Page 17 of Teach Me K-Pop

I cut her off. “What’s a bias?”

“Like, your favorite guy. The one that you think is the hottest or cutest or that you would totally marry and have babies with,” Savannah tells me. “But you also have a biaswrecker, who kind of steals your attention and could totally still get it.”

“Don’t tell him that part!” Alita slaps at her hand. “Anyway. So, Sav and I have the same bias, we both stan Lalo, one of the rappers—”

“Stan? What?” I interrupt again, not realizing I was going to need a whole new vocabulary for this.

Savannah sighs. “Seriously? Even my mom knows whatstanningmeans. It’s just being a big fan—like, you’re crazy about someone. And we’re crazy about Lalo. But Harper is in love with Lux.”

“Who is the maknae,” Alita informs me.

I recognize the term, but it probably doesn’t mean the same thing here, so I prompt, “And that means…”

“He’s the youngest in the group.”

Okay, I did know that. “I guess that’s a big deal in the hierarchy?”

“Kind of?” Savannah shrugs. “It really seems like it’s only a big deal to the people who are obsessed with the maknae.”

Speaking of, I realize Harper has been shockingly quiet. I look up at the screen to see an unnecessarily large picture of the same incredibly attractive guy from her phone staring at me in what I would believe could be called asmize,and Harper gazing longingly back at it with a fondness I’ve only felt toward Noel or pizza with white sauce. “Harper?”

“Huh?” She turns toward me slowly, all starry-eyed. “Oh. Yeah. Um.” She taps on the keyboard a few times, minimizing the solo shot of the Luxury Maknae and pulling up something on YouTube.

I immediately notice the insane numbers of views—65 million, and the video is only two months old. “What are we watching?”

“This is their latest single, ‘hand over heart,’ and the dance break in it is WILD,” Harper says, pressing play and stepping back to take it all in.

As soon as the music starts, I’m surprised. Yes, it’s pop, but it’s edgier than I would have expected. The bass is heavy beneath the upbeat melody, and I find myself nodding along. I don’t even notice the lyrics because I can’t keep up with the video at all—there’s too much to look at, with each of the six members in some kind of individual story, making minimal screen time for any of them. I catch flashes of brightly colored hair, but that’s about it. Each of the girls squeal when their guy—theirbias—shows up, but I couldn’t tell them who was who if I had to. The futuristic makeup and tinted glasses make it difficult to even get an idea of what any of them really look like.

The moment the video ends, all three of them snap to look at me, like they’re trying to gauge my reaction. “It was good,” I say, which is the truth. I could easily imagine singing along as I drove to work, gas station coffee in hand.

“That’s it? It wasgood?”Harper is indignant again.

I have to laugh. “I thought I was supposed to be learning about these guys, but you showed me a video where I literally cannot see any of them because of all the… What is that anyway? Are they aliens?”

Savannah groans. “Ugh. Mr. Kitson. Seriously. It’s in the future. They’re talking aboutloveand how itchanges people.”

“Oh, of course,” I say, realizing I should have tried to follow the words more. “Wait, how do you know what they’re saying?”

“All of the videos have English translations in the captions,” Alita tells me. “But there are lots of lyrics sites that explain them, too. Plus, some of us have apps to help us learn Korean.”

“Wow. That’s incredible.” I’m honestly impressed with this level of dedication. I glance at my watch. “We have time for one more. Show me another clip where I can actually see these people you’re all twitterpated about.”

“On it!” Harper clicks away on the laptop, cueing up a new video that is distinctly different from the one we just watched from the first frame.

The song is definitely a ballad and feels lush and almost sensual compared to the other. The video itself seems dreamy, with its hazy lighting and these six very well-dressed young men strolling down the streets of some unknown city. They’re clearly supposed to be in some sort of emotional distress over the girl they’re lamenting in the verses. The members of the group remind me of every guy I ever found attractive while I’d been working in South Korea—all impossibly good-looking, and wearing smoky eye make-up better than most women. As the shots linger a little longer on each face, there’s something vaguely familiar about one of them and I can’t help but wonder if it’s possible one of my former students had somehow grown up to be a k-pop star.

It’s over before I know it, and the three of them are staring expectantly again. I honestly don’t know how they want me to respond. “That was good, too,” I say, trailing off before picking up again. “They look quite a bit younger, maybe?”

Sighing, Savannah says, “It’s a couple of years old. But it’s one of Harper’s favorites. We watch ita lot.”

“Show him a picture from the Vogue shoot they just did!” Alita shouts, then looks at me apologetically. “Sorry. That was loud. The photos are justreallyincredible.”

Harper’s typing again as she agrees. “Oh my god, yes! How did I not think to start there?”

Suddenly the giant screen is completely filled with a very high-definition black and white picture. It’s obvious they’re older and styled to fit the image of the magazine, but they are, honestly, breathtaking. Again, my gaze is drawn to one of them, something so familiar about his eyes.

Stepping closer, Harper points to each of them in order. “Okay, so Lux is in the center, obviously where he belongs, then from the left it’s Ryo, Chita, Lalo, Lux, Tang, and Nikko.”

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