“He what?” This isn’t what I expected.
He touches his right cheek as if reliving the blow. “He slapped me and told me to get it together. Then he made me breathe with him. Gave me oxygen. He tried every technique he could in twenty seconds as the crowd screamed from the other side.”
I take a deep breath, tense even from hearing this. “Did it work?”
Jihoon looks distant, as if he were back on that stage. “I did the show, and no one complained. I went back to my apartment, and it was cold because I was meant to be in a hotel to celebrate the end of a successful tour. I couldn’t remember a single minute. On the best night of my career, I sat on my floor and wondered if it was all worth it. All those cheers and I was alone, knowing none of that was for Jihoon. Only Min.”
I stay quiet because although most of me—almost all of me—feels intense pity, the nasty and vindictive part thinks,Isn’t this what you signed up for? Boo-hoo, it’s so hard at the top. People would kill for that.
“Some other things happened then, and I had enough. We had two weeks off, and I told the others I needed more time. They covered for me as long as they could, until the company found out I was gone and they had to come get me. They’re furious.”
“Tell them you need a break. Why all the sneaking around?”
“We have a comeback soon.”
“I don’t know what that is.” There’s a coin in my pocket, and I absently take it out to spin on the table before I start to fidget with it.
“An album release. That means practices every day to learn the choreography. Rehearsals for music shows. Interview prep and photo shoots. People everywhere. Cameras.” He gives a wry smile. “They once filmed me having a nap on a couch for five minutes. Half my face is covered with a hoodie. It has twenty million views.”
“That’s a lot.” How invasive. Yet he allowed it, so part of him must enjoy it even though he’s protesting now.
“It makes the fans happy, and that’s the most important thing to us.”
“You left, though.”
“All I could think about was what if next time there’s a stage and I can’t get on it? What if I had forgotten the words or messed up the choreo during the show? What if my songs never get…” Here, he falters. “It was paralyzing.”
I can sympathize with this performance anxiety, even if I experience it on a much less public level.
“Then a text came from Hana.” He sees my face. “We text a lot.”
“She never even told me you existed.”
The coin gets away from me, and he rolls it back. “That’s my fault. My company’s fault, but they did it to keep Hana’s family safe.”
“That’s for her and I to talk about.”
He continues, “Hana said she was going out of town. I didn’t even think. I asked if I could stay at her place and left Seoul.”
“Without telling anyone.”
“I told the members where I would be but not the company. I needed to think.”
Living with his heart for sure. “About what, exactly?”
“My path.” His pinched lips and curved neck make it clear he doesn’t want to talk about it. That’s fine, because in the end, the why of his arrival isn’t the most important part.
I leave that alone. “Alex says you’re one of the biggest bands in the world. You’re living the dream.”
“Fame wasn’t the dream. Music was the dream. Connecting with people, making them feel and think and be comforted or happy. Not the rest of it. I never talk topeopleanymore. I talk to fans or crowds, and they talk to Min, not Jihoon.” He stares out the window. “The fame is what you put up with for the good parts. I knew there would be sacrifices, but not like this.”
I shy away and return to the matter at hand. “Sounds like you’re not sure of what to do.”
He bites the inside of his lip. “It’s hard. When Kit hyeong and Daehyun came, I felt so selfish. The decision isn’t only mine. It affects all of StarLune. I was a poor team member.”
“Then you haven’t come to a decision even after being here almost a month.”
“I thought I had, and now I’m not sure.”