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MJY: I’m on my way to my destination and traffic is wack.
MJY: Press 1 if you’re my girlfriend.
Me: Why are you like this?
Me: Honestly, why?
Me: ...
Me: Jaeyong.
Me: Jaeyong, Jaeyong, Jaeyong.
Me: You’re really gonna have me on read when I know you’re looking down at your phone right now, waiting for me to do what you want?
Me: I’m more stubborn than you.
Me: Remember?
Me: Jaeyong-ssiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii.
Me: Lucas!
Me: Fine, I see how it is.
Three hours later...
MJY: Press 2 if you’re disappointed that your girlfriend won’t call herself your girlfriend.
MJY: 2 x 100,000
MJY: Raleigh-ssi, why do you have to do this to me?
Me: Oh my God, stop. Stop it.
MJY: Are you blushing? Do I make your heart flutter?
Me: You’re making my eye twitch from all the greasy lines you’re sending my way, wow.
MJY: :))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))
MJY: Press 1 if Min Jaeyong is your boyfriend.
Me: I’m not going to do it. Stop.
MJY: Press 1 if you’re Min Jaeyong’s girlfriend.
Me: Hey, you’re being over the top.
MJY: Please, I’ve been waiting for this moment for forever. Just press 1. Please? Please, Raleigh?
Me: Why is it so important? It’s not like you can tell anyone. I don’t really want you to tell anyone other than the company if they absolutely have to know.
MJY: I spoke with our manager and I’m waiting for a meeting with our CEO.
Me: Oh my God, why the CEO? Are you going to get fired? Delete all these messages! I don’t exist! Say you hit your head and I’m just a figment of your imagination! Jaeyong? Jaeyong?!
One hour later...
MJY: I’m sorry, the CEO came in and I stowed my phone away fast, didn’t want to be disrespectful, Raleigh-ssi.
MJY: Did you miss me?
MJY: Where you at? Enjoying Seoul a little bit more? Send me interesting pictures, if you want!
Me: Tell me what happened first and then I’ll send you the cutest Halloween costume I found for Haneul, and yeah, I know that Koreans don’t celebrate Halloween, but I don’t care.
MJY: Nothing major. We just went over what my contract stipulates, what I’m responsible for in terms of maintaining my image for the company. Hyojin-hyung, our manager, knows about you because he has to, and he knows that you were the foreigner from the fansign, so he put two and two together after I told him we were old, old friends from a long time ago. It went pretty well, and we discussed what would happen when the news would break .
Me: What do you mean *when*?
MJY: Raleigh-ssi, please don’t worry. I’m not going to tell anyone, but it’s going to be hard trying to stand next to you or go out with you and not want to hold your hand, or sit next to you and put my arm around you, okay? Everyone’s a potential reporter with their phones...it’s just the way it is.
MJY: I’m scaring you.
MJY: It’s an eventuality that we all have to prepare for.
MJY: If you’re still willing to see where this goes.
Me: It’s just hitting me all at once. Brb gonna go breathe in a brown paper bag for an indeterminable amount of time!
MJY: Raleigh? Just breathe, okay? I’m out of Seoul right now, and I can’t come see you, but pick up the phone, okay, please?
I’m not really breathing into a paper bag, sitting in the middle of my living room, staring at the dark, blank screen of my TV. I am trying to ignore the invisible band around my lungs, the way I can’t seem to get enough air. I’m not doing any of that, I swear.
Of course I’m panicking, of course.
The very thought of people knowing about me in connection with Jaeyong leaves a bad, bad taste in my mouth. I swipe to connect the call and press it to my ear, pulling in as deep breaths as I am able to right now.
“Raleigh? Okay, okay, I can hear you breathing. You’re good, sweetheart, I’m sorry I sprung that on you, so sorry.”
I wheeze out a weak laugh. “Shit, you better hope I’m breathing. If you call yourself oppa I’m going to scream in a bad way.”
Jaeyong’s laugh spills out of the phone, part relief and part happiness, and I anchor myself to the sound, trying to chase away the uncertainty I feel. This is Min Jaeyong, though, the one guy who never made me feel like I wasn’t enough, even if I didn’t really know it at the time.
