What You Want

 

Someone was shaking me awake. I'm facing the patio door, curled up in a fetal position. It has gotten extra hot with the sun beating down my face. I could feel the sweat dripping down my neck. 

"Uhhh," I groaned. 

"Jju, wake up." Someone shook me again. It sounded like Martin, voice rough from lack of use. 

I stretched, arms reaching out, hitting him in the process. 

"Ow!" He yelled, laughing at the same time. "What are you even doing here, bro?"

I blinked awake. I wasn't sure what time it was or how long ago I fell asleep, but the sun was out in full force, so it's most likely lunch time. I yawned, shaking the cobwebs of sleep. 

Slowly, I shook the blanket off of me and sat up. The other two beds were empty and I could hear activities coming from the kitchen. 

I turned back to look at Martin. "Sorry. James was snoring loudly and I couldn't sleep," I said, fibbing a little. "And the leather couch is cold and your bed is bigger, so I had no choice." I rambled, avoiding his eyes. I'm normally a confident person despite my quiet personality but my sense of guilt had me shy all of a sudden.

I managed to stand up, bones creaking. After steadying myself, I picked up my book, fully intending to leave as I could feel the weight of his phone inside the pocket of my hoodie. 

I cleared my throat. My voice was extra deep and hoarse from a full day of practice yesterday. "Anyway, what are you up to today?" I asked, trying not to be obvious about my shyness around him. 

It's technically our day off, but Martin rarely took breaks. Most of the time, he goes back to the company building to work on his music. The odd times, he would go home and spend the day with his family, then comes back to the dorm at night. We're not allowed to sleep anywhere else unless there's an emergency requiring us otherwise. It's in our contract to room together for at least two years, for convenience and scheduling efficiency. It's just easier that all of us are together in one place. It also helps with developing camaraderie within the group. 

"Nothing," he said, also getting up to fix his bed. He fluffed the pillow before picking up the comforter. "I was just going to hang. The parents are out and about today." He blew a breath.

"Yeah? You're not going to the studio?" I picked up my half of the comforter, helping him make the bed. Nowadays, it's tough being out in public. They learned their lesson when he, James and Sean went out for acai after James' solo hockey date.  It was madness. The airport was one thing as we're usually accompanied by security but us being out on our own was a different story. Once again, I was in awe of how far we've come in such a short time. It's scary sometimes though. Keonho's run in with saesangs almost got him hurt. He lost a shoe, someone grabbed his bag, and still, he was criticized online because he cussed out someone who was trying to physically drag him. He was terrified and all the bashers online could say was "teenagers shouldn't swear". 

Ridiculous. 

"Wait," I said, realizing something. "Why are we making your bed?" I looked around the messy room. "Look at this place!" I gave him a disgusted look. 

He laughed. "Do you ever notice how my bed is always made when you walk in here?"

I furrowed my brows, pausing. Come to think of it, his bed was always the only thing in the room that was in order. "Huh. Interesting."

"Yeah, I never sleep on a messy bed. It gives me the ick." He shuddered as he stretched the comforter just so it laid flat with no bumps or tiny bulges in sight. "Anyway, have you seen my phone?" He walked around my side of his bed. "I could've sworn I plugged it in last night." He groaned as he bent to check under the bed, carelessly sweeping a few books out of the way. I cringed.  He's been on a reading kick lately; he said it was because of me. But I have to teach him how to respect the books, show him how to take care of them. 

As I moved out of his way, I patted the front of my hoodie to ensure that the phone stayed hidden. 

I watched him move around the room, picking up litter and dirty laundry along the way. I grabbed the books then stacked them in a neat pile. 

"Your phone was probably carried out by a big rat somewhere."

He stopped what he was doing. "What?" His face was already red from exertion but his eyes still held mirth, amused by my observation. 

"I'm just saying that you three are probably harbouring a big rat that you didn't know." I started helping him pick up the clutter - shirts, dirty socks, empty juice bottles, all vying for real estate on the floor. "It's probably as big as you and it came at night and took your phone." They each have a small bin around their sleeping area, but all of them were full. They also have hampers but all of them were also full. I could feel my eyes twitch. 

Once again, I congratulated myself for picking the right roommate. 

He huffed out a laugh. "You're ridiculous. What the heck would a rat need a cell phone for?'

