I decide to keep the incident from Beomgyu.

I'm guessing that, as an idol, he's experienced all forms of hatred—whether it be in person or through words on a screen. I don't need to weigh him down with even more negativity. So I'll keep the girls' mockery to myself, trying to forget the leering way they eyed me or the pure vitriol in their voice when they accused me of coming to Korea only because of an obsession with TXT. If the video of me eventually does surface on Twitter, I'll do my best to keep Beomgyu's eyes away from it. He doesn't need to worry any more than he already does. He already has his fans that he needs to make happy—I'd just be another obligation on his already-full plate.

"Is something bothering you?" Beomgyu asks, as we head back to the university from his company.

"Nothing," I say, with enough weight behind it to convince myself.

He nods, closing his eyes. "Okay. I'll be heading off to sleep again."

Am I really that obvious? I guess I've never been good at hiding my emotions. I manage to always wear them on my sleeve, even with my most pressing attempts to shield them from view.

The members of TXT are almost too tired to even say goodbye, once we end up near the dorms of Hankuk University of Foreign Studies. But I wave them away one by one, telling them to get the deserved rest that they all need. It's already well past 1 am, and I'm sure they will all crash against their beds once they enter their rooms.

Beomgyu confirms my suspicions. He crashes against the bed as soon as we return to our room, and soon he emits a light snore that fills up the space with the feeling of home. I study his profile in the low light. He's still stunning to me, giving me the same butterflies I experienced when I first met him here. I wonder if I'll ever look at him without my stomach threatening to explode.

As soon as I fall asleep, I'm haunted by a vision of Naomi and Joyce. They join hands in a spotlight of red against an expanse of darkness. They smile, showing their incisors which are sharper than a vampire's. Joyce shows me her phone. My vision magnifies into the screen. On the screen, I see Beomgyu frowning as he's sitting next to me at the seafood restaurant. He frowns, and I hear his words as clear as day through the cellphone's speakers.

"Jayden, I don't think we should be friends anymore," he says. "You're obviously using me to feel better about your breakup."

In my dream, the phone's screen shatters, into a spiderweb of white lines. Beomgyu's face distorts, and the back of my head is mutilated by the veins of white.

My vision expands back to the two girls. Their grins have grown so wide that it takes up almost half their faces. Their eyes flash a brilliant red, and their pupils slowly dilate until all there is are four marbles of dark irises. My breathing turns to panting. I turn around, trying to run away. But I see them everywhere. They pop up again as I run across the darkness. They hold the phone in front of my face, and again I see the distorted picture of me and Beomgyu, two characters who should have never met and will never fit together.

"You're just using him," Joyce says. "He will never see you as a true friend."

I scream, but no sound comes from my throat. The darkness envelops me like a suffocating blanket. Joyce and Naomi fade into the background, until all I can see is the broken screen of their phone. I scream again. This time, I manage to wake.

My thin blanket is soaked with sweat, and so are my sleeping clothes and pillow. I face the shadowy ceiling, wondering whether Naomi and Joyce will appear to haunt me again. I wonder whether the window that overlooks the city will shatter into spider web lines. Panting, I get up and place my feet against the cold floor. I blink several times, trying to focus myself back into the real world. It takes much too long to orient myself.

"Hey," Beomgyu says. He shifts on the bed, following my motions into an upward position. In the darkness, his eyes flash with the streetlights. I'm thankful that I can see the whites of his eyes, so unlike the orbs of darkness from the girls in my dream.

Seeing him immediately calms me, but I'm still hyperventilating. It's obvious to any human being that I'm in full-on panic mode.

"Are you okay?" Beomgyu asks. He stands, struggling a bit in his gray sweatpants. He's clearly still sore from his dance practice.

"Just a nightmare," I tell him, my voice small. I cough, struggling to keep my throat open so I can breathe and calm my shaking self.

Beomgyu studies me for a few more seconds. "You don't look like you're okay," he says. "I'll stay up a bit with you." He moves to turn on the light, but I intercept him on the way there.

"Don't worry about it," I tell him. "You need your sleep. For preparing for the performance on Friday."

"That's not important right now." Beomgyu bypasses me on my side and switches the light on.

With the brightness that immediately soaks the room, I feel the nightmare drift farther away. I breathe a bit easier now, recognizing that I'm safe here with Beomgyu.

"Do you have nightmares often?" Beomgyu asks.

I sit back on my bed, and Beomgyu copies me on the opposing mattress. "Not very often. But they're usually intense when I do have them."

"Interesting," he says. "Do you want to talk about the one you just had?"

I bite my lip, thinking about my promise to myself to keep the incident with Naomi and Joyce well hidden from Beomgyu. I can't bring him down with even more worries. He's here to have fun in a summer school session, and I shouldn't be another pair of shoulders he has to uplift.

"Not really," I say. I'm unable to keep the tremble away from my words.

Beomgyu makes a slight pout. "Okay. I understand if it was something personal. But know that I'm always here if you want to talk about it. I'm quite good at listening. I think I could become a counselor if I wasn't already an idol."

"Really?" I smile at imagining Beomgyu taking clients to his office to calm them and listen to their worries. "That's an amazing job. Maybe you can become one after you retire."

Beomgyu nods, staring at the ceiling with a small grin. "Maybe. Hey, do you know what really helps me when I have a nightmare?"

"Ramyeon?" I guess.

Beomgyu rolls his eyes, withholding a laugh. "Relax. I'm not that addicted to ramyeon. I was going to say... some really good calming music."

Beomgyu takes out his phone, which is thankfully not shattered or showing a picture of his disappointed demeanor, and scrolls through his playlist. Soon, a relaxing song is drifting through the atmosphere. A man's calm voice mixes with the strumming of guitar, and soon I'm able to close my eyes and become fully immersed.

"This one is 'Movie' by Tom Misch. Good, right?"

I hum. "Really good."

"It's one of my favorite songs right now," Beomgyu says. "Let's play a few more songs and then maybe we can try to sleep again. Okay?"

A part of me wants to deny his idea, so that Beomgyu can get more rest for his busy week. But the temptation of being serenaded by his playlist is much too great. I can only hum again in agreement.

With the help of soothing songs and Beomgyu's commentary in between, I manage to forget about the demonized Naomi and Joyce in my nightmare. Instead, my vision is filled with the shock of dark brown hair and lightly tanned skin—spending time in the sunlight during the mud festival did him very well. In his white t-shirt and gray sweatpants, Beomgyu manages to take me to one of the most peaceful places I've been this whole year. I forget about my heartbreak, my diagnoses, my constant insecurity. With Beomgyu, I become the most shiny version of myself—a person ready to face every coming day and night.

"Are you okay now?" Beomgyu asks, after the fifth song or so.

I smile back at him. This time, I don't need to lie. "Thank you, Beomgyu. I'm okay now."