“I’m not, don’t worry. I think I’m just going to ramble on, so you can catch your breath, okay?”
I nod, forgetting myself, and press the phone closer to my ear, shutting my eyes for a second. I can fool myself into thinking he’s here, right next to me. I take my time, listen to Jaeyong breathe calmly into the phone, try to match my breathing to his own rhythm.
“Yeah, you can hear that, huh? It’s not a panic attack or anything like that, I’m just coming to terms with everything. Like I said, it’s hitting me all at once,” I whisper into the phone, lying back on my floor, eyes still closed. “What else did you guys talk about today?”
“You want all the nitty-gritty? We have to be discreet, of course, but that just makes sense on your part and my part—this isn’t a publicity stunt, we’re not promoting a movie or music video or whatever else you can think of. This is personal, this is private.” Jaeyong’s quiet, and I can hear him in the car, wondering if he’s sitting in the back or the front.
“You had to go outside of the city today?”
Jaeyong clears his throat. “Yeah,” he hums, and I shiver all the way in my apartment. See? His voice has magic powers, I’m sure of it. “Had to wrap up some of our promo shots for the tour that’s coming up, one of the files got corrupted, or so I was told,” he snickers, and it eases something in my chest. “Raleigh, if you don’t want to do this with me, just tell me.”
I sigh, practically drumming my heels on the floor. “It’s not that. I just want you, do you get it? Just you. I don’t want everything else. I don’t care that you’re an idol. Like, I really, really don’t.”
“Ah, I wasn’t expecting that, wasn’t expecting to hear it.”
I blink my eyes open, staring up at the ceiling, the ache in my chest unfurling to hold everything I feel for Jaeyong inside me, being selfish in keeping them to myself instead of letting him know.
Why, though? He has power over me from the feelings alone, whether I say them out loud or not, he still has influence over me, and it’s terrifying.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt, knowing it’s true.
“I’m sorry I got you into this, but Raleigh? I don’t want to stop, if you don’t. Tell me what you want, just tell me.”
God, he’s being so honest and open, and I’m the one being a shady bitch. “In the last year of high school, I went out on a date with Jacob Miller, remember him?”
“Jacob? Uh, was he the one that you’d give death glares to all the time?”
I snort. “Yes, ’cause he was an asshole to you.”
“We all were assholes. Teenagers. Same thing.”
I laugh, wondering how I got here. “Well, he was still an asshole after you left, tried to come onto me too hard, backed me into a corner at school, and it scared me when he didn’t choose to listen to me. I was ashamed of myself for a long time because I got so scared, froze up, couldn’t forgive myself for being paralyzed in fear that if Mr. Smith didn’t pass by at the right time, then I don’t know what would have happened.
“And I’m lucky, super lucky, from all the girls I met doing self-defense classes, those who went through so much more than I did, that I felt like... I felt like I didn’t deserve to feel the shame and disgust until I started talking with school counselors, and it helped me a lot. Self-defense helped me even more. I’m telling you this because...well, I want you to know that about me, that I’m not the exact same person you left behind when you came here to Seoul. I don’t know what I might do if people find out about us; I don’t ever want to be that scared again, you get it?”
I let the silence hang, pulling in a deep, deep breath, heart pounding in my chest, counting off the seconds with each beat: booboom, booboom, booboom.
“Shit, I’m so glad you told me. It’s just, I don’t know what to do. I’m going to read up on this, okay?”
“What’s there to read up on?” I snort. Is he going to look up how to have a secret relationship with an idol on Naver?
“It’s always important to read up on any subject you’re ignorant of, Raleigh-ssi, you know that.” He sounds like he’s grinning.
Again with the Raleigh-ssi—Miss Raleigh—like the kind of thing a married couple would do, if the married woman had decided to take her husband’s name if she wanted. It’s an honorific, yes, but less formal. It’s playful and cute and affectionate and I think I like it a lot.