I shrugged. "I don't know...to call for pizza?" 

He guffawed. 

Martin was the type of person who's easily amused. Laughter was always bubbling to the surface. Sometimes, I could do the most mundane things and he would have the sweetest, awe struck expression on his face. Like a proud mum looking at her toddler who just did something as amazingly basic as tying their shoes. He's like that. He also laughs at my stupidest puns and acrostic poems. Sean and Keonho would cringe at how easy laughter came to him. But that's just one of the things that makes Martin, Martin. He's rarely grumpy. 

He's full of energy and loves to express any extreme emotion by screaming. I'm the type of person who could feel their heart rate increase as soon as they hear a loud sound, so his screaming took a lot out of me at first. But I got used to it, and now, I only feel discomfort when the screaming comes from somebody else. 

"How about we do one of those phone breaks for the day..." I suggested and just as quickly, I realized my mistake. 

He swung his head around and looked at me, a serious expression all over his face.  

"Hold up," he started. dropping the stuff he picked up from the floor. "What happened last night?"

"W-what do you mean?" I stuttered. 

"Bro, I'm already suspicious of finding you sleeping beside me, and now you want to volunteer for a 'phone detox'? You, the only person on this earth who uses his iPhone for its intended purposes?" He glared at me. "So what gives?"

I'm faced with a decision. I could continue lying to him and postpone the inevitable hurt, or just come out and say it. The thing is, he can take all the criticisms about our group and our style of music.  In fact, he welcomes it. But this is different. He would take this personally. The person who said those hurtful things about him and about the group was an artist whose work he admires. I'm torn between wanting to be here for him when he learns the truth and not wanting to see the joy fade from his eyes. 

I just can't do it. I've never seen him anything less than joyful in all the time that I've known him. He doesn't even flinch when I playfully dodge his daps, which I did so often I lost count. My eomma had asked me a number of times to stop doing it but I couldn't help it. She said it's rude. I told her that Martin knows I'm joking. It's like a thing I do with him now.  

I realized that not only am I holding off for his sake, but for selfish reasons as well. Because the rest of the guys and I will be collectively hurt on his behalf. 

Mind made up, I decided that it would be in his best interest to know. But just when I was about to open my mouth and confess, the door burst open. Both Martin and I turned to the person walking in the bedroom. 

"Hey, I got you cereal," Keonho rushed inside, a red plastic cup with a spoon on hand. Keonho has always been like a doting younger brother to me. It's like a sibling hero-worshipping his older brother. He's always either giving me food or asking me what I want or how I feel. It's the same thing with Sean. 

I started to reach for the cup, thinking it was mine.  But to my surprise, Keonho was looking at Martin, cup extended. 

"Wait," Martin looked at me. "Now I definitely know something's wrong." He didn't bother reaching for the cup from Keonho; his forehead creased in confusion and disgust. "Unless you put laxatives in this thing, Keonho, I'm not touching it. So you better start talking." He sat down on the bed with a huff. His gaze going back and forth between Keonho and I.

Freaking Keonho. He should've known that  his out-of-pocket, goodwill gesture would make Martin extra suspicious. These two have the dynamics of true siblings. They bicker, they fight, they pull pranks on each other. They're fun when they get along and a headache when they don't.  Martin, Keonho, and Sean are like your little brothers who won't listen when you tell them they're being stupid. They have boundless energy for shenanigans. It's like herding cats at times. But they get serious when it's time to work. They're actually incredible at it. Creative minds, three brains connected somehow. 

Keonho looked at me for help. 

I let out a deep sigh. "Okay, why don't we go out there," I said, trying to diffuse the tension. "Let's have a little meeting." 

He didn't move, looking at me with a serious expression on his face. "Well, this sucks." He looked around the room once again. "Where the hell is my phone?!" He screamed, face growing redder. 

I fished it out of my pocket. "I have it," I said, putting it back as he tried to grab for it. "I'm only going to give it back to you once we have a talk, okay?" 

He sighed again. "It's that bad?"

Keonho and I exchanged a look. 

