Page 68 of K-Pop Double Life

My fingers hovered over the keyboard.

I could explain everything now. Tell him I’d been terrified. Tell him leaving had felt like the only way to protect him.

But he deserved better than a confession typed into a text box. So I wrote: I got them. All of them. I’m on my way.

The response came almost instantly. To New York?

I swallowed. To you.

I booked the first nonstop to New York. Fourteen hours in the air, and thanks to the International Date Line I’d arrive Saturday evening. With luck I’d land around the same time the group did from England, and I’d have time before the technical rehearsal to show Jin how much I cared.

I started to pack, throwing clothes into the same suitcase I’d unpacked when I arrived in Seoul. Then my phone rang from Haneul’s number. I wasn’t surprised. He had always been the leader of the group, even though Jin was the center. “Sun-hee-noona told me you’re coming back.” His voice was careful. “Is that true?”

“Yes. If Jin will have me.”

“He will. He’s miserable without you.” A pause. “But Sang-hoon-ah, are you coming back for him, or are you running away from being alone?”

“I’m coming back because I was wrong. Because leaving didn’t make him safer, it just made us both unhappy. Because love means showing up even when you’re terrified.”

“Good answer.” I heard the smile in Haneul’s voice. “We need you back. Not just Jin—all of us. You’re part of this team, and it hasn’t been the same without you.”

“I don’t deserve⁠—”

“Stop. You made a mistake. You’re fixing it. That’s what matters.” He cleared his throat. “The security situation is still serious. Aidan and Liam think the real attempt will come in New York or Seoul. You need to be prepared for that.”

“I am. Or I will be.” I zipped my suitcase. “How is he really? Jin?”

“Performing on muscle memory. Hitting the marks but not present. He looks for you in the wings between every song, and when you’re not there...” Haneul trailed off. “Just get here. That’s all he needs.”

The apartment looked the same as it had when I moved in. Same plastic hangers. Same window with the elevated train outside. Same life that had been waiting here while I was somewhere else, which was all it had ever been. A place I came back to between tours, smaller every time.

I turned off the light and left.

26

WAITING

JIN — LONDON/AIR

The text exchange with Sang-hoon replayed in my head for what had to be the hundredth time. He was coming to New York. I would see him soon.

I lay staring at the ceiling for another minute, trying to convince myself to go back to sleep. It lasted about ten seconds.

I threw on a sweatshirt, slipped into the hallway, and practically jogged to Haneul’s room. He answered the door wearing sweatpants and the expression of someone who was contemplating murder.

“Do you know what time it is?”

“I had to tell somebody. He’s coming back! Sang-hoon!”

He smiled. “You’re impossible, you know? But I’ve never seen you like this, so happy.”

“I know.”

He studied me for a moment, then shook his head. “I worried about you after Cannes.”

He squeezed my shoulder. “I’m glad you’re happy, and I’m happy for you.” Then he paused. “But don’t let it distract you. We have three big concerts, New York, São Paulo and then Seoul. You’ve got to be your very best or we’ll start to lose fans, and then…”

“I know.”