What had gotten Denny so upset, back there? It started when Jiyeon asked about their follower counts. Eunjae made up his mind to pursue the topic further, and Jiyeon must have sensed the direction his thoughts had taken because she requested the phone again.
“You’ll use it to film the livestream, right? I can do it for you.”
“Ah, yeah. I have to make another Instagram account first. I didn’t get to that yet.”
“About that. We'll lend you the Wanna Waffle accounts, that's got around two thousand followers between Instagram and Facebook. There's tons of people we can ask to share it out, and Denny's probably on the phone with that guy he knows at Channel 4. But you can use my Instagram, too.” And she sounded so calm on the surface, but something was off and Eunjae knew it. Especially when she added, “I can’t compete with Apollo’s numbers, but 1.3 million followers is —”
Eunjae set the box down at the foot of the bed. “Better than nothing,” he said, filling in the rest. “You have 1.3 million followers on Instagram?”
The microphones, the tripods, the way she moved through filming a video like it was a dance with steps long since memorized. The phone she'd hurled into the sea. The phone she preferred to use now — a plastic brick for calling and texting, nothing more.
“Well, Emma does,” Jiyeon replied, still refusing to look at him. “Emma Han. That's who I am, online. Those counts were higher around six months ago, and I don’t have updated numbers for the other platforms, but I'm not surprised the count went down. That's a natural consequence when you post that you're quitting and not coming back.”
He felt that this had to be about more than just making a personal choice to leave social media. Having over a million followers was no small feat. Building that kind of platform took time and investment, and at a number like that, it evolved into more than a platform. This had been her livelihood. An endeavor like that was not so easily abandoned.
There was a time when I was Emma, just Emma, and Jiyeon was harder to reach. I sort of forgot how to be her. But she was always there. I just needed to learn who she was, again.
“Why did you quit?”
She didn't respond right away, and her smile had vanished by the time she did. “When you're Ari, do you ever feel like nothing is real anymore? Likeyou'renot real anymore?”
Wide-eyed, Eunjae said, “I do.”
“I thought you might say that.” Jiyeon heaved a sigh. “It's a long story. We don't have time right now, but I swear I'll tell you later. All you need to know is that I couldn't take it anymore. That's why I quit.”
“And has that changed?”
“Ha. No, I don't want to go back to being that person or living that life. It got to be so miserable. Just thinking about typing my Instagram password is making me nauseous, honestly. Please hurry and give me the phone so I can get this over with.” A rueful laugh. “I might lose my courage and run away again.”
“This is too much. You made a choice to put this down and I can't ask you to pick it up again just for me.”
“You're not asking,” countered Jiyeon. “I'm offering. Using my account gives you much better visibility than any of your new accounts combined. I’m verified, I have a longer reach, and I’m willing to bet that a big part of my audience overlaps with yours.”
She was right, and Eunjae had no doubt it would do them a great deal of good to take her up on the offer, but there would be a price to pay. Once she got tangled up in this situation, there might be no going back. How could he allow that to happen? He didn't know Jiyeon's reasons for running away, but that was beside the point.
She’d built a quieter world for herself. Doing this would almost certainly herald the end of that world as they knew it right now. Eunjae couldn't bear the thought of it.
“No,” he told her. “Thank you, with everything I am, but no.”
Their eyes met. All he could get out of her was, “Hmm.”
“No. I can't accept, okay? I mean it.”
“Eunjae-yah,” she said, approaching him with an upturned palm. “You're so sweet, but please just let me borrow my own phone.”
He caught her hand. “You've helped me enough. You've helped me so much that I'll never be able to pay it back. I have to say no, this time.”
“Didn't you say you could pay me back with a song?” she asked, lacing her fingers with his. “Let's do that.”
“Just the one? Doesn't seem fair.” He should've stripped this jacket off when he had the chance. Why were they keeping the thermostat at subtropical temperatures?
“Three, then. Can I have the phone now?”
Eunjae used the last of his wits to remember where the phone was, dig it out of his pocket, and surrender without a fight. She thanked him for it. And from just outside the bedroom door came an awestruck, loudly whispered, “Oh, hell.”
“He really tried, though.”
“Stupid of him, but yeah.” A crunch. Was that popcorn? “Good effort, Ari.”
