#wuki

"Do you mind running faster for this scene?"

You stiffly nodded towards the director, staying still as a stylist fixed up the messy bun they did on you that morning. Pieces of your hair had managed to get loose while you were running, sticking to the back of your neck while the hot sun showered it's scorching rays upon you. The concrete beneath you absorbs the humidity, almost sending it back to you as you stand by.

'GO!' took priority for being filmed first as it was your pre-debut track.

You ignore the way Martin and Juhoon's eyes flickered to you immediately after the director asked you that question, the corners of their eyebrows twitching up in annoyance.

You've learned to not care for it anymore.

You watched the preview of the clip with the guys.

"We should go all the way through…" James had remarked, readjusting his hoodie. Martin nodded next to him, his eyes deathly focused onto the screen.

Just as you were about to nod, the stylist presses hard on a particularly sharp bobby pin, poking the back of your skull. It stings for a few seconds, the area it had ran through feeling irritated. She readjusts another clip in the same area–a smiley face on it staring back at you as she brings out a mirror for you to check.

You touch it briefly, not wanting to complain as the director started ushering you back. 

You stand close to Keonho, squeezing your right eye shut as the sun reflected on the garage doors close by. He doesn't bother saying anything to you as you get ready, watching the car as the stuntman drove through. The faint smell of smoke and gasoline runs through the air–you partially thought it was because the place was near an abandoned gas station.

Los Angeles can't get any hotter, you think.

You had all been awake since six, getting driven to the makeup studio while also getting fussed over repeatedly by the stylists. Apparently they couldn't make up their mind for what you were supposed to wear until last minute.

Your outfit is a slim green Hollister hoodie paired with baggy jeans. The real highlight is the odd handkerchief hanging around the jeans' waist–colourful drawings ranging from badly drawn stars to animals, with the added CORTIS logo at the side.

It's clear to be promo for your merch line, and they had already said you'd be paid extra if you wore it. You didn't have a problem with that, but your parents would probably snatch up the money before you could do anything about it.

The scene is easy enough to shoot–'Just look like you're partying' is what one of the directors had said to you before they started filming. It's done after two tries, so you all move quickly to the next location. 

You sit down on one of the portable chairs close by, letting the electric fan's air blow on the parts of your neck that felt like they were overheating. It's an old and janky one, which made you worry whenever it turned on. You honestly thought it would've exploded in your face after three uses, but here you were four years later.

You let the air run under your hoodie, pulling at the fabric to create space. You weren't sure why production thought wearing long sleeves in this weather was a good idea.

You were a little envious that Seonghyeon was the only one out of you to have just a singlet on, although then again they did have slather copious amounts of sunscreen onto him before putting it on, so maybe you weren't that jealous.

Keonho and him stood by the corner of a garage, the camera held above their hands as they did a handshake no one taught you.

You had watched them do it a hundred times, and yet you couldn't find it in you to even be slightly bitter.

The next scene is shorter–Keonho, James, and Martin stood close to a camera pointing right down at them. They were in a pose they had planned out months ago–from before you were even part of the group. Keonho and Martin would be laying loosely over James' shoulders while bending slightly backwards. The music playing was a modified version of the actual song, the voices playing through the speaker sounding like grainy old men rather than six teenagers.

Even though it was to prevent any spoilers from getting out, you still couldn't help but cringe slightly whenever you lip synced to it.

The pose looked more awkward in real life, but the camera was supposed to make it look 'cooler' apparently.

Seonghyeon and Juhoon sat down on benches far away from you, talking about some other thing while you spaced out, watching James lipsync.

The music video was supposed to be a fair share of screen time for everyone–you had your own solo part, where you would be rapping lyrics you had poured countless hours over for just five lines. It didn't seem like much, but all the other parts in the music video you were kind of just in the background for, so even having screen time at all felt almost scarce.

The next scene is James running through the road, holding up a random car plate while the cameraman moves with it. It's done quickly enough.

You wrap up filming and move to another location–one where you could see the sea. The faint taste of salt in your mouth almost distracts you while the waves on the shore crash into one another before dissipating back into the sea.

Again you're running.

That seemed to be a perfect theme for a song called 'go'.

"You need to group up but don't block each other–let's just keep the spacing right and try one more time."

Acting like you're having fun is very easy, you concluded after looking at the scene preview. 

The director applauds at your acting, saying that you were a natural.

You don't know if he means it genuinely, or because he knows what really happens behind the scenes. The guys around you let out dry laughs as you accept the compliment.

If you could do it while filming the documentary, you could do it now.

"We have to run up from there?" Juhoon points at the steep hill close by, James and Keonho walking over with a few assistants. 

The assistants are dressed in neon yellow vests, a uniform basically.

A stylist comes up to you with a tube of tinted sunscreen, applying it to your neck as you continue to let the fan blow.

The hill is steep enough to the point where something could genuinely start rolling down. A part of you wants to take out the skateboard for your scene already, but the director and staff would never allow that. 

You all walk to the slant where you would all be running from, waiting for your cue to start.

"Action!"

The word puts everyone in motion, their heavy breathing almost right next to your ear.

The shot looks a bit awkward… 

Seonghyeon had been lagging behind, saying that his shoe was coming off in the midst of it, and the end where you all stood still in front of the camera just didn't look right. 

"You should have the vibe where you don't know where you're going next, like 'where are we?' that kind of thing."

You redo it as per the directors orders.

A little bit later, you're all standing in the shade.

At this point, your mini-fan had become part of you. The lanyard was now loosely tied to your belt loop, but because it matched your outfit, the stylists allowed it.

It turns out you shouldn't have been too envious of Seonghyeon–his arms had begun to start turning red. Even though you had only been in the sun for two hours, his pale skin was beginning to look tanner by the second. A red flag should've been the holes in the singlet–when they pulled it back, red spots were starting to form where the holes had been, leaving his back looking like a polka dotted fabric.

They applied sunscreen over his shoulders, telling him to cool down for a bit.

Following immediately after that scene is the throwing clip.

In the original music video, the guys had thrown stuff at a car while the camera was inside, displaying everything they hurled at the front window.

The staff handed you a few odd things–a small drink with green liquid and for some reason a piece of bread with expired jam.

You and Keonho would be the first ones out, tossing the liquids onto the window while everyone came after.

As soon as the jeep starts moving, you and Keonho toss the liquids onto the window at the same time, the substances mixing with eachother while splashing almost everywhere. You try not to bump into him as you run to the other side, watching your step as the jeep comes forward.

"If you're done throwing, come refill!" The director yelled out through his megaphone.

You weren't sure how they hadn't gotten some type of noise complaint yet, all that came after.

Despite all of your efforts of throwing, none of the items actually stuck other than a few cheerios near the window shields, and your piece of bread pathetically sliding down the side.

A staff member comes back with a junk box, filled to the brim with random items of clothes, ribbons, and somehow even more food.

You and Keonho kept your original liquids, having switched out the foods for a sock or two.

The behind the scenes camera captures everything–how slow the actual car was going, how rough the guys had thrown the items.

As soon as the clip was finally deemed perfect, everyone moved underneath the portable gazebo, the staff reapplying even more sunscreen. You and Juhoon happened to be the only ones safe from the only ever increasing heat, only having to apply some on your hands.

Somehow the cameraman had turned it into a running joke–zooming in on your fingers while the stylists around you chuckled.

"They look softer compared to the others." He had simply said.

You don't know how many times you had to run that day.

Each time you all ran together, the guys would laugh around you, trying to keep big smiles on their faces as they ran through the streets.

You find out that you really can act really well.

Like top tier actor material stuff–even though it felt awkward trying to look like you were a part of the group, none of those moments translated into the camera.

You looked like you were genuinely having fun.

That fact annoyed Martin more than anything.

He didn't show it on his face, but his irritation came in the form of tightened fists and forced laughs when watching the previews. Not enough where staff or assistants would notice, but enough to catch the attention of the other members.

You ignored him.

Curse the gods, you think as you approach 'Lightning Express Car Wash'.

Even though your time as a child was spent almost always in a practice room or another vocal space, you absolutely abhorred getting wet while still in clothes. You think back to all the times the older girls used to prank you by sticking a bucket of toilet water at the top of the practice rooms doors, or even at the dorm door.

They even used to do it just as you entered the room, meaning that you would either have to dance for seven hours in wet stinky clothes or leave early and face the consequences. You can't recall the amount of times you had to dance and sing in irritatingly damp clothes, each article of clothing sticking roughly to you as you moved. Sometimes you would even have to hold your breath as you danced–your dance instructor even once teased you for looking like Thanos because you were turning purple.

