“Best manager on the planet. I owe him my firstborn child.”
“Ah, but wouldn’t that be Nicky…?”
Jaehwan chuckled at this. “No returns or exchanges.”
These basement floors were a warren of practice rooms and recording studios. Apollo had their own designated space, the door marked with their logo. Since debut, it had served as their second home. They’d eaten here, slept here, triumphed and failed here. It rarely went unoccupied for long. But the next time they worked together, whether in units or with all nine, the members of Apollo would be signed to Zenith. They’d never have a reason to practice here again.
Their last dance practice in this room. It saddened Eunjae to think of it. And yet, the sadness came with another realization: this was just a room. What warmth it held came from the presence of his brothers. It only felt like home because they were here with him.
No other groups were at this end of the hall, tonight. Jaehwan grimaced at the noise level. “Maybe I’ll turn around now,” he muttered. Scraps of arguments leaked through the gap in the door, all the various conflicts growing more tangled by the second. Interwoven through the racket was Kazu’s mournful howling, louder than all the rest. He’d reverted to Japanese, as he often did under stress, and Eunjae thought he could pick out the wordsI just want to go hooommmeeeee.
“Shit," said Jaehwan. "He was supposed to stay in Tokyo all the way through January.”
“I hope we can make it to the wedding, at least." Kazu’s cousin was getting married in November. She’d invited the whole group. “Now he’ll barely get two weeks at home before we start filming.”
“So that’s settled, then? This is definitely happening?”
“Doesn't seem like we have much of a choice.”
In their provisional contract with Emerald, there was a clause stating that the members couldn't be forced to participate in anything; they were free to opt out of scheduled activities if they wished. For a price, of course. Rejecting a gig could be costly, whether it was a few hours on stage, a day on a variety program, or eight weeks filming a show. Brand sponsorships might be withdrawn. In this case, the production company could sue for financial losses incurred when the stars backed out or postponed filming.
“It's not what anyone wanted or expected right now. We've had to deal with worse, though. Two months is better than four. And I know it won’t be easy on you or Jiyeon, but that’s one less thing for you to worry about. Can you imagine if the agencies let them cast the whole family, including her? You’d get yourself caught after one episode. I’d bet money.”
Eunjae was spared from having to admit that Jiyeon didn't even know about the show yet, or the agencies’ demands. For this, he could thank the sudden cessation of Kazu's howling. He’d gone silent on the other side of the door.
“Oh, god. That's the sound of him giving up.” A tremendous, world-weary sigh. “Let's go scrape Zu off the floor. It'll be just like the good old days.”
Jaehwan went striding through the door and was almost immediately overrun. Eunjae had to laugh, hanging back as the others cycled from shock to disbelief to pure elation. It tooka while for Apollo’s leader to break himself out of the pile of shouting, whooping brothers. At long last, he made it to where Kazu had collapsed in the middle of the room.
“Up you go,” said Jaehwan, hoisting him off the floor. “They’ll still let you fly out for Mika’s wedding. Very few people are stupid enough to get on the wrong side of Tachibana Group, and by that I mean the wrong side of your aunt.”
Excitement fizzled out into a collective shudder. Kazu’s aunt was terrifying.
“Filming wraps in November,” Jaehwan continued in his most soothing tone. “You get to be home for Christmas this year.”
“You don't know that for sure, Hwannie. You don't know anything for sure. Nobody does. Life is the worst.”
“You're the worst. Thought you were supposed to be the leader right now.”
“I quit. I need to go home. I missed my mom's birthday again.”
“Yeah, and who ran away from home in the first place? Wasn't that you? Came all the way to Seoul to be a teen father—”
“Notmyfather,” said Kei, under his breath.
Nicky lounged on the bench beside Kazu. “Oooh, not anybody else’s father either, right? I didn’t miss any scandals? You know I hate to miss a scandal.”
“Nicky.”
“What? Hear me out, leader-nim. He could’ve had a fling or something. Teenagers do that.”
Jungwoo hid behind his notebook. Eunjae longed to do the same. “Oh my gosh,” said Jesse. “Ohhhh my gossshhhh—”
“Awww! Hyung really was that young before, I forgot he was a teenager long ago.” Namgyu patted Kazu on the head. “It was just so long ago, though. Nobody's brain can remember that far.”
Jaehwan squeezed his eyes shut, summoning patience from some ethereal plane. Then he glared at the lot of them. “Missing one. Where’s Max?”
“Here. Found him wandering around upstairs.”
