12
Eunjaecouldoperateonminimal sleep while still retaining nine years’ worth of song lyrics in his brain. He’d survived experimental stage outfits, a fan who tried to clip some of his hair with nail scissors, and the time Apollo’s mascot nearly shoved him into a plume of fire. On tour, he lived through jet lag so severe that it started to feel tangible, lost sleep layered on his skin in concentric rings. Still, he functioned somehow. Could he manage to catch his own girlfriend alone for even five full minutes, though? No.
So what have you accomplished in life?joked the voice of Invisible Jaehwan, still very much present in his mind on a daily basis. As he did his part to demolish a tray of brownies, Eunjae had to admit that Invisible Jaehwan made a good point there.
Mrs. Han was in the process of loading Jeannie and Evan with at least a week’s worth of leftovers. Mr. Han could be found in his recliner, dozing through the nightly news. The apartment’s ancient and little-used dishwasher had been pressed intoservice. Eunjae lingered at the dining table, cocooned in the sound of churning water. Finding time alone with Jiyeon had been next to impossible so far, but the same was true about catching Ezra. It didn’t help that, despite traveling all this way, the latter seemed hellbent on avoiding him.
“Just try,” said Jiyeon, during a lull in her ongoing argument with Denny. For most of the evening, the siblings had been debating the pros and cons of adding outdoor dining space to Wanna Waffle. They had yet to reach any kind of resolution. “You should talk before your dad comes to pick him up. He came to see you, didn’t he? Ezra could’ve turned us down when we invited him, but he wanted to be here.”
Eunjae glanced at the front door. His brother had vanished through it, mumbling that he’d wait for Simon outside. Glumly, he replied, “That’s hard to believe.”
But he went anyway, shrugging into his jacket and rehearsing what to say. It was late, but the air hummed with muffled strains of music. There was a party still going full swing at the complex across the street. Ezra slouched against a pillar, wrapped in his maroon Blackridge sweatshirt, watching people come and go. He turned when Eunjae called his name.
It was undeniably strange to see each other in person. The last time they met, Apollo was on tour. He'd invited his brother to the Singapore concert. They all went to dinner afterward, Eunjae caught up in the group’s usual tangled knot of conversations and quarrels, while Ezra tried to follow along like a spectator at a tennis match. He came alone despite the offer of a second ticket for a friend.
This was his brother, by blood and not by contract. And yet they were strangers to one another, standing three feet and entire universes apart. Eunjae couldn’t rid himself of the fear that he’d left it too late. Now Ezra was here and even just having a conversation with him seemed like an insurmountable hurdle.With every breath, he became more certain that he was unequal to the task. Where to begin? How?
Ezra spoke up first. “You shouldn’t be out here. Dad's on the way and you hate seeing him.”
“I don’t care about that,” Eunjae replied. “Haven’t had a chance to talk to you yet, and now you’re about to leave.”
“You’ve been busy with everyone else.”
It was a cold night, for this part of California. The sneer on Ezra’s face made it feel even colder. Eunjae stepped in front of him, forcing eye contact. “Did you come here just to pick a fight with me? I don’t understand.”
“I came here to talk to you about the show.”
“What do you mean?”
The teenager stared back, perplexed by this reaction. “The show you’re filming with Apollo. I’m supposed to be on it, too. They talked to Mum and she wanted to sign the papers already, but I told her to wait until I could ask you about it.” Ezra’s gaze tracked the sweep of headlights rounding the bend, cruising Ivy Lane in search of a place to park on the curb. “I thought… maybe you wouldn’t be okay with it.”
“I’m not,” Eunjae answered immediately. It was a knee-jerk reaction, a response so obvious that his brain could produce it even in a state of shock. “This can’t happen. You’re only fourteen.”
“Weren’t you fourteen when you left?” Now there was something accusatory about his tone. His hands curled into fists, hinting at emotions kept carefully submerged. “Never mind. This is your new life and I’m not part of it.”
“That’s not true.”
His protest made no difference, despite its sincerity. “Don’t lie,” snapped Ezra. “It’s okay if you don’t want me here. We just have to get along on camera.”
The world came grinding to a halt. “You said she hadn’t signed the papers yet.”
“She did it today. They wanted an answer.”
“Ezra, no.”No, no, no.The word ricocheted around his skull. This had to be a nightmare. Eunjae would wake up soon, surely.
The next pair of headlights belonged to their father’s rental. Eunjae saw Simon at the wheel and wanted to drag him out of there, make him answer for this mess, but the impulse died fast. What would that accomplish? His dad had never opposed Leila in anything. If she wanted Ezra on the show, Simon wouldn’t be the one to stop her.
He heard the passenger door slam shut. “Mum said we’re coming back in two weeks,” his brother said, rolling the window down partway. “Guess I’ll see you then.”
They left. Eunjae stumbled into the apartment, head spinning. He had no notion of how much time passed before Jiyeon found him there, standing in the entryway, one second away from unblocking his mother’s phone number. He needed to call her. This couldn’t be allowed to continue.
Jiyeon was at his side in a flash. “What happened? What’s wrong?” Then she noticed the name on his phone screen, grabbed his hand, and rushed him into the bedroom she once shared with Janie.
In the dark, Eunjae panicked as history repeated itself. She'd done this on the night they first met. Was she about to lock them in again? This was going to get him killed. His brain filled with horrific scenes involving Denny and Mr. Han chasing him into the street, one of them swinging Jiyeon’s trusty softball bat from high school. Mrs. Han would aim that deluxe annotated Jane Austen omnibus directly at his face.
“We can't keep doing this,” said Eunjae, dropping his voice to a whisper.
Light flooded the room and its pair of twin beds, the high school mementos, Janie’s travel souvenirs. The boxes he’d shipped from Seoul were piled next to the bookshelf. “Doing what?” Jiyeon asked him. Eunjae struggled to reply. His problems receded on an ebb tide. She was here. He was home.
