If You

Choices

Jiyong didn't know what to expect as he took the elevator up to Emily's apartment that night. He hadn't expected her to embrace him in the conference room, and he certainly hadn't expected her to cry. I might cry now, he thought as the doors opened. Or throw up. Or both.

The building was old, but the fixtures were new and the inhabitants were stylish and obviously well-off. None of them took much notice of Jiyong, except maybe to eye the designer clothes he was wearing. Okay, here we go, he thought, approaching her door. He knocked on the door and ran his fingers through his hair one last time. Emily opened the door and her eyes widened. "Is it eight already?" she gasped, checking the huge watch on her wrist. "I lost all track of time, I'm working on this project and I was going to shower..."

Jiyong didn't pay much attention, content just to watch her. She was wearing that same ratty blue sweater, her hair was in a precarious ponytail, and her makeup was smudged around her eyes. She looked down and brushed crumbs off her sweater. "Come in," she sighed, obviously embarrassed. Jiyong did and he took a look around the apartment. It was large, twice the size of the one in Seoul, with tall windows and raftered ceilings. There was an open kitchen on the left and a breakfast nook furnished with fat cushions. The living room resembled the Seoul apartment, bearing the same couch, chairs and TV stand and all covered with papers and notebooks. Jiyong realized she must have brought her own furniture when she came to Seoul. He watched Emily scurry around, stacking papers and books to clear a sitting area. "Sorry about the mess," she said, her cheeks pinking in that familiar way.

"I'm used to it," he said, then immediately wanted to kick himself. You're used to it? Really? What, you're just going to pretend like you haven't even noticed she's gone? Great opening, you moron!

"This is a beautiful place," he tried again. "Is this where you lived before?"

And now we're going for complete idiocy. Perfect.

Emily laid the last stack of papers on the floor. "Yeah, actually," she said, straightening up again. "The publishing house kept up my rent while I was away as part of my contract." She freed her hair from its ponytail and Jiyong felt dizzy as it tumbled around her shoulders. "I should change," she murmured.

"No!" he said, touching her arm lightly. "I mean, you never had to before."

Emily sighed. "That's true. Are you... hungry?" she asked, gesturing to the kitchen.

"No, I'm fine," he said. They stood in awkward silence for a while, Emily staring at the floor while Jiyong stared at her. Come on, just like you practiced. I love you. I'm miserable without you. Please come back. This all sounded fine in his head, but now that he was here it felt completely insignificant. Why would she come back? Why would she want to leave all this again? Maybe I'm just being selfish.

Just when he was considering making an excuse and leaving Emily chuckled softly. "What is it?" he asked dumbly.

"Your shoes," she replied. "You were wearing them that day."

Jiyong had owned these particular shoes for years, so pinpointing the day she meant was nearly impossible. "What day?"

"The day I watched you from the wings for the first time," she answered. "At that variety show. You were so..." she didn't finish, biting her lip. "Have you read the book yet?"

Jiyong shook his head and she went over to a side table. "I know this one's in English," she said, taking a white book out of a drawer, "but this is the first copy off the presses. Lisa likes to gift first prints to her authors." She handed him the book and he examined it closely. It was sleek, with a picture of BIGBANG emblazoned on the front. It was titled We Like To: A Biography of the Global Sensation BIGBANG. It was thick too, thicker than he had imagined. "How many pages?" he asked, hefting it in his hand.