Page 81 of Teach Me K-Pop

Nikko rolls to the edge of the mattress, pulling me back to sit beside him. “You need the blue Prada shirt and those black pants that I like so much.”

“Such a good brand ambassador.” I reach to tuck his hair behind his ear. He’s been letting it grow and I love the natural waves he’s got now. I think the look suits him, but I also like that I can see his jewelry this way, especially his newest piercing. A single diamond stud set in platinum high above the rest of the hoops and dangles in his lobe.

We can’t do much to show we’re together, but we wanted to find ways to keep pieces of each other. He wears my birthstone, the one earring that doesn’t change. Subtle enough that fans probably won’t even notice, but I know it’s there for me.

I had kept the note he wrote for me with the tiny heart drawn on it. I’d immediately wanted to get the small shape tattooed on me and eventually did just that. Etched on the inside of my forearm, next tonaekkeoin Nikko’s handwriting. Close to his name, but so much more—I am his and he is mine.

“Yes.” He nods, all faux seriousness. “Always for the brand. Nothing to do with how good I think you look in those things.”

Chuckling, I get up for real, tugging on underwear and retrieving my suitcase from the corner where I’d put it two days ago and ignored it since then. “How was your meeting?” I finally ask as I start throwing socks into my bag.

His face lights up with excitement. “Good! I think the song that I will record while you are gone is the last one. Iseul says it feels like a title track.”

“Oooooh.” I stop folding my pajama pants to be appropriately awed. I know title tracks, despite having nothing to do with the actual title of the album, are a very big deal. “Am I ever going to get to hear any of this album? Or do I have to wait until it comes out like everyone else?”

“Soon,” he promises. “I just want it to be perfect for you.”

“For me? This isn’t about me,” I tell him. Iseul has teased him enough about some of the songs that I am pretty sure there might be a hint of me here or there, but I wonder suddenly if he’s worried I might not like what he’s written or recorded.

Nikko tilts his head, looking at me like I’m either crazy or clueless. Maybe both. “Jase. Of course it’s about you. It’s always about you.”

“I—what?”

“I don’t know if I would have ever actually done this without you. Every song is as much yours as it is mine,” he says, soft and sincere.

Jumping on the bed again, I gently push him down, grabbing his wrists to pin them above his head as I kiss him deeply.

Packing can wait.

???

“Noel!” Nikko yelps as she takes off after a squirrel, dragging him along behind her, holding on to her leash, trying to keep up.

I laugh, like I have every other time this has happened. Somehow, he still manages to be caught off guard with each woodland creature or animal she decides she needs to chase. Despite her small size, he’s been yanked all over this park and never quite seems prepared, sometimes even after he’s pointed out some furry critter to her. “One of these days you’re going to learn!” I tease.

“Probably not!” he calls back, disappearing around a curve in the trail.

Picking up my pace to catch them, I think about all the times I’d walked through this park alone when I lived in the neighborhood nearby. After a tough day at school, frustrated for my students by the pressures of the Korean education system, I had found some solace meandering through the green space here. It was never very crowded and felt far enough removed from the hustle and bustle of downtown Seoul to be an escape.

Now, it’s one of the very few places in the city where Nikko and I can go together and not worry much about being seen. No one pays much attention to the guys in the park with the small-but-thinks-she’s-large dog. Some days, he’ll even reach for my hand as we walk, careful to keep his eyes down, hidden beneath the brim of his ball cap if we pass anyone, but he never lets go.

“You cannot climb that tree, Noel.”

I hear him before I see him, but find them on the other side of a giant Mongolian oak. It’s never not funny to me how much Nikko sounds like me when he talks to Noel, having picked up on everything from my phrasing to my tone. “How’s that working out for you?” I ask, with a smile as she continues to growl and scratch at the bark.

“Maybe we shouldn’t discourage her dreams,” he suggests. “Why limit her in this way?”

“Because if we don’t, she’ll be a tree-climbing serial killer,” I tell him. “Did you not see what happened to that squid Ryo gave her?”

He nods. “No, I saw. And I found the last tentacle in my slipper the other day.”

“See! It was a warning.”

He laughs, vibrant and carefree.

I swear it’s my favorite sound in the world.

While he’s bending down to scoop her up and kiss all over her face as she tries to squirm around enough to retaliate, I grab my phone to take a video. My entire camera roll is full of the two of them—it’s easy to see what’s most important to me.

---