You would think after two years you would get used to it, but every single time the cold water poured over you, the sensation wrapped around you like a thick layer of ice.

It wasn't just about getting wet either.

You remember after a particularly heavy dance session, you ended up getting sick.

It was in the middle of winter too–the clothes that were supposed to keep you warm and safe had you sneezing and sniffling as you went home.

The next day, you woke up with a bad fever.

The trainees around you didn't care at all.

They just simply got ready and left.

Like it wasn't their faults.

You now sit in the cosmetics trailer, the hair stylist applying pomade to your hair to give you a 'wet' look. He combs out the small pieces around your ears, messing it around until it looked almost wavy.

They didn't want to mess with the bun too much, so the only parts they really touched were the small parts that stuck out. The pieces they had styled at the front of your face were the only things that actually looked damp.

They applied it to everyone, messing up their original hairstyles.

You all wait outside the actual car wash, the team around all of you pouring cold water out of the water bottles they bought hours ago. Your members try to squirm away, scrunching their faces as the water rolled down their backs.

They all let out exaggerated screams and yells.

"Ah, my underwear's soaked." Seonghyeon complained. 

"…you didn't need to share that."

After another running scene, the director decides to soak you all in more water.

Cars whip past the you on the street, the LA sun finally seeming to settle. The sky blooms with oranges and a fading blue, showing the change from morning to noon.

You clench your jaw as another staff member pours the water down your hoodie. The handkerchief looked like a sad rag by the end of it, and everytime you walked, the ends of it would smack heavily through your jeans.

"Wait." Seonghyeon had said.

You turned, staring at him with a blank expression.

You looked around for the behind-the-scenes camera, and sure enough it was just ten feet away, recording both of you. Seonghyeon takes the initiative to walk behind you, grabbing the ends of the handkerchief and wringing out the excess water. Your eyes widen a fraction of a second before immediately calming down.

You keep still as the water splashes around your shoes, the kerchief only looking slightly damp now.

This was probably the closest you had ever been to him outside of dance practice. You watch his shadow as his hands carefully place the kerchief to its original position. He does it with such an ease it's hard to believe he hates you.

You look over to the side, the camera watching every single moment of it.

You give it a casual peace sign, acting like it was just an everyday occurrence.

It wasn't.

The cameraman seems satisfied with the footage, giving you both a thumbs up. You both give the lens one last smile. As soon as the camera turned away, Seonghyeon stepped closer and leaned in next to your ear.

"Next time, call a staff over." He muttered before immediately walking away.

This was how it always was.

The manager had told them to act 'kinder' to you on camera, because you were the only girl and the youngest. None of them ever let you respond, but you doubted you would even know what to say.

On screen, they couldn't be any more than the perfect big brothers.

Outside of it, they probably wouldn't have cared less if you suddenly disappeared the next day.

The director approaches you with another storyboard–shit, the tunnel scene was next.

"Let's pick the order with rock-paper-scissors."

Everyone had picked scissors while Juhoon picked paper.

The guys immediately let out a few chuckles, patting his back teasingly as the director dragged him over to the wash tunnel.

Despite being at a car wash, not a single car was in sight.

The setup would be a cart with Juhoon sitting on a stool attached at the end of it, the camera rolling onto the handlebars. Only the camera and cameraman would be covered a large raincoat, leaving Juhoon sitting bare in the car wash's water.

"Action!"

As soon as they turned the jets and spray on, everyone let out gasps or honest 'wow's' as the water trickled everywhere.

You had never been to a car wash, no less been inside of one.

The jet sprays were powerful, creating a loud vacuum sound that could be heard even almost 30 meters away. The camera displayed Juhoon moving through the car wash tunnel like he was at the front of a moving car. Water sprayed out from everywhere, only flashes of white drops teetering around him.

Martin was next, followed by Keonho, and then Seonghyeon.

The water dripped around them like a veil, each of them trying to look cool as they moved through.

You were next.

Your hoodie was still soaked to the bone, leaving you somehow feeling hot and cold. Your skin under the hoodie stuck to it like a wet rag.

You sat down on the stool, looking around the car wash as the cameraman readied up. He had the front of his raincoat clutched in his hands, despite having zipped it all the way up. 

The director gives you a thumbs up before you give one back, telling him you were ready.

"Action!"

You regret your choice immediately.

The water drops down onto you like all those times in the JYP and Pledis practice rooms, the faint smell of a soapy bath somehow emitting from the floor. It feels like you're reliving every second of your trainee years, the memories making you swallow thickly.

Their laughter and mocking glances, the way they would 'accidentally' bump into you before complaining that you 'stink'.

At least this time it isn't toilet water.

You don't let your discomfort show on your face, instead flashing the camera dramatic expressions before playfully sticking your tongue out between your teeth, trying to imitate the guys before you. You throw your arms around, playing with your hood and even flashing the camera one last big smile before it ends.

As soon as you finished, you let out a small sigh of relief.

A staff member immediately comes to you with a soft towel, wrapping it around your neck as the director reviews it.

"Good job! James, your turn now!"

You exit immediately.

Your socks and shoes had gotten soaked to the bone despite only being there for a few minutes. The staff usher you into the clothing trailer, giving you the clothes you had given them that morning.

The other guys had already changed out of their wet clothes, all looking more refreshed.

You changed into a fresh pair of sweat-jorts and a baggy hoodie–at least this one kept you warm.

"Good work!" The directors shouted after coming out of the tunnel, several assistants in raincoats while yelling into their megaphones. 

You all bowed to the leaving staff members, saying quick 'thank you's' and giving them handshakes.

The rental you were staying in was nice.

This time you got your own room, so you didn't have to worry much about getting interrupted in the middle of the night. 

You plopped down into your bed, somehow not tired at all.

Even though you had barely eaten anything that day, you weren't hungry and you definitely weren't sleepy either. 

So you stayed up, staring at the moon while cold wind blew through your window.

The next morning, you sit in the makeup studio once again.

It's 6:13 AM.

The sun hasn't fully risen yet, and the air is still as cold as it was last night. The leather on the chair sticks to your skin as you shift around, letting the hair stylist do your hair as always.

"Your eye bags look heavier today." Keonho mumbled in the chair next to you. The stylist was combing through his messed up hair, his bed hair looking more severe than yesterday.

You look over at him in his reflection.

"Did you sleep?" He casually asked.

Your eyes dart around the room for a camera nearby, only for your efforts to leave confusion. There isn't one.

Keonho was genuinely asking you.

You shook your head, unsure what to feel.

In the next two hours, you're all at a rooftop.

Your outfits are all different–instead of a hoodie and jeans, they had given you jorts and a shirt.

Basic, but the backwards cap was supposed to 'tie it all together'.

The scene was basically all of you just dancing and playing around on the rooftop–they had even bought out the 360 camera for a slow motion clip.

A little bit later, you're at another steep hill.

This time it's in the middle of the city, the ocean view no longer in view. Skyscrapers replace the open view, and the faint smell of gas and dust seem to linger.

It was a basic shot–as soon as you ran up the the hill, Juhoon would just pretend to faint in between you and Seonghyeon. 

Despite his clear avoidance of you, Juhoon fainted pretty naturally in your arms.

Right after though, he immediately swatted your hands away. Not in a way that showed the staff his clear dislike for you, but just enough for you to get the message.

To his dismay, you ended up having to redo the clip four more times until it looked 'natural'. You had felt the way he tensed up by the third time, still very clearly uncomfortable with your touch.

"Whether we're under the sun or in a car, it's still hot."

You walk for 10 minutes to a small bodega in the middle of nowhere. Your managers get the owners permission to film while you, Juhoon, and James figured out which drinks or foods you would open for the camera. The other guys stood outside near the van, doing whatever they usually did.

You don't realise how long you had been in the heat until the cool air inside hits you immediately. You calm down for a few seconds, but faint smell of a spice and rancid cheese suddenly makes you grimace. 

You picked up a small Dr Pepper, walking over and squeezing it in between the two at the counter. The owner scans it immediately, still in deep conversation with your manager.

"You picked..Dr Pepper?" You whirl around, finding James and Juhoon holding up Cokes. He doesn't say it in a judging tone, just pure keenness. Juhoon looks at you with another scrutinising gaze before averting it elsewhere, trying not to get caught by the camera nearby.

You don't know what to make of that. 

You simply nodded, letting them pass by you while the manager announced that you could film. 

It was a simple shot–pop the drinks in front of the camera and maybe add a few theatrics. 

All you really did was shake the drink hard before letting the drink fizz up, a few drops of Dr Pepper suddenly dripping down your elbow. You slightly grimaced, but tried to make it through for the scene.

