"I always loved to dance. And I guess I was rather good at it. It started with street dance competitions, and ended with a scholarship to a performance school." Shop-dude was on his second bottle of soju and his speech had become slightly slurred. "I was top of my class. Very promising. And several talent scouts came to see me." He glanced at me. "Some of them even were from abroad. I could have gone to LA, to Moscow, to Berlin," he shrugged. "I considered all of them, almost had my eyes set on LA. I always wanted to go there, you know." There was a faraway look in his eyes. 

"I've been once," I mumbled. Jimin and I did a US trip for his twenty-first birthday, starting in LA and following most of the old route 66 east. "It wasn't that great. Not like you see in the movies." Perhaps I would have enjoyed it more without the crowds of tourists. And if Jimin hadn't booked the gangster tour that started with a faked kidnapping, and big, dangerous-looking hoodlums shouting at us in heavy fast-paced slang I didn't understand a word of, and had somehow ended with me working my arse off in a hotel, for reasons that I still didn't quite understand. But it had included a hip-hop camp, which I really appreciated, although they hadn't been able to teach me anything that I didn't already know. One of the guys had a funny hairstyle though. 

"Lucky you," Shop-dude muttered. "I decided against it in the end. I got admitted to the most renowned dancing school here in Korea. It was pricey, but it was the crème de la crème. That school was…or rather, still is… known to open doors to all grand stages in the world. Plus, I could still go to LA eventually."

I couldn't be sure, but I thought Shop-dude's eyes had a red haze to them.

"They didn't offer scholarships, but I was determined. I got a gig at the shop to support my studies, and paid the admission fee."

His mouth turned into a downwards triangle and it became obvious that he was trying to hold back tears. "I did that for three years. In my final semester, I had auditioned for a gig as a background dancer for Beyoncé. I knew I would have gotten the gig. I could feel it in my bones, you know. I was elated. I walked home that evening, feeling like I owned the world." A tear rolled down his face, followed by another one, then a third. I handed him a tissue, not knowing what else to say. "It was a rainy autumn day and the ground was covered by slippery leaves. I was almost home. I just had to cross one more street, when a car shot around the corner. I could hear the breaks screeching, but the surface was too slick. I got hit. It wasn't a hard impact or anything. In fact, it took me a moment to notice my knee got twisted at all. The driver sped off, of course, and I was too gobsmacked to remember the vehicle's licence plate or even the colour or make. Idiot me."

"So, you had to stop dancing that day?" I asked. 

Shop-dude shook his head. "As I said, at first I didn't even notice my knee was fucked. I limped home, thinking all I needed was some rest. I went to uni the following day as if nothing happened. The limping had worn off and I thought everything was going to be okay." Shop-dude sneezed and continued. "Then, Beyoncé's Seoul concert was swiftly approaching and I had my first dance practise with the group. Literally out of nowhere, my knee suddenly gave in. Again, I didn't think anything of it, cursed my luck, and continued. But the harder I practised, the worse the spasms got. I tried to ignore the pain, but after only a few weeks, it was obvious that I wouldn't be able to keep up with the choreo, and I lost the gig."

Shop-dude stared into the distance, his lower lip shaking. "I had no other option. I went to the hospital to have it checked. An expensive operation was necessary if I ever wanted to dance again, but even then, there was only a fifty-fifty chance."

"So what did you do?" I asked.

Shop-dude shrugged. "I wasn't ready to give up. I took off the remainder of the semester, started working full-time at the shop, and saved up for the operation. It was tough, but in the end, I got the money and booked my appointment at the hospital. At first, I thought the operation went well. I could move my leg perfectly and aced my rehabilitation. I got released, went home, and was excited about returning for the new semester. I hadn't been able to sign up online, so I went to the campus. Again, it had just turned autumn, and again, the weather was a fucking mess—and again, there was a stupid car. I had managed to jump aside in time, but I had landed badly and twisted the same knee anew. That was it. There was nothing that could be done now. The expensive operation was for nought." Shop-dude gulped. "There was nothing left. I still had a few outstanding hospital bills, there were some overdue tuition fees, and I had no perspective and no money left to settle for another colleague course. 

The manager position at the shop where I was already working became available—the only career path left to me. So, that's what I've been doing since."

"What a life we could have had," my own stomach clenched. "Me, having an actual career as a rapper, you becoming a successful dancer." 

Shop-dude nodded and offered me another cigarette. "If that had been the case, do you think we'd still have met?"

I shrugged. "If people are destined to meet, they will, no matter what. I'm sure I would be friends with you, and with Joon, and with everyone, even if life had taken a completely different path."

Shop-dude next to me took a drag and closed his eyes. "I like that idea. It's actually relieving to think that, despite one dream not working out, everything else in life still manages to take place as originally destined."

I nodded. "Yeah, I think in a way we still live the life that we were designed to have, even if one aspect of it didn't go according to plan." I halted, took a breath. I wondered what this theory meant for Jimin. His life had gone according to plan until the incident. And now…? Would he still be meeting the people he was destined to meet? Or was that what had been in store for him all along, one way or another? But how could that be any fair?

