“M
inchan, I need a hand please!” Steven called from the bedroom while cramming the rest of his clothes and some fan gifts into his suitcase.
“I’m busy!”
The drummer cursed under his breath. Eish, jinjja. Minchan could be such a little shit sometimes.
“Ya! Daeche mweoya?” he asked, annoyed. The bassist had been glued to his tablet all night, and Steven figured he wasn’t just playing games or binge-watching movies. Steven walked out to their suite’s common area and found Minchan sitting on the carpet, writing something on his small notebook. His tablet, propped up against a cup of coffee, was playing a YouTube video.
Minchan didn’t even bother looking up when he mumbled, “Research.” Steven caught the words “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can hurt me too” from the video before looking over Minchan’s shoulder.
“New song?”
“Possibly.”
The longer Steven stared at the words Minchan scribbled on his notebook, the clearer his intent became. Steven sat with him. “Melody?”
“No progress on that yet.”
In no time, Steven began tapping his fingers on the table, humming a tune. Minchan caught on and transposed some of the words he wrote, working within the melody his hyung just came up with.
“I think we may have something here, Chan-ah.”
Steven pulled the notebook toward him when Minchan put his pen down and let the words linger in his brain a bit. He grinned. It had the makings of a really good song.
“Jal haesseo, Minchan-ah!” Steven said, beaming at their magnae with pride.
Minchan’s eyes lit up. “You really think so?”
“Yep!” Steven smacked Minchan’s back, got up and took the notebook hostage as he walked back into the bedroom. “We’ll finish up later. Now help me pack.”
* * *
On a regular day, it was easy for Yihwan to pass out in the airplane within ten minutes of getting settled into his seat. Long flight or not, he took every opportunity to catch up on sleep.
Today was an exception, and it’s that damn PR hotshot’s fault Yihwan couldn’t keep still.
It was as if someone set a fire somewhere in his chest when Justin told them today that Fi was flying back to Seoul the next morning with Gabriel. He’d clenched his fists inside his pockets when he confirmed this with the PR guy.
“I heard you’re staying behind with Fi. Does it have to be you?”
“Did you want it to be you?”
“As a matter of fact, I did. She’s still part of the band’s entourage, and—”
“No. As of five days ago, she isn’t part of EG Project’s entourage anymore.”
Gabriel went on to say this was for Fi’s best interests, noting the airport incident in Thailand, and the continuous rumor-mongering among the Originals. Yihwan thought otherwise.
“Do you like her?”
“I don’t think that’s any of your business, Yihwan-ssi. But if you must know—yes, I do like her. Is there a problem?”
Yihwan shut his eyes tight. Yes, there is a problem, he thought, succumbing to a truth he was still struggling to come to terms with. This is unacceptable.
* * *
It was obviously an ice cream cone, what Fi has just handed to him. But it looked so ridiculously tiny in his hand that Gabriel felt like she was pulling some kind of prank on him.
“It’s ice cream, Gabe. Dirty ice cream.” She started enjoying her cone before he could react to what it’s called.
She chuckled and sat beside him on the ledge facing the bay. The weather was much kinder today, allowing them a majestic view of the sunset. Around them, people went about their lives—vendors worked hard selling various wares, students milled about while enjoying street food, couples strolled leisurely while holding hands—all of them unaware, uncaring of the heavy weight Fi carried in her heart.
It was their last day in Manila. Tomorrow, she would have to face the mess she unwittingly made. Tomorrow, she would have to make decisions she still wasn’t sure would be good for everyone.
“Why would you feed me something dirty?”
She looked at Gabriel and managed a smile. “It’s just what people call it because it’s ice cream being sold on the streets. You know, pollution and all.” Truthfully, Fi didn’t really know if that was an accurate interpretation of the moniker, but Gabriel seemed sold. He took another look at the purple, yellow, and brown lumps piled on top of the sugar cone before finally tasting it.
“Mmm. Is there cheese in this?”
“Yep. Yellow one’s cheese. Purple is ube, and the brown one’s chocolate.”
“Oh, I like the cheese.”
“Oh, I know,” she said, meaning something else entirely. The way Gabriel laughed told her the reference wasn’t lost on him.
They fell silent after that, enchanted by the slow setting sun in the distance. A magnificent mix of orange, yellow, and purple hues filled the sky until dusk settled in and snatched the day away.
“I wish I could be a sunset,” she said, and Gabriel turned his head just in time to see her wipe away tears. “No one ever looks at a sunset and feels disgusted. People always think it’s so beautiful and magical…and this is something they could see every day. It’s not a miracle or a rare phenomenon like an eclipse. Or a meteor shower. But still…”
“Still... they find beauty in an everyday occurrence?”
“Yeah.”
“How do you know you’re not a sunset?”
Her expression was incredulous when Fi looked at him. “I’m not. I’m... dirty ice cream.”
Gabriel glanced at his sugar cone. “Well, you are sweet, I’ll give you that.”
“People say I’m dirty.”
The smile on his face faded. “I told you not to look—”
“I know. I told myself I could take it,” she said. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I was just doing my job. Why should I be afraid of these people calling me names?”
More tears fell. “But then I realized I wasn’t so strong, after all.”
“Fi...”
“The offer for reassignment still stands, right?” Fi carelessly wiped her face and tried to compose herself.
“Yes.”
“How soon can I take it?”
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
“I love my band, Gabe. If the fans want to ruin me, they can do that without dragging EG Project into this.”
The band had so much more to lose; that was how Fi saw it. The pettiness of it all irked her, but she knew this was how the entertainment industry worked. Once an idol’s image got tainted, it wouldn’t take long until everything they’ve worked for came crashing down like a house of cards.
She would never allow that.
“But I want to keep my job too,” she candidly admitted. “I’ve grown to love what I do, and I want to keep doing it. I want to be there when these talented people I work with touch people’s hearts and minds with their craft. I want to be backstage, clapping their shoulders and hugging them for a job well done. I want to encourage them to continue being who they are, to not lose themselves to the spotlight...”
“You do that well,” Gabriel said. He chucked his sugar cone into a nearby trash bin and shifted on the ledge to face her. Slowly and with care, his hands reached for the strands of her hair, fingers tucking them behind her ears.
Maybe it was because she’s been crying and the tears have cleared her vision that Fi was taken aback when she realized Gabriel’s face was thisclose to hers.
So close, she could almost map out constellations with the freckles on his face.
So close her heart almost came to a halt just looking into his brown eyes, which seemed to be searching through hers.
His perfectly carved lips were moving now, but there was at least a five-millisecond discrepancy between him uttering words and her actually being able to hear them.
“And I want to tell you not to lose yourself in this mess.”
“I won’t,” Fi said simply, averting her gaze. The smell of his cologne reminded her of the pillow she held close as she slept the night before. The mere image of Gabriel in place of that pillow made her heart race.
No, Fi. This is Yihwan redux, she thought and turned away, knowing she’d be in trouble once again if she didn’t nip this—whatever this was—in the bud.