Seoul; 2013
Laces, satin, velvet, and frills.
Eu De Toilette and foreign aromas.
This is paradise and all the luxury money can buy.
Standing in the twenty-ninth floor their Gangnam building, Lien could taste the thrill of it all.
Behind her, Kim Eunwoo clears his throat. She turns to watch him pirouetting his way back and forth their living room, clad in a tuxedo that's supposed to make him look sharp and respectable. The ballet steps he's doing suggests he's anything but. "Cut it out."
"Not until you smile," He twirls gracefully. "I don't want to leave my wife here looking like she's practicing a scene for a drama. Dahlin, loosen your bonbons."
A ghost of a smile hovers over her lips, courtesy of Eunwoo's efforts and the gayness being unleashed through his fingertips. "Don't you have to go to work?"
"I will, in a minute. Lien, is it okay if you prepare a nice meal tomorrow night? I want to invite a guest over." Eunwoo runs a hand through his raven hair before staring at the mirror with eyes proclaiming they'll never grow tired of what they see.
If Guinness held a spot for the most narcissistic man alive, Eunwoo would have won that.
Lien's left eyebrow hitches up, head dubiously tilting side wards. "This is new. You don't like having business partners over."
"This guy isn't just a business partner. He's an asset, I tell you. An asset. Giving him more air-time in our shows can drastically increase our viewer ratings. Your dad would have been proud. No scratch that, he's already proud of you. Of us. We're just doing what's best."She sashays to him in her negligee and wraps slender arms around his neck.
Eunwoo reeks of high-life, the freshness of the soil after rain, and a weird musky scent she's learned to identify throughout the four years she's known him. "Okay, I'll prepare something. But tell me, this guy must be eye-candy. You, Kim Eunwoo president of LKJ broadcasting company, don't just invite assets over. Wait, what's this asset we're talking about?"
"His ass, what else." Eunwoo smirks and rests an index finger over his plump lips. Shh. "Don't tell Jimin about this, okay? I love him, but I need my fair share of famous guys every once in a while."
"You are your hormones. I can't believe I married a closet homosexual who preys on cute secretaries and idols in order to save dad's company." With the flawless ease one acquires by being with someone for years, Lien uses her thumb to tap the bridge of Eunwoo's nose.
He's as comfortable as a kid with his favorite blanket as he cradles Lien in his arms. "Famous? Maybe I know who your next victim is."
"You should. He's internationally famous and he's in a group with a huge fan base." Bright eyes inflamed by a whimsical spirit, Eunwoo's mouth forms to utter the name Lien has spent years trying to forget.
Like a tiresome marathon, her past turned out to be chasing her hidden shadows at a speed she never imagined it could reach.
"He's NewGeneration's Dylan." Eunwoo says and her ears refuse to listen to the words Eunwoo keeps on sprouting proudly, yet obliviously.
The state-of-the-art interior of her expensive apartment, the layers of lies and alibis she used to bury her curious history, everything that she did to secure her future—all come crashing down to crumble into a heap of dust and tears threatening to fall behind open lids.
All because of three words.
An internal time bomb starts ticking.
(I swear on the pack of cigarettes I never run out of that you're already touring the world like the star you were born to be.)
* * *
"Fifty-four seconds! Everyone give a round of applause for Dylan Wang!" The MC yells into his microphone as the camera focuses on the solved Rubik's cube nestled proudly on Dylan's hand.
TV shows seemed to always want guest stars or idols boast about their little quirks. Nevertheless, Dylan's co-members stated their congratulations, you did well phrases just as they've been scripted to.
"Thank you," he confidently replies. Dylan studies the live audience in front of them. His gaze sweeps over the lake of unfamiliar faces with clapping hands and lips rooting for his name.
Still, it isn't enough.
Because the face he's been discreetly searching for in every performance, guesting, event, and concert—isn't here.
The large, black video cameras, well-placed lightning, cheery atmosphere, and the organized crowd did nothing but to emphasize her absence. 'She isn't here'.
Years of training and fame and there are still no signs of her.
"So Dylan," The MC steals his attention back with his hoarse voice. "Solving Rubik's must be fun. Did you have a situation where solving these cubes were helpful?"
The crowd laughs, not expecting Dylan to answer seriously. The cameras are trained on him, lenses showing every emotion on his child-like face. "Actually, yes."
"Really?" A gasp and a rehearsed chuckle. "Can you tell us about it?"
Taesook throws him a be careful about what you say look beside him.
Dylan shares sincerely, despite the zooming video cameras and eager fans. "A few years ago, I had this friend who had trouble sleeping at night. They'd ring me up during unholy hours to tell me they can't sleep. I once brought my Rubik's cube with me and solved it as I sat down beside them, waiting for her to sleep. They told me that watching my fingers felt calming, so they asked me keep on doing that. I did. Sometimes it would only take two rounds before they're finally asleep. So I guess that's pretty helpful."
"That's very nice of you. But you said 'had', does that mean you're not friends with them anymore?"
"We're still friends, but we haven't been in touch for a while, so.." He drifts off and lies and that's when Taesook and Soohyun lets go of the breath they've been holding.
The MC expertly changes the topic, diverting the attention to the unsuspecting Taeri who was blowing, emptying, and blowing his cheeks again.
Taeri's surprised expression draws laughter out of the audience.
Dylan resumes his silent crowd-watching.
He's done it so many times, it now acts like second nature.
His line of vision would scan his surroundings the same way a teacher raps his knuckles against the board or how a writer binges on caffeine.
Sometimes, we do things—even though it's not necessary or beneficial for us—because we somehow believe they can fill and satisfy the longing fragment of our soul.