T
he wall separating Fi’s room from her elder sister’s—the one where Gabriel and Yihwan were having a heated argument—was made of plywood, and there was no need to put one’s ear against the wall to be privy to the conversation. That was how Fi started listening to KPop all those years ago, after all. Mayumi Legaspi blasted music in her room whenever she’d come home from university, and Fi heard it in all its catchy yet incomprehensible glory.
“I’m sure you’ve already heard about the developments back in Seoul. Stocks have crashed, and the big boss is furious. We’re trying our best to divert the people’s attention to Silverazzi’s comeback and Steven receiving a drama offer, but the fans are relentless. There is really nothing else we could do at this point but to wait for the issue to die a natural death...”
“Really? That’s the best you can do?”
“Then what more do you expect from us, Yihwan? Shut the internet down with our bare hands?”
“Oh, that’s really clever. Why don’t you do that?”
With a glance at Steven and Minchan, Fi knew both boys were tuned in to the conversation despite attempting not to look so blatant about it. Steven had been staring at that magazine page for the longest time now, and Minchan was just absentmindedly nibbling on a piece of pan de sal. It was almost like the kids had been shoved into this room because a hostile marital discussion was going on in the next.
“Look, Jo Yihwan-ssi.” Gabriel’s diplomatic tone turned stern, Fi noticed it in the way he addressed the band leader formally.
“My team is doing the best we can to cover all this up, all right? Just these past two days, we’ve had to come up with crap to shove down people’s throats. But why aren’t they buying any of it? Because sometimes people are just waiting for an opportunity to see a good man go down. Like it or not, this is the opportunity some people have been waiting for. For the perfect band leader to crash and burn.
“And what you did today does not, in any way, help the situation. It’s stupid and reckless. You could have gotten yourselves in trouble.”
Both were silent for a few beats until Gabriel spoke again. “You’re lucky, Yihwan-ssi. Fans might throw stones at you now for allegedly sleeping with a woman, but one hit song is enough for them to forget that. But Fi? She isn’t a celebrity who can turn things around with some cheap publicity stunt, and people will always remember her as—and excuse my language, but this is verbatim, posted on EG Project’s message board—the whore who had the gall to sleep with Jo Yihwan.”
The only other sound they heard after that was of the door being banged shut.
* * *
For the first time in years, the Legaspi dining table was completely occupied by more people than books or paperwork, and Diana couldn’t hide her enthusiasm. She wouldn’t stop apologizing for serving a “mediocre” set of dishes, though.
“Please don’t worry about it,” Gabriel said with a reassuring smile. “We were the ones who imposed...” He threw a glance at Yihwan, and his expression shifted to a more severe one, albeit fleetingly.
Fi could only shake her head. That her mother’s definition of “mediocre” meant pork sinigang, stove-grilled tilapia, salted egg and green mango salad, and leche flan meant she had recently updated her dictionary. In this household, this much food was a feast.
The dining table was a medium-sized six-seater, and Fi realized how peculiar the seating arrangement was when she finally took a seat. During Gabriel’s first meal here, Diana insisted he take the kabisera because he was a guest. Now that the trio was here as well, Yihwan naturally gravitated toward the opposite end of the table. On the band leader’s left sat Fi, then Diana, and Steven and Minchan sat on his right.
Fi didn’t think the two alpha males should be staring each other down during dinner, especially when they’ve just gotten out of a verbal argument, but it wasn’t like she could do anything about it.
“Please, enjoy your meal,” Diana finally said after saying grace, and Minchan excitedly dug into the bowl of sinigang. He had his eyes on the dish the moment he was told it was a near equivalent of his favorite tom yum goong.
“Yihwan-ah.” Fi snapped her fingers in front of him, bringing his attention back to the present.
“Yeah?”
“I was asking if you wanted soup.” She gently nudged a small bowl of sinigang toward him.
The band leader nodded, took the bowl, and thanked her. Yihwan ate in silence, complimenting Diana a little later after tasting every dish on the table. “Food’s good,” he simply said, loud enough to get Steven to agree. Minchan already expressed his opinion by helping himself to a second serving.
The loud buzzing of Yihwan’s phone against the table interrupted their small talk, and Fi caught a glimpse of Haera’s avatar when it popped up on the screen.
