We take the subway to the next station over to find a karaoke room, choosing one at random near Exit 4. It’s on the third floor of a building that contains multiple businesses, including a seafood restaurant on the second floor and a billiard hall on the fifth. Gi Taek pays for two hours’ use of the room, while Angela and I inspect the small selection of snacks and sodas. We connect eyes briefly over the counter before grabbing as many items as we can, then fighting over who gets to pay.
We pile into the small room. Gi Taek immediately goes for the remote control, his fingers flying over the keys as he queues up the first few songs. Angela heads straight for the tambourine, twirling it expertly in her hand. The loud opening chord of Big Bang’s “Fantastic Baby” plays, and I realize it’s going to be that kind of night.
What is it about singing at the top of your lungs in a small room with the people you love best that makes all your worries disappear? Sometimes we sing together, other times as duos—Gi Taek and I perform a ballad that has Angela in literal tears—or as solos, because everyone enjoys a good spotlight moment when singing their favorite songs.
While Gi Taek and Angela channel Chanyeol and Punch, a glow of light catches my attention, and I turn to see Gi Taek’s phone is lit up. I reach for it.
“Hong Gi Taek!” I shout, and hold the phone up so that the screen’s facing him. He steps around the table and takes it. Glancing at the screen, he brings it to his ear.
“Yah, saekki,” he says, playfully. “Took you long enough to call me back.”
Angela begins to rap Chanyeol’s part of the song and I lose my mind, screaming like I’m being murdered.
Gi Taek presses his hand to his ear to better hear his friend. “I can’t play right now, I’m out with friends. We’re at a noraebang near Exit 4. Come join us.”
I scowl at Gi Taek. Is he really inviting one of his gamer friends to crash our night?
But Gi Taek’s already rolling his eyes. Apparently, his friend rejected the offer. “Heol,” Gi Taek drawls. “I see how it is.” He finally notices me watching him. “Your loss.”
At that moment, Angela’s song ends and the opening notes to Girl’s Day’s “Something” begins. I squeal and rush to my feet as Angela hands over the mic. Immediately, I get on my hands and knees, as the choreography for the song begins with a sexy floor dance.
Angela screams, pretending to faint onto the vinyl seats, and Gi Taek hollers, even though he’s still on the phone.
Normally, I would never attempt to be this type of sexy, stretching my arms above my head across the floor and gyrating my hips, but I feel confident and safe with Angela and Gi Taek, also it’s fun.
“Min Sori! Min Sori!” Angela starts chanting my name.
“I’m hanging up,” I hear Gi Taek say, throwing his phone onto the seat. It immediately lights up again—his friend calling him back—but Gi Taek ignores it, taking up the tambourine to cheer me on.
Time passes quickly and soon our two hours in the room are almost over. The countdown clock on the screen warns that we only have another fifteen minutes until we either have to vacate the room or pay for more time.
“Should we add another hour?” Gi Taek asks.
“Yes!” Angela and I shout together.
“How about we play a game?” Gi Taek suggests. “Whoever has the lower score at the end has to pay.”
Jenny had played a similar game with Jaewoo the first time they’d met, before she knew who he was. I was surprised when she’d told me, only because it seemed out of character for him. He wasn’t the adventurous type, not like Nathaniel, who always managed to surprise me, catching me off guard in moments when I’d least expect it.
“Do you have any idea how many noraebang there are near Exit 4?” a low, breathless voice says from behind me.
“Nathaniel!” Angela shouts.
I twist around in my seat. He stands in the doorway, wearing a padded jacket over black jeans. His hair—still dyed that distinct midnight blue—curls slightly around ears that glint with piercings. Sauntering into the room, he flops onto the worn seat beside me, and his wood-scented cologne sets my head to spinning.
“I thought you were at your apartment playing video games,” Gi Taek drawls.
I gape at Gi Taek. Nathaniel was the friend he was speaking to?
Nathaniel shrugs, his hands still in the pockets of his jacket. “My sister wanted me to bring her something at her dorm. It’s around here.”