"Let's just go outside and we'll talk about it." I pulled him off the bed, his weight heavy. Heavier with worry and anxiety. I wanted to pat his back or something, anything. But that would only make him feel worse. I don't initiate contact with Martin. He's usually the one that's touchy feely. Every time I'm around him, he'd either want to do that complicated dap thing with me or he'd straight out put his arm around my shoulders. He'd even carried me a couple of times like I weigh nothing for no apparent reason than he just wanted to. 

Anyway, initiating any physical contact now would just send him over the edge. 

"Fine." I let go of his arm and followed him out. 

In the dining area of the dorm, James and Sean were already sat. Eating their breakfasts of choice, which was either cereal or leftovers. The place has gotten cozier since we moved in last year. We invested in an area rug, a tv, a coffee table, and a heavier, darker curtain to block out the sun. The Christmas tree was still up, lit like it's still December. We have not taken it down since we put it up months ago. 

They both looked up when we walked in. 

"Keonho, I told you he'll be suspicious if you give him cereal," James said, eyeglasses perched upon his nose. He was eating a cup of pudding. 

Gross. 

Sometimes, I think James was a 60-year old cosplaying as a 20-year-old. He either acted like an oppa or a 16-year-old boy who was a slapstick comedian in his past life. His humor was top tier, a blend of hilarious, elastic facial expressions and perfect comedic timing. He's the Korean Jim Carrey, in my opinion. 

Sean quickly hid his phone, he wasn't subtle about it either. 

"Hey, bro." He stood and pulled out a chair for Martin. "Do you want me to cook you rice and omelette?" 

"No, idiot. He's having some cereal." Keonho quipped as he put the red cup in front of Martin. He sat down and started playing with his food. Leftovers it looked like. 

Sean and Keonho were competing for Martin's good graces, or maybe they also know that he would need support at a time like this. 

For the first time in over 8 months, we're about to confront an unprovoked hate. I mean we expected hate of course. Kpop fans are feral and there's a faction of them that hates groups that come from a big company like ours. This time it's different, it's from the most unexpected of sources. It's very left-field, and the thing is, it wasn't even a question that required an answer where they could voice an opinion. It was more like a statement. What was even more puzzling was that they knew that Martin was a fan. 

In one of our vlogs, he shared his playlist. It just so happened that it was that artist. That same artist even commented seemingly giving props to Martin. So for them to say what they said about us was puzzling, and very hurtful. Imagine telling one of your fans to quit on their passion, their dreams, the thing they worked hard for since they were eleven. 

I could feel my face heat. I'm so angry. And when I get angry, I get teary eyed. My throat closes up and I start to hyperventilate. 

"Shiiibal," I said under my breath. I wiped my eyes and swallowed a few times, burrowing my face in both my hands. But it's not working. "I'm just so angry," I croaked. Everyone's attention was on me. Martin got up from his chair and sat beside me. 

"Hey," he put his arm around my shoulder, squeezing it. He looked around the table where everyone was frozen, staring at me with worried looks of varying degrees.

Sean sniffed. He's one of the people who catches somebody else's discomfort like a contagious cold, though, he may appear stoic, Sean was an empath. 

"Will someone please start talking?" Martin said softly. 

James reached for his phone in his pocket then gave it to Martin. 

"What am I looking at?" 

"Show him, Jju."

I sniffed, wiping my eyes with the hem of my hoodie. I took the phone from Martin then went to Instagram. 

The clip played again, each word like a knife stabbing my eyes, my throat, my chest. I don't know why it's bothering me so much. 

It shouldn't. Because at the end of the day, that artist was just one person. Our parents, the company, our staff, our fans. They are the ones whose opinions we should care about. But I think it's because it's so unprovoked. For them to tell us to stop as if they're the expert in our genre when we don't even work in the same field. It doesn't make sense. 

I stopped crying at least. I didn't realize that when I handed the phone to Martin, I also reached out and put my hand on his arm. I clutched it like a lifeline. For him, for support, for me. 

I waited on bated breath, watching his face the whole time. 

"The comments on this post are wild," he said under his breath. I took the phone from his hand. 

"It's not a good idea for you to read those." I gave the phone back to James then took Martin's phone from my pocket. 

"Do you want this back?" I asked him. 

He shook his head, then leaned back on the chair. His face was devoid of expression, pale instead of red. He blew out a loud breath, then stood up and walked back to the bedroom, leaving us in his wake. 

The door closed with a soft click.