Jessi Juno could confidently say that her life was perfect.

Her name was on every social media site, each one shining with constant praise. Her new single had just hit number one on both the domestic and international charts. She was eyeing a People's Choice Award.

Thanks to her new smoothie cleanse diet, she'd lost five pounds. She was glowing. She'd flown out to Chicago last week to get her hair done by Mario Tricoci, and now it was shinier and softer than ever, her classic pop-star powder-pink. And she'd just commissioned a dress from Donatella Versace herself... perhaps to be worn when she won that People's Choice Award. She was a shoe-in for it anyway. Everybody loved her.

The media was obsessed with her relationship. Jordan Moon had proven to be the boost she needed to really put herself on the map, and all it took was a little sonic schmoozing, a well-timed papparazzo or two, and a few kissy-kissy selfies in Instagram. It was almost too easy.

She was beautiful. She was rich beyond belief. She was on her way to becoming a household name.

She was perfect.

You keep this up, you'll be bigger than Dolly Parton. Bigger than Katy Perry.

No... bigger than Taylor Swift.

Jessi scrolled through her phone, flipping through the #jessijuno tag with detached interest. It was time for her morning post. Numbers were everything. She took a sip from her green smoothie, piecing it all together in her mind. Yesterday had been a selfie, the day before had been an inspo post about her smoothie cleanse, and everything else had been promo work for her upcoming EP. It was time to switch things up.

"Jordan!" she called, and felt her power waver in the air as it left her lips, "Come join me for breakfast!"

She watched him stagger out of his bedroom - of course they slept in separate rooms, she couldn't imagine the thought of sleeping all night with his breath in her ear and his body crowding her space - and trudge dazedly in her direction.

He seemed especially dull behind the eyes this morning, and Jessi suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. That wouldn't look good on her page. People would start asking if he was on drugs, and then there would come the accusations that she was on drugs, because of course she couldn't have a body like hers without a little chemical help.

Fangirls. Ugh. They were always looking for reasons to cancel her. They were jealous of her body, jealous of her fame, jealous their heartthrob K-Pop crush was with her instead of playing into their podunk he-touched-my-hand-once fantasies. She couldn't put that drug-talk into their heads. It would be a nightmare to sort out.

Britney shaved her head, Demi had an overdose, Jessi has a junkie boyfriend.

No, thank you. She had an image to maintain.

She poured a mug of coffee and set it in front of him. Maybe that would perk him up a little.

Jordan took a few sips and muttered something in Korean. Jessi's lip curled before she could stop it. She needed to break that habit, or she'd wind up with wrinkles. Then she'd need Botox - an eventuality she was sure, but she prided herself on her natural features while she had them.

"Speak English," she hissed, "You know I can't understand that shit."

"Sorry, dear." Jordan mumbled, "What's for breakfast?"

"I made smoothies," she said, already pouring him a glass of the thick green slurry.

Jordan let out the faintest sigh but reached for the glass. He'd been in a rotten mood lately, rotten enough that she finally surrendered and bought a jar of kimchi to stick in the fridge... and tossed it out only a day later, because she couldn't stand the vinegary fermented smell. It was stinking up her fridge. He'd just have to deal with it.

While he sipped his smoothie and made a bit of an effort to rouse himself, Jessi plucked his phone off the counter and began to flick through it. She'd made him get rid of the passcode ages ago, and switch to an English interface that she could understand. American couples didn't have secrets, she said. It was so easy to bend him to her will.

Her phone had an 8-digit passcode and fingerprint ID. She didn't let him touch her phone. Of course, just a word out of her mouth and he never even thought to ask. She wondered what he thought about these days. She wondered if he was really able to think about much of anything these days, or if he was just like one of those albino lab rats who mindlessly pressed a button when the scientists dinged a bell.

It was just so much easier this way.

"You called your mom?" Jessi asked, her voice deceptively sweet. Jordan looked up, and she thought she caught a flicker of panic deep behind those dark eyes. She'd caught him.

"She called me." he mumbled. She hated when he mumbled.

