XOXO (An XOXO Novel)

At the beginning of the song, the fans chant each member of XOXO’s names. Oh Sun. Lee Jihyuk. Bae Jaewoo. Choi Youngmin. It sets the mood and the boys give a spectacular performance.

Afterward, the rest of the idols who performed earlier make their way to the stage. It’s getting crowded where I am, so I go in search of a quiet area to view the show’s awards ceremony. I wind up in XOXO’s dressing room, after remembering the TV there. Sitting on Sun’s couch, I pick up the baseball Nathaniel had been playing catch with earlier and click on the monitor. Two MCs with a bouquet of flowers and a crystal award walk over from where they’d been hosting the show from a separate area of the studio. They approach XOXO and the rest of the idols.

“Wow, what a great performance by XOXO!” the boy announcer says.

“Right, Seojun-ssi?” the girl concurs. “Maybe they’ll have their first win this week!”

“We’ll find out soon! It’s time to tally up the votes.”

On the monitor, a graphic appears showing the three idol groups in contention to win the award.

“Who will take first place this week?” the boy announcer says.

I stand up, holding the ball tight.

The numbers tallying up the votes begin to spin upward, presumably measuring how well the single performed on digital charts and social media, as well as album sales and real-time voting.

“And the winner is . . .” the girl says.

The numbers suddenly stop, with the highest number belonging to . . .

“XOXO!” The two MCs shout together and I scream, accidentally releasing the ball, which goes flying across the room and behind a rack of clothes.

As confetti cannons explode onto the stage, I head over to the rack, getting down on my hands and knees.

Still, I’m beaming. I’m so happy for them! What did the female MC say before? This is their first win. I can hear Sun accepting the award on behalf of XOXO, thanking their fans and families for supporting them.

The door to the dressing room opens. Voices flood in, drowning out Sun’s on the television. I’m about to pop out from behind the rack like a ghoul when one of the voices says, “Did you see that girl with Jaewoo?”

“Nathaniel says she’s a classmate of his,” another voice answers. “From his high school.”

I press my back against the wall and peek around the rack. Two of XOXO’s stylists are in the room, cleaning up their stations.

“Tonight was the boys’ first win. This is probably the most important time in their career. If they can keep the momentum going, they could be huge global stars. They can’t afford another scandal. They almost didn’t come back from that last one.”

There’s a brief silence, then the other murmurs in agreement.

“She could ruin everything.”

Once the stylists pack up their things and leave, I’m quick to follow. Outside the station, the crowd from the audience is making their way to the subway. I join them, blending in. Reaching into my jacket pocket, I wrap my hand around the ball, which I totally stole from Nathaniel. I will give it back. Eventually. I just need something to hold onto right now.

I think I understand now why Jaewoo left that day after my cello performance. Because he realized that our lives are too different. Not just that he’s an idol, though seeing him now perform on stage, hearing his name cried out by his fans, the circumstances of his life are so extraordinary as to seem unreal. But it is real, the success of his band and all the people whose livelihoods depend on them, as are the consequences. She could ruin everything.

Seeing the light of the subway exit up ahead, I hurry forward.

A hand grabs my shoulder, twisting me around.

I look up into Jaewoo’s face.

He’s wearing a ball cap that shadows his eyes, and a cloth mask over his nose and mouth.

The crowd parts around us, though a few throw curious glances in our direction. He takes my hand and we make our way out of the crowd, dropping it once we’re clear.

Jaewoo must have a destination in mind because he walks without hesitation, leading me down an alley narrow enough that if I were to lift both arms, my fingers would skim the walls on either side. We climb a short flight of stairs, turn down a few more streets and alleys, and finally walk up such a long staircase that when I reach the top, I’m breathless.

We’re in a small park that overlooks the city. It has a running trail, a few public-use exercise machines, and a children’s play area with a set of swings.

“Want to . . . ?” Jaewoo asks, and I nod. We make our way over to the swings, each taking one of the single seats. We face the same direction, toward the ledge. Beyond the railing, Seoul spreads out for miles and miles, hundreds of thousands of bright lights, twinkling like stars.