“A lot of people don’t think that way,” I murmur, rolling over onto my side, leaving my phone pressed to my face, staring down at a floating dust mote that just spawned out of nowhere. We are not alone.
“I just...I’ve been training a long time to get rid of that feeling, and it came up so suddenly, and it freaked me out, freaked you out with my whole hyperventilating thing.”
“It didn’t freak me out. I was worried, obviously, ’cause you wouldn’t say anything to me, and hearing you struggle to breathe isn’t an experience I want to re-do ever again, but now I have an explanation and I’m going to be more careful in the future about dropping bombs on you.”
It burns up my throat, everything I feel about him, coming out in a fiery burst. “God, Jaeyong, who are you? Seriously, who are you?”
He laughs, surprised, elated, all of the above. “I’m your boyfriend, if you’ll have me, and all my idol baggage.”
“Yeah. I mean, yes,” I blurt again, heart bursting with affection for him and he’s not here to receive all of the cuddles and snuggles. “I wish you were here.”
“Oh, darling,” he says, voice deep and raspy and warm, I just want to wrap myself up in it. “I’m still just under an hour out, and I’ll be there.”
“Aren’t you exhausted?” We’re going to ignore that he called me ‘darling,’ just move right along, thank you very much.
Jaeyong sighs, laughs under his breath. “You’ll be my battery. I’m going to order some food when I get closer—anything in particular you want to eat?”
“Oh! Kimchi jjigae, please? Some hameuljeon, too? I’ll get the makgeolli from the convenience store a block over.”
Jaeyong snorts, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “Seafood pancake and makgeolli? Sounds awesome. I’ll message you when I’ve ordered, so don’t freak out if someone rings your bell and it isn’t me.”
“Okay, sounds good. I’m hungry already.”
There’s silence, but I can tell that we’re both smiling into the phone like a bunch of idiots. Jesus, when did I become this person?
“Hey, Raleigh?”
“Mmmm?”
“How far along did you train? In judo, or karate?”
I smirk, press my phone to my ear and sit up, planning on doing a quick clean of my place as soon as I get off the phone. “Taekwondo, actually. Something about head high kicks makes me feel like a superhero, you know? And I’m only second dan black belt. It took me forever to get it ’cause I was busy with other things, but yeah.”
Jaeyong clears his throat, voice strangled. “Sure. Okay. My girlfriend can kick my ass. Great, great, great. We should spar sometime. I only got to red belt before I got annoyed and dance took over my life, but we should. It’ll be fun.”
“Is this going to turn into that scene from Oh, My Venus?” I grin, shaking my head, amazed at how Jaeyong has changed my mood with one measly little phone call.
“I haven’t watched that drama yet; it’s not new, is it? I mostly watch shows in English or French, actually, sometimes I feel like I might lose them if I don’t practice.”
I nod, but again, he can’t see me. I sigh and roll my eyes at myself. How many times do I have to do it for it to stick? “I think I have the Space Jam DVD around here somewhere.”
“Are you kidding me right now?!” Jaeyong squawks, and I have to pull the phone away from my ear to save my eardrum. “Okay, be there soon! I’ll ask the driver to go faster. See you!”
And with that rapid-fire little speech, Jaeyong disconnects the call, and I get to work.
I have a boyfriend coming over, and I have shit to do instead of overthinking everything.
I’m done straightening up, and I pull on some jeans instead of sweats and a cuter top that declares my love for a fantasy book series no one will recognize here. I hike my hair up into a bun, and glance down at my phone before stuffing it in my little cross-body purse.
I head back to our chat, Jaeyong and I, and press 1, heart pounding too fast, getting me a little light-headed.
Before I can even stuff my phone back in my purse, there’s a reply.
Just a bunch of less than threes.
Flustered now, I put my phone away and head out the door, moving towards the Korean version of a dépanneur, picking up what I need, greeting the kid manning the cash.
I grab the makgeolli, debating whether I should get the regular kind or the sweet potato-flavoured one because I’ve heard good things from the people I work with, and because alcohol is so cheap here, I pick up a bunch of the real soju and the fruit-flavoured ones with less alcohol content.