"Just run on this road…"

You stare out onto another LA road, the skyscrapers and apartment buildings seemingly blocking out every clear view of the sky. The director explains (surprise, surprise) another running shot, telling you all to run in front of the cars they had parked in place. Thankfully the road wasn't busy, if it was filming would've taken another three hours.

A few hours later you were all at a park.

This was where you would be filming your solo scene.

You ended up changing into the same outfits from yesterday, the lavender smell of the laundry detergent still on your hoodie.

You all sat around a table, sharing snacks and acting as if you were all good buddies. The cameraman held the camera almost parallel to the ground, walking around the picnic table. Keonho and Seonghyeon were probably the only ones who interacted with you during that whole scene–passing you a drink or pointing at the kerchief.

At some point though, Keonho had started pouring his drink out onto the grass up until Seonghyeon smacked the liquid right into his face, drops of it splashing onto his long-sleeve. He ended up having to wiping it off with another one of those soft towels.

"This must be how it feels to be in your 40's." James remarked as they attached the camera to him.

To the pedestrians walking by, they probably all thought you guys were crazy, dancing around and acting as if there was some type of party. Even though you had already gotten used to judging stares long ago, you couldn't help but notice their eyes on you like you were some alien.

The behind the scenes camera was persistent–every time you had a break, it would follow all of you around, trying to capture anything it could. You basically had to act the whole time.

"Do you mind..standing closer?"

The director guided you close to James, your right shoulder right behind him. He looks back at you with a side-long glance, turning back around with a blank face.

"Lean over more during the bag shot–put the box under Keonho so he actually looks into the camera…"

Just as you were about to start, Keonho placed his arm over your shoulders.

You froze.

What the hell was he trying to do?

Even though everyone tried to act more casual for the cameras, physical contact felt like a cardinal sin. You could see the behind the scenes camera zooming in at the touch. You internally groan. The editors would have a field day with this.

He leans into your ear. "Act naturally." He whispered, his warm breath blowing slightly against your ear. His smile never leaves his face once. The other members give him a look that he simply shrugs to, mouthing a quick 'just being nice' before looking over at the staff.

You don't respond, instead looking down at the camera inside the bag.

You try to ignore his touch, but you can't seem to. 

You can't ignore how the pads of his fingers faintly touched your shoulder, or how his forearm grazed the back of your neck like it was the most natural thing in the world.

James would be the only one lip syncing while you all stood around him, straight faced while looking into the camera.

For some reason, staying straight-faced there was harder than any scene you did.

As soon as the scene finished, Keonho simply unlatched himself from you, walking away to watch the preview.

You ignore the way his touch seems to linger, the hairs on the back of your neck tingling.

Your relationship with Keonho was weird, you realise.

Ever since you had given him your AirPods, it was like a switch had flipped. He wasn't trying to be rude or intentionally avoidant anymore, he just simply let your interactions be.

You think it irked Martin a lot.

"So I just run with this in my mouth?"

Seonghyeon stood in front of the director with the 360 camera, a mouth guard attached to the bottom. The director simply nodded. "Try it on and when you're all ready just start running around."

If Seonghyeon hasn't hated you so much, you would've laughed at him as he tried to navigate the park without anyone's help. Thankfully, he ended up working out how to adjust the angle so that he wouldn't be running around half-blind.

The scenes with the 360 camera were effortless.

It was either even more running around, or setting it up in the middle between all of you as you jumped around it like it was a totem.

A few minutes before your scene was supposed to start, Keonho and Seonghyeon were playing around with the skateboard. A few staff members told Seonghyeon to be careful as he rode it on the pathway, an ever so playful smile on his face. He eventually lost his balance as he rode it down the asphalt.

He passed it onto Keonho, who had now stood on it by the picnic table.

"No jumping." A staff strictly said.

He tried to anyway, his body twitching as he tried to gather the courage to do a trick.

"You were about to jump, weren't you?" The same staff had said when he lost balance.

You had been watching close by, gnawing on your bottom lip as the seconds ticked by.

It wasn't that you were nervous for your scene, quite the opposite actually.

LA was a massive city.

Everyone associated it with the land of the famous, where you swore almost every western teen drama was filmed.

For you, it was the land of discovery.

Even though Covid had hit across the whole world, you found a lot of upsides while living here.

Skateboarding was kind of one of them.

You had tried it a few years ago while recording hundreds of songs, just trying to get by in a foreign country and speaking a foreign language. It became a bit of an outlet for you–if you didn't have inspiration for a new song, or another producer cancelled their session because of Covid troubles, you would walk over to the skatepark nearby and do whatever you wanted.

You can't recall the amount of times you would walk back to the rental with a new scrape on random parts of your body, and somehow no one would stop you. You remember watching hundreds of Tony Hawk videos, trying to imitate the tricks he did even if you could only poorly imitate them.

It didn't matter to you if you couldn't land them exactly as he did, you just wanted to have fun.

LA was like the land of the free, so when an 11 year old with no friends rode through the streets, no one batted an eye.

It was supposed to be freeing.

It was everything an 11 year old who felt empty should've been doing.

You had become quite good at it, but you never truly loved it.

You liked having the rush that went through you every time you landed a new trick, and you especially liked just being out and about.

What you didn't like was how little fun it actually was.

Fun was supposed to be smiles and laughs, not frustration at yourself for not landing a trick right.

Fun was supposed to be good times, so why did you find yourself always blankly staring at the concrete like it was supposed to give you it?

Even if you ended up landing the trick right, you would find another trick and another until it seemed like you couldn't anymore. Nothing could truly fill that hole inside you.

You didn't like how little you enjoyed skateboarding.

If fun was supposed to be frowns and anger, then you didn't want it.

You wanted those little moments of peace and giggles that you saw the skateboarders online had, not the moments where all you could do was copy their movements.

You could try and try every single moment of the day to replicate their tricks, not knowing that you couldn't copy the happiness they had as they performed them.

After you had gone back to Korea, skateboarding ended up becoming nothing but a faint memory.

But now, here you were–back in LA and filming a scene where you rode and even did a trick on one.

You couldn't help but feel nostalgic as you soon as you saw the skateboard, flashbacks to when you were 11 and stupid coming back to you.

As soon as Keonho let go of the skateboard, a directing assistant came over and handed it to you.

"Practice for a little bit–we don't want you getting hurt, y'know." He chuckled, patting you on the back before walking back to a manager. Maybe it's just his foreigner-ness that makes him oblivious of how different he treats you compared to the others.

You stared at the board for a few seconds–it was smaller than the ones you were used to, but you could manage. Details of palm trees and shrubs were slapped onto it, with the back of the board painted white with the South Korean flag at the bottom.

You walked over to an empty space of pavement, stepping up onto the board.

You realise you hadn't touched a board in almost four years.

The time off had gotten you a little sloppy, but after a few minutes of riding and doing some easy tricks, you were already back to your old self.

As soon as a manager called you back, a strange feeling of exhilaration took place inside you. You cut through the pathway with an ease, the same exact way you used to when you were 11 and 12, riding down the streets of LA while the sunset went down.

You come to stop in front of the camera, nonchalantly flicking it up into your hands. A few staff members let out sounds of surprise, some even clapping for a few seconds before going back to their tasks.

"Your first scene will be you launching off of the skate ramp over there–" The director points behind him, making you avert your gaze. "If you want it shorter let us know, but the camera will be right below you so make sure to jump off high."

"This height is fine."

You said while nodding, walking over to the ramp with a new purpose. The height went just mid-thigh–enough to make most people scared, but you had jumped higher.

The camera man lays beneath you, on his back while holding the camera up. His gives you a judging glance while he shifts uncomfortably underneath you.

Maybe you should tell him that he'll be fine?

No, he's probably had enough of teenagers trying to tell him what makes him comfortable or not.

You stand atop the ramp, waiting for your cue.

The guys stand under the shade, pretending they weren't watching. Only Keonho was keeping his eyes on you, a speck of wondering and curiosity in his gaze.

The scene is done no later than a minute later.

The director explains the next one to you, using exaggerated hand gestures and facial expressions. "The guys will be walking just normally on the path, laughing and doing whatever until you, whoosh–cut through their group with a jump or trick, making them jump back while you do your rap. They'll try to chase after you, but because you have these headphones on, you'll just simply be ignoring them."

You nodded, fiddling with the wheels on the board. A staff member places the headphones on your head, the wires attached to an MP3 player.

"You can either carry it in your hands as a prop, or just have it clipped around your waist."

You decided to keep it in your hands, knowing that you could play with it while still lip syncing. You walk over to your starting point, squinting your eyes as the hot sun seemed to come back. It wasn't as hot as yesterday, and atleast now you weren't constantly running.

