Chapter 45

"I like this jacket," I say as we stand in the subway train. I lightly tug on the black leather that is wrapped around Jaewook. "I know," Jaewook says with a smile. I cross my eyebrows in confusion. "I wore it last fall." "I don't remember?" "You were drunk." I sigh as I realize the night he's talking about. "You just love bringing that night up don't you?" "It was fun. I was terrified at first, but Zen had told me before what you were like and he was right." "He told you?" "Yeah at the bar one night. I don't know how the conversation came up." "Why did you go to the bar?" "Don't freak out, I just drank water. I think I just went because I wanted to get to know you. I was too scared to say much to you but I thought maybe Zen would give me insight." "Man, you were really obsessed with me weren't you?" I joke. He smiles in return, "I still am." "Why don't you drink? You are legal now," I softly ask, even though I know the answer already. His smile lightly falls and his eyes zone out. "I don't know," he mumbles. "Yes you do," I quietly reply. I wrap my arms around him, using him as my balance now. "You shouldn't be afraid. You're not like him, you never will be," I gently say to him. Emotion seems to be caught in his throat now as he simply nods his head. His eyes are blinking forcefully, trying to wipe the water that so quickly surfaced. I've struck a nerve—something he's clearly vulnerable about and worries over. "Baby," I hold his head in my hands. He looks down at me and sniffles—his nose is already turning pink. "It's okay, it's going to be okay. We'll find a way." He continues to nod. "Now let's just enjoy the night out." "Yes," he says while hastily wiping his eyes and taking a deep breath. I hold onto him the rest of the ride in order to comfort him. After a while of silence, he leans his head down to kiss the top of mine before holding onto me tighter with his arm. Once we've left the train, his mood is improved. My hand is held in his as we search for the concert venue. Soon enough, we find a short line of people already by the doors. Like I expected, they're drowned in black and other dark colours. "See, we fit in perfectly. No one will know we don't listen to the music," I whisper to Jaewook. "You don't?" "Well, if I miss him I will but for the most part no," I giggle. I head to the doors and show the venue employee a card my father gave us. They then open the door for us as the others turn their heads and gossip curiously about us. We drop off our coats at coat check, because I'm sure it'll get unbearably hot in here once everyone's inside. Then because I'm curious, we head into the empty venue. The stage is lit already, soundcheck people adjusting the placement of mics and amps. "It's so cool to be in here when it's empty," Jaewook muses as he looks around. "Yeah, later you won't be able to see much of anything." "When I was younger I wanted to be a singer," he says while staring up at every little detail on the walls. "Really?" I look up at him. He nods. "My parents didn't like the idea, it's a highly risky route to take." I nod my head in understanding. "Well, you did have a nice voice, from what I remember of our karaoke date." He chuckles and takes my hand. He climbs up the stairs that lead to the modest stage and looks out at the empty room. "Does your dad do bigger stages?" "Oh yeah, they've done some arenas in Japan. People love them there." "That would be terrifying." "Yeah, he never gets nervous though. He finds stress useless. The drummer though still gets anxious to this day. My dad usually has to have a pep talk with him before." Jaewook smiles before taking my hand again. We head to the back of the stage, walking down the steps and into the hallway. There are staff moving around quickly. I'm not sure where my father is, but eventually, I hear his loud voice from inside the dressing room. We enter to see Zen already here, sitting at the wide dressing room table lined with the typical mirrors and light bulbs. Sure enough, he's munching on the free snacks which are meant for the band. My father stands, laughing as he talks to the bassist. "Dee!" He calls out when he sees me. Jaewook shyly bows his head and slowly introduces himself to everyone. "I haven't seen you in a while," Zen says. Things have felt weird between him and Jaewook since the last incident. "I've been working a lot," Jaewook says with an awkward laugh. I explain that he got a new job and Zen just nods as he observes Jaewook. His protectiveness has been annoying lately, ever since he figured out what's been happening with Jaewook's family. Because his gaze is making me upset, I change the topic. "What's up with the hair? Sorry but it only looked good when The Weeknd did it," I give him an apologetic look. His eyes immediately snap away from Jaewook and onto me. His hair is always a touchy subject. "Eat sh—" "Jaewook!" My father all of a sudden yells out, a hand hitting his back and causing his eyes to open wider than I've ever seen them. "How are you doing, job going well? Treating my little rockstar well?" "Yeah everything's good," he laughs nervously. "Stop scaring him dad," I whine. "What? How am I scaring him?" "You're just so loud sometimes, it's shocking." "You have to take after someone," he says while holding me in a headlock. Jaewook watches with his characteristic wide eyes. I groan as I try to release myself from his hold. "You'll never grow up," I mumble. "Of course not. Your dad refuses to let his youth die." I roll my eyes and take a seat before he decides to do anything more. Jaewook quickly takes a seat beside me, growing stiffer by the second. To offer comfort, I take his hand and simply leave mine in his grasp. Soon enough, he begins to mindlessly fidget with my hand—his unique little quirk. The next hour is spent eating snacks and listening to my dad drive his bandmates crazy. Eventually, Jaewook calms down and even laughs along with my father. He hasn't let my hand free once though. "Alright, it's show time." My dad makes a stupid face at me before turning to his band of four men in total. Two are his friends from Korea, one is Japanese—a replacement for their original drummer who couldn't commit to moving to Japan. Together they do some sort of ritual and bring their hands together. Then Jaewook and I head out to the floor, successfully getting a decent spot in the centre of the room before the show starts. The venue is small, but sure enough, it's packed with mostly men and young guys. Some even seem a bit shocked to see me move through the crowd—a girl that probably doesn't look like she listens to Japanese rock music. Jaewook showed off his needlessly protective side as he reached both arms out around me, acting as a personal shield as we moved through the crowd of testosterone. Jaewook's eyes now remain lit up as the concert proceeds, a certain awe contained within his soft gaze as he watches my father sing and play his guitar. At some points, I look up at him and watch as he so intently focuses on my father—his gaze not once shifting to the other band members. He eventually moves behind me so his arms can wrap around me. His head remains behind mine, close enough that I can sometimes hear him softly make noises of awe. During one of my father's few ballads—something he writes more of lately as he gets older and sentimental—Jaewook lays his head on my shoulder, crouching into me in an embrace as he rocks back and forth on each foot. It's one of my favourite songs—one of the few with a Korean version—and I never imagined I'd listen to it while being held by someone I care so much about. It makes me feel something I didn't imagine. To see someone watch my father and listen to his music for the first time, and be so awestruck by it—and to have that someone be a person I love—it's a strange feeling. I thought it would be pride, a feeling of being proud that my father does well in his profession, but it's something different. It's like I'm learning something new about Jaewook, seeing his willingness to delve so deeply into something he knows nothing about. And maybe it's something else entirely. Because as he watches my father in this way, I can't help but recall how he looks at his own father, and how differently those two gazes are. ...