The shop’s land line went off. Jiyeon answered, but just like the other night, no one was there. This had Jeannie rushing over in a panic. “That’s it. We need to tell Denny. Yesterday someone called to confirm he had our address right. Isn’t that what a search engine is for? Why are they calling? What if it’s a stalker? Is this a Code Blue?”
Movement caught Jiyeon’s eye through the dining room window. “It’s not a Code Blue,” she said, trying to sound as confident and reassuring as possible. And there was something more she wanted to add, but the words evaporated soon after.
There was a boy on the sidewalk outside Wanna Waffle. Words were printed in a band of black across the front of his shirt. Jiyeon could only read the fragments that said -RIDGE and PHYS ED. Unaware that she’d spotted him, the boy pored over his phone, thumb punching the call button. In the background, she heard the shop phone ringing, ringing, ringing. Was he the one who’d been calling recently?
And it couldn’t be Eunjae, of course not. Eunjae was taller, had grown into his proportions, and this boy’s hair was muchshorter. A crew cut, tidy and practical. But the color of their hair was the exact same: golden brown, with natural highlights that bleached to brighter strands of blond after enough time in the sun.
Jiyeon’s legs brought her to the door, seemingly of their own accord; she couldn’t recall standing up. Through the stained glass panels, the boy’s image refracted into shards of color and light. She waited for him to look up from his phone. If she could just see his face, she would know for sure that this wasn’t a dream. Would she wake up at any second, feeling foolish?
But when the boy looked up, Jiyeon saw a younger version of Eunjae. This was his brother, here at Wanna Waffle when he should be at his boarding school on the other side of the world. She turned the knob and propped the door open with her foot, feeling like it was June again, feeling like she’d stepped through time. What a disorienting sensation.
The boy jumped a little when he saw Jiyeon. She called to him from the doorway. “Ezra?”
He shied away, just a half step backward, and almost bumped into another figure approaching from the parking lot. The man’s hair and eyes were much darker, the set of his shoulders wider, but the familial resemblance was clear: this could only be Eunjae’s father, Simon. With a few more years of growing, the teenager would likely match him in height.
“That’s her,” Ezra mumbled to his dad. He turned to Jiyeon, stuffing both hands into his pockets. “You’re my brother’s girlfriend, right? We came to see him. Is he here yet?”
10
Apollo’sarrivalinBangkokunfolded in the usual dizzying blur. Eunjae waved mechanically as security staff herded them past a legion of Sunshines bearing gifts and handmade signs. Then he took refuge in the minibus waiting on the curb, ears ringing, assailed by flashing cameras. While their driver navigated a gauntlet of vibrant, bustling city blocks, Eunjae kept both eyes glued to his phone. How many times had he read and reread these texts from Jiyeon?Ezra’s here, the first one said. But how could his brother be there? Why?
He needed to call her. First, though, Eunjae had to talk to Ezra. He’d do it as soon as he made it off the bus and into his hotel room. Each additional second spent in traffic felt excruciating. He tensed every time someone honked a horn or roared past them in a thick cloud of exhaust. Max shot him several glances from across the aisle, curiosity morphing into open concern. Denny looked over just once. Judging from his expression, he'd gotten the same news.
Gridlock slowed their progress to a glacial crawl. Eunjae dispatched a terse email to his father and triple-checked the Blackridge academic calendar. Meanwhile, the delays just kept rolling in. Their destination was mired in chaos, fans clogging every pathway to the main entrance. Multiple idol groups like Apollo were staying at this hotel, and although it wasn't supposed to be a known fact among anyone's fans, word had gotten out long before the planes touched down. It seemed as though decades elapsed before things settled down and the room keys were doled out at last.
Eunjae practically sprinted out of the lobby. “Ya, slow down,” Kazu admonished him. “What’s gotten into this kid?”
“We’re supposed to take the stairs to the service elevator on the fifth floor,” said Kei, hooking a finger in Eunjae’s collar and reeling him back in. “Evasive maneuvers. Weren’t you listening when the Captain gave orders?”
“Sorry. I’m just… I have to make a call. It’s important.”
Kazu jumped to conclusions immediately. “Yikes. Young love.”
“Don’t smile like that. Creep!”
“What? I think it’s cute!” But then the mood collapsed. “Ari’s headed home soon. I’m glad he gets to stay there longer than I do.” Kazu’s voice wobbled. “My mom—”
Jungwoo interrupted this gloom-filled speech. “Watch out. Kei’s little fan club is in the building. They’re dancing backup for Athena’s stage tomorrow night.”
Squinting at the teenagers headed their way, Eunjae thought back to some announcements made by Emerald last month. The agency had named the trainees who would debut next year, in the wake of Apollo’s departure. “They’ll be in one of the new groups, right?”
“Yeah, and they're in love with Keiichi. He’s oblivious, of course.”
Kei turned his head sharply to the right, catching his admirers off guard. The girls shrieked in unison. Then they spiraled into a bout of frantic greetings, bowing to their seniors as etiquette required. The one with the most composure managed to thank Jungwoo for a song he’d written for their EP. “We really hope they’ll let us have that one,” she said, pointedly making eye contact with everyone except Kei. “Could you please tell Max-oppa that I have an idea for the English part?”
“Lucie, he went up the stairs before we did. Why didn’t you just tell him then?”
“We don’t talk to oppa outside the studio.”
“His girlfriend’s too scary,” came the unanimous verdict. “We don’t want her to get the wrong idea.” And then the trainees excused themselves, scurrying away like their lives depended on it.
“Why couldn’t you be girls?” Kazu complained. “I’d rather have daughters. And what’s wrong with you, Keiichi? Try smiling next time. It won’t kill you.”
Kei’s expression made it clear that giving out smiles for free was a ludicrous concept, off-camera and outside of work hours. This earned him a scolding that lasted all the way up to the tenth floor.
Eunjae stopped in front of his own room, key card in hand. Even the highest-quality soundproofing often proved no match for the sheer decibel range of Denny’s voice; he could hear him in there, deep in conversation.
“Look, that’s up to Yeonnie,” he was saying in Korean, as Eunjae crept inside. “Obviously I’d be happier if she didn’t.” He paused to glare at the fancy leather office chair parked at a desk in the corner. It was the kind that swiveled, rolled, and reclined to a hazardous angle. Eunjae expected to find Denny with a screwdriver and four sets of confiscated wheels by tonight atdinner. But that part about Jiyeon… he had to hurry and talk to Ezra. Then he’d call her right after.