"Action!"

The modified version of the track immediately plays through.

You push on your skateboard, rapidly riding down the path. The guys walk in a small group in front of you before you do an 'impossible'. 

The trick was something you had practiced hundreads of times–at some point it felt as easy as walking.

You felt a bit nervous, but as soon as you were three feet away from them, you went for it.

You pressed your back foot against the tail of the board, tilting it up and scooping it against that same foot. The action would cause it to spin around the vamp of your shoe, a fancy trick you still found satisfying even now.

The minute you landed straight, you immediately stared into the camera and started lip syncing, holding out the wires of the headphones in a melodramatic fashion. The guys started running after you, their footsteps pounding on the pavement behind you. You could hear their laboured breathing and pretend shouts.

They really were taking this seriously.

The wind blows perfectly onto your skin. Even though the conditions were completely different now, the fleeting memories from back then rush back, flashing through your mind as you acted.

Unlike yesterday, these memories made you feel just a tad bit better.

"Cut!"

You hopped off the board, blowing away a few strands of hair in front of your face that escaped.

The guys encircle the screen with that buzzing energy they always seemed to exude.

You walk over, peeking over Keonho's shoulder as your scene plays.

He moves slightly out of your way, leaning down so that you could see more of the screen.

You don't know whether to thank him or stay silent.

"You look so cool," The director chuckled, pointing at you while looking at the screen with an amused expression. "It's perfect." He gives you the 'OK' sign, patting your back as they moved onto the next scene.

A stylist is immediately on your hair, fixing up the loose strands once again. By this point, it was basically routine.

Juhoon sits beside the camera, testing out how wide his mouth could go.

"Jumping out of Juhoon-hyung's mouth." Martin said, pointing at the camera as it moves to show Juhoon on one knee. You stand behind him as he basically talks to himself, distancing yourself enough so that you looked busy.

"Action!"

You all ran out, jumping off the small box while Juhoon tried his best to keep his mouth wide. You all try to look wild as you jump out, striking really dramatic poses for such short jumps.

"Can we switch who does the wide mouth pose?"

You all stand in the shade, watching the preview clip while Martin asks the director.

"With whom?"

"When we talked about it, I…"

He trails off, but the director seems to get the idea.

You're all standing back in the same positions, only now with Juhoon behind you.

Martin sits beside the camera now, widening his mouth while the director readies everyone for the scene.

Again, you jump out.

The next few minutes are filled with bickering and showing off who had the widest mouth. You stand near a staff member, trying to act like you were busy.

"Your mouth's smaller!"

"Oh wait you've got a big mouth too."

"It's the angle!"

A quick selfie and shoot later, you all crowd around a fruit stand.

You watch in fascination as the vendor cuts up the fruit with a simplicity in his actions that tells you he's done it hundreds of times. It's quick and precise, like a butcher cutting up meat.

Right after though, he sprinkles a red spice that the staff explained was tajin.

"Have you tried it before?" Keonho asks next to you.

You immediately look around for a camera–yep, it's right across from you.

You nodded.

"Seriously?" His eyes seem to widen with even more curiosity than at the skateboard.

You squint for a brief moment. Should you applaud him for his acting skills?

"It's actually pretty good–kind of refreshing too." You mumbled.

He hums, seeming to accept that response. "I'll take your word for it."

The vendor hands you your bowl with a mix of almost everything. The red spice completely contrasts with the lightness of the fruits.

You stab the tooth pick the vendor had handed you into a piece of watermelon, bringing it up into your mouth and letting it cool you down. The salty texture provides a very savoury taste, an explosion of flavours right in your mouth. 

Just as you were about to take another bite, your manager shoots you a piercing glare that only ever came out when you did something wrong, making you narrow your eyes. You already knew what that sign meant.

You give the rest to a staff member, telling him that you felt full despite only taking one bite.

The cameraman makes sure to avoid capturing your actions.

Your manager nods in approval. She walks over and whispers into your ear, low enough so that the microphone didn't catch it. "Good job. We don't want you gaining too much weight."

You narrow your eyes once again as she passes by you, watching as the guys took more bites of the fruits.

Unfair treatment like this was always common.

You don't bother complaining, as all those years as a trainee prepared you for it.

Keonho shows the camera the slice of orange he stabbed through with a fork, flexing it like he was on a food channel. He shoves the slice into his mouth, chewing for a few seconds until his face contorted.

"This is…" He doesn't say anymore, his facial expression one of…disgust? Uncertainty? He didn't know either.

"It's very unfamiliar." He says to the camera.

James next to him seems to share the same sentiment. His face is scrunched up, the outer corners of his eyes crinkling as he chewed.

You walk a few steps away, letting them try their fruits.

Seonghyeon feeds Keonho another slice–it doesn't change his mind at all. He gags, trying his best to chew again.

"Do an acrostic poem with Coconut."

A staff member holds up a slice of coconut up, gesturing it as a punishment if Martin failed.

Martin tries to think, but shakes his head soon after. "What the heck starts with co.." he mutters as the staff feeds him the slice, watching his expression as he bites into it. 

His reaction is interrupted by someone's gagging in front of him.

"Coconut's weird too!" Keonho retches, holding up a slice of pineapple instead.

You begun to step off to the side.

"How do you find this good?"

You don't register that his question was directed to you until you feel multiple eyes on you. You look up.

"How do you find this good?" He repeats, still chewing lightly on his pineapple.

Your eyes flick over to the camera. "It's good! Maybe you're just grabbing the wrong fruits." You playfully rolled your eyes, walking away while maintaining eye contact with him.

The camera seems to follow your movements though, even as you swipe the skateboard off the floor.

You had just been pushing off random parts of the pavement when you heard a couple of shouts around the playground. You tilted your head. You wandered close by, pushing lightly on your skateboard.

All the guys had decided to pull ups on one of the bars close by, Seonghyeon being right in the middle of James and Keonho as they supported him. The staff cheer everytime he gets one up, clapping and even whistling as he approaches his nth one.

You had known for quite a while that the guys had started working out at the HYBE gym, but as you watched them, it occurred to you that you really didn't know the extent of their strength.

You look down at your arms–you had never really been the type to work out.

Dancing had always been something that seemed like a chore to you, and whenever you did have free time (which was, almost never), it felt weird to use your time for anything other than singing or dancing. Even when you had first started skateboarding, there was this misplaced sense of oddity inside you.

Like you shouldn't have been trying it in the first place.

You had ignored it for the most part, which is why you had come to like it so even now, but now that you were older, that feeling had somehow trickled back into your gut.

You were too used to the confines of the cage your parents had put you in that you couldn't do anything, even when the key was handed to you. 

You watch as they all laugh once again, again helping Seonghyeon as he did a one arm pull-up.

Well, that was just the difference between you and them.

They were free because they wanted to be.

You were free because your parents wanted you to be.

"Do you mind not standing so close to me." Martin whispered behind you, still trying to maintain that perfect smile for the camera. His cold breath blows against the back of your ear, making you slightly uncomfortable.

You ignore the snarkiness in his voice. "We're all the same width apart–take it up with the director."

He doesn't respond, only the slightly louder than normal exhale escaping him.

Martin somehow had this idea that everything you did was an offense to him.

If you even breathed near him, he would probably sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose, acting like you specifically wronged him.

You just can't believe his attitude towards you is all because of a girl.

You all stand in a diagonally uniform line, the bright yellow thing in the sky suddenly deciding to come out. You squint very slightly, trying to maintain your composure as one of the assistants gives the okay to record.

"Action!"

The distorted voices play through the speakers–

"Martin…play that beat."

The cameraman zooms into the picture of Martin attached to a basketball before zooming out to all six of you.

You honestly didn't know how many more cuts and shots of the music video you could take.

'Lullaby'

At first, Martin had argued.

He always did.

"I don't want her on this song." He shoots you a scathing look, his bottom lip a bright red from the amount of times he had bit it in retaliation. 

You had sat still on the couch, your knees drawn up to your chest. Your eyes were heavy after a week of almost no sleep, and your arms went limp as they loosely wrap around your torso.

James sighs. "I don't want to replace her voice either, but you know we have to. You heard what our manager said–the media is always catching onto everything–"

"I don't care."

Martin's voice is hoarse, filed with spite and somehow hurt. Way too much hurt.

You don't want to look up at him.

"Martin…" James tries to start. He doesn't say anything after that though, instead just placing his hand on Martin's shoulder, his thumb grazing over his jacket.

Martin slides his hand off of him. "I'm not recording it. If you want to replace Bo-ra's voice with hers, go ahead. It's not like she hasn't taken up anything of hers anyway."

A hush fell over the room. 

No one could say anything to that. They all knew it was true after all.

You had already taken her position, and taken up her apartment. 

Now here you were taking up her lines.

Martin stared at the floor for a few seconds, his face scrunched in sadness and resentment. Millions of thoughts were probably running through his head, all of them likely leading back to Bo-ra.

You stared at his shoes out from your half-lidded eyes, watching as he shifted his weight to his left and right.

"Just, go to sleep hyung," Seonghyeon softly spoke up. "I'll record it."

He doesn't say anything after that and storms out of the studio. James shakes his head but follows him out.

Only you and Seonghyeon were left behind.

He sighs, getting off the couch to sit down at the laptop. You notice his eyebags have gotten darker and how his hair looks like his fingers have run through it with more frustration than he thinks.

The studio is dark–only the faint light in the outside hall just barely getting through the opaque glass.

Seonghyeon opens his laptop, his wallpaper opening up to a photo of him and the guys eating ramen.

He's not in it, but neither are you.

For very different reasons though.

He's the one taking the picture. You were never part of it in the first place.

He doesn't say anything as you grab the sheet and sit down next to him, adjusting the microphone while he opens up FL studio. The blue light illuminates his face, the shadows from behind him beginning to dissipate.

You don't say anything, just leaving complete silence between you.

It's not awkward, but it's definitely not comfortable either.

The recording is done after an hour.

The longest you had ever done.

Maybe it's because you were both tired and exhausted, or maybe it was because unlike Martin, Seonghyeon didn't have any lingering feelings for a girl who left them.

You don't know why you felt so content being around him at that time.

None of you laughed, but none of you cared.

You were just two people recording inside a studio, at 2 AM while everyone was sleeping.

The walk back home was quieter.

Most of the staff had already been sent home, and seeing as how you two were still very young to drive, you ended up walking home side by side. The cool Seoul air had begun to flock around the streets, blowing through your hair as you tried your best to keep your eyes open. You stared at the gravel below you, the faint sound of dirt and rocks crunching beneath you.

You both had decided to listen to music–from different phones of course.

You don't say anything for 30 minutes, you don't say anything even as you enter the building.

It's a very uninteresting situation you have with him.

Sometimes he doesn't care and most times he just seems annoyed.

You had already decided from the first moment your saw him that Eom Seonghyeon was a difficult person to understand, even if others just seemed to see right through him.

You don't know what to think of him.

And you certainly don't know what to think of him now as he helps you carry a carton of coke.

DAY ONE.

"Hold it up from underneath the camera."

You listen to Seonghyeon and stick your fingers into the little hand hole underneath the camera, careful to not let your arm bend too far.

The supermarket is somehow colder during the day, and even though you're wearing a cardigan, the chill settles in between it and your arms. Thankfully you're wearing very baggy light-wash jeans, with a small lace skirt layered over it. It's cute and definitely something teens your age would find interesting.

You must look like an Illit member right now, you think.

The camera faces Seonghyeon as you both walk down the aisle while Keonho walks in front of both of you, carrying random snacks. 

You both slide the carton into the shopping cart, making sure the camera wasn't getting damaged. It was a little harder to do–seeing as you had to act casual while also trying to make sure the camera wasn't going to fall off.

Seonghyeon puts his hands onto the handle, pushing the cart through the frozen foods aisle while the guys shoved in everything they wanted. At some point, Keonho had chucked a bag of something at Martin.

You walked behind Seonghyeon, pretending to look around while periodically checking out the snacks.

You checked out what the guys had gotten–cheeseballs, frozen pizza, and salt and vinegar chips. Juhoon had taken the intiative to actually get something you needed though–milk.

The behind the scenes camera stood around all of you as you walked past, exposing each part of the setup.

The guys try to include you in stuff–asking you if they could get a specific snack, talking to you like you were a core part of the group.

Once the scene is done, they dropped the act.

"We'll let you know when the next setup is ready."

"Okay!"

"Thank you!"

You all wander around the supermarket, finding the area for cheap party supplies. The camera gets into everyone's faces, letting them talk and talk like it was some sentient being.

"Hello." Martin says while bowing in front of the camera, wearing strong reading glasses with the tag still on. It makes his eyes look comically bigger.

"They're reading glasses…"

You stand close to James, leaning against the rack as Seonghyeon makes his way over in front of the camera. 

He's wearing glasses too and it makes his eyes look even bigger than Martin's. He smiles as he tries to act normal about them, his dimpled cheeks popping out as he gets up close.

A part of you can't help but be amused by it all, especially when Keonho comes by with the same exact glasses.

They laugh as they look back the photos, pointing at each other while the camera naturally captures every movement.

You stare at it from the side.

Sometimes you feel like that chunk of metal and glass is more of a member than you.

You approach the checkout station after a bit, finding the staff members close by. The wide variety of random smells from all over the place provides an interesting insight on how the Americans ran their supermarkets out here, although you had already known that when you were 11.

Seonghyeon had wandered around the store for a few seconds and had came back, holding a box of twinkies.

You hadn't tried them before–actually, you hadn't tried a lot of things before.

Experiences like skateboarding and walking were open to you, maybe because the staff was more lenient on letting you exercise like that rather than having you eat unhealthy foods.

"Please get this for me." He asked one of the managers, holding out the box while the camera zoomed in on his face.

"Just grab a bunch of snacks." The staff members let decided, letting them walk anywhere they wanted to.

James seemed to be the happiest about it.

You didn't decide to go, seeing as how your manager was shooting you another look again.

The camera naturally found you after a few seconds.

"We have a bunch of snacks back at the rental." You simply explained, leaning against the checkout counter as the cameraman left your side to follow the guys.

After a few more minutes, the setup was finally done.

"Action!"

You shoved a few items inside a plastic bag while the guys acted around you.

"I told you to get a bigger bag."

"…Then get one?"

As soon as the clip is done, you all walk outside to the parking lot.

"It's cloudier today than I expected." James remarked, his sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms.

Seonghyeon hummed in response, sitting on the open part of the car's back door, while Martin leaned against it beside him.

You stand near the cart, leaning against the handlebar as the assistants got everything ready.

"Action!"

Keonho and Juhoon began walking over to the car. The guys around you throw the other things carelessly into the truck, dragging the cart away as they set the carton carefully down.

They redo the shot a few more times.

You stood off to the side every time they discussed what was wrong, staring at the clouds.

Ever since this morning, something felt odd.

You don't exactly know why though.

Everyone around you was acting the same like always–Martin and Juhoon kept sending you looks, James and Seonghyeon ignored it, and Keonho acted just like himself.

Something was just off.

'Lullaby' was a song that the guys classified as 'virtually meaning nothing'.

Some would believe them.

You don't.

The old rental comes into view after a short ride.

You had only stayed there for a week, but the boys once spent almost four months living there. You supposed that's why they were in much better spirits than usual.

You all change into the 'swimming' outfits you had chosen earlier that day.

Your outfit was pretty much the same as the guys, with shorts and a basic graphic tee.

James, Juhoon, and Seonghyeon held up the behind-the-scenes camera up to their faces, playing around with it as they sat on one of their old beds.

You can't imagine how many times they must've had a sleepover together there.

You sit down on the couch close by, waiting while the staff and assistants prepared everything. A part of you wanted to help them, but every time you offered they would just say it was fine and guide you back to where the guys were.

You claimed the little corner on the couch as yours, playing around with the frills of a pillow you were sure had been there for months.

The guys had begun to throw and toss pillows back and forth while Martin recorded every single bit. Dust had begun to pick up while they did, flying into everyone's eyes as Keonho and Seonghyeon ignored their complaints.

"Should we just sleep here?"

As soon as Keonho asked that, Seonghyeon immediately perked up. His eyes seemed to brighten up immediately, shooting your managers a look as the camera zoomed in on that.

It seemed like he wasn't the only one wanted too aswell, seeing as how James and Martin acccepted it immediately.

"We've got underwear and clothes too."

"So we've got everything."

Your manager presses his lips into a thin line, deciding on whether to give in.

"Can't we just sleep here tonight?" Keonho persisted, leaning down with those big expectant eyes he always had whenever he asked for something.

You could only stare blankly back at your managers, watching as they tried to think about it.

"What do you think?" One of them tried to ask you.

The camera immediately switched to you, showing your placid face in response to that.

You don't say anything and pretend to awkwardly look to the side. You try to make it look like an intentional act, but in reality you really just wanted to go back to the hotel.

The conversation is soon let go though, when the staff calls everyone over to check out the phone-on-can setup.

"How long does it take to change per scene?" Keonho asks.

"It takes a while each time."