"No, this is an outgoing call," she said, "It says so right here on the screen. Don't lie to me."

"It was after the concert. I just called to let her know it went well."

"Hm."

She wondered if he'd remember her phone number if she deleted it from his contacts. Maybe that would fix things.

Or maybe he'd get suspicious and she'd have to put him all the way under again, like the early days. She didn't want him to be a damn vegetable, and the lovestruck puppy act got old too fucking quickly, but then she loosened her grip and he started going behind her back like this. Maybe she needed to tighten the reins a little. He'd hardly know the difference.

"Tell me next time you call her, okay?" she said, which really meant don't call her again. Jordan just gave her a tired nod in response.

Jessi set his phone down and snatched up her own, then reached across the counter for her half-empty smoothie glass.

She leaned in close, pursed her lips around her green-and-white paper straw, smiled with her eyes, and hit the shutter button. Perfect. Jordan was looking down, hiding that dull, drugged look in his eyes, but with the way she leaned in against his shoulder it almost looked like he was laughing at something she'd said the moment before. Jessi's eyes were bright and her skin looked airbrushed, and her hair was just messy enough to appear approachable without being a rat's nest. It was... girl-next-door.

Breakfast with my sweetheart 💖, her mind autofilled, already thinking of the caption as she swiped through filters, Can't believe we've only been together 3 months! You're my everything baby😘😘

Hm. Too formal. Formal was good for promos and sponsorships, not for slice-of-life selfies like this. She decided to dress it down a little, swapping "you're" for a Y2K-chic "ur" and tagging the photo with the mummified ruins of Jordan's Instagram handle. She wished he'd post a little more often. The privacy gag was cute, and pretty convenient most of the time, but her ratings would skyrocket if he just posted a selfie once in a while.

Jessi posted the photo and watched as the likes began to trickle in. She could expect a couple thousand straightaway, but the real boom would come after an hour or two. By tomorrow she'd be seeing the selfie all over fan reels and Pinterest boards. Pictures with Jordan always blew up. People went wild for a perfect little romance.

Of course, they didn't have to know it wasn't a romance behind the scenes. She'd fawn all over him in front of the cameras, but she didn't love him. She didn't hate him, of course - even the social boost wasn't worth bleeding her precious time and energy into someone she hated. He was just... there. Pretty enough and quiet enough to tolerate. Like a kitschy Christmas ornament, she thought, or hotel room wallpaper.

The appearance was all that mattered. She'd collect her accolades, win her awards, and then she'd put her little boytoy back on the shelf when she was through with him. Nobody had to know.

Nobody had to know.

"Jordan," she said without taking her eyes off her phone, "I was thinking later we could brainstorm some new lyrics. The new EP could use just one more song, don't you think? Maybe another collab?"

"Mm-hmm," he hummed, all vague and infuriatingly noncommittal. Jessi rolled her eyes, then sipped the last of her smoothie and slid the glass across the counter.

"Wash this for me, will you? I can't get my hands in hot water with this new manicure."

Jordan stood up without complaint, leaving his coffee and smoothie abandoned on the countertop. He shuffled his way around to the sink, and behind her she heard running water as he began to wash her glass. Jessi smiled to herself. She didn't have to cook or clean. She didn't have to do anything she didn't want to do. She had a perfect, obedient, dead-eyed butler to do it all for her.

Her phone chimed, and Jessi scrolled through it as the notifications poured in. Comments, likes, mentions, keysmashes and emojis and rampant jealousy from a thousand sources. She thrived on it.

"Everybody loves me, Jordan," she chirped, throwing her head back to look at him upside-down. If he spoke at all, it was buried under the sound of running water. Jessi sighed and peeled herself back up with a frown. "Tell me you love me, Jordan."

"I love you, Jessi." he responded in a monotone. Good enough. It didn't really matter if she heard it from him anyway. She heard it from everyone else, all the time.

Her life was perfect.