Nadine. I’m struck with a pang of guilt. She’d texted me when she arrived in Seoul for her study abroad program, but I never responded, too embarrassed at how I left her house after my father’s scandal.
“So I thought, why not stop over and grace you all with my presence?”
“I feel graced!” Angela says.
“Really, you shouldn’t have,” Gi Taek deadpans.
I study Nathaniel out of the corner of my eye. The last time we saw each other was two months ago, in the living room of his house. Did he discuss the scandal with his sisters after I left? It would hurt me to know, but I wouldn’t blame them if they pitied me.
“Can I have one of these?” My body tenses as Nathaniel reaches across my legs to the table, grabbing a soda. After a long drink, he reaches over again, this time retrieving a bag of chips.
As it’s done this whole week, my mind chooses to remind me that Nathaniel might believe that I still have feelings for him. I feel mortified, but also nervous. I don’t know what he’s thinking. What if he asks me about the radio show?
When he leans back, he notices the awkward way I’m sitting. “Oh, sorry,” he apologizes with a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his head. “Not a lot of room in here. You want one?”
My mouth feels dry, so I lick my lips to wet them. I need to stop acting so nervous. If he asks about the radio show, I’ll simply tell him that I had forgotten to change his name back from “Boyfriend” in my contacts, which I immediately did after the recording.
“Sure.” My voice comes out breathy, having held it for too long.
His eyes flit upward, a slight frown on his face. He pops open the bag and holds it out to me, offering me the first chip.
I struggle for a safe topic of conversation as I take out a piece. “So, video games?”
“I was getting my ass handed to me by this one kid,” Nathaniel says darkly. “I think he was in middle school.”
His words stir a memory. “I remember in middle school when you used to play video games all day. You’d be late for practices because you stayed up all night playing them.” I laugh. “You’d get in so much trouble.”
“I remember that you loved to go to that comic book shop near the company and read manhwa all day, the one that closed down. You especially liked the romance ones. I stole a book from you once and read it aloud. You were so mad, you wouldn’t talk to me for days.” Now it’s Nathaniel who’s laughing.
“I still haven’t forgiven you for that,” I say, which only causes him to laugh even harder.
Our eyes meet and he smiles a lopsided smile.
I feel the tension leave my shoulders. Maybe I’ve been worrying for nothing, and Nathaniel hadn’t given a second thought to the radio show. He’s just here because Gi Taek invited him and he happened to be in the area, like he said.
“Look!” Angela points to the monitor. “The owner added minutes to our room. That’s so nice.”
“Enough time to add another player,” Gi Taek says. “Nathaniel, you in?”
Nathaniel turns from me to grin at Gi Taek. “I don’t know what we’re playing, but I’m always down for a game.”
While Gi Taek explains the rules to Nathaniel, Angela and I scroll through Melon for song inspiration. Songs with simple melodies are easier to get a higher score with, but we didn’t come here for easy.
Gi Taek goes first. He performs the entirety of Taemin’s “Move,” choreography and all. My heart swells with pride to watch him. A dance major in high school, he’s really improved his skills at Neptune. If I were to guess, he’ll soon be selected for a group and debut within the year.
“Ninety-seven!” Angela cheers when his score appears on the monitor, then quickly realizes what that means. “We’re never going to beat that!”
“You can do it, Angela,” I say, raising my fist. “Fighting!”
She’s chosen a TWICE song, which is difficult to sing alone, arranged as it is for nine vocalists.
I clap the loudest for Angela as “94” appears on the screen.
Then it’s Nathaniel turn. He stands, rolling his shoulders like he’s about to step into a boxing ring.
“What song did you choose?” Angela asks him, plopping down on the seat across from me, out of breath.
He winks at her. “It’s a surprise.”
Taking the controller, he keys in a song. The title “Eyes, Nose, Lips” appears alongside the artist’s name, Taeyang. My heart starts to beat fast even before he brings the microphone to his lips.