I haven’t been on a swing since I was in elementary school, so I kick off the ground, enjoying the rocking motion and the wind on my face. Jaewoo’s legs are longer so he doesn’t swing, leaning his head on the chain as he watches me. He’s removed his face mask and taken off his ball cap, and though he’s changed out of his performance clothes and washed the makeup from his face, he’s so handsome, it’s hard to look away. I give one final pump of my legs and as I’m swinging forward, Nathaniel’s baseball plops from out of my pocket onto the grassy floor.

Jaewoo leans down and picks it up. “Is this . . . ?”

I dig my feet into the ground, slowing my momentum. “Yes,” I say, though now I’m blushing.

When Jaewoo says nothing, I look over to find him studying the ball, a contemplative look on his face.

“What?” I ask.

He shakes his head. Laughs. “This ball”—he tosses it up in the air, then catches it—“is the reason I broke my arm back in November.”

I stop swinging altogether. “What?”

He grips the chain, grinning at my expression.

“It happened the last night of a long three-night shoot. We were filming in this warehouse, which we were warned had parts left unfinished, but we were feeling bored and stressed. During a break in the filming, Nathaniel and I decided to throw a baseball around. We were both in a little league, when we were younger.”

“Oh my God, that’s so cute,” I interrupt. “Sorry, continue.”

“So, yeah, we were passing it back and forth, having a great time. And then he threw it long, and I went for it. I felt the satisfaction of it hitting my glove just as I crashed into a plaster wall. The whole thing came down on top of me.

“The music video director was livid. He scolded us for an hour. He said that we weren’t grateful, that we were a dime a dozen, that if we wanted to be successful we needed to take this seriously.”

“I don’t like that director,” I declare. “I don’t care how gorgeous the music video ended up being.”

Jaewoo shakes his head, though there’s a smile on his face. “We had to cut filming prematurely. Luckily we had an alternative ending, which was the one they eventually used. But still, I felt like such a disappointment. I broke my arm, and for what? A moment of fun. So after the shoot was over and we were at dinner, I excused myself from the table and just . . . left. I left the restaurant and walked and walked, until I saw the light of your uncle’s karaoke bar.”

He hesitates, and then says, softly, “I even saw you that night, laughing with your uncle as you sat on the barstool, your hair loose down your back.”

I stare at him in shock, rearranging that night in my head. Not that it makes a difference on how the night eventually played out.

I press my foot against the ground, but I must push at a wrong angle because the swing rocks crookedly.

“Why did you leave, Jenny?” Jaewoo asks, and my heart stutters in my chest, even though I knew he would ask me eventually.

This is the end. Once we have this conversation, there’s no reason to keep stubbornly holding fast to this connection between us. He needs to concentrate on what matters, his career.

And I need to get my act together and focus on what matters, my cello playing, the showcase, my future.

“For the same reason you left me the other day at the clinic,” I say, and I’m proud of myself because my voice comes out steady. “Nathaniel more or less spelled it out.” Jaewoo frowns. “It’s because you have more at stake. I get it, really. Our lives are too different.”

“Our lives are different,” Jaewoo says, and my heart sinks, even though I literally prepared for this. “But that’s not why I left.”

My swing rattles, and I look up to see he’s seized onto the chain of my seat, pulling me close. I have to grab onto his chain in order not to fall back.

“I do have more to lose than Nathaniel,” he says, and the miserable feeling rises up. “After all, his heart’s not at stake.”

My breath catches. Is he saying what I think he’s saying?

“I like you, Jenny,” he confesses. “More than I’ve ever liked anyone before. It hit me that day at the clinic how much. And I did what I always do when I feel overwhelmed. I ran.”

“And now?” I ask.

“I’m not running anymore.”

With the hand that isn’t holding my seat, he lifts my face to his and kisses me.

At first, it’s a close-mouthed kiss, soft and sweet. But then he leans forward, and I feel my ball cap tip off my head as my lips part beneath his. I would collapse, weak-kneed, if I wasn’t already sitting. He runs his hand through my hair, as I wrap one arm around his neck, holding him close.

I don’t know how long we kiss in that park, with the city below us and the stars up above.

I don’t know what this will mean for us going forward. Will we ever have a moment like this again? But none of that matters. I push it all to the back of my mind. Because tonight, the world is ours.