by Axie Oh
They must be pretty famous, if they already have fans following them around. I feel like a bad Korean for not knowing who they are . . .
“Wait, I’ve seen your music video!” I say. “In the subway on the way here.”
Youngmin grins. “Maybe you’ll become a fan?”
I wink at him. “Oh, for sure.”
Nathaniel looks at me oddly. “You watched the whole thing?”
I guess it would be strange if I had seen the music video and not recognized them. “No, just the ending.”
“It came out a week ago,” Youngmin explains. “It’s the main track off our first full-length album.”
“Congratulations,” I say and Youngmin beams. “So you filmed the music video in Los Angeles? Did you like the city?”
“I loved it! We had such a great time. Well . . .” His face falls. “Until the last day. There was an accident . . .”
“Youngmin! Nathaniel.” The man who was standing outside the door pokes his head into the dressing area. “Oh,” he says, when he catches sight of me. He looks suspicious for a second, like he thinks I might have snuck in here to accost Youngmin and Nathaniel, but then he notices that I’m wearing the uniform for Seoul Arts Academy. He turns back to the boys. “More fans are gathering outside the store. Are you finished?”
“Yeah! This one fits.” Youngmin rushes back into the dressing room. The man, who must be their manager, doesn’t leave, engaging Nathaniel in small talk, probably so that he doesn’t speak to me.
I’m heading back to my dressing room when Youngmin dashes out, dressed head-to-toe in Nike and wearing a huge puffer jacket that almost hits the floor.
He waves at me and runs off, hooking arms with the manager. Nathaniel is slower to leave, glancing at me. “See you when school starts.”
After they’re gone, I quickly change and pay for my clothing so that I can get back to Mom and Halmeoni. Although the crowd outside the store has dispersed there are more people on the streets. I join the tide heading toward the subway, in a bit of a daze from this afternoon’s events.
I just met two K-pop stars. Celebrities. Students at Seoul Arts Academy. I know a few kids back at school who would kill to be in my position.
Then again, it’s not like I’ll interact with them much. I’m sure they have their own friends, and fans. Though it would have been nice, to walk into school that first day and already have someone I know.
An image of Jaewoo flashes through my mind.
The last text message I sent him is still marked “unread.” I’d checked it this morning, as I have every morning.
Stepping onto the escalator that leads down into the subway, I take out my phone and pull up Jaewoo’s contact. I press the edit button and scroll down. I should delete his number once and for all. Maybe then I’ll stop thinking about him.
A bright light shines up ahead as the escalator approaches the bottom. A massive poster takes up a huge portion of the subway wall, from floor to ceiling.
I stare in shock because it’s them. XOXO.
There are four of them, just as Youngmin had said. On the far right, I recognize him. He has the same bright hair and smile. The boy on the far left must be the eldest member, the other rapper. Beside him is Nathaniel, looking absurdly sexy as he smolders at the camera. Not my type, but he must drive girls wild. And beside him is . . .
No.
No way.
Oh.
My.
God.
With shaking hands, I look down at my phone. I close out the edit screen and scroll up in the messages. To the photo taken in the sticker booth. I stare at the boy beside me in the photo, and then at the poster on the wall, where the main vocalist of XOXO is air-brushed, but just as gorgeous.
They’re the same person.
He’s the same person.
Jaewoo.
Nine
I google “Jaewoo XOXO” on the subway ride back to my grandmother’s apartment and discover his age, seventeen years old, and birthday, September 1. And that he’s 182 centimeters. He wasn’t lying about that.
He was born in Busan, South Korea, and moved to the US when he was in elementary school, which explains his English-speaking skills, before moving back to Busan in middle school where he was “discovered” because of his good looks. He trained for five years, then debuted with XOXO last year.
They were already popular as a rookie group, but their recent release of “Don’t Look Back” broke records on all the music charts.
No wonder Nathaniel was surprised I hadn’t recognized him or Youngmin. I’m sure everyone in Seoul knows who they are.
