The Anti-Fan and the Idol (My Summer in Seoul)

I grab his hand. “Then we will.”

“We will,” he agrees. “Or we’ll get laughed out of the label. But, yeah, we’ll try.”

“It’s all we can do,” I say. “And while we’ve never been best friends…”

He laughs.

“Seriously.” I release his hand and smack him in the chest. “I’ll try my hardest to do her proud.”

His eyes well with tears. “You have no idea how much that means.”

He kisses my hand, and I wonder if I’m even worthy of being in this group. But I have no time to feel sorry for myself as we go to practice and sweat our asses off.

Days.

We have days to become perfect.

It’s our last chance.

And I have to remember that Ryan’s sister didn’t have one, so I need to make it work for all of us.

And for her.

Chapter Thirteen

Ryan

Practice is brutal.

My dad’s been calling more than usual lately.

I know that’s not a good sign.

I finally call him back during my break and wait for him to yell at me. Instead, he’s quiet, which is almost scarier than his loud voice.

“You need to come home,” he says. “It’s gone on long enough.”

I roll my eyes. “Dad, I’m making money, I’m doing good, we’re just in this new group and—”

“Your mom’s worried. I’m worried. You’ve been on your own. You haven’t even visited your sister’s—”

“Dad.” Tears well in my eyes. “I’m not ready for that.”

There will never be a day when I will be ready for that. Not now. Not ever. It hurts too much. I press a hand to my chest and tell myself to breathe.

“You’re not mourning.”

“I mourn every fucking day!” I yell and then feel like shit because I know he is, too. “Just give me some more time.”

“You’ve had time.”

“This was her dream,” I snap, knowing that I have no right to yell at him like that and hating that the anger and grief swirl together so harshly that I can’t tell what I even feel anymore. “Let me make her dream come true, even if she’s sleeping. Let me make her dreams come true.”

“Son,” he rasps. “Don’t you know? She already had her dream come true. She had you. Her best friend. Her older brother. There is no doubt in my mind that she doesn’t already know the battles you would fight for her, the things you would achieve in her memory. But don’t let it take over your entire life. Years later, you’ll miss the time spent on things like this when it could have been with family.”

I know he’s right, but still, it’s also my dream. It’s ours. It’s what we shared. And while I miss my parents, I can’t give up. Not yet. “I need to do this.”

He’s even more quiet. “Then I hope you know what you’re doing and what you’re sacrificing to make it happen.”

A relationship with my parents? Family? Everything.

I know that.

But I can’t stop.

She wanted this.

And so do I.

I can still see her smile as she danced. See the way she twirled and asked if she looked stupid or pretty.

She was beautiful. Her laugh haunts me when I’m trying to sleep. Everything about her haunts me.

“Do you think I’ll make it?” she asks.

I smile and reach for her hand. Her skin is so smooth. “You’ll make everyone jealous with how pretty you are, how talented. So, yes, you’ll make it.”

Her gaze falls. “It’s a lot of pressure. Just yesterday, this girl was talking about how she went three days without eating. Her roommate finally gave her half a banana because she was worried.”

There is always a dark side.

I stare her down. “Don’t starve yourself. Don’t be like them. Eat your food, dance, work hard, be healthy. You’re perfect the way you are.”

“Not to them.” She looks away.

I know she’s talking about the keyboard warriors online. “Don’t worry about them. Just worry about you.”

“I hope I can be strong like you one day.” She winks.

“You already are.”

She laughs. “Sureeeeee. Okay, from the top again. I have to get this eight-count right.”

I play the song again and then again.

She perfects it.

And when she finally debuts, she looks like an angel—until she starts reading the comments on her Instagram and TikTok accounts.

Until she starts believing the lies people who don’t even know her tell.

I dance like shit the rest of practice and refuse to talk to anyone when we take another break.

Haneul is in the hallway somewhere, and Jisoo is slumped against the floor, saying she needs at least a ten-minute nap if she’s going to be able to function.

And Ah-Ri…

I frown.

Where the hell is Ah-Ri?

I look around the studio and wonder how I can be so out of it that a person can just disappear in front of me.

I leave, walk down the hall, and then stumble when I see Haneul almost pressing himself against Ah-Ri. They’re in a corner.