We had another two bottles of soju, then staggered back to Shop-dude's flat. Neither of us had been able to walk independently, so it had been decided that I would stay over at his place. 

I glanced around the spacious two-bedroom place in a family friendly area he currently occupied. "Darn, man. Business must have flourished in the past." Darn Yoongi, one of these days you gotta learn to keep your mouth shut. 

"The shop was doing okay. It wasn't great money, but I guess it was average. Becky on the other hand was doing quite well. The vet she worked with was considered to be one of the best in the country, you know. It's not easy to get a job like this. One has to be really great in their field."

Shop-dude's eyes had glazed over as he talked. I'd never seen him look any prouder. 

"How do two actually communicate? Does she speak Korean well?"

Shop-dude burst out laughing. "No word when we started dating. But she has improved quite a lot."

"So how…?"

"My German isn't too bad. It was a bit rusty, which is why I signed up for language classes—this is how we met. But I have always been fluent. My grandmother had lived over there for ten years."

"Really? How come?"

"She had an opportunity to move there in the early 1950s. There was a high demand for Gastarbeiters, and a lot of Korean nurses took the opportunity. My mother was actually born there." His face soured again. "She moved back a while ago. Didn't even think to leave behind an address." 

"Your mum lives in Germany? But now that Becky had to go back, perhaps she can…?"

Shop-dude sighed. "Her parents have been trying for several years now, but to no avail. I guess she doesn't want to be found." 

"But why would she do such a thing? I mean, she must have been too young to even remember the place?"

Shop-dude simply bit his lip.

"And what about your dad?"

He eyed the bottle of vodka he was just about to pack into one of the last boxes. "You remember how I told you that I never drank before this pandemic mess?"

I nodded. I still felt a little guilty every time I asked him out for a drink. 

Still eyeing the bottle in his hand, he said, "dad was the reason."

"Oh, I'm sorry, man."

Shop-dude looked down to his feet. "It is what it is. Never knew him any differently." 

"Knew? Is he…?" I trailed off.

Shop-dude shrugged. "Dunno….He fucked off. Haven't seen or heard a thing in years." A bitter laugh distorted his face. "I must have been one hell of an awful kid—causing my parents to fuck off at the first opportunity."

"Come on, mate. This wasn't—"

"Don't tell me it wasn't my fault. Everyone keeps saying that. Everyone, whose parents are still around, or dead, or at least they know their address. You have no clue what it feels like to come home one evening, and find the flat emptied out. No trace of anyone. You have no clue what it's like to sit around, waiting. Growing more nervous by the second. To eventually start calling the police, all surrounding hospitals, because you don't know which of the horror scenarios playing in your head has just turned reality." 

"Shit, man." I knew I was repeating myself, but there simply wasn't anything else to say. As much as I loved to complain about them and as much as we didn't get along, at least my parents had been living in the same red house all my life, and I knew exactly where to find them. And all things considered, I guess somehow we kinda were a family, still. 

Family. I bit my lip. I had not considered us to be a family in a long time. But now I wondered whether the damage in our relationship was as irreparable as I had always thought. At least all of us were still around. We had each other's phone numbers. On the other hand, functional families didn't call the police on another. 

"Regardless of what most people try to tell you. Family isn't all about blood. It's the people you're close with and trust. My best friend Joon is more family to me than my parents have ever been."

Shop-dude's face lit up. "I know, I know. Becky and I—we are our own little family. Her parents seem to be nice as well—although I never met any of them in person. It's just…different, now that she's gone."

"But it's only temporary, right?"

His face morphed back to an upside-down triangle. "But how long is temporary going to last? It's almost the end of June. That shit has been around for half a year now." He shook his head. "Can you imagine? We used to think everything would go back to normal after a couple of weeks?"

"Tell me bout it." I didn't want to think of it. There had been even more redundancies at work after they implemented my spreadsheet in the remaining branches. Some other ones would remain permanently closed. I had been asked to work with the logistics team on more efficient operating procedures. The plan was to cut about twenty percent of mail handling staff. And here I was: torn between another promotion and more money, or standing with the boys. I had yet to give them my answer. 

Old me would have turned the job offer down, would have written a song about it. Would have helped to organise a protest. New me had a bill from MOTS house, which needed paying. I had never bothered signing up for any health insurance, so all costs came out of my own pocket, and taking care of Jimin was no cheap feat. Joon was already talking about organising a fundraiser—and other than accepting the promotion, this was my only option. I sighed. The world had been a much simpler place when it was me against the system. Black and white. Easy. This new reality had too many shades of grey and colours in it and not a single decision I had to made was an easy yes or no. Right or wrong. Left or right. 

"Welcome to the world of adults, Yoongi. It was about time you joined the ride," I mumbled under my breath. 

"Did you say anything?" Shop-dude asked.

"Just mumbling to myself. I decided I hate being an adult."

"Don't we all? Sometimes, I wish I could morph back into my younger self. Life would be so much easier if I could be five years old permanently, and worry about nothing but TV shows and eating too many sweets." He laughed, lightheartedly. But the corners of my mouth wouldn't want to turn up. 

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