A Little Life

 Years have passed since they were on stage together. Their careers have diverged into different paths. But the one constant thing about their group was how Juhoon was the reliable calm they needed in times of turmoil. Until one day, he stopped answering their calls. 

He's gotten even quieter as the years go by, even more stoic. He only flipped the switch during practice or performances. By then, he was a different beast, a totally different person. There was a time when he was game for anything: dance challenges, vlog content, social media posts. He was willing to make a fool of himself with us. But as the years go by, he'd become more reserved. He'd create his own content that he sends to the staff to post, mostly solo activities, quiet ones. Him reading or painting, playing an instrument, or creating beats. By then, we were already allowed to have our own social media accounts. But Jju, being a very private person, refused to create a personal one. He doesn't even allow us to take a picture of his place. We know the rules.  

He started distancing himself away from us for no reason. Don't misunderstood, he's still the type of friend who was there when you call. He still listened when you need someone to talk to, a shoulder to cry on. A solace when your heart gets broken. He just doesn't initiate contact, and you'll have to drag him by the soles of his feet to get him to come out for no apparent reason than to either go to an event or have dinner. When I say, he grew quieter over the years, I meant, he went radio silent. We know where he was at all times, it's just, he's gone fully hermetic. 

Once, after a very public and ugly break up, I stayed with him for weeks. Drove him crazy with my mess, emotional, psychological, and physical. But not once did he complain. He cooked for me, made sure I showered, he sat with me till I fell asleep. My favourite part of healing with Jju was the numerous times we watched the sunset from his living room. I would lay on his couch with my head on his lap. He'd read and stroke my hair until I fell asleep. He was the calm I needed to recover. His place by the lake was my fortress of solitude; his company, my lullaby and my source of strength.  We walked every day; his cat, Frost, named after his very white fur and icy blue eyes, perched on my shoulders like a live stole that kept me warm. He likes me, in such a way that Keonho would never know. Because Frost only felt animosity towards him and Keonho felt the same about the cat. 

We talked, we laughed, then we'd cook together if I was up to it. We'd play instruments, I'd sing to him and he played the piano for me. Days and days of just being with Jju. Before I know it, I was healed. Reborn into a version of myself that was better than the bedraggled person that walked straight into his arms, broken hearted and sobbing. We hugged goodbye, mine, a little tighter because one of these days, I fear, he would stop picking up my calls. For the first time in all the years that I've known him, I kissed his forehead. My lips lingered there for a minute or so, refusing to let go. He clutched at my back, then tried to disengage, but I refused to let go. Tears gathered but I held back just as fiercely as I held on to him. There was something different about that goodbye. I couldn't put a name to it. I sensed a disturbance in him, a change that's never been there before. 

Our careers have ventured into different paths since our group informally disbanded. Collectively, we've not made any music for years. I'd become an international solo artist, so did Keonho and Sean. James was off doing a bunch of things in Thailand and Taiwan. An entrepreneur who has more money than all of us combined. Then there's Jju, who became a film director and a successful writer. His books have been translated to a number of languages. His novels graced the New York Times' Bestseller List on the regular, which is unheard of for a Korean writer. They've called him Korea's Murakami and had a couple of his books turned to film and have won numerous awards. 

I've attended his movie premieres and have promoted his books by posting pics of myself reading them. He's always grateful and have thanked me personally. He didn't even have to ask me to do any promotions, I just do it voluntarily because I believe in him the same way he believes in all of us. 

Then, he stopped picking up my calls. After a week of radio silence, I gave up and headed to his office in Seoul before trying a couple of places. He very seldom goes to the city, but he owns a penthouse there. Jju may be rich, but his approach to everything is simplicity. He's not materialistic and doesn't believe in cluttering his environment with excess. So, there's not a lot of places he could hide unless he's actually travelling for work. But that still wouldn't make sense because he's always told me where he would be. 

When his assistant greeted me with grateful but frantic eyes, hair stood on my arms. Goosebumps erupted everywhere. 

"Mr. Edwards! I'm so glad you're here," he started. "I was about to call you," he continued. His normally immaculate appearance looked dishevelled today. "I can't get a hold of Mr. Kim. I'm scared because the last time I spoke to him, he said he was going to see his ex. And that man was bad news. I don't know if he told you about him. But he was not in a good place when they were together. He's manipulative, abusive, and just generally an unpleasant person to deal with. Please help me!"

