Nikko replies to my text almost instantly. I knew he would.Unless he was tangled up naked with Jase, he’d never leave me hanging. I ask him to come see me, and he promises he’ll be over in a few minutes.
Crawling out of my nest, I pull on the hoodie that’s been hanging up to dry since Kija gave it to me last night. I hate that it doesn’t smell like him anymore. I hate that I’d run into the apartment, soaked and happy, feeling like I was finally getting the kind of fairy tale I deserved, and now, just hours later, I’m miserable. I can’t stand not knowing what has happened in the time between.
I get a text that Nikko is here and go to the door, looking around for signs that Chita is or isn’t at home or awake right now. Seeing him standing there in his pajama pants and a sweatshirt he clearly stole from Jase, hair all crazy and looking like he just woke up to come see me, makes me feel like I’m about to cry again.
Like a good best friend, he senses I’m on the edge of falling apart and pulls me into a hug, just holding me for a moment. When he lets go, he leads me out of the apartment, saying, “Come on, I know what you need.”
I’m happy to have his hand to hold as we ride the elevator to the lobby, taking a moment to pull up our hoods before stepping outside. I’m not sure where we’re going, and I don’t care. I know he’ll take care of me, and I can’t be alone with my thoughts and fears right now.
We don’t say a word to each other as I cling to him like a lifeline, following him a few blocks down the dark streets, past building after building of high-rise residences until we reach a brightly-lit convenience store.
“I don’t have any money,” I mumble quietly as he tugs me inside.
“Hyung’s got it,” Nikko tells me and I have to smile a little. It’s not often he tries to pull rank and remind me that he’s older. We’ve never had the type of relationship where he insisted onhonorifics or put me in my place as the youngest, but tonight I’m willing to let him be the big brother. “At a minimum, we need gimbap and banana milk.”
I nod, because he’s totally right. Snatching two tuna mayo triangle gimbaps from the refrigerated shelf, I look around for whatever other snacks catch my eye while he grabs our drinks.
Five minutes later, we’re checking out with a ridiculous selection, not unlike what we would grab back in our trainee days when the group would gather a stash large enough to startle even the late night cashiers.
After Nikko taps his black card to pay, the man behind the counter looks up at us and blinks like he’s trying to figure out who we are. For just a second I’m afraid he’s about to recognize us, but then he yawns and goes back to playing on his phone. I sigh with relief at his disinterest and follow Nikko back outside.
He seems to have a plan, so I trail along behind him, still grateful to not be alone and thankful for the distraction. Had I spent any more time in my room trying not to freak out I’d have probably started searching for ChiRyo fan fiction or something else that would be an equally bad idea, like resorting to doom scrolling. And I don’t want to get back into that habit. Kija’s request that I not read the garbage that gets posted online had been exactly what I didn’t know I needed. Even as bad as I had always felt after seeing the comments left by random strangers claiming to be fans, I would still go back for more. I wouldn’t stop for my own well-being, but when Kija asked me to—almost insisted—it had been easy. I could do it for him.
“Here,” Nikko says as he takes a sharp left turn into a dark alleyway. About halfway down the narrow stretch of street, he stops and looks around. I can see him smile in the faint light from a small opening at the back of the building we’re next to. He tilts his head toward a staircase that I can only see as I get closer to him. “Just what I was looking for,” he tells me, walking up to the first landing of the steps and sitting down.
All at once I realize what he’s doing—what he’s done for me. I carefully drop into a crouch next to him before criss-crossing my legs and settling in. Nudging him with my elbow, I can’t help but grin. “Urban alley picnic.”
“Yes. It’s been a long time,” he comments, reaching into the bag and handing over a seaweed-wrapped snack and banana milk jug for me to start with. “Things have changed a lot since we used to do this, but tonight felt like the right time to bring it back.”
I nod, as my eyes slowly adjust to the dim space we’ve taken over. “Thank you for knowing what I need. Then and now.”
Nikko leans back against the railing and tears open his bag of honey butter chips. “Sometimes we just have to get away from things. Escape for a while.”
Even though I can’t imagine that he feels the same way himself right now, I appreciate that he gives me time and space. He always has. Even when we would sneak out after long days of dance rehearsals and vocal practices, barely able to keep our eyes open from exhaustion, Nikko and I had our hiding spots, safe places where we could scarf down food without being monitored and speak casually with one another. Another alley around the corner from our first dorm had been the go-to, just far enough away to feel like we had some freedom.
“You want to talk about it?” Nikko asks while I take a few bites of my gimbap, even though it doesn’t taste like much right now.
“I haven’t heard from Kija all day,” I say. “I know that sounds like, dramatic or whatever, but I know something isn’t right.”
He cocks his head, curious. “I get being worried if you’re used to talking to him throughout the day and haven’t gotten to, but why do you think something is wrong?”
“I can just feel it.” I tap my chest, over my heart. I don’t know how else to explain it, this certainty that I have. “I know something happened.”
“Jase hasn’t said anything, though. If things were bad withKija-hyung, you know Jase would know. And that means I would know,” Nikko reasons.
I want to believe him, because that makes sense. The way we have paired up with two men who are also best friends has been advantageous—these extra links in our relationship, the support we have automatically because of these bonds. “What if it’s so bad he can’t tell you?” I whisper, suddenly concerned beyond what I had even imagined before.
“Don’t do this to yourself, Sun-ah.” He reaches to ruffle my hair, then smooth it back down again. “Catastrophizing isn’t going to help anyone, especially not you.”
“Yeah…” I stare off into the darkness, noticing the way that, from this angle, the small street seems to stretch indefinitely. I’m about to start wondering what these buildings are when my eyes are drawn to the screen of my phone where it lays on the step beside me. It’s lighting up with a bunch of notifications, one right after the other.
“What’s all that?” He leans over, peering at the messages with me.
Every single one of them is a link to a story from Ship*Post, all triggered by alerts I have. Any time my name appears in one of their articles, I get a pop-up. I had set that up years ago, but recently added Kija and, unfortunately, Kwon Chaeji.
All of these feature headlines about Chaeji and her boyfriend, how they were just spotted out tonight at a romantic dinner. Even though Nikko reaches out to stop me, I click on one of them and immediately see the pictures. She looks beautiful in her emerald green dress, reaching up to kiss Kija’s cheek. There’s another of Kija bowing his head close to speak to her, and one more of the two of them holding hands as they leave a restaurant.
It’s not the first time there have been photos of them together. But I had warning before. I knew where he was and why he was there. This time, I didn’t. I don’t.
