Sasaeng's Love

[WARNING: contains YA-level romance, if you’re not comfortable with that!]

“Sparks across my skin,

Walls caving in,

It’s like there’s only two in the world, you and me,

It takes all my restraint,

To finally pull away,

But knowing how you taste, I’ll never be free!”

Eun and I collapse onto my bed, laughing. Our vocal cords hurt from singing so loudly and off-tune. That song will never get old. My favorite K-Pop band, I’m Bigger Alone, is all over my room. In the black, pink, and blue bed sheets, my IBA curtains, my bookshelf filled with pictures from their concerts, and even my sweatshirt has a picture of the lead singer, Min, on it. Eun always says that I’m a sasaeng, or obsessive fan. I see what he means, but everyone has an obsession like this, right? Eun collects Korean coins, for example, but I never make fun of him. 

Our giggles take a while to die down, and we lay on the bed, smiling at each other. I can feel that something is on Eun’s mind tonight, but I can’t figure it out. Well, sorry, that’s a lie. I know exactly what’s wrong, it’s just that I would rather not admit it, as if saying it would make it real, even though it is. 

Eun sits up, so I copy him, trying not to seem rude. He turns his shoulders to me and gets on his knees so he’s totally facing me. 

“Araela, there’s something I need to talk to you about,” he says, his expression becoming more serious. Uh oh.

I swallow, mentally preparing myself for what's about to happen. I’ve known about it for a while now, but I didn’t think it would actually happen.

I laugh. “Hey, what’s with that face? Is it bad?”

“No, hopefully not,” he says, rubbing his arm awkwardly.

Suddenly, my phone beeps, notifying me that there’s a new Instagram post I need to see. At this time of the evening, I know exactly what it is, because their account posts every week on Friday night. My fingers itch to look at it.

Eun takes a deep breath, and my phone beeps again.

“Arae-”

“Sorry, one sec.” I cut him off, knowing completely that it would hurt him. 

I swipe open my phone eagerly and look at the new pictures. Min, the lead singer of IBA, is shown wearing revealing pink pajamas with a low neckline. Her cheeks are flushed, and it’s obvious that the photo was taken at the exact same time Min saw the camera. I feel guilty for following a stalker, but I can’t help it. I get a rush of dopamine every time I see this beautiful girl… but that’s just because I’m jealous. Yeah. I mean, no one is dying to look at photos of me except for the guys at school! Obviously.

All the same, my breath is taken away by these pictures, and I catch myself swooning. I’m jealous, that’s all. And excited, probably, since I almost have enough to go to their concert on Wednesday.

I glance up to see Eun’s disappointed expression, and I snap back to reality. I shove my phone under my black and pink IBA-themed pillow and fold my hands in my lap. “Sorry,” I say, “I’m listening now.”

He fiddles with his thumbs. “Okay, just… please hear me out, and don’t freak out, okay?”

I’ve never heard him fumble with his words this much, and although I know what’s coming next, I swallow my nausea and urge him on. 

He audibly gulps and looks down at my delicately folded hands. “I just think that there’s a difference between having a crush and being in love, I guess. I think I’m in love, Araela, and I want to know if she loves me back.”

I play dumb. “Oh! Who is it? I know a couple kids who have crushes on you,” I say enthusiastically.

He finally meets my eyes and smiles. “You.”

My carefully rehearsed lines all vanish from my mind when he hits me with those innocent, vulnerable eyes. How could I say no? It would ruin him! His heart would break into a thousand irreparable pieces. I couldn’t make my lips form the words I should say– the words I need to say. Instead, they whisper, “I love you too.”

A grin lights up his face so brightly that I can feel my face go pale at the thought of how this is going to play out. I’m going to lose my best friend, and he’s just going to be alone again.

He leans in closer and puts a hand on my shoulder blade, and I can’t make myself move closer or farther away. I let him put his lips on mine, and I let him pour his heart into me and trust me and love me as I wrap my arms around him and pretend that it feels right. I feel cruel and ruthless because I am. I imagine how his face will fall and his smile will slip and fall to the floor when I let him down. 

And I will.

***

After last night’s fiasco, Eun left and I sat on my bed and cried for a little bit. I tried to figure out what to do, but it left me more anxious than I’d ever been in my entire life. Instead, I ran to the bathroom my Eomma (Mom) had just gotten out of and retched in the toilet. She just looked at me and asked if I was okay, and I replied with something along the lines–or should I say lies–of ‘food poisoning.’

Thankfully, it’s now Saturday. I can just pretend that I don’t see Eun’s half-dozen texts or the fact that he tagged me in his Instagram picture, or that I’ll have to see him again on Monday. There is, however, one thing that I can look forward to. Soon, I’m Better Alone will be doing a concert not even a town away from here, and I’ve saved enough money to buy a ticket! This reminds me, I should do that before they sell out. 