He didn't breathe. It was as if he vomited all the words and it spewed everywhere. I had a hard time picking them up and making sense of it. 

"Calm down, calm down," I ordered him and directed him to the couch. "Tell me slowly, because I got hung up on the word, ex-boyfriend."

Jju never talked about his sexuality to us. Hell, he never even talked about being in a relationship over the years. He's so tight-lipped about a lot of things. Why didn't I notice? Why didn't I notice that he's never been linked to anyone? Why didn't I notice that he's always alone? Am I too much of an egomaniac that I desecrated our friendship by making it all about me? Why didn't he ask me for anything? 

Oh God. 

He released a breath, tears apparent. "Last week, he said he was meeting Seong-je because he needed help with something. I told him it was a bad idea and that I should go with him, but he refused." His voice, though calmer, trembled. "I told him, Mr. Edwards. I told him! But he was stubborn. And now, he's not picking up my calls, and I'm scared something bad happened to him!"  

"Okay, do you have this man's address?" I said, handing him a box of tissues. 

"No, Mr. Edwards, that's why I'm scared. I don't know where he lives. I only make date arrangements for them, but I don't know where they go afterwards." He sniffed. Full on sobbing now. "I just know he's been badgering him because he started getting quieter again, if that's even possible. His favourite sport is trying to get into Mr. Kim's head and reducing him into a small person who hates himself."  

My face heated up, anger simmering to a boil. "Did he tell you this?" 

He shook his head. "No, but I recognize the signs, Mr. Edwards. I've been there myself. I know a victim of abuse when I see one." His voice rose an octave. "Mr. Kim is very secretive, he wouldn't confide in me. But there was a point in time when he refused to work or leave his penthouse for weeks. And I've seen the defeated look in his eyes, the concealer he used to cover up the bruises. I know because I've done them myself." He pulled another tissue, blew his nose and wiped the tears. Then he looked up at me, tear-stained cheeks and red nose.  

"The only thing that could get himself out of the dark days was when one of you calls him for something." He said it angrily, as if he's mad at us because we only ever took advantage of Jju. And he was fucking right. "He would literally drag himself out for all of you, bruises and all. And I can't believe you people didn't know about his relationships! What kind of friends are you?!" He screamed at me. "He considered you his family, his brothers. And you all just let him hide inside himself like a freaking turtle!" 

Then, as if he remembered who he was talking to, he apologized. "I'm so sorry. I know it's not my place, but I can't help but be mad that someone like Mr. Kim, a generous soul would be so alone in the world and my heart breaks for him over and over again because he's the kindest person I know. He doesn't deserve to live like this!"

My heart was hammering, tears about to fall. Too many feelings assaulting me all at once: worry, shame, guilt. Anger. Anger was the most pronounced. Angry at Jju for being so fucking closed off because how the fuck would his assistant know more about him than the people he lived with for years? Angry at myself for being so selfish and oblivious. Angry at this faceless abuser whom I've never met nor have heard in my entire life. But very worried and scared too. Jju is the gentlest person I know, the kindest and warm-hearted. He's very emphatic, forgiving almost to a fault. I can't wrap my head around anyone wanting to hurt him deliberately, especially physically. It's like kicking a puppy for no apparent reason than because you can. I can't bear imagining it.  

"What," I paused. Voice trembling. "What is this person's full name?" 

"Lee Seong-je," he said with a tone that made it seem like I should know this person. "You should know that name."

I started shaking my head, nothing sounds familiar. Nothing. 

"He's a writer." I was still unable to place the name. "He was friends with Mr. Kim for the longest time until they became lovers. I mean, after all these years, you should've been introduced already, right?" 

More and more, I'm realizing that Jju has been leading a double life. One where he did his best to separate the two realities. 

"They were both under the same literary agency until Mr. Kim went international, which, I may be so honest, was when the problem started. I think Mr. Lee was jealous of Mr. Kim's success. Not that I would know for sure, but that's when Mr. Kim started withdrawing and he started wearing long sleeves in the dead of summer. He also stopped letting me in his house. I think Mr. Lee became very possessive and got jealous of anyone around Mr. Kim. It's also probably the reason why you've not been introduced." 