I grab some snacks—gimbap, and ramen packs, and those fire noodles that I love to have hanging around my apartment when my period decides to show up, thrown off by the change in time zones since I got to Seoul.
I meet the delivery kid at my door when I head back, having missed Jaeyong’s text when I decided to take a little walk around the neighbourhood to help settle my thoughts, having forgotten about the food (how in hell could I forget about the food?!) and was surprised at the sheer amount of food Jaeyong has ordered us.
I bring it all inside, putting away the grapefruit soju in the fridge as I want it cold, setting up plates and cutlery at my teeny, tiny coffee table, then finally glancing down at my phone to a text where Jaeyong asks permission to bring Haneul over.
That settled, all there is to do is wait, and think, and wait some more, and think about this strange adventure that I’ve embarked on.
I practically brain myself on my front door, tripping over my own damn feet before unlocking it (after checking the peephole) and throwing it open to get attacked with affection by Haneul. Jaeyong comes inside, face hidden underneath his mask and ball cap.
He’s wearing common black on black again, loose comfortable clothes, and I take him in while Haneul goes crazy sniffing around the place, going to each corner of the living room, sniffing hard, inspecting, tail wagging, before trailing along and heading to the table where the food’s almost done being laid out.
Jaeyong pulls off his ball cap, hair still styled from whatever he did today. It’s pulled back, undercut looking fresh, fresh, fresh, with me wondering when I’ll be able to get to touch it. When he pulls the mask off the lower half of his face, it’s all over.
Game over for me.
Goodbye, world.
I gape at him, eyes wide, and my eyebrows pressed close above the bridge of my nose, wanting to become one.
I don’t know if it’s the juxtaposition, the way he looks cuddly like an actual boyfriend (mine!), and the makeup and hair that’s very much his idol image, I just don’t know, but it’s making my heart sprint in my chest, bubbles fizzing in my blood, my brain going offline while I just stop and stare, and stare, and stare.
“What? Ah, I didn’t have time to wash up—”
“You look beautiful, gorgeous, all those words!” I sputter, dumbfounded. I wave around my hands like I’m trying to snatch the words out of the air. “Shit, I gotta up my makeup game, huh, if we’re ever caught together.” And there I go again, bringing it up, but still, I need to be prepared.
“Jaeyong—fuck, you’re super beautiful, I’m so mad,” I say, clutching my t-shirt over my heart. “Oh my God, so so mad. Wow, the stylists did such a good job on your smoky eye makeup, and this is for a concert promo? Lies and deceit, Jaeyong-ssi!” I wave him all the way inside, walking backwards, Haneul whining in the background, and I hope to God he hasn’t attacked the food, because I can’t look away from Jaeyong.
The stylists have intensified the smokiness around his eyes in something that looks like a cool-toned brown, making him ten times sexier and a little unapproachable if it weren’t for his boyfriend-wear practically screaming for movie-watching cuddles. His forehead is completely exposed, letting me look at his eyebrows, and honestly, the fandom would die if they got see him like this, just like I’m about to expire.
What makes it even worse, though, is the way Jaeyong is blushing, eyes skittering off the side, over my shoulder, unable to look at me dead in the eye and my heart kicks in my chest, does a pirouette while an awkward, desperate sound leaves my mouth.
I move toward him and lift up on my toes ’cause he’s still taller than me. I place my hands on his chest for balance and press the softest, most chaste kiss on his mouth, then again when his lips part in surprise, smiling up at him when I get my heels back down on the ground.
Jaeyong blinks at me, semi-dazed, and I bring my finger up in the middle of the air between us, lips tingling with the phantom touch of his mouth against mine, sinking my teeth into my bottom lip.
I jab at an invisible number pad, jabbing at the number he wants. “One, one, one...”
Jaeyong takes a second and then tilts his head back and laughs, even more beautiful than seconds before, my heart tumbling over itself in my chest as I hold my breath, knowing, not realizing but knowing, that I’m totally gone for Min Jaeyong.
He just doesn’t know it yet, he has no freaking clue.
None.
And I’m thinking I’m going to keep it that way.