Immediately, I pull out my IBA wallet and make sure I have the money. My Appa (Dad) is okay with using his credit card as long as I give him the appropriate amount of money, which I have. I rifle through the moss-green bills, counting. One hundred, two hundred, three hundred… I have everything that I need! The tickets are only three hundred dollars for someone 18 or below, which I fall into the category of. But… wait. What’s that? At the bottom of my wallet are a couple crumpled-up bills. Probably ones, but… nope. They’re hundreds of dollars. Three, to be exact. In total, I have five hundred of the three hundred that I need! Oh my God! 

I jump onto my phone and look up the ticket prices again. I see there are three options:

$300– average ticket

$400– front-row seats, backstage tour

$500– VIP, front-row seats, private one-on-one time with Min during intermission, exclusive introduction to the rest of the band after the show

There is not a doubt in my mind that I’m going to see Min, the lead singer of the famous K-Pop band I’m Better Alone on Wednesday.

The only problem is surviving school on Monday and Tuesday. Or, more specifically, surviving Eun.

***

On Saturday, I got ‘sick.’ On Monday, my temperature shot up to the exact same heat levels as the lightbulb that is in the lamp next to my bed, coincidentally. On Tuesday, I was almost better. The fever had broken overnight, and I was almost good, but my school said I couldn’t go until 24 hours of my being sick had passed. Then it was Wednesday, A.K.A. today. 

I don’t understand the phrase ‘stomach full of butterflies.’ It feels more like cats scratching and scraping the insides of my belly, but without really hurting. It’s just weird.

The cats sharpen their claws on the ride to the concert. My Appa drives me so that I wouldn’t have to ride a bus full of crazy sasaengs– or, rather, other crazy sasaengs. 

I’ve been sneaking more peeks at Min’s stalker’s Instagram than usual lately. It’s just because I’m excited, that’s all. Nothing to do with Eun, although the thought has crossed my mind.

And we arrive. It’s so loud, I fear I should have brung earmuffs or something. My Appa has to yell over the noise, but he says he’ll pick me up at eight, which is plenty of time. He doesn’t know about my VIP tickets, but it’s fine. It’s not like they really change anything. As he drives away, I wonder if Eun would have liked to come. If he did accept an invitation, he would have done it just for me. Now I feel sick again.

***

LOUD. IT’S VERY LOUD. 

Whatever I mentioned earlier about the noise, it’s NOTHING compared to now. Everyone is screaming the lyrics at the top of their lungs, and the speakers are trying to compete with them. I had a girl try to jump on my back since I’m in the front row, but she was carried off by her bigger sister. I can barely hear my own thoughts.

In other words, I love it.

I’m singing almost as loudly as everyone else, but I’m also being cautious. If Min were to discern my voice, she would undoubtedly bring it up at intermission. 

One time during the concert, I reached my hand up for a high-five and Min actually bent over and gave me one. Completely out of the blue. She didn’t even stop singing! She looked me dead in the eyes, winked, and slapped my hand. I couldn’t stop laughing after that. If I were here with my Appa or Eun, they would laugh at me and say I was crazy and weird. Not Min, though. She looked positively pleased at the effect she seemed to have on me. 

Then it was time. A mile-long line gathered at the bathrooms, the lights got brighter, and the band walked off stage. Security guards blocked the entrance, but by showing my ticket, they would lead me to a room for Min and me. 

Oh

my

God. 

I struggle through the crowd to the security guards and show them my digital ticket. One of them scans it with their own phone, then nods and leads me away. Another security guard immediately took their place. 

Oh

my

God.

They lead me to a door made out of black metal and rap on it four short times. A sing-song voice replies, “Come in!”

The door opens and oh my God.

Min is standing right there in front of me. In her full stage suit and everything, she stands there with a surprised look on her face. The guard steps out and closes the door, and it’s just us. I’m frozen. In the presence of my literal idol, I can’t even move.

Thankfully, she talks first. “You were the one I high-fived right?” She asks.

I clear my throat, and suddenly my body is responding again. I smile and nod. “Yup, that’s me.”

Min smiles, too. Before she says anything else, I blurt out, “You’re really pretty.”

I sound like a toddler, and I go scarlet. I’m about to apologize and fix my words when she laughs with her whole body. Unable to help myself, I laugh, too. Not as hard as she does, but still. Hard enough.

"So," she says once she calms down a bit, "Is there any drama of yours you think would make good conversation?"

I was slightly taken aback at her bluntness, but I think I kind of enjoy it. I smile crookedly. "Sure."