Something slammed into the back of her head, and her vision went white. Jessi made a sound, a pained confused coo like a wounded dove, and felt herself begin to slide out of her seat. She tried to stand and her limbs turned to jelly.

Another brutal impact, this one joined by the wind-chime tinkling of shattered glass. Hot blood spilled from her scalp and ruined her hair, ruined her Juicy Couture tracksuit, ruined her freshly-waxed kitchen floors.

"Wh....th'fuck?" she slurred, her brain spinning around inside her skull. Dimly, she was aware that she'd hit the floor, and tried to turn herself over to look at her attacker.

He didn't look so dead-eyed now. All she could see was his face, burning with rage like she'd never seen.

"What would you say is the most important thing you've gained from being a part of SoulSong?"

"It's how I met Jessi," Hyun-Ki answered at once, the words tumbling from his mouth almost before the question was finished, "As joyful as it's been to travel the world and sing for millions of people, it's even more joyful to know I have her waiting for me when I come home."

Something twinged in the back of his mind, even as he spoke the words. They weren't... wrong, exactly: he loved Jessi with everything he had, so much that he felt the the entire world could've been held in her cupped palms, but hadn't there been a time when music was the most important part of his life? He loved his craft. He loved his bandmates. He loved seeing the sights, visiting a hundred cities and watching millions of fans share his love of music.

But he loved Jessi more.

When had he started loving Jessi more?

The reporter scrawled a few notes into his notepad, nodding vigorously. It was hardly a moment before he was back up, once again jabbing a microphone into Hyun-Ki's face. He was... more intense than the others usually seemed to be. There was a strange look on his face, oddly focused. It made Hyun-Ki's head spin. These interviews always did.

Come to think of it, his head always felt a little foggy. Just a little, hardly enough to notice when he was focused on something he knew well - like performing. But these media specials, the flood of questions and flashing lights, just seemed to move too fast for him.

Maybe he was overtired. He'd spent a long time performing. Perhaps he was due for a break.

"You and Jessi... the tabloids are all over it, I must say. They love you. But nobody's quite sure exactly how you two ended up together... so, any details you'd be willing to share?"

"It was all... very sudden. You could say it was an instant attraction," he answered, fighting hard to keep from grimacing. His head hurt. "I'm sorry, that's all I'm willing to share at this time. We'd like to keep our relationship private."

"That's understandable." the journalist agreed, scratching out a few notes as he spoke. Hyun-Ki wondered how he could manage it. His mind could barely navigate one thought at a time, let alone several. "Especially in the modern world, couples are more and more encouraged to bare their relationships to the limelight. I find it almost refreshing to see you and Jessica choosing to maintain your privacy."

"Thank you." he responded, unsure of what else to say.

"But, if you don't mind me asking..." the older man continued, clearing his throat to dispel the faint croak in his voice. Sudden panic danced up Hyun-Ki's spine. What was he about to ask? Something personal? Something he wouldn't- couldn't answer?

"Some of your fans have noticed a bit of a... a shift in your sense of humor recently." the journalist finally continued, and Hyun-Ki fought to shift his mind back into gear.

"My sense of humor?"

"Yes, well, a lot of SoulSong fans were drawn in by your- your wit. The found your sarcasm unique compared to the general climate of the K-Pop scene. And now... well- excuse me, sir, but these same fans are now saying you've softened."

"Softened?" Hyun-Ki repeated, though he mentally kicked himself for parroting exactly what the interviewer had said.

"It's left them wondering if you've lost interest in performing with SoulSong going forward."

"No!" he blurted, too fast, before he could stop himself. SoulSong was his passion, his world. What did he have if he couldn't perform? If he couldn't create?

He had Jessi. She was his world too.

Did he have to choose? He couldn't choose. He'd fallen head-over-heels in love with performing when he was young, when he'd seen his first live concert. And he'd fallen head-over-heels in love with Jessi six months ago. But it felt like years. It felt like he'd been with her his whole life. It felt like she was his whole life.

"I apologize for my outburst," Hyun-Ki muttered, trying to recover, "No, I fully intend to keep performing with SoulSong. Music is my passion, I couldn't walk away from that if I tried."