While Nathaniel is XOXO’s main dancer, he’s also the lead vocalist after Jaewoo. His low voice is tender and sweet. He sings the first half of the song, trying to match his pitch to the melody, but as the song goes on, the lyrics start to sink in.
They’re about a breakup, the longing for another person, missing their eyes, their nose, their lips, missing their touch. His voice grows more passionate. He’s not singing to me—his eyes never stray from the screen with the lyrics—but I feel every word as if he is. As he sings, I’m remembering his eyes on me, his lips, his touch. By the end of the song, I can hardly breathe.
100.
Angela springs up from her seat with a scream. Her knees knock against the table and the soda Nathaniel had been drinking tips over the side, splashing onto my shirt. I quickly stand up.
“Oh no, Sori! I’m so sorry!”
“It’s fine,” I reassure her. “It won’t stain. I’m just going to go clean it up a bit.”
Grabbing my phone, I press open the door and escape into the short corridor. I key in the code for the bathroom and step inside. For a moment, I stand in front of the sink, waiting for my heart to stop racing.
It occurs to me that in New York, a similar thing had happened, except Nathaniel was the one who left. I doubt he was overcome with unexpected feelings. More likely, he wanted to wash the smell of alcohol from his clothing. With a sigh, I run the water in the sink, wetting a few paper towels and scrubbing at the stain.
When I step outside the door, Nathaniel is waiting for me.
“Are you all right?” he asks, stepping forward from where he’d been leaning against the opposite wall.
“It was just a little spill.”
He shrugs out of his jacket. “Here, take this.”
I lift my hands. “It’s not cold out.” Now that it’s spring, the weather has gotten a lot warmer.
“You’re . . .” Even in the poorly lit corridor, I can see the blush in his cheeks. I look down to see the water has seeped through my white blouse, revealing the outline of my chest. Now it’s my turn to blush. I accept his jacket, wrapping it around myself.
Sounds of muffled singing come from behind the closed doors that line the corridor. Ads for soju brands are plastered onto the walls. From far away, someone leans on the horn of their car.
“Sori . . .” I’m alerted to the roughness of his voice, but when I look up, his expression is carefully blank. “Do you still have feelings for me?”
“I . . .”
I know why he’s asking. After the radio show and my reaction to his singing tonight, I would jump to the same conclusion. For a wild moment, I imagine telling him that I do still have feelings for him, that when his eyes are on me, as they are now, I feel beautiful, I feel perfect. But . . . I can’t.
The reasons behind our breakup haven’t changed, at least the ones he knows, that he’s still an idol, that he has to maintain his image, to protect not only himself but his bandmates. And then there are the other reasons, ones he can never know about. No, it’s better to cut off any rekindling feelings before they have a chance to ignite.
“I don’t.”
He nods to himself, as if that was the answer he expected me to give.
“I have missed you though,” I say, because that at least I can be truthful about. His eyes rock back to mine. “How close we used to be, when we were friends.”
There’s a short pause, and then he says, “You never stopped being my friend.”
My heart feels almost too big for my chest, and I realize how much I needed to hear him say those words.
“I think I should probably head back home,” I say, with a sigh. “Will you tell Gi Taek and Angela?”
“I will, though you should text them when you get home, so they know you got back safely. And . . .”—his eyes meet mine once more—“text me too. You have my number.” His dimple deepens.
Cheeky. His teasing reference to the radio show releases the last of the tension I’d felt all week.
How does he do it? I think he’s maybe the only person in the world that both annoys and amuses me in equal measure.
“I should pay for the extra hour before I go,” I say. Since I’m leaving early, technically I lost the game.
He waves his hand in the air. “Don’t worry about it. I already paid for the room.”
I take a step, then turn to look at him over my shoulder. “Thanks, by the way. For picking up my call.” And for playing along for as long as he did. He didn’t have to—it was a risk for him.
“I’ll always pick up your calls.”
As I walk down the corridor, I hear a soft click as one of the doors down the hall closes shut.