As soon as he says that, Keonho nudges you with his elbow. You almost flinch by the contact. His eyebrow is cocked up teasingly, and a small smirk tugs at the end of his mouth.

"Don't mess up." He says in English.

You shoot him an unimpressed look, shaking your head as the camera moved closer to your face.

"Standby, let's rehearse!" The director called out after a few minutes.

You all sat by the pool as the closed can of coke made its way through the members. Seonghyeon passed the can to you while you sat on the ledge, pretending to take a sip as Keonho snatched it away once you were done.

'Lullaby' plays in the back as you do it, Martin's vocals blending in with the track.

You feel weird as you look at the preview.

You hadn't worked on 'Lullaby' or 'JoyRide' like all the other tracks.

The lyrics you were supposed to sing weren't yours, and the actions you were supposed to do in the music video weren't yours either.

The guys had drawn every storyboard and line for her, not you.

You had always known you weren't part of the group.

But now the fact was really beginning to settle.

You weren't going to to be part of the group whether you wanted to or not.

They treated you like you were weird and probably an eyesore. The only reason why they dealt with you was because they knew that if they didn't, the group wouldn't survive at all.

And no one wanted that.

Strangely enough, Martin and Juhoon didn't seem all that annoyed with you that day.

"The weather is a bit of a letdown, and considering that your storyline needed for you guys to have sunshine, we wondered if we could do it tomorrow?"

James and Martin let out groans, but both nodded in understanding.

Everyone else seemed to agree as well, a few staff members already deciding to pack up the set.

"It's a shame, but the sunlight is needed." Juhoon said to the camera.

Keonho had taken the initiative to make of whatever time they had left and jumped into the pool, taking off his shirt and diving in with no hesitation.

You simply stood under the veranda, watching as the guys paraded into the water.

Later that night, you were back in your hotel room. 

The guys had decided to stay there overnight, but you didn't want to be a bother.

If you had to sleep in Bo-ra's old room, you would've been sick.

Metaphorically speaking of course.

You thought that the guys were probably done with you taking up everything that used to Bo-ra's, so you stayed out of the way. You always did.

It worked just fine.

That whole day was just you zoning out while you filmed and halfheartedly acting for the camera.

You sit against the rough headboard, staring at your ruffled sheets as moonlight reflected off of them.

DAY TWO.

The sun is out.

You stare up at the sky, squinting as the bright blue settles everywhere. You couldn't sleep much last night, although then again you barely slept at all.

The guys are playing around you, grabbing the hose and spraying it out everywhere.

There's a certain way the guys act when the cameras are on.

If they want to have fun, they do it without you.

You're barely included in a lot of things, and having fun just happens to be one of them.

It would be a lie if you said you wanted no part in it.

Soon enough they start pushing eachother into the pool.

Keonho pushes in Seonghyeon while Martin pushes him in. They splash eachother a couple times, a few drops even reaching the still Jacuzzi you were sitting on. 

"Is it cold?" A staff member asks them.

"It's refreshing!"

Your legs dangle off the Jacuzzi's side, your toes just barely reaching the surface.

You notice Juhoon slowly entering the pool, only to stop midway through as the water reaches his stomach. He grimaces, the cold water beginning to settle in.

Seonghyeon helps him in, the camera catching it all.

A little while later, they all stand at the other end of the pool.

"Look! There's a small rainbow.." Martin points at it as he sprays more water into the pool, the dry pavement around him absorbing each drop as he moves it around. 

You realise he's right, the sunlight reflecting off whatever surface to create the explosion of colours.

Keonho lays down on a unicorn floatie completely out of the pool, his head resting on the back of it. Seonghyeon decides to interrupt his peace, spraying the hose directly onto him.

You see another small rainbow form just around him, even when you were 20 meters away. You see the smile Keonho always had on his face when he was having fun, and the way his older members just seemed to accept it in every way.

The first take is good, but not good enough.

The timing is off just by a little bit, and the guys somehow look stiff despite already having done it multiple times before. You all gather around the phone, watching the preview as the director begins to point out more details.

"Make sure to not drink directly in the sun either–the phone will create a shadow and no one will be able to see your face clearly."

A staff stands behind you, drying your hair while the guys discussed even more specifics.

You can't really voice out your opinion here–even if you did, they would've just ignored it.

You're not too bothered by it though.

They had it all planned out from before you were even part of the group, and if you tried to change anything, it would've just added more complications to a strained relationship.

You stand next to Seonghyeon as two staff members place towels on your heads. It's shaped pretty loosely, but enough to make it look like the 'lamb's head'.

You both pose for the camera, giving it a thumbs up before it moves on.

When filming starts, your original spot would be at the side of the pool, kicking up at water until Keonho and James started spraying the hose onto eachother.

At the end of each take, you would sit next to Martin and laugh as Keonho poured cola all over his face.

It was Bo-ra's original spot.

Honestly you felt bad for Martin.

You didn't really care that he still had feelings for her, but you did care that everything you did was just going to be a poor replacement of her.

After one last take, you're all back in the kitchen monitoring the takes.

Each time you all look like you're really having fun.

"That's wraps!"

Everyone claps as the director announces it.

You sit down in front of a stylist as she dries your hair, your barely wet shirt and shorts now replaced with warm clothes. 

'Lullaby' only took two days of filming on a random week in May.

'What You Want'

The desert was worser than you thought.

You sit against the car's trunk, trying not to let any bare skin touch the hot metal.

You had already made that mistake once, and you'd rather not do it in front of the camera.

The first scene you were supposed to film was the 'angry' one, where you would all act confused and frustrated with being stuck in the middle of the desert.

All you really were supposed to do was act like you couldn't care less, like it was just a random Monday.

You even yawned for emphasis while the music played, shoving your hands in your pockets while carefully leaning against the back window.

Juhoon was the real highlight though–he was laid against the sand, his arms out while acting like he was also unbothered.

You watched from the corner of your eye as Seonghyeon and James acted as annoyed as they could, Martin a little further away from everyone acting confused. Keonho leaned back on the side of the car, shaking his head in faux disappointment.

A few minutes after, Juhoon's 'waking up' scene was next.

Again you weren't really doing much, just watching James and Seonghyeon throw sand at eachother while looking like they were fighting. 

The preview is a little funny though–Seonghyeon couldn't stop smiling as they recorded, making all his efforts of getting sand in his eyes pretty much useless.

"Do you guys have some pent up anger of something?"

You sit underneath a portable tent, sand kicking up from pretty much everywhere. Everytime the wind blew, it was like it made it's personal mission to bother you.

You were pretty careful with not getting sand in your eyes–you all had contacts in, so getting too much in would be a disaster.

"Hi."

You look up, finding Keonho staring at the spot on the portable bench next to you.

You shift further down from your spot, letting him slip in next to you. It's too effortless–the way you act doesn't feel awkward or weird in the slightest anymore.

"You don't have much solo scenes, don't you?"

You glance at him, finding him lazily sprawled over the bench. His legs are spread out onto the sand, his thick shoes leaving an imprint while he plays around.

You look around for the behind the scenes camera, only to find it exactly where Martin was filming his scene.

You stiffly looked back at Keonho, confused as to why he was talking to you again. "I only have one scene, other than that I'm kind of in the background."

"That's a pity," he mumbled. "All the directors love your acting. I'm surprised they haven't asked you to act for some of us."

"…I doubt they would ever do that."

"I'm being serious!" He says while kicking up even more sand. You moved your head and shut your eyes immediately, making sure the wind wasn't completely blowing in your direction. He doesn't seem to notice though instead voicing out his thoughts. "Every time they watched the preview for 'GO!' and 'Lullaby', all they could do was compliment you."

"Right." You said while slowly opening your eyes. 

You looked over at the behind-the-scenes camera, only find it moving to where both of you were. You both waved to it as it came over, trying to ignore it filming both of you as you pretended to watch Martin.

A little while later, you're all holding up umbrella's.

The sun is much hotter out here than in the street of LA, maybe because you were quite literally in its domain.

"Have you been to the desert before?" James asked.

"I've been to the Sahara desert before." Keonho answered, reaching down to play with the sand.

A few seconds pass before he looks back up at the camera, smiling. "That's a lie by the way."

Martin laughs at that. "You think?"

The camera pans to him again. "We have to act a lot today." This time he's addressing whatever fans you'll have in the future.

It still feels odd to think in just a few months, your group will debut and you'll have fans.

It also feels even more odd to think how much money your parents were going to steal from you.

"I'm not that confident." Seonghyeon remarked.

"Oh yeah, don't you have that screaming part?" Martin chuckled.

Seonghyeon groans, looking down at his phone.

