I turn on the livestream as Hana comes in. “I was about to ask if you wanted to watch this,” she says.
I pat the couch beside me, and she squeezes my shoulder as she tucks in. Jihoon appears on the screen, but unlike the usual room they film from, he’s outside. Hana sucks in her breath, and I squint at the screen as the comments explode with theories on where he is. He wears a black beanie and black puffer jacket, and there’s snow on theground. Behind him is a concrete wall, but I can make out what looks like a painting to his right. It looks more like Toronto than Seoul, but I guess all cities have pockets of similarity. I don’t look too long at the scenery because my attention is on him. This is the last time I watch, I promise myself. The very last time. I can’t keep punching myself in my own face.
He looks to the side of the screen, I assume reading the comments.
“Phone must be on a tripod,” Hana mutters. I don’t answer, because first, that’s truly irrelevant to me, and second, I’m taking in every aspect of his appearance. His hair has grown out a bit, and under the beanie, I can see it’s back to black. He’s barefaced, and this makes him more like Jihoon than Min. I can almost picture him lying with his legs up on the couch, telling me about his day as he always did, hair flopping in his face until he shoved a bandana on to keep it back. All those little details I didn’t know I kept as memories.
A few seconds later, he nods as if he’s ready.
“Hello.” He bows quickly, eyes crinkling as he looks up and smiles. “I’m going to speak in English for this.” He speaks briefly in Korean, breath puffing in the cold, and the chat lights up.
“This isn’t usually where I talk to you, but I have something special I want to share.” He smiles at the chat. “Yes, it’s a song, one I wrote recently. It’s never been performed before, but now that our mini tour is done, I’d like you to hear it.”
“What?” squeals Hana. “A new song?” That, along with the comments, tells me this is not the usual order of things.
“Did he tell you this was happening?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Only to make sure you tune in.”
Before I can quiz her on this, Jihoon is speaking.
“This a bit different from what you’ve come to think of as my sound. I hope you like it because it’s the kind of music I’m going to create from now on.”
“What’s he doing?” mumbles Hana. I told her about Jihoon andDaehyun and their songwriting credits. “Is he going to come out and tell people what’s been happening?”
I shake my head. “He wouldn’t,” I say. “There might be rumors, but he won’t confirm them unless they do it together as a group.”
She glances over. “That sounds exactly like him.”
Jihoon has been reading the comments, and when he looks up, his expression is discouraged. I wonder what he expected to see. “I’ll play it now. Please forgive any mistakes. It’s called ‘Turns.’ When it’s done, you can tell me what you think on my new social media account.”
“His what?” bleats Hana. “They’re not allowed individual accounts. Newlight controls a single one for the whole band.”
Jihoon’s face fades, and up comes the image of a field and a winding path. Along it grow vibrant orange flowers. Tiger flowers.
“Did he shoot a music video for his surprise livestream song?” asks Hana in disbelief. “What is he doing? Is this a solo?”
Jihoon’s velvet voice comes on. The flowers fade as the image becomes Jihoon in a sound booth. Hana starts to translate, but I touch her hand. Right now, I want to concentrate on his voice.
Then come words I recognize because the chorus is in English.
Tiger flower
Every turn I take
I see only your reflection
A silhouette in the setting sun traced with red
Tiger flower
Through the maze I walk, tracing your fading path
My watch measuring steps instead of hours
I drop to my knees to see you, touch you
Tiger flower