Then, because I am a hopeless gossip, I tell her about Eun and my not-attraction to him. She just nods or asks questions at times, but she's a good listener. Quite a nice change, if you ask me. 

As I finish, she asks me a question that had been on my mind for a long time now. I feared that to utter it would be to acknowledge and approve its plausibility, but honestly, it really just feels better knowing that it isn’t a burden I must carry alone. 

She asks: “What if you’re just not interested in men?”

I take a quick, sharp breath. I can’t believe how this has gone from meeting my freaking idol to turning into a therapy session. And oh, believe me, I’ve been to a lot of those.

I hesitate. “What makes you think that?”

She replies, “Well, have you ever, really, truly liked a boy? I mean, beyond telling people you have a crush to be cool. Have you ever wanted something more than friendship with them?”

After considering the question for a long moment, I shake my head. That I can remember, I haven’t felt romance for a boy in… forever. 

She smiles. “If it makes you feel better, this was kind of close to how I discovered it in myself as well.”

My eyebrows must have hit the eject button or something. Min liked girls, too? Well, I shouldn’t say ‘too,’ not yet, at least. 

When I didn’t respond, she kept going. “He was my date to a dance, and I realized then that there was certainly a difference between how I felt in the presence of guys I thought were cool, rather than with girls I thought were cool.”

I sigh and smile. “Well, I also can’t remember having a crush on a girl, either.”

Min raises an eyebrow. “No? What about how you follow that creepy stalker guy on Instagram?”

I freeze.

…How? What?

She shrugs at the blood draining from my face. “The stalker is my brother. I checked who follows him, and then I recognized you. The reason I remember you from the page was that I remember lingering on the photo and just thinking: She’s frickin’ hot. Then I saw you at the concert earlier and thought the same thing, so I just connected the dots.”

My voice came back to me.

“So what you’re suggesting is… I have a crush on you… and you think I’m hot?”

This was absurd. Almost as absurd as the beautiful, stupid smirk that appeared on Min’s face. “Araela, right?”

I nod.

She looks serious for a moment. “Put your back flat on the wall, if it’s okay.”

I hurried–without knowing why–to do what she instructed. After that, she followed me and leaned on the wall, too, putting both of her hands right above my opposite shoulders. 

My breath stopped in my throat like it was waiting for something. She put a hand flat on my breast, right above my heart. It was beating faster than a horse’s gallop. She smiled evilly. “Knew it.”

Then our lips meet and I swear to god I’m melting right here, right now. The only reason I can stay upright is by wrapping my arms around her shoulders. She holds on to my waist and pulls me closer, and my brain keeps getting foggier. I’m not even thinking anymore, I can’t even think anymore, it’s just my body and her body and her lips, sweet like gumdrops and candy and firecrackers.

I hear all of the IBA lyrics that I never understood ringing through my head.

Sparks across my skin…

Walls caving in…

It’s like there’s only two in the world, you and me…

It takes all my restraint…

To finally pull away…

But knowing how you taste, I’ll never be free…

I’m seeing sparks shoot across my skin and down my sides and up my spine, and I don’t want it to end ever ever ever.

But then she pulls away and leaves me gasping for air. She puts her back on the wall and slides down it. I do the same, groaning. Out of satisfaction or dread, I don’t know.

On one hand, I finally have an answer as to why I don’t like Eun. I’m not straight.

On the other hand… my Appa will never forgive me. Eun will demand answers. I don’t know how my Eomma or my Halmoni (grandma) will react.

Min looks at me. “Sorry,” she mumbles half-heartedly. “I’d just never felt that way before.”

I want to ask what that means, but I don’t need to. I know exactly what she’s talking about since I feel it too.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say, waving my hand lazily. “I’m sure my parents will love to hear about how my first kiss with a girl was a K-Pop superstar.”

Min laughs, and I get another rush of shivers at the joyful sound. “By the way,” I ask, “Why does your brother have an Insta with sexy pictures of you and you allow it?”

“Popularity,” Min says, shrugging. “I’m not a bad person if it’s not my fault they get leaked onto the internet. Plus, a lot of teens and adults find out about IBA through those pictures. Works like a charm.”

“Maybe one day I’ll see the pajamas from the last one myself. They looked pretty comfy, and that’s me being PG.”

She smiles with a barely restrained giggle and then snaps her head up. “Oh God, I bet intermission’s about to end! I have to fix my makeup!”

In fact, I had smeared her makeup quite a bit. I grab a sparkly red lipgloss bottle off of the counter and toss it to her before she can get up. “Just go with something simple,” I suggest.

“Wanna meet after the show?” She asks hopefully.

I bat my eyelashes and then wink. “Where?”

The End, but hopefully not.