Their fan club is called the Kiss and Hug Club, and this summer the band is going on a world tour, with a stop in New York City.
I put in my earbuds and open up YouTube, searching “XOXO.” The music video for “Don’t Look Back” is the first to come up. I click on it.
I watch the video in a stunned daze, trying to absorb both the gorgeous visuals and the lyrics to the song. The raps are too fast for me to understand, but the chorus goes something like: “Even if I’m crying, even if I’m on the floor and dying, don’t look back, don’t look back.” Which is super dramatic, but, wow, I have chills. The video seems to be this reverse Orpheus and Eurydice concept where each of the boys is going through harrowing trials in a noir-underworld aesthetic, while in the background a girl, her back to the camera, is shown walking away.
Interspersed through it all are clips of them dancing in a warehouse, their movements synchronized and complex, and Jaewoo is wearing the outfit that he wore at the karaoke bar the night that I met him. He must have broken his arm during the music video shoot and then somehow ended up at Jay’s after going to the hospital.
It’s clear why Nathaniel is considered the “main dancer” of the group. He’s incredible; it’s difficult to look away from him when he’s at the front of the formation, and yet . . . Jaewoo is the one who completely captures my attention. His movements aren’t as electrifying as Nathaniel’s, but they’re clean and smooth, and his voice . . . He sings parts of the verses and harmonizes with the others for the chorus, but the bridge is completely his, the beat stripped out to accentuate his beautiful tone. At one point, he does a run, going from low to high, and my whole body shivers.
The video ends and YouTube recommends a performance video and a dance practice video. I watch both, and then another with XOXO on some sort of variety show where they play a very complex game of tag.
I’m so immersed in the videos I almost miss the friendly female voice over the subway intercom announcing that we’ve reached my station. I look up from my phone only to meet the gaze of a girl around my age seated next to me, who apparently was watching the screen of my phone over my shoulder.
She nods at me knowingly.
Back at my grandmother’s apartment, Halmeoni’s not feeling up to going out, so we order jjajangmyeon from a restaurant down the street, which delivers the black bean noodle in a record fifteen minutes.
After dinner, I collapse onto my bed—which is just blankets on the floor because my grandmother only has one guest bed—and continue my internet sleuthing.
The oldest member, Sun, is cold and handsome, famous for his long hair and slender eyes that make him look like a hot supervillain in a video game. Nathaniel is from New York, and intriguingly, the first article that comes up when his name is searched is about a scandal he had a few months back with an unnamed trainee—someone who hadn’t yet debuted in a group or as a solo artist—from Joah, their entertainment company. Apparently he dated this girl in secret for months before Bulletin, a major tabloid magazine, released photos of the two of them together, though the photos were blurred online. The trainee’s identity was never released, but netizens have theories. Youngmin is not only the youngest in the group, but the youngest of five siblings. As for Jaewoo, there’s very little about his personal life, besides the fact that he’s originally from Busan. He hasn’t had any scandals, and a recent poll cl
aims that of the four members, he’s the most likely to never disappoint his parents, whatever that means. His nickname is also “Prince” among idols because of his charming manners and stellar reputation.
“Shouldn’t you go to sleep?” Mom says when she comes into the room around midnight. “What are you doing anyway? I’ve never known you to be attached to your phone.”
“Nothing.” I close out the browser and slip the phone under my pillow.
“Your halmeoni and I weren’t able to go to the clinic like we planned today,” Mom says, “so I want to take her tomorrow. I know I said I’d help you move into your dorm . . .”
“It’s fine,” I quickly reassure her, “I’ll take a cab.”
She turns off the lights and I settle onto my back on the blankets, though when I close my eyes, I can’t seem to fall asleep.
I think it’s finally dawning on me that the boy I met at the karaoke bar—Jaewoo—is an idol, famous enough that his face is plastered onto walls and his music video plays between ads on the subway.
