Bea quietly wrapped the book in a thin paper bag, but her eyes kept going to Zeno. She still didn’t understand why Zeno was trying to pursue stripping, but as his fan, she felt like she had the responsibility to tell him something.
She cleared her throat.
Zeno glanced up.
“Look, I don’t know what you’re going through,” she began, her voice light and a little awkward. “But… people don’t really like others just because they’re perfect or cool or whatever. They like them because they face their crap head-on.”
Zeno slightly tilted his head. What was she talking about?
“I mean, okay—some people look like they have it all together,” Bea continued, talking fast, her words coming in a rush like she was trying to outrun her own embarrassment, “but really, it’s the ones who show up anyway even if it’s difficult.”
Her cheeks burned. Meanwhile, Zeno still didn’t understand why she was saying this to him.
Bea, on the other hand, wanted to assure that even if Zeno was trying to become a stripper, that doesn’t make him any less of a person!
“I guess what I’m trying to say is…” Bea sucked in a breath. “Whoever you are—whatever it is you’re doing—I hope you keep doing it because you genuinely want to do it.”
Zeno raised an eyebrow. Then, his eyes fixed on the book before he finally understood what she was trying to insinuate.
“Oh, I’m not—”
Bea’s lips twitched into a nervous smile. “Umm. I know you’re Zeno,” she said before Zeno could finish his statement.
“We met before,” she added, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “I really like all of your work and how you don’t take crap from anybody. I hope you don’t change from it.”
Zeno said nothing for a while before nodding.
Bea laughed slowly, then grew a little more serious, brushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “I don’t know everything, but I admire you. I mean it.”
“So just… keep fighting. For whatever it is, because I truly think you’re going to change the industry for the better.”
Zeno exhaled softly, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.
With that, he walked out of the bookstore. However, a few meters away from it, he suddenly stopped.
He didn’t correct her about the stripping thing.
But then, he shrugged. Whatever, she would just have to know about it once their show aired.
***
Minji sat cross-legged in front of the TV in Doha’s living room, but her eyes weren’t on the screen. Eli was on the couch behind her, one leg propped up, his chin resting on his knee. Doha leaned against the wall near the door, arms crossed tight.
Zeno was late again.
“He’s out,” Minji mumbled, chewing on a cuticle. “Same time. Again.”
Eli didn’t respond. Neither did Doha. They’d all known for the entire week, but none of them acknowledged it out loud.
This time, Zeno had left with a bag of clothes. He moved quietly. When he returned a few hours later, he was always soaked in sweat and exhausted.
“He must be moving some of his furniture already,” Doha muttered.
“Or maybe he’s cleaning the place,” Eli added.
“He’s gonna leave,” Minji whispered, eyes fixed on the blank TV screen. “I think he’s already decided.”
Eli swallowed hard. “Yeah.”
The next morning, the house was unusually quiet. They were all eating breakfast when Zeno finally brought it up.
He cleared his throat. “I need to show you something.”
Their heads snapped toward him.
“It’s the weekend,” he added, “you don’t have anything to do, right?”
They all turned to each other before slowly nodding.
Oh no.
This was it.
The dreaded announcement. The goodbye tour. The day Zeno would officially walk them out of his life! They could already hear the sad background music playing in the background. Would he also take Maxie?
These thoughts ran in their minds.
“So?” Zeno asked, snapping them out of their thoughts.
“We’ll come,” Minji finally said, standing. “Just give us a moment.”
Ten minutes later, all three were dressed in full black. Not casual black. Funeral black. Black turtlenecks. Black jeans. Minji even applied eyeliner on Doha.
Zeno raised a brow when he saw them at the door.
“Did someone die?” he asked.
Minji pressed her lips together. “In a way.”
Eli bowed slightly. “Let’s go.”
They followed Zeno through quiet streets. No one dared ask questions. No one wanted confirmation of the truth they already suspected.
The commercial building they stopped in front of looked relatively new—modern glass panels, clean walls, tall windows. Zeno led them inside and up a flight of stairs to the third floor, unlocking a door with a temporary key.
The moment the door swung open, a sense of dread settled over them.
The floors were polished wood, pale with a faint sheen. Full-body mirrors wrapped around the walls, reflecting the group in all their somber attire. A lone bench sat off to the side beside an old speaker—one they recognized to be the one in Zeno’s unit before.
“This is where I’ve been,” Zeno said simply. “The past few nights.”
They’d known it. This space confirmed everything.
“I needed to use it,” Zeno continued. “There’s not enough room at the dorm. And, well… the unit isn’t exactly conducive for practicing.”
They nodded solemnly.
“Yeah,” Eli murmured. “It makes sense.”
“You need space,” Minji added.
Zeno’s tone was quiet. “I can’t officially reveal this to you yet for the past week because the contract’s still processing. But it’s almost done.”
Doha nodded. “So… it’s really happening.”
There was a long silence.
“Good luck with your new house,” Minji said, her voice cracking just a little.
“If you need help with the furniture,” Eli added, “just tell us. We can carry stuff. I can get a van. At least, I can do that for you…”
Doha stared at the floor. “You didn’t have to show us.”
But Zeno frowned. “What do you mean?”
They blinked.
Zeno turned confusion in his eyes. “It’s not my new house.”
Minji raised an eyebrow. “What?”
He gestured around the room, waving an arm toward the floor, the mirrors, and the bench. “It’s a gym.”
Then, he looked straight at Doha.
“For you.”