Page 65 of Free Heart
“You’d have to ask me first.”
“I did.”
“While on heavy drugs in the hospital.”
I shrug, shaking the camera a little. “It was still a proposal.”
“I’ll hold out for something a little more romantic.”
“What’s more romantic than wanting to marry you when I’m high? There are so many other things I could have been thinking about. Climbing for one. Sex for another.”
Sejin groans. “Turn it off. I want to sleep in peace.”
“I wore him out,” I proclaim. “Let’s let him sleep. He deserves it after what I put him through.”
Sejin laughs and shoots me the bird. I turn the video off. “Can I post it?” I ask, remembering what Sejin’s said about viewers getting hits of dopamine off watching other people bond. Maybe I’ll get some more subscribers.
“Sure,” he says. “Nap now.”
I let him drift off as I upload the video to TikTok, Instagram, and YouTube, and then I settle in for a nap too.
I wake that evening to thirty-three new followers on TikTok, eighty-nine on Instagram, and a measly three on YouTube. There are also a handful of homophobic comments mixed in with over a hundred about how cute we are together. Those are mostly from women, but a few guys are willing to cop to the fact that Sejin’s a pretty man.
I decide to add exploiting our relationship to the mix of my channels. I don’t think Sejin will mind, so long as I never show anything that will embarrass him. Much. So, I turn on the camera again when he wakes, pulls on a robe, and goes into the bathroom. I follow him and film him brushing his teeth. He doesn’t say anything about it until he spits the foam out.
“No one wants to watch this.”
“I beg to differ,” I say. “It’s all I want to see when I wake up. That’s for sure.”
Sejin rolls his eyes. “Cheesy.”
I limp behind him to the kitchen, practicing weight-bearing, and I film him feeding the cats. He turns on Peggy Jo’s electric kettle, sits down at the table, and scrubs a hand over his face.
“Hey,” I say. “I love you.”
He smiles, and it makes my heart feel hot and achy in my chest. “I love you too.”
I proclaim, “Cut.”
Sejin says nothing as I upload the video. Within a few minutes, pings and dings roll in on my phone, and his brows go up in surprise when I show him the increase in subscriber numbers. I also show him how several more donations have come through on the linked GoFundMe page.
“So long as we aren’t making sex tapes,” Sejin says, “feel free to film anything, if you think it’ll help.” He stands up, goes to the counter and flips through the pile of bills there. “The GoFundMe could use some more donations. I have more than enough bills right here to deplete it entirely.”
“We should make a marketing plan. You do a little KPop choreo, I do some training, we kiss, we cuddle, they give us cash.”
He smiles. “Just for being ourselves?”
“That’s what sells, isn’t it?”
Sejin picks up my phone, turns on the camera, and starts recording. “You’ve never been much for bragging about your life—whether that’s your climbing exploits or your boyfriend. What’s changed? What happened to the ‘purity’ of the sport?” Sejin asks.
“I woke up in a hospital bed,” I say. “It changes things.”
“Simple as that?”
“Yeah. And you. You changed things too.”
He records me a moment longer, and then says, “I love you, Danny.”