Then, he looked at me fiercely. "Especially, you, Mr. Edwards."

"Why do you say that?" I asked, a lump the size of a golf ball was stuck down my throat and no matter how many times I tried to swallow, it won't go down.  

"Just because Mr. Kim feels very different about you and that asshole noticed. I heard them arguing about you once. It didn't end well for Mr. Kim. He ran out of here with his head down, but I heard the commotion in his office and then a loud slap, like skin on skin contact.  I could tell by the way his head was bowed that he was trying to hide the imprint of Mr. Lee's hand." He started crying again. 

My eyes welled up as well. 

Oh God, my Jju. What have you been hiding from me? 

"Mr. Edwards, we're running out of time. We need to find him!" His frantic words shook me out of my own misery. 

I took a deep breath, wiping my eyes with the sleeves of my sweater. 

"Okay, I'm going to call the guys. In the meantime, see if you can get a hold of the agency they used to be under and try to find any information. Known address and where that bastard is right now. I doubt they will but try."

He straightened up, almost glad to have something to do besides worry. "Oh God. Why didn't I think of that?" 

I got up from the couch and went to Jju's office, a stark workspace filled with sunlight. There, I sat on his tartan desk. The place was devoid of any character and way too clean. His laptop sat open, so I shook the mouse awake. Of course it was password protected. 

I walked out again and headed to his assistant. "Hey, Ji-ho. Do you know the password to his laptop?"

He was on the phone, so he wrote it down on a sticky note. 

It read, PWj0320. Oddly enough, he's used this password before. When he used to send me lyrics he's written and beats he made, he always has it password protected. At the time, I just assumed he used the initials to my Korean birth name and my birthday because it was easier to remember since I was the recipient of the file. But now, I'm not too sure and I don't have the time to decipher the reasonings on he why he would use it on his work laptop.  

I sat back down and entered the password. The wallpaper surprised me. It was a picture of the two of us and his cat. Frost was staring back at the camera perched on his favourite spot, which was around my shoulders. It was taken at the lake house; we sat on the dock; we were drenched in golden sunset. He had a faint smile, my favourite one that showed his dimples. It was innocence on full display.  His hair was long those days, curly and a little unruly.

Tears slipped out. My beautiful Jju. Where the fuck are you?

"That was the reason they got into a fight, you know? Mr. Lee saw his wallpaper and he blew his gasket. He was trying to make him delete that picture, but Mr. Kim refused. He kept saying it was just a picture. But Mr. Lee knew better. I think he also made him choose between you and your friends and him, but you know Mr. Kim," Ji-ho's voice cracked. "He's very stubborn. Once he sets his mind to something, no one can dissuade him...except maybe you."

He handed me a piece of paper with an address scrawled on it. "This was his last known address, but they told me that he's no longer represented under the agency. In fact, they were also looking for him. Apparently, he owed them some money that they advanced to him, but he disappeared and missed the deadline for a book he was supposed to write." He sniffed, crying again. "I'm really worried, Mr. Edwards. What if we can't find him in time?"

I looked at the wallpaper again, then it hit me like a ton of bricks. "Oh fuck," I cursed. "How long has he been gone?" I didn't wait for his response. I stood up and walked briskly out the door. 

"A week, Mr. Edwards! What's happening? Do you know where he is?" He ran after me, yelling. 

"No, I don't know where he is, but Frost! Frost, his cat. Where is his cat?!" I turned and looked back at him, waiting for a response.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry! Why didn't I think of him?" He's sobbing again. "Oh God, poor baby. I hope he's okay! I don't have keys to his penthouse, and I tried to go there yesterday, but the doorman wouldn't let me up." 

"Okay, I'm going there," I said and handed him my phone. "Here, give me your contact info. I'll keep you posted but I'll probably come back here with Frost. I need you to keep him until we figure out where Jju is, okay?" 

I grabbed my phone as soon as he's done, then jogged to the elevator doors. I must call James. James has people who can help find Jju. In the meantime, I need to make sure Frost was okay. 

Oh God. Please let him be okay.