"I understand. And... other fans have been worried about your mental health? I've seen many concerns related to depression or other mood disorders, especially in the last six months."

He caught a shift of movement out of the corner of his eye, and fought hard not to turn his head. Jessi was lingering in the background, behind the cameras, out of sight. She said she loved to watch him in his element. And how could he refuse her? It wasn't hurting anybody.

"All I'll say is that if there's been any noticeable shift in my behavior, I'm sure it's just related to the stresses of our most recent tour. This is a global tour, as I'm sure you know, and all that travel does become exhausting," he answered, finally managing to string together a response that seemed somewhat coherent, "I apologize for any distress I may have caused my fans."

"They'll be glad to hear that." the reporter agreed, "Now, we're nearly out of time, but I did have one more question for you."

Hyun-Ki was silent, though he gave the journalist a faint nod of encouragement. The older man fumbled for his pockets, tucking the notepad away and instead removing his cell phone. He swiped at the screen for a moment or two, pulling something up.

He'd never seen a reporter reach for their cell phone in the middle of an interview before. Sometimes the lesser-experienced would use their phones to notate, or even to record voice memos for use later, but he'd never seen something like this. It struck him as vaguely unprofessional. No, more than vaguely- it made him wonder, very briefly, if there was something more in play.

Jessi was pacing. She hadn't drawn any nearer, still out-of-sight from the camera's watchful eye, but there was agitation in her movements. She'd noticed the same strangeness he had. Somehow, that both relieved him and doubled his anxiety.

"I'm sorry, I was expecting to have my materials prepared before we began," the reporter muttered, finally finishing with his phone, "There we go. Now, someone's noticed an interesting musical... I suppose you'd call it a riff, in the background of a few of your recent songs. They were wondering if it means, perhaps, bigger things are coming to the future of SoulSong? Perhaps a more thematic album?"

"Thematic meaning...?"

"Well, there's been a fan theory circulating that the next album may revolve around a wider narrative," the journalist continued, "Think Rush's twenty-one twelve album, or Pink Floyd's The Wall. They believe this hidden riff may be foreshadowing what comes next."

"Oh, well- I assure you, any hidden themes are completely unintentional. As far as I'm aware, we haven't hidden anything in our music." Hyun-Ki responded. Jessi was still pacing behind the cameras. It reminded him of a caged lioness, seeing her prey on the other side of the wall, just out of reach.

His head hurt.

"Do you mind if I play you a snippet of the theme? Maybe you could tell us what it is they're hearing. Ease their minds."

"Oh- sure, I suppose. If we have the time for it."

The reporter nodded, then tapped something on his phone. Out floated a stream of grainy, scratchy audio - clearly isolated from the background of a song, marred by static and interference.

It was Jessi's voice- no, darker, dangerous, not hers. But not... not hers. It was her voice, he knew her voice like he knew his own, she was a part of him. But it wasn't. This voice had power. This voice wormed its way into his head, straight into his brain, sound waves drilling like a jackhammer and breaking apart his thoughts.

He knew this song.

He'd never heard this song a day in his life.

Where was he? What was he doing? Bright lights, cameras, this man in front of him... an interview. How had he gotten here?

His heart hurt.

The sound only seemed to grow louder, spilling out of the phone like blood from an open wound. It wouldn't stop. He needed it to stop. He couldn't think.

Jessi. He needed Jessi. He loved her. He loathed her. He'd hardly met her.

Jessi.

Jessi?

The woman he loved. The woman he... the woman he'd recorded a song with. Once. He didn't know her. He'd needed a female voice. People loved the crossover. Not counting lyrics, he'd exchanged hardly a dozen words with her.

But he was here.

This was wrong.

Hyun-Ki was out of his seat before he knew it, so fast the chair tipped backwards and clattered against the linoleum floor. His legs were unsteady - he stuck out a hand and tipped a light stand as he tried to recover his balance. A louder crash. Breaking glass.

