Page 78 of XOXO

I smile, charmed. “I would love to.”

We decide to walk the three blocks to Jaewoo’s family’s apartment, which is on the twenty-fifth floor of a residential apartment building, sprinting the last hundred feet when it starts to rain.

Joori texted ahead to let their mother know we’re coming, and so when we arrive, the kitchen is already emitting delicious cooking smells—garlic, sesame oil, and soy sauce.

Joori follows Jaewoo into the kitchen while I take off Sori’s boots. I pull down my skirt—I would have worn something more conservative if I’d known I was going to meethis mothertoday—and hurry to follow.

“Eomma,” Jaewoo says, as a tall neat-looking woman in an apron embraces him. “You didn’t have to prepare a whole meal.” The small table in the kitchen is covered with side dishes, with only an empty spot in the middle.

“Of course I did,” she says. “We have aguest.”

Her eyes turn expectantly on me.

“This is Go Jooyoung,” Jaewoo says, and I look at him in surprise that he remembered my Korean name. I’d only told him once, back in LA. “She goes by her English name, Jenny. She’s my girlfriend.”

“Yeochin!” Joori shouts. “I knew it!”

I stare at him, wide-eyed. I didn’t think he’d introduce me as his girlfriend, but as a classmate. We’d kept it a secret at school, besides our friends who’ve figured it out for themselves, and it’s surprising to be so open about it. Then again, this is his family, these are the people he loves and trusts.

“You’re very welcome here Jooyoung-ah,” Jaewoo’s mother says, “ah, I mean, Jenny.” She smiles. “We’re just waiting on...” The doorbell rings. “There it is now!”

She opens the door and bows to the deliveryman who hands over a wrapped package. Bringing it to the kitchen, she opens the package and takes out a whole roasted chicken. She shoos Jaewoo away when he moves to assist her. “Why don’t you show Jenny the apartment while I finish setting out the meal?”

The apartment is spacious, about twice the size of my grandmother’s.

“This is my room!” Joori says, pushing open the door nearestthe kitchen. It’s a medium-sized room with a full-size bed, a desk with in-progress homework, open books, and a computer. There are anime posters on the walls and a video console connected to a small TV.

“My brother spoils me,” she says when she catches me looking. I’d noticed the massive flat screen in the living room earlier, and I wonder if he’d bought that for them too. Maybe even the entire apartment.

We skip Jaewoo’s mother’s room and go straight to Jaewoo’s, next to the entranceway. As I enter the room, he closes the door behind us, and I realize Joori hadn’t followed us inside. I turn away from him, suddenly nervous.

His is the smallest room in the apartment, which makes sense because he lives with the other XOXO members the majority of the time. It’s sparsely furnished with a dresser, a bookcase, and a twin bed. I look away from the bed, blushing, and instead focus on the bookcase. There’s mostly albums on the shelves, a few books, and two photographs. I pick up the first, a grainy photo of his family at the beach, his sister and mother standing on either side of him. Joori’s adorable with a gap-toothed smile, no older than six years old, which would make Jaewoo around ten or eleven. Unlike his mother and sister, he’s not smiling in the photo.

“We just moved back to Busan that summer,” Jaewoo says. “After my parent’s divorce, we lived in the US for a couple of years, so that my mom could escape the gossip, but ended up moving back to Korea when we ran out of money. It wasn’t an easy time. I got in a lot of fights when I was a kid, nothingserious, just mad at the other kids saying stuff about my mom. You weren’t far off when you called me a gangster.” Though his last words are teasing, there’s a wariness to them.

Lifting my hand, I trail my fingers across the photograph. On a closer look, I can see a bruise beneath Jaewoo’s eye. And his arm is crooked at a slightly awkward angle. I look up. “Is this...?” Back in LA, in the photobooth, I’d asked him if it had hurt, breaking his arm, and he’d answered, not as much as the first time.

He nods. “Soon after that photo was taken, I was scouted for Joah. At first, I refused. But they came back the following year and my mom forced me to go. I didn’t know if I was doing the right thing, moving to Seoul. I always loved music, but I didn’t want to leave my mom and Joori.”

I place the photo back on the shelf. It must have been so hard for him, leaving behind his mother and sister when he’d spent so much of his childhood protecting them. Though I can see in his story how it was his mother who was protecting him by sending him away.

Reaching out, I pick up the second photo on his shelf. It’s the boys of XOXO, though they all appear younger. Jaewoo and Nathaniel both scrappy fifteen-year-olds, Sun handsome and elegant even at seventeen, and Youngmin thirteen years old, flashing a peace sign. Unlike the photo on the beach, Jaewoo’s grinning from ear to ear, his arm thrown across the shoulders of Sun and Youngmin on one side and Nathaniel on the other.

“It was actually Sun who convinced me to stay,” Jaewoosays, “when I thought about leaving. He told me that it was hard being an older brother, but with him around, I didn’t have to be the strong one anymore. Then when Nathaniel came around, I had a friend my own age, someone who challenged me to be better, and then finally Youngmin.... He makes me want to be a role model, a hyeong.”

I place the photo back on the shelf. I’m overcome with feelings, sadness for his childhood, happiness that he’s found support and love with XOXO and the other members, and this ache inside me to protect him, to keep him safe.

“Wow,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I can’t seem to stop opening myself up to you. It’s been like this from the beginning. You do something to me. It feels similar to songwriting, but better.”

“No, it’s the same for me.” I pause. “I can’t believe I’m going to tell you this.”

He laughs. “What?”

“The night we met, I had just gotten feedback from the judges of my latest cello competition. They told me I lacked spark. And so, when we first met in the karaoke room, I was annoyed about what they said, but also at you, ’cause you were annoying.”

He laughs, shaking his head.

“But then we met again, on the bus, and then we went to the festival, and even though it was only supposed to be for one night, the more time I spent with you, the more I didn’t want it to end.”

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