Thinking back to that night in LA, I cringe to remember some of things I said to him. I accused him of being a gangster, though now I know he was only dressed that way because of the music video. Was he laughing at me the whole time? I scowl at the thought, but I also feel a bit hurt. Though, even if he was laughing at my expense in the beginning, as the night went on, I feel like something did change between us, as we shared more about ourselves.
I have a sudden thought. If Nathaniel and Youngmin attend SAA, then it’s likely Jaewoo does too.
Of course it’s entirely possible that he doesn’t go to my school. Yet, somehow I know that’s not the case.
My heart beats thickly knowing that I might see him again, and soon.
What will he say to me? What will I say to him?
I take a calm, steadying breath.
There’s no use worrying about that now. Or at least, that’s what I tell myself, as for the next few hours, I toss and turn until finally succumbing to a sleep full of fitful dreams of the boys of XOXO as they were in the music video, except the girl walking away is me.
Ten
According to the dorm supervisor, I’m the only student moving in this morning; the majority of the students in Year Three are either returning students, who keep their same room, or live off-campus with their families. I could have opted to live with Halmeoni and my mom, but it would have been a forty-five-minute commute, there and back. And on campus, there are practice rooms where I won’t annoy any sound-sensitive neighbors. Plus, with how many hours my mom works, I’m used to living more or less on my own.
“Though you requested a single room,” the supervisor explains as we take the elevator up to the top floor, “we unfortunately didn’t have any available.”
“That’s not a problem,” I say.
The elevator opens to a clean hall with ambient light filtering through the high windows. I push forward the small cart that holds my suitcases and cello.
Halfway down the hall, the supervisor stops at a door with a keypad lock. “Did you receive an email from housing?”
“Yes.” I pull out my phone, scrolling down in the email for the code to the keypad. I press the buttons and it makes a whirring sound as it unlocks.
“I have to sign in some deliveries,” the woman says, distracted. “Will you be okay moving in by yourself?”
“Oh, yes, go on ahead.”
She heads back in the direction of the elevator and I open the door to the room. I’m surprised to find it’s more spacious than I expected, about twice the size of the guest room in Halmeoni’s house. Propping open the door with my luggage cart, I slip off my shoes in the small entranceway. I open the cabinet to my left out of curiosity and gape at the amount of shoes already stockpiled inside. I spot Doc Martens, three pairs of sneakers, knee-high boots, flats, and a pair of stilettos. My roommate, whoever she is, has some serious footwear.
The room is split in half by a bookshelf divider with the area nearest the doorway clearly occupied. Besides the shoes, my stylish roommate has a standing rack with coats and dresses, presumably overflow from her already packed closet. Everything else about her side of the room is neat, her desk bare but for a computer and a few landscape photographs pinned to a corkboard.
I wonder if she’s always this clean or if she tidied up in preparation for my arrival.
I drop my backpack beside the unmade bed on my side of the room and prop my cello against the wall.
I’m tempted to collapse onto the bed, but I know that if I do, I won’t get up for another hour. I start to bring my luggage into the room, beginning with the one that has my bed sheets. I make a note to go down to the housing office to pick up a comforter and pillows.
I’m on my way out for the last suitcase when I bump into my roommate’s desk. One of her pictures dislodges and floats to the floor. I quickly lean down and pick it up. It’s not a photograph, but a postcard. From Los Angeles. I flip over the card to see a long message written in Korean. I’m glad my Hangeul is severely lacking, otherwise I’d be tempted to read it. I’m putting it back when a few words in English and a signature at the bottom catches my attention.
Chin up, Songbird.
You will always have my heart.
XOXO
“What are you doing?”
A girl stands in the doorway. Walking over, she snatches the postcard out of my hand.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” I say. As far as first impressions go, this is the worst. I feel awful. I shouldn’t have looked at her things, even if it was by mistake. “I knocked into your desk and it fell.”
She opens a drawer and drops the postcard inside, shutting it with a loud bang.