"Help me-" he blurted. His thoughts felt sharp, sharper than they'd felt in months. Sharper than they'd felt since... Jessi.

"Help me, please, I don't know what she did but she's got in my head," he stammered, surging up to the reporter and taking him by the shoulders. The man winced, but his eyes were wide with shock and realization. Hyun-Ki noticed but didn't stop. He couldn't stop.

"She's in my head, I'm not- I'm not me, something's wrong and you need to- you need to tell somebody, I never agreed to this, she's-"

"Security!" A woman's voice. Jessi's voice. Panicked. Frightened. It was all an act. He knew it was all an act. He knew she was playing to the cameras.

She said something else. He blocked it from his mind. He had to, or he'd slip back under her spell. He couldn't go back. He'd lost six months... how much more would he lose before she was done with him? How much longer spent in a stupor?

His words tumbled faster, out of control, as if the sound of his own voice could somehow drown out the sound of hers. The reporter now looked panicked, clutching his microphone in both hands like a weapon. He still couldn't stop.

"You were right, the song- it's her, she did something to me... it's not depression and it's not a message it's her it's all her you need to get me out of here I can't-"

Burly arms caught him across the chest, and he was startled enough to gasp. He kicked out on impulse and his feet found metal. The camera listed sideways, bumping a light stand in its path and sending the equipment down like a row of dominoes. All that was left standing was the reporter, still holding his microphone in a white-knuckled grip. He thought he heard Jessi scream, somewhere off in the distance.

Something sharp speared his neck. The word began to blur around him. Lead weights dragged at his limbs, even as he continued to struggle.

"You have to..." Hyun-Ki mumbled, fighting for words as his tongue went slack, "Get me out... away... from her..."

His vision blurred and doubled. He saw a smudge of pink approaching - her, Jessi, her hair - and tried to wriggle away. The arms tightened around him. He couldn't move. His thoughts dispersed into clouds of smoke.

He had to run. He had to leave.

He had to... to...

He had to sleep.

____

He awoke in a bed. His bed. He still felt vaguely blurry. He wished he could sink into the bed and disappear, to find Narnia somewhere between the sheets. The room was too bright around him, and he had to...

Get away he had to get away he had to-

"Hey there," A soft, musical voice greeted him, and calm washed over him like the tide. This was... easier. A gentle hand stroked his hair, eliciting a low, contented sound from him. "Are you feeling any better, sweetheart?"

"Mm." he mumbled, struggling to pull himself up from the fog, "Yeah. Better."

"That's good." Jessi agreed, and he felt the mattress dip as she sat down beside him. She continued to stroke his hair, speaking to him in the same soft voice. It sounded like a lullaby, calming him to sleep as if he were a child. His worries were trickling away, water through a cracked glass. Why had he wanted to get away? He was home. He was with Jessi. He was where he needed to be.

"You had some sort of psychotic break back there," she said, "You scared me. Don't do that again, okay?"

Hyun-Ki could only nod. He barely remembered the event - only that he'd knocked over a light in his panic, and frightened the interviewer. And there was... there was a song...

But with Jessi's voice still floating through the air around him, he couldn't seem to call it to mind.

"I think it's best if you take a break from SoulSong," Jessi was saying. Her voice was cotton, it was candlelight, it was music, and he was so focused on the melody that he almost missed the lyrics.

A break? From SoulSong? His world?

No. Jessi was his world. She was everything.

Why had he been worried?

"Hm. Why?" he managed, daring to open his eyes only to be blinded by sunlight around him. Jessi's fingers trailed down the side of his face, down to his neck, and there she pressed in until it stung. The needle. A sedative. The world blurring around him. He remembered.

"I think this tour's taking a lot out of you. You're exhausted. It's starting to affect your moods. I mean, hell, you went after that reporter like a rabid dog." she said, "So I talked to the other guys, and we all agreed that you need a break for a while."

"Who will...?"

"Sing?" she finished for him, "They'll hire someone to stand in for you. It's only temporary. Everything will be okay."

And he believed her.