Yihwan grabbed his phone and excused himself from the table.
* * *
“Heard the weather is bad out there and thought to call.”
No kidding, Yihwan thought. He could barely make out Haera’s voice through the sound of hard rain hitting tin roofs. They really might have to stay for the night.
“Yihwan-ah.”
Once, a long time ago, the very same voice uttering his name would have sent butterflies fluttering in Jo Yihwan’s stomach. Hearing Haera’s voice on the phone had been a nightly ritual for them, and listening to her tell him about her day, laugh at his jokes, or sigh over a new song he had written used to bring him so much joy.
Haera’s voice used to be the melody his heart danced to.
“We’re fine.”
“That’s good. How are the boys doing?”
Yihwan pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry. I was under the impression that we are two people who shouldn’t be having this kind of conversation.”
“You answered my call.”
“I was being polite.”
There was silence on the other line, and Yihwan knew he had hit a nerve. He didn’t really care. He might still have feelings for Haera, but if he so much as caved in to her charms again...
“I miss you, Yihwan. I really do,” she confessed. He tried his hardest to ignore the crack in her voice as she spoke. “I feel like shit for doing that to you. It’s just that there were a lot of things to consider, a lot that could fall apart. I panicked.”
Yihwan understood aftermaths very well, especially for someone like Han Haera, whose name alone assured billions of won in sales. One wrong move, and she could lose everything in the blink of an eye.
Gabriel’s words echoed in his head: Sometimes people are just waiting for an opportunity to see a good man go down. Even after everything Haera had put him through, Yihwan would never wish for her downfall.
“Yihwan, won’t you forgive me?”
The hand pressed on his forehead travelled all the way to the nape of his neck, squeezing hard, as though a little pressure would help him think clearly. Forgiveness was easy when the heart has healed, and Yihwan knew he was nowhere near that yet.
“Not yet, noona.”
“I’ll wait.”
“It’s funny,” Yihwan said, swallowing the lump in his throat with much effort. “Do you remember how I said the very same words to you when you were breaking up with me? Do you remember what you told me?”
Haera didn’t reply.
“You told me not to.”
* * *
Steven’s voice was bouncing off the dining room walls when Yihwan returned much later. The drummer made everyone at the table laugh over a cautionary tale that involved stage pyrotechnics and a bad cold, and Yihwan lingered a few strides away, down the hall where he could clearly see a laughing, happy Fi Legaspi.
He needed a few more seconds to get his head on straight, pull his emotions down a peg or two.
“Seeing you getting sprayed with a fire extinguisher was the highlight of that concert!” Minchan exclaimed, chuckling. Even Gabriel seemed to have forgotten the incidents of the past hour as he laughed along with everyone.
As Steven introduced another concert mishap story (this time involving drumsticks and a cameraman), Yihwan caught sight of Fi leaving her seat. She headed over to where he stood, hand reaching for his arm.
“Kwaenchanha?” she asked, her voice almost inaudible.
He only looked at her and didn’t say a word. Her eyes were as warm as they’ve always been, but those same eyes now singed him for some reason. Still, he wanted more of that warmth, but thought it wrong to want more of her when all he could offer was the mess that he was, when he knew he was only looking for an anchor to keep him from drifting away.
“Yihwan-ah.”
Her voice sounded different now, too, for some reason he couldn’t explain. Nothing in its inflection had changed, and there was no trace of agenda in the way she uttered his name other than to let him know she was there, willing to listen to whatever he needed to say. But now it made him feel something else; like she was crushing his heart in her hand every time his name escaped her lips.
Listlessly, Yihwan stepped forward, and Fi closed the gap between them. A second later, he was holding her in his arms and she was running a hand up and down his back. Encouraging. Reassuring. Not a word had left his mouth, and yet here she was, so ready to provide the comfort he needed.
He closed his eyes on instinct, for a while just grateful for her.
* * *
To: Gabriel Park <gabrielpark@amethystent.com>
From: Jillian Montinola <jmontinola@jumpproductions.com>
Date: August 07, 10:53 p.m.