I wince. “I’m your new roommate, Jenny.”
“I know,” she says. She doesn’t offer her name, though I’d seen it on the small placard outside our door.
Min Sori.
Her name is as beautiful as she is. She has cat-like eyes, a long, elegant nose, and gorgeous pouty lips. I thought I was tall for a Korean girl, but we’re the same height, though she appears taller due to her ballerina-like posture.
“I wouldn’t have been able to the read the postcard, even if I wanted to,” I explain further. “I’m from the States. My Korean reading skills are the equivalent of a grade schooler’s.”
“Could you move?” she says. “I need to study.”
I don’t care much about honorifics, but it feels pointed that she isn’t using any with me. Instead of familiar and friendly, her banmal sounds rude.
I step away from her desk and she sits down, opening up her computer and putting in her earbuds.
Well, these next few months are going to be awkward. I’m not usually intimidated by people, but she could freeze fire.
I spend the rest of the morning unpacking, careful not to disturb her, though she doesn’t glance up once from her computer. At noon, she gets up and changes into workout clothes. I’m tempted to ask if she wants a running partner, but her earbuds are still in.
When she leaves the room, I let out a huge sigh. Damn. I’ve heard of tense roommate situations from Bomi who’s already on her second year at UCLA, but this seems a little extreme.
Since Halmeoni didn’t have a dryer at her apartment, I held off doing laundry. I decide to do a quick load now, grabbing my hamper and taking the elevator down to the dorm’s laundry room. After starting the rinse cycle, I set a timer for thirty minutes on my phone and head outside in search of food.
Luckily, there’s a convenience store across the quad in the student center. I purchase a few triangle gimbap—rice wrapped in dried seaweed and shaped like a triangle—and eat heartily, washing them down with bottled water. Then, because I still have fifteen minutes before my laundry is finished, I head over to where a couple of students have gathered around a series of monitors. They’re all broadcasting the same program, Music Net LIVE, which I’d seen a re-run of when staying at Halmeoni’s. It’s a show that features popular a
nd new artists who perform live on a stage in front of a studio audience.
On the screen, two MCs introduce the next performers. “Making their Music Net comeback with ‘Don’t Look Back,’ XOXO!”
The camera angles an establishing shot of Sun, Jaewoo, Nathaniel, and Youngmin in formation on the stage, surrounded by backup dancers.
“Is this happening right now?” I ask one of the students.
“Yeah,” the student—a boy—responds. “Every Sunday on EBC.”
The camera zooms in on each individual member when it’s their turn to stand at the front of the formation, whether to sing or rap their lines.
Jaewoo begins his verse, his voice clear and strong, even while dancing.
“They go to our school, you know,” the boy says.
“All of them?” I don’t know if I sound hopeful or full of dread.
The boy apparently doesn’t either because he raises an eyebrow. “Three of them do.” Jaewoo finishes his lines, and the oldest member of the group begins to rap. The boy nods at the screen. “Sun graduated last year.”
So I will see Jaewoo. Tomorrow, since apparently he’s performing live on a nationwide television program today.
I wrap my arms around my body, feeling the nerves I felt last night. I just don’t know what to expect, having never been this situation before, meeting again the boy who basically rejected me over text. Oh, and he’s a K-pop idol.
“A lot of trainees go here,” the boy continues, oblivious to my inner turmoil. “From Joah and the other entertainment companies.”
“I’m a trainee at Neptune Entertainment,” a girl pipes up. “My label enrolled me at SAA since I’m still underage.” She’s a few inches shorter than me, with rosy cheeks and a sweet demeanor. “My name’s Angela Kwang. I’m from Taiwan. I moved to Seoul about three months ago.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say. “My name’s Jenny Go. I’m . . . American.”
The boy nods at both of us. “Hong Gi Taek. I’m not a trainee, but I’m planning to audition for Joah soon. I’d say half the student body here is either a trainee or trying to become one.”