Page 65 of Teach Me K-Pop

Kija lets out a low whistle. “Damn. I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” I sigh. “For a while, I think I was crazy enough to believe we could have made it work.”

“You’re not crazy,” Kija argues. He’s quiet again for a moment, then says, “I’m not making excuses for him. But trying to look at things from his perspective. This is huge. Starting a relationship like this would be a really big deal. That group has been his whole life for the last—what?—six years? Task Force has three-to-five year dating bans written into their contracts, so that they can’t even entertain the idea of being with someone without some kind of penalty. Some idols try anyway, but a lot of them, especially when they’re starting out, don’t have the time, energy, or resources to sneak around.”

He pauses, like he’s letting this sink in for me, and I’m glad, because it is a lot to process. I appreciate his perspective because he’s got so much insight that I don’t. I had not considered that not only would this be difficult for Nikko, but also scary. He was so brave with me, so willing to be open, that I never stopped to think how much he might actually be afraid of.

“Talk to me, Jase,” Kija prompts when I’ve been quiet too long. “Getting more in your head about this is not going to help anyone, but especially not me since I’m the one who’s going to have to pull you out.”

I take a sip, tasting more aluminum can than the caramel cold brew I was promised. “You’re right; I hadn’t considered any of that, really. I know it’s all new but I didn’t think about… I remember him saying now that it was so nice to have someone to talk to outside of the bubble he’s in. So this thing with me is like a whole different world in so many ways.”

“Yes,” Kija agrees. “He knows how to be an idol. He’s been well trained for that. He has no idea how to be a boyfriend or handle a relationship like you both obviously want, because he’s never had the chance. Think about the first guy you were serious about…”

Scoffing, I cut him off. “I’d rather not.”

“—and what a disaster that was,” he continues as if I hadn’t even interrupted. “I wasn’t there for it, but I heard enough. You were in a really normal situation with a shitty guy. It took you a while to figure all of that out. Nikko—and you—are both in a difficult situation with a great guy. You’re not going to get it right on the first try.”

“Thank you, Dr. Kim,” I grumble, then chug the rest of my disappointing drink. “You are annoyingly astute sometimes.”

“You really are frustrated; you’re bringing out the fancy words I have to guess by context clues and your level of indignation,” he laughs.

“Astuteis not a fancy word.”

“If English isn’t your first language it is. Which you should know,as a language tutor.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll give you that one,” I concede. “Since you’re so wise—there’s your context clue—tell me what to do.”

“Oh good, I was right.” He sounds pleased, but then takes one of those breaths that says,how do I put this?“I think you need to show him you’re serious. That you’re willing to do what it takes to make this work, if that’s what you want. Tell him you’re in love with him. He’s the one who needs to know, not me.”

After rinsing out the can for recycling, I step on it. Crushing it under my foot is far more satisfying than the beverage was. “But how? It’s not like I can just show up and be all, ‘Hey, Nikko, I love you, let’s talk about this.’”

“Why not?”

I want to strangle him through the phone. “Why not?Why not? Security, for one. Literally everything else, for another.”

“I’m rolling my eyes right now, just so you’re aware,” he informs me, as if I hadn’t guessed that already. “You know where he is. So get yourself together and go.”

“Kija…”

“Jase…”

“You’re doing the thing again,” I grumble.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’re waiting for me to crack, and we both know it.”

“Can you do it a little faster? I’ve got shit to do this morning,” he says. “And I’ll have more things to do if you’d just ask me.”

I groan, and I can hear him start to laugh. “I don’t want to, but I don’t know what else to do.”

“Please stop taking yourself so seriously,” Kija requests. “I’m going to help you, but I need to hear the words.”

Taking a deep breath—while clenching my fist in aggravation—I prepare myself to grovel. “Kija, I am asking you to help me. I can get there; I just can’t get close to him. Can you tell me what hotel they’ll be at, or, I don’t know… anything that will put me in front of him long enough to profess my love and devotion?”

“There we go. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He teases and I can hear him tapping away at a keyboard. “I’m going to do better than just give you a name. I’m going to request a room for myself and be suddenly unavailable to use it, but they don’t need to know that. You get a flight, and I’ll let you know when to be there and where to go. And I will let him know you’re waiting for him. Whatever happens after that is up to you, so don’t fuck it up.”

I’m so relieved I kind of want to cry. At least I have another chance. “Thank you, Kija, seriously.”

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