Subject: EG Project Leap of Faith MNL
Dear Mr. Park,
As discussed briefly over the phone before our reception got unbearably choppy, we at Jump Productions are recommending that EG Project’s Leap of Faith concerts be cancelled in light of Typhoon Choleng, which might be staying in the country for at least two more days. Since we are holding the concert in an outdoor venue, we are concerned over the safety of your band, staff, our crew, as well as the fans attending. There is no way we can push through with this concert under these weather conditions.
We are willing, however, to rebook EG Project for another date. Kindly give us at least a month to secure a venue. Of course, this is also up to the band’s schedule. We understand that their schedules are packed.
Please let me know Amethyst’s decision on this matter. As regards matters of finance, kindly expect a call from our agency within the next 24 hours. We are very sorry for the inconvenience.
Jillian Montinola
Event Organizer, Jump Productions PH
...
To: Jillian Montinola <jmontinola@jumpproductions.com>
From: Gabriel Park <gabrielpark@amethystent.com>
Date: August 08 at 2:12 a.m.
Subject: RE: EG Project Leap of Faith MNL
Dear Ms. Montinola,
Amethyst Entertainment has been informed of and understands the situation at hand. Although we are saddened that both parties’ efforts will go to waste, we accept the recommendation to cancel EG Project’s scheduled concert this weekend. We are currently keeping in touch with media outlets here and in South Korea to settle matters regarding the cancellation.
Rest assured that the band will return to stage their concert in Manila, but we cannot give you a certain date as of the moment, as EG Project’s schedule is booked until the end of the year.
We will be expecting your call. Thank you for your hard work.
Gabriel Park
PR Manager
Amethyst Entertainment, Seoul, South Korea
“Aren’t you going to rest yet?”
Gabriel was met by Fi’s curious doe eyes and a cup of coffee when he looked up from his laptop. She placed the cup on the table and sat across from him. The rain outside was now just a mild shower, but it didn’t seem like it was going to stop soon.
“That’s fresh, coming from you.”
“Touché.”
A smirk lined his face as he returned to his correspondence. “Are the kids asleep?”
Because the flood outside hadn’t yet subsided, the band decided to stay at Fi’s house for the night. Gabriel wasn’t exactly thrilled by the idea, but the band’s safety was their priority. Phone calls were made to the entourage to keep them in the loop, and the band continued holding the smokescreen up, keeping their fans amused all night.
Fi laughed. In essence, that’s what her job required: to “babysit” the band, manage their day-to-day activities, make sure they eat right to keep them from getting sick, make sure they observe proper decorum so as not to be branded a nuisance, and so on.
But she scrunched her nose at him too, an attempt to keep in a silly little smile over the insinuation that she and Gabriel were mom and dad. “Steven and Minchan are still on their phones, and Yihwan suddenly felt like writing something, so... no.”
Gabriel lifted the cup to his lips and took a sip. “Let them be. It’s the weekend, anyway.”
“And the concert is cancelled.”
“That, too.”
“You haven’t answered my question yet.”
He scratched his brow and stared back at his screen. It seemed he had more e-mails to respond to, more calls to make. “Give me at least another hour.”
“If you need any help...”
Gabriel raised his cup again. “This is enough. Thanks, by the way.”
“You sure?”
“You should be the one getting some rest.”
“Yeah... about that.”
His eyes narrowed as he studied her face. “Can’t sleep?”
“I heard your conversation with Yihwan before dinner,” she admitted. The look on his face told her he already figured as much. “Those things that people say about me...”
“Listen, I’m sorry I even uttered those words.”
“No—I... I know you were only upset over the boys’ carelessness.”
“Don’t let them get to you.”
“I’m trying my best.”
Gabriel pulled his laptop screen down shut and rubbed his palms together tentatively. His lips were parted slightly, like the words he wanted to say lingered there, reluctant to slip out. “Kijoo noona’s recommendation is to pull you out of EG Project’s staff list for the time being. Meanwhile, you can manage Silverazzi…”
“So that’s why Justin’s here.”
“Only until this all dies down, Fi. It shouldn’t be so bad?”
She shook her head. “I’ve worked with Silverazzi a couple of times. Bunch of nice girls with good heads on their shoulders. I don’t think there’d be a problem.”
