Page 52 of Prior Claim
Rei’s chest swelled. He gripped the tablet with his left hand and dug his finger nails into his own thigh, grounding himself in the pain. Subtitles crossed the screen.
“Gang Junseo, what are you doing in Chicago?” someone off screen asked. There was a flurry of other questions, not translated. Rei reached for his headphones and plugged them into the tablet. He started the video over.
“Gang Junseo, what are you doing in Chicago?” someone shouted at Jun in Korean. Someone else called out in English, “Mr. Gang, can you tell us how you came by the marks on your face?” Someone else asked in Chinese, “JunJun, what are you doing, now that you and BBB3 are at odds?”
At odds. Rei blinked at the words. The world knew so little. His fingers hovered over the screen as if he could touch Jun through it but was afraid to soil him.
Jun scanned the cluster of people in front of him. He wore a large, unzipped black coat and a red collared shirt. The shirt was open at the throat, showing more bruises and a healing cut. His lips twitched toward a smile, as if he were both amused and angry. Then he looked toward his companion, a solidly built man of African descent. He was handsome, well dressed, with strong shoulders and chest that had to have been developed by consistent exercise. His eyes were those that spoke to intelligence and patience.
Jun’s smile widened as he looked at him. You love him. Rei paused the video, studying the way the two locked gazes.
You have a person. Not Yoihei, Jaewong, Geun, or Su-jin. You have someone outside.
The knowledge filled Rei up, burning his eyes and warming his heart. He pressed his finger to Jun’s coat on the screen. When they had been young, bunking together in BBB3’s trainee dorms, he’d wondered if Jun would ever have people beyond 5N. Like Rei, he’d been alone. Sometimes Rei had wondered if they would become everything to each other. Sex had been something they’d never discussed. Rei had been sixteen when he was taken. Jun had been only fourteen when he was left behind. Rei had been Jun’s hyung, his older brother in all but blood, responsible for protecting and guiding him. Dating was strictly forbidden; amorous activity between boys would have been even more taboo. Rei had guessed but never known for certain where Jun’s inclinations lay.
Sevastyan had said Jun had a boyfriend. It hadn’t felt real until this moment.
The gratitude in Rei’s chest hurt. He pressed his hand against his sternum. It was choking him. How did happiness feel like grief?
He let the video resume. On screen, Jun looked back at the reporters. “No comment.” And then he smirked. “But you can wait for my next song. I’m sure there’ll be some details.”
Rei’s fingers tightened into a fist. He knew that smirk. It was the same one he’d seen on his own face before he tried something audacious, outrageous, or forbidden, like a backflip without permission.
Rei moved through the rest of the articles and videos. There were a dozen takes of Jun singing in a restaurant, of Jun walking—again with his lover—and then a few clips of the other members of 5N on social media. Yoihei looked tired and thin. Jaewoong had his usual bravado but it was edged with something. Su-jin, the only one Rei had never personally known, the maknae, kept up a brave face and made dimples at the camera. He seemed to be outside surrounded by trees and he was bundled up in a coat. It was Geun, though, who Rei watched twice. He was also outside when he filmed his post. It was a response to a dance challenge going around K Pop social media. His moves were sharp and angry and his eyes were flat in the way Geun got when crossed. They only softened at the very end as Su-jin bounded into the frame, calling out about cake.
Rei let the video start over, this time watching the background, smiling a bit when Su-jin reappeared, throwing himself at Geun. They were safe. All of them. They were living. They might even be breaking free of the threat only Rei had known hung over their heads.
A sense of ghostliness stole over Rei. He closed the file and then the tablet, then pulled his coat closer around his body.
Rei
The plane landed at the JFK airport outside of New York City midafternoon. Time unnaturally extended as they traveled west, making the concept of a single day relative. Sevastyan guided Rei to walk in front of him off the plane and through border patrol. “Enjoy your stay,” the agent said as he handed Rei back his passport. Rei nodded, readjusting his mask. Out in the flood of people on the other side, he kept his eyes half down, looking up only enough to follow the signs to baggage claim. Luggage retrieved, Sevastyan checked them into their connecting flight to Chicago. Rei stood by quietly, holding the handles of their rolling bags.
Sevastyan moved a hand through Rei’s vision, handing him a credit card. He motioned toward a nearby smoothie stand. Rei bent his head in acknowledgement and left the bags, getting in line. Sevastyan’s favorite didn’t appear on the board behind the offensively bright counter. He leaned forward to speak when he reached the counter. “Banana, spinach, celery, apple, lemon?”
The girl frowned a moment, then nodded. “You want our green smoothie? There’s ginger in it, and greek yogurt.”
“Please,” Rei said.
The girl grabbed a plastic cup and drew something on it with a black marker. “Anything else?”
Rei squinted again. There were too many names that didn’t match any fruit or vegetable he knew in English. “Berry, please.” Berry always seemed safe, no matter what the region. Everyone had a version of berry for most things.
“One green smoothie, one berry smoothie, coming right up. That will be twenty-one ninety-four.”
Rei swiped Sevastyan’s card and stepped to the side to wait. It was a good ten minutes before his order came up. He carried both cups back to Sevastyan. The taller man nodded in approval. He reached for the green one.
“There’s ginger,” Rei murmured.
“Ginger?” Sevastyan took a sip and nodded, satisfied. He went back to his phone.
They drank the smoothies. Sevastyan seemed completely absorbed with what he was doing.
Rei checked the time. “Sir?”
“Hm?”
“Our flight?”
