Seoul Station

Taejin pulled his baseball cap lower on his face. Between that and the face mask he had on, nobody would recognize him. He rubbed his gloved hands together and looked longingly at the Tous Les Jours across the street. The sign and warm light inside the cafe shone brilliantly in the darkness and through the falling snow. 

But being indoors in a well-lit environment would mean a higher chance of being recognized.

He peered down at his little notebook, barely able to see the words now. He turned the page toward the light but still couldn’t make much sense of them. This was crazy. He ought to just leave.

As he walked toward the subway station he promised himself that he would start this tomorrow. The first step was to go to Digital Media City, go to all the broadcast stations, and personally apologize. It was ridiculous having to apologize for being a perfectionist but not apparently not everyone could handle perfectionism. He just needed to grit his teeth and make some sort of apology. 

He had lied to his noona when she called after hearing the news that he was kicked out of the group. He told her it was a misunderstanding, and that he was working it out. Now he actually had to work it out before the end of the month, when his family needed that money.

It would be okay. At Angelfish Entertainment, they always talked about how talented he was. If he went around and apologized to the broadcast stations, Angelfish would have to take him back. Debut him as a soloist so he wouldn't have to put up with incompetent team members.

Taking a deep breath of icy air that cut his lungs, he stopped outside the Seoul Station exit 12. He was away from the hub of the station with the market and the train station. Here on the fringes, there were mostly elderly people and homeless people. 

Growing up in Gangneung on the eastern coast, Seoul always seemed glamorous and sophisticated. The few times his parents had brought him and noona here, they'd taken him to the Trick-Eye Museum, Yongsan Family Park, and Dongdaemun. They were always given a small amount of won to pick street food.

Even when Taejin had come here to become a K-Pop star, he'd had no reason to think differently. As a trainee, he'd spent his time in studios, and then, after debuting, he'd spent his being carted around in Mercedes vans to music shows and radio shows and concerts.

On those days, he barely looked at the city. He mostly slept in the van because that was just about the only sleep he got. Even when stepping out of the van into building entrances, his view was of parking garages or of staff members and fans who gathered around the him and the other guys in the group.

Taejin had never gotten the chance to see this side of Seoul. He'd never been on the outskirts of Seoul Station.

He clenched the notebook in his fist, making a crease down the center. He wouldn't be here for long. Tomorrow. It would all be resolved tomorrow.

It was too early in the evening for him to find a spot on the floor. People were still going in and out. Even with his baseball cap, as the only teen among the elderly homeless men, he was too noticeable.

Sure, everyone walking by was speeding up and carefully not noticing the homeless men sleeping on their cardboard sheets like filthy piles of blankets, but Taejin had been in entertainment news so often lately that if anyone happened to glance his way, he was sure to be recognized.

Maybe it was better to stay outside and risk hypothermia. His stomach growled but he sternly told it to shut up. He had to be careful with the little bit of money he still had.

After pacing around outside the station and feeling the cold seep into his muscles, he gave up and went down.

Maybe he could walk around in here. Pretend he had somewhere to be. Maybe walk to the hub and watch people come and go at the train station.

"Jinjin-ah?"

Taejin froze. Only one person ever called him that.

Turning, he started walking away with small, quick paces, tugging his broken suitcase behind him. The wheel clicked loudly over the concrete ground. He cringed with every step.

“Jinjin-ah,” Simon called again, his voice echoing through the tunnel.

Taejin picked up his suitcase and quickened his pace. Once he got back outside, he just started running.

Though Taejin didn’t want anyone he knew to see him right now, he thought he could handle most of them with dignity. So why did it have to literally be the last person Taejin wanted to see him?

His feet slipped on the slushy ground, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t know exactly where he was going. Maybe--just maybe--this one night he could go to a jjimjilbang. He needed to bathe, anyway. 

He was so busy focusing on getting away from Simon and on where to go that he didn’t see the girls coming. They were probably in early high school, though one was taller than him. They tackled him from three sides, throwing him to the ground so his chin slammed against the sidewalk and his cap tumbled off his head.

“Thanks for your help,” Simon’s voice said from above Taejin.

The girls sounded breathless and excited, asking Simon for a selfie as Taejin recovered his cap and got to his feet, hiding his face. Simon smiled and waved at the girls until they were out of sight before turning to Taejin.

“You’re bleeding,” said Simon.

Taejin scowled at him, feeling the sting of his chin now that it had been brought to his attention. He took off his face mask--ripped from the contact with the ground--and wiped at his bloody chin.

“Is that all?” he asked Simon.

“What...what were you doing down there?” Simon asked.

Taejin turned away from him, forcing down his discomfort. “I was just waiting out the cold. No big deal.”

“Sounds like a party,” said Simon.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Simon looking down at his battered suitcase. It enraged him as much as it embarrassed him. Simon with his rich parents in America never had to worry about anything.

“So...carrying around your suitcase. Is that something you’re doing just because?”

“Yeah, sure.” He didn’t owe Simon an explanation.

“It’s been a week since you left, and--”

“I didn’t leave.” Taejin’s temper flared, cut by the shame and pain of knowing he had been voted out of the group.

Simon ignored that. “So you’re spending your time hanging out in subway tunnels now?”

Taejin released a breath and started walking away.

“I thought you’d go home,” said Simon, walking alongside him like they were friends.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Taejin asked. “I have...opportunities here. New things I’m starting soon.”

It wasn’t a lie. Once he apologized to the broadcast station staff members, those saps would remove him from the blacklist. Angelfish Entertainment would take him back, and he’d be working again--ideally as a soloist, like Simon was now. But probably better than Simon. Taejin worked harder.

Plus, he was a better dancer, a better performer. But life wasn’t fair, of course.

“I’m sure you do,” said Simon, “but are you planning on following those opportunities while...living at Seoul Station?”

Taejin scowled. “Who said I’m living here?”

Simon looked pointedly at the suitcase and back at Taejin. “When’s the last time you took a shower?”

Taejin’s scowl deepened. Sure he hadn’t washed up since he’d stayed at a jjimjilbang two days ago, but it wasn’t that bad. He was being careful to stay pretty clean and not get sweaty or anything.

“You know, my grandparents have an extra room since I’m in the dorm,” said Simon.

Of course Simon had to rub it in that he still lived in the Angelfish dorm, while Taejin had been kicked out.

“I don’t need your charity,” Taejin said.

“This isn’t about charity.” Simon wrinkled his nose. “This is for the rest of us so we don’t have to smell you.”

Taejin pressed his lips together. Accepting this offer would mean Simon would have control over him and another thing to rub in his face. But it would also mean actually being clean when he went to Digital Media City and apologized to everyone. Plus it would mean a warm house. An actual bed.

Simon’s house, though. And Simon’s bed.

Maybe it was time to go back to the jjimjilbang.

“No, thanks,” Taejin said. 

Simon shrugged and started walking away. Something tumbled to the ground. 

“Hey, you dropped something,” Taejin said.

“No, I don’t think I did,” said Simon without turning around.

Taejin bent to pick it up. It was a post-it that was creased, the writing slightly faded, like it had been Simon’s pocket or wallet for ages. He squinted at it. It was an address and what looked like the pin code to a house. Taejin had no doubt that this was the address to Simon’s grandparents’ house and the passcode to get in.

"I guess I'll see you around," said Simon, holding up a peace sign, still walking away.

His pride was being bruised over and over again.

But his other option was to sleep in a subway tunnel. Letting out a slow breath, he looked up the nearest subway stop to their house.