“No separation anxiety?”
“Maybe a little bit, but I’ll live,” she replied, laughing softly.
“Is that a yes?”
“If it’s for the good of the band...”
“Filipina,” Gabriel uttered her name like a sigh. “I’d really like it if you started thinking of yourself too.”
* * *
And I don’t know what to do with
The truth you slapped my face with
Every time I look at you now
It’s like I never really knew you anyhow
I don’t think I have the right to feel this
But your voice—your voice
It’s tugging at my heartstrings
I reckon it beckons me
To fly to your side
But how do I
When someone’s gone and clipped my wings
“This isn’t right... ,” Yihwan mumbled, tempted to tear the page he just filled with words to a new song.
“It really isn’t.”
The band leader glanced over his shoulder and saw his band mates on their phones. He sensed trouble seeing the frowns on their faces. “What is it?”
“The fans... our fans have tracked down Fi noona’s social media accounts, and they’re posting horrible things.”
“These kids don’t even know what they’re talking about.” Steven’s tone was uncharacteristically stern, and Yihwan could see how hard the drummer tried to keep his cool. “How dare they put her down like this—they don’t even know her!”
“We can’t keep on letting them do this to her. We have to do something, hyung.”
“I know.” Yihwan gritted his teeth. “I just don’t know what.”
“Let’s sue them,” Steven suggested.
Minchan shook his head. “Do you think AmEnt is willing to shell out money for a class action lawsuit? They’re already losing money over this scandal in the first place.”
The two continued their debate, leaving the band leader to his thoughts. Yihwan stared at the page he had been writing on and tore it off. He used to be able to sort his issues out by writing about them, but he doubted it would be of any help now.
* * *
When Gabriel decided to wrap up, the sun was slowly peeking out in the horizon. He stretched his arms up above his head, noting the extra cup of coffee on the table in front of him. It was Fi’s.
She’d kept him company until about an hour ago, when he encouraged her to go to bed after dozing off in the middle of telling him a story about her sister. She acquiesced, but reminded him to get some rest, too.
He put the cups away in the kitchen, washing them carefully and placing them on the dish rack to dry. The rain had yet to stop, but strangely enough, he had already gotten used to the sound it made over the tin roofs. It wasn’t music to his ears, but he supposed he was going to associate it with Fi now, the way he did with a lot of mundane things.
She taught him the polite way to hand out business cards and give out handshakes so he wouldn’t be regarded as arrogant or disrespectful. Through her, Gabriel even learned it was impolite to knock back a shot of soju—or drink anything for that matter—without turning away from someone who’s older or of higher authority. “Your sunbae’s cup must always be full, so keep pouring them drinks, but never ever use your left hand,” he recalled her saying. “And never pour yourself a drink. That’s rude.”
He supposed it was a useless task to try pinpointing when exactly he started feeling this way for her. What he knew for certain was that she became his lifeline during his first year in Seoul, a strong rope the universe threw at him when he’d all but drowned in a culture so different from the one he grew up in. He sought her company when he felt as though everyone else looked at him like he was a fool, and she was always happy to be there for him.
At least he hoped she was.
Gabriel had adapted to the culture now. Gone were the days when his sunbae-deul would think him ill-mannered, or when his colleagues would laugh at his misinformed actions. Gone were the moments he would think twice about saying something, afraid of being misunderstood. Everything that crushed his otherwise solid self-confidence was gone, and it was mostly thanks to Fi.
But while Gabriel was thankful she was in his life, he knew it wasn’t simply gratitude compelling him to shield her from a world intent on tearing her apart.
“Are you in love with her?” his mother once asked. He wasn’t able to call New York a lot, especially after AmEnt changed CEOs and imposed a workaholic culture on its employees, but he did that one time. And he talked about Fi. He didn’t plan it, but it happened anyway.
“I don’t know.”
“Hearing you talk about her makes me want to meet her.”
“I wish you could. She’s amazing.”
Only “amazing” didn’t quite cut it. Gabriel once likened Fi to a moth enticed by Jo Yihwan’s flame, but that was only one way to look at the story.
The other was this:
That Fi was Gabriel’s sun, and right now he needed to protect her light before it got snuffed out for good.