You're not sure why he keeps doing that though, it's not like you had data anywhere here. "I kept asking if we could leave that part out." 

Your left hand is sweaty as it holds onto the umbrella. You had that same issue with your right hand, and you had already wiped off the sweat on your jorts. It was beginning to become a problem, especially when the sticky residue left behind by that damn sunscreen was still stuck on your hands.

"I have that one part–where the members are following me and I go–" Martin talks to the camera before he walks off and turns around, an annoyed expression on his face. "What you want!" He breathily yelled, James and Keonho letting out laughs.

"I get all annoyed and stuff." He says as he walks back.

"But you get all annoyed in real life too." Juhoon commented, gaining another laugh from James.

"Art imitates life." He said immediately after, only for Martin to pretend to punch him as he moves out the way.

The sun comes out again a little while later, making you squint your eyes once again. 

"I have to scream a lot," Seonghyeon announces to the camera. "When we were first planning out the music video, I asked if we could take all those parts out."

The camera immediately pans to you.

You let out a small smile of pity. "It didn't work."

He lets out a shaky sigh, obviously feeling nervous.

Usually people would comfort their members when they were like this.

Not you though.

Ever since they had started recording the group, you were never really sure what persona you were supposed to have.

Should you be quiet like Juhoon? Funny like James and Keonho? Exaggerated like Martin?

You weren't sure.

If you were yourself, you would've been framed as just being closed off.

You recall all the clips you had gotten for the behind the scenes videos. The editing team would probably just portray you as just being another one of the guys.

Honestly you just prayed your acting was convincing enough.

You're all led to the car (minus Martin), crowding around the camera while the director explained the scene. 

"You should act really annoyed here–the car has a flat tire and you don't know where you are; 'it's your fault!', 'it's your fault!' and with the finger pointing, do it and then pull away quickly like this."

You all nodded.

The music plays through the speakers–

"Money, style, fame, love and…"

The wind blows harshly against everyone's faces, their hair going wild–luckily for you and Seonghyeon, you two were the only ones blessed with a beanie and a bandana tied around your forehead.

"Lipsyincing at 'Ooh' should just be fine." The director said to you after the watching the preview.

You redo the scene, nailing it and earning a pat on the back by the director.

Martin had been off to the side, reapplying sunscreen to his neck.

Keonho, Seonghyeon, and you stood on a large wooden platform, waiting as they got the camera setup. It would be attached to a long stick while sliding around with a rag wrapped around it.

It was supposed to be a scorpion, but you couldn't take it all that seriously when it started sliding in between everyone's legs.

You and Seonghyeon sat on a fake rock, lifting up your legs when it slid too close.

It ended up at Juhoon, with him leaning down and pressing his finger against the lens.

"I've eaten a lot of sand," James said. He opens his mouth and closes it. "I think I just ate some more."

The next scene is all of you walking up a sandy hill.

Sand had begun to trickled into your shoes, making you grimace as it seemed to crawl into between your toes.

You all saunter up the hill tiredly, pretending like you had just been walking aimlessly for hours.

After one last retake, you were all done.

"'What You Want' day one wrapped." Martin said as you all stood behind the van.

Keonho had his arm around you and Seonghyeons' shoulders, smiling as they all cheered. You stiffened up immediately at the contact before telling yourself to relax, reminding yourself of the camera still rolling.

Physical contact was still awkward for you.

As soon as the segment ended, Keonho took his arm away, keeping it at his side.

You all enter the van soon enough.

Fortunately, the staff had decided to put the AC on before you went in, the heat at the back of your neck seeming to finally go away. You retreat to the seats at the front that no one ever took, clicking in your seatbelt as you looked out the window.

You sit down in your hotel room, calmly staring out the window.

It really wasn't easy having to get by every single day knowing that your members really didn't like you that much.

Martin and Juhoon almost made you feel paranoid–with every mistake or comment you made, all they seemed to do was ignore it and/or harshly insult you right to your face. You had grown almost expectant of it.

Because you had been busy with filming almost every single day, their comments were beginning to wane. It still occurred at least a few times a week though–the least amount of insults and glares you had gotten in a week from them was 21. 

You counted everytime, seeing if you could get a world record.

Honestly you were just enjoying the calm before the storm.

They would probably return to their old selves after you finished filming everything.

You were a little surprised they hadn't gotten tired of it yet. It felt like they were more pettier than teenage girls, which in reality was hilarious to think about.

The van stopped in front of a gas station.

James would be the first to record his scene where he would hold up a gas pump, only for it to spray orange juice into a glass.

You all watched from a distance.

"Action!"

The first spray ended up being a disaster as James had completely missed the cup, instead landing on a poor assistant who happens to be crouching close by.

They redirected his actions before retaking the scene, this time with a little more cleanliness.

You had realised it ages ago, but James was a really good actor.

He kept his face straight the whole time, even when the orange juice started spilling everywhere onto his jeans and arms.

He complained about the scene after–"The pump was heavier than I thought, so my arms are aching from holding it up so long." He shakes his head, rolling out his shoulder as he walks off.

"Martin-hyung's scene is next…" Keonho mumbled out next to you.

You couldn't watch with him, but the cameraman told you later that Martin acted really nicely. 

Not that you asked.

The director had apparently praised him for it after, inducing a pink flush over Martin's cheeks.

Seonghyeon's scene under the station was next.

The scene was supposed to be him getting swallowed by the butterfly, but the director had told you all an artist would be drawing it later.

"I can't believe you'll be the butterfly." Keonho said as you walked out of the trailer in a new costume.

You, yes you, would be the butterfly that ate Eom Seonghyeon.

The storyline had been difficult to believe at first, but you got over it.

The behind the scenes camera zoomed in on your fancy outfit.

Honestly you were surprised by how detailed it was–the dress was layer after layer of diaphanous fabric, falling over you delicately as you moved across the set. Fabric wings were attached very loosely to the back of the collar, flowing behind you even if you took just one step forward. At the top of your head were long antennae that surprisingly didn't feel heavy at all.

Your makeup wasn't natural in the slightest–they had given you contacts to make your eyes look bigger and almost 'butterfly' like, but honestly you just looked like an alien. Small wings that you were sure were plastic were attached just at the ends of your eyes, really selling that almost ethereal look.

You felt weird as you trudged over to the station, your fancy high-heels digging into the sand. You feel eyes on you the whole time. You don't really blame them for it though, you straight up looked like some weird creature wrapped up in lace and frills.

You sigh as you think of how much the company must've paid to get so many details, and here you were in the middle of the desert using it like it was worth nothing.

Keonho walked next to you. Somehow a bag of chips had materialised in his hands, and he was now crunching on them as he waved to all the cameras. You give him a side-long glance, wondering how he just kept so calm.

Seonghyeon is still retaking his scene, but you don't miss the way his eyes seem to drag over to you when the director asks if he wants to do another scene.

You can't tell if he's fully judging you.

James seems to be the only one who actually acknowledges it right.

"Woah," he says, running his hands under the small fabric wings. "This is cool. It's better than what we actually had in mind." You stay still as he does so, letting him even play with it by flapping the fabric up and down.

The cameraman asks a quick question: 'How does it feel to eat one of your members?'

"Unsatisfying. Seonghyeon would barely count as an appetiser." You said with a straight face before giving the camera a peace sign.

A few minutes pass when you look over at Martin, finding him already staring back at you.

For some reason, he doesn't look at you with hatred.

He doesn't even look at you with annoyance.

His gaze looks far away, almost like he was imagining something in place of you.

Then again, this was supposed to be Bo-ra's outfit.

You think Martin probably imagined every single detail on the dress, wandering if his crush would like it.

Now here you were, replacing his dreams with crushing reality.

It seemed like everything you did lately was just going to be a pathetic replacement of Bo-ra.

He snaps out of it soon after, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallows thickly.

"We'll be recording you sitting on a ledge, and then on the big screen it'll look like you're interested in Seonghyeon."

You can't help but shoot the camera quick glance as he says those words. 

You nodded as they guided you over to a secluded area, tilting the camera up. You had your legs crossed lazily, leaning against one arm against the wooden ledge.

"Pretend like Seonghyeon is below you and then lean down." The director instructed.

Your scene is wrapped up after a few minutes.

You honestly think it was a waste to put you in such an intricate outfit only for a few seconds of screen time. Even though you'd be wearing it back in Korea, you couldn't help but feel bad for the stylist that probably sold their soul to design something like it.

You've changed back into the outfit from yesterday, now sitting down somewhere as Seonghyeon played with an RC car close by.

The guys run around close to him, Juhoon playfully pretending to kick at the car.

Seonghyeon soon hands the controller to Keonho when he asks, letting him control whenever the speedy car went. You hear the way it zips across the ground, kicking up dirt as it passed through some staff.

As soon as your lunch break ended, you were back at the gas station.

You and Seonghyeon wouldn't be included in the shot, so you both watched under a portable gazebo as the guys rushed into the car.

You and Seonghyeon would 'technically' be left behind because of the lore.

They retake the shot four more times before deciding on the last take as the perfect one.

You all wait around for another few minutes. The guys had somehow found themselves inside the van, with Seonghyeon now in the drivers seat. You couldn't see him do anything, mainly because the stylist was redoing the bandana. As soon as you turned your head to the right, a loud horn echoed around the station.

The stylist flinched back, letting out a sigh of relief before going back to your bandana.

You spotted a few staff members looking over at Seonghyeon disappointingly, shooting him glares before walking off.

"As the butterfly flutters around, you guys go 'Ahhh' and run off chaotically."

Another running scene…

You stare out at the empty pavement, flashbacks from 'GO!' rushing back all at once. Just this time you didn't really have to run your hardest.

It felt weird running away from something that was technically supposed to be you, but considering that the director had told you to keep it to a minimum, you could already understand how the story was supposed to go.

"We've finished the second day of shooting 'What You Want'. The view outside right now is really nice."

You're all inside the van now, changed into comfortable outfits for the ride back. The camera moves to show a small stream close to the road, Keonho immediately pointing it out.

"I got a nosebleed though." Juhoon said into the microphone.

A tissue was stuck pathetically in his nose, hanging out as he spoke. His voice had sounded more nasal.

"That just proves how hard you really worked." Martin nodded, clearly proud of himself as he said the line.

You were squished at the back with Seonghyeon, bringing your arms closer to you so that he had more space to move. He seemed conscious of your decision, so he pretended to lean into Martin so that he could have more space away from you.

You're not offended by it.

"I think the bleeding has stopped." Juhoon said.

Keonho takes the microphone from Martin and you can already imagine the shit-eating grin on his face. "That's what she said."

A flash of a camera makes you grimace.

After another long flight, you've landed back at Incheon airport. Your right shoulder aches, partially because on that whole flight, you had leaned against the window so that you could sleep. You roll it around a few times, keeping your eyes to your feet.

You stand close by to your managers, acting like you were just another staff member. The HYBE shirt ended up dragging more attention though–

"She looks too young to be staff."

"Wow, I wonder what her skincare routine is!"

You trudge through the crowd, trying to keep your hood down.

You had made the mistake of having some of your face caught on camera last time; you'd rather not have it again. The videos that came out were annoying to you–even though they had received much less attention that the guys, they still showed up.

You walk out the airport doors. Your fingers are pinched around one of your managers' shirt, ignoring how many phones were out and recording all of you. That piece of fabric was the difference between being lost and getting home safely.

As soon as you walk over to the van's, a staff member helps you get your luggage inside the back, shoving it carelessly inside even though he had been so careful with the guys'. You aren't particularly worried about it though, as you hadn't packed anything noteworthy enough to care if it got damaged.

You slide into one of the single seats near the doors, the faint smell of a mint car freshener piercing through the vehicle smoke around the car park.

Korea's air quality was almost always worser after you had gotten back from the US.

You let out a breath of relief as soon as the doors closed.

The guys sat in the two seaters–James and Juhoon sleeping in the front, while Seonghyeon and Martin sat at the back.

Keonho sat right behind you.

"Do you guys wanna eat in or go out for food tonight?" Your manager asked from the front seat.

You don't bother to say anything.

In discussions like these, usually the whole group's opinion would be needed.

Not yours.

Never yours.

James immediately turned around to ask Martin and Seonghyeon what they were feeling for today.

"Chicken!" Keonho yelled from behind you while holding his arms up.

"No, we had Wingstop before this!" Seonghyeon yelled out.

"So? We can still eat more."

"Nahhh bro. If we eat chicken one more time you'll be sleeping in the hallway." Seonghyeon joked.

Martin let out a loud laugh next to him while Juhoon stifled a chuckle. James shook his head in disapproval, but the smile that ghosts the corners of his lips betrays him.

"Well that wouldn't matter anyway." Keonho said. "I'd just sleep in her room."

The van goes silent.

You hadn't even realised what he really said until James cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck while his eyes darted back towards you and Keonho.

Keonho doesn't elaborate any further, rather just deciding to pop his AirPods in and ignore the awkward moment he created.

"Yo, come on." Martin rolled his eyes, hitting his knee in annoyance. "The cameras ain't even here." He said in English.

No one said anything after that, just the awkard cough and the sound of someone's messages pinging. 

You look stiffly to the side.

Something was obviously wrong with Keonho, and you were not going to be the one to find out why.

As soon as you entered your apartment, you dropped onto the floor.

Your cheek is pressed against the familiar wooden floors, the cold and unused smell of your apartment coming back to you.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself absorb the calmness of your apartment.

Tomorrow, you would be filming the continuation of the 'What You Want' music video.

You recall weakly that they were planning on filming it at a subway.

You sighed as you walked over to the window, dragging yourself to open the living room windows.

You stare out into the blank space.

The river was close by to your place, the cold waters staring back at you.

Sometimes you felt like the water.

Sometimes you feel like the calm waters of the sea, when no one was around in the morning to witness it. Sometimes you feel like harsh tides crashing against rocks, splashing your salty tears everywhere. 

It was weird.

You never felt particularly connected to the sea, but when Miya, a producer you knew back in LA had once brought it up to you, you realised she was right.

"Others find you shallow, maybe because of your quietness and one-worded answers," she said. "I think you're much greater than that."

She ruffles your hair, her hand so much bigger than your tiny prepubescent head.

"If others find you like the flat and paltry shore, then I find you like the deep waters of the ocean, enexplored by the people who just can't see."

You didn't really understand what she was really saying.

Even now you're still confused on what she was trying to say.

You picked yourself up slowly, a strange heaviness in your actions.

Your body move on autopilot as you roll the suitcase into your room, embracing how much darker it was there. You always shut your blinds before you left, meaning that any sunlight and wind couldn't really reach the room.

You sighed as you grabbed the clean bedsheets out of the closet, doing everything you normally did after getting back from another country.

You don't think of anything as you run through your normal routine–brushing your teeth, washing your body and changing into sleeping clothes.

Tomorrow was just going to be another day of filming, and then the week after that you'd be in New Zealand.

How exciting.

The subway is as hot as you expected.

No air gets down there, and your eyes had already begun to dry up.

You're back in your butterfly costume, a staff member kind enough to hold up your fan while a stylist fixed your wings. Another staff member held out eye drops for you, telling you to use it when you were done.

Keonho would be acting with Martin, picking a pool ball out of a briefcase. The camera setup surrounds them as they do so–the faint sound of Keonho's voice coming out of a speaker close by.

"The numbers one and eight," Martin explained to the camera. "One is the number of beginnings and eight is the number of endings. We debut on August 18, so it combines to one and eight."

The next scene comes with the guys pretending to be in a commercial.

They hold up random items, lip-syncing to the chorus of the song while having a customer-service smile on their faces. As soon as the scene was done, the behind the scenes camera went at it again, zooming in on their faces as they walked through the station.

Your scene was supposed to be you waking up Keonho in your fancy butterfly outfit before pointing at the scene across the station from him, showing his 'past'.

You did so, acting with a blank expression the whole time.

The director gave you a quick thumbs up before telling you to change into your normal outfit.

The final scene at the station comes anticlimactically.

You felt strangely tired as you walked out of the trailer, a fresh face of 'natural' makeup and a lightheadedness that made you almost trip.

The music video would conclude with all six of you staring at the camera while saying 'What you want'.

You exit the station soon enough, riding up the escalators slowly while you try to keep yourself awake. Martin and Keonho talk to the camera as per usual, either screaming into the microphone or laughing at eachother.

You change into fairly normal outfits for the restaurant.

Actors and directors fill up the tables as food is placed before them. There's a strange but enjoyable warmness in the room, maybe because this time you weren't under the hot searing sun. Food is placed on the tables intricately, the faint smell of fresh ribs flowing through the air.

You can't help but drool at the sight of it all.

While imagining yourself scarfing down on some spaghetti, Keonho materialises next to you.

He had been way too persistent with this strange act of his.

You realised that everytime you went somewhere, he somehow ended up in the same place you did. 

Even when the cameras were off.

It felt weird to think about, so you bottled up your thoughts and kept them to yourself. If Keonho wanted to get at least a little bit closer to you, he would have to work harder.

"I have to pretend like I'm sleeping again." He muttered.