured their agreement with this suggestion. They received no response.
Max threw his balled up basketball jersey at Jungwoo, who didn’t even try to dodge it. “Unbelievable. You’re the fucking worst, hyung. You always are. Every time I think you’re not so bad, I just end up disappointed.” He stomped away with Jesse and Nick peeling off after him, concerned.
As for Eunjae, he stared across the fissure that divided them, breaking their long friendship into Before and After. Not a clean break, but then again, how often does that happen? And even broken things might someday be whole again.
It took him a little while, but eventually he nodded at Jungwoo and said, “Okay. I understand. Thank you for being there for me when I needed you.”
Because Jungwoo had been there that morning, when the company tried to send him to Brisbane. He’d been there for Eunjae dozens and dozens of other mornings before that, and afternoons and evenings, and sleepless nights in studios or on planes. Jungwoo had been there — that was the important thing, the part he couldn’t lose sight of. Eunjae wanted to believe that Jungwoo would still be there in the future, that they could support each other even if their paths diverged. But bridges must be built. Wounds take time to mend.
Eunjae had to take this chance to follow a dream that belonged to him, genuinely. He didn’t even know the full extent of that dream; so much of it was still hazy, nowhere near as crystalline and focused as Jungwoo’s. It would be his choice, though. He cherished the ability to make that choice. Jungwoo should be able to choose, too.
Half an hour later, Eunjae walked his brother to the gate and said goodbye.
36
Itturnedoutthatwhen Kei described their departure time as stupid o’clock, he meant that they’d need to be at San Francisco International Airport by three in the morning.
Eunjae spent a lot of time in liminal spaces: baggage claims, backstage corridors, hotel lobbies, airports. Airports, for him, held a uniquely strange atmosphere. At this hour, that strangeness seemed more pronounced. Their terminal was a ghost town. Most of the shops were shuttered and dim, resulting in a sort of artificial twilight. Fellow travelers were either bleary-eyed and partway catatonic like Max, or infused with fathomless, manic energy like Jesse.
Eunjae fell somewhere in between, as usual. Exhaustion had become his whole personality at this point, but he didn’t feel as though he could rest, either. His brain wouldn’t stop long enough for that. While his two younger brothers slept like the absolute dead in their adjoining rooms, Eunjae volunteered to gather the supplies they’d failed to bring during their escape from Seoul. Three duffel bags, new phones for Max and Jesse so that Emerald couldn’t track their old ones, a few sets of clothes.
Taking care of the other two left him with little time to dwell on everything that could go wrong. Alas, there wasn’t much to do now except wait.
Their flight to Los Angeles would board soon. Jesse had gone to stock up on three days’ worth of snacks that would be demolished in less than an hour. Eunjae worked on his backlog of messages, sending and replying while the Wi-Fi was decent. He wrote another email to Arthur, who replied with his usual speed.
Max was sprawled full length along four seats in the empty row they’d chosen, swaddled in a Golden State Warriors hoodie and swearing under his breath at yesterday's crossword puzzle. When he suddenly hauled himself upright, Eunjae was prepared to be accosted for another four-letter word that might possibly be the name of a country smaller than Sicily but larger than Mallorca. He’d been stuck on that one for hours.
Max surprised him by choosing to jettison the puzzle entirely. “I’m sorry about the door,” he said, out of the blue. “It was me. I’m the one who found it.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know, the door. That orange door at the waffle place, like the one in your book. When Jungwoo called you that first time, like the day after you went missing, you said something about it. I remembered. We’d walked past the waffle place a few times, looking for you, and I thought about how that was the only interesting door around there. I just kept feeling like it had to mean something, so we came back on another day.”
“It’s okay. You're not the one who told them where to find me, that was all Jungwoo. How did you connect it to the door in my book, though? Have you read it before?” Everyone in the group knew about Eunjae’s attachment to his worn copy ofThe Brass Key,but he couldn't recall ever discussing the plot with any of them in much depth.
His brother heaved a sigh. “Yeah, I read it once. I just… I saw that you always had it in your bag, back then, if we were traveling or whatever. I wondered why it was so important to you. I figured that Jungwoo probably knew why. That made me so damn mad. Why couldn't I know, too? Why was Jungwoo always the one you picked, and why did he always pick you? Why wasn't there any room for me?”
Max kicked at his luggage, refusing to look Eunjae in the eye. “I thought reading the book might give me something to talk to you about,” he went on. “'Cause I really wanted to talk to you about a lot of things. Like how you were always nice to everyone and we didn’t always deserve it. And how you always let Jungwoo do all the talking, even when it was obvious you didn’t agree. And I just wanted to be your friend on the same level that he was.”
Here, Max made an incoherent noise that was part disgusted groan and part wail of despair. “I can't believe I said all that! Augh!”
Eunjae let the incoherent noises pass. When Max had quieted down, he said, “I hope you still want to be my friend.”
“Idiot, why wouldn't I? Anyway, we’re brothers. Can’t change that ever.”
“You’re right,” said Eunjae. “So good luck getting rid of me.”
“Ha.” Then, very quietly, he added, “About Jungwoo, though.”
“What about him?”
“He hurt you, hyung. How could you just forgive him like that?”
“I hurt him too.” Being honest about this was like voluntarily twisting the knife, but Eunjae felt lighter as soon as the words left him. “And you just said it, didn’t you? We’re brothers. Can’t change that ever.”
