The Rockstar Who Loves Me

Song 31 ♫ I Am Not Too Shabby

Sometimes life gave you lemons, not by putting them in your hand but by squeezing the juice directly on your eyes. Even then, you were still expected to make lemonade from your own acid tears.

That was exactly what I did in the course of the next few months.

I had no choice but to admit defeat. The situation was completely out of my hands and I needed help from other people to get out of it. That hurt almost as much as what he-who-would-never-again-be-named-in-my-presence did. I could've asked Uncle Gabriel for help getting a visa years ago, like Mom did, but no. I'd tried to do everything on my own—and up until stumbling upon the most spoiled, rotten boss, I had somewhat succeeded.

This time I had no choice but to accept Uncle Gabriel's help. He walked me through the whole process with his lawyers, all the way until we filed the petition. Even sent me money so I could support myself abroad.

"I'll pay you back tenfold, I promise," I assured him.

He chuckled. "I have no doubt."

Tearing away from Mom at the airport was the hardest thing I'd done. Deep down, I feared this might be the last time I ever saw her. That the application would fail and I would be cast adrift into the world without her.

She clung to me and we cried together. I couldn't fathom why I'd spent most of my life fighting against her when I loved her with my whole being.

"Te amo," she said, while I covered her in kisses.

"Yo también."

And still we had to separate, because I could no longer stay in the country I considered my home.

Beside me, Tae Yang was my other lifesaver.

He dyed his hair platinum blond and put on makeup to slightly alter his features. In addition, he wore a cloth mask and a cap, the same fashion he'd donned when I met him. Back then, no one had recognized him because he was fresh out of the army, in a haircut no one knew him by. Now, he needed extra help to blend in the crowd. And even though I also put on a wig and copied his accessories, we caught curious glances here and there as we navigated through the terminals.

We held hands everywhere, except for the security checkpoints. Even when our skin grew clammy, we held onto each other. My whole body vibrated the closer we got to departure, and it infected him.

"It's going to be okay," he assured me.

I bit my lips hard, not to cry out that he couldn't promise that.

"I'm nervous," I admitted, swallowing with difficulty. "About flying again, about leaving, about maybe not being able to come back-"

"Nope." He put one finger over my mask on my lips. "None of that. We'll make it, no matter what."

Optimism hurt. Shit, everything hurt. But I wanted to believe him. It was better than contemplating the other what ifs.

We boarded the plane on first class, which Tae Yang had purchased not for the leg room, but for the reduced chances of raising a ruckus. We just couldn't use the free tickets we got from the airline after the accident, because they were in economy class. I sat by the window, taking one last look at the piece of Orlando I could see from the small opening.

A lone tear trickled down my cheek. I hoped I could see Mom again, and Quinta, and Dawn, and Leyna, and Tae Yang's bandmates.

And Tae Yang, because he was only coming with me for a little bit before he had to come back to the US to work.

"As for the flying nerves," Tae Yang said, picking the earlier conversation back up. "I have just the remedy."

He turned to a nearby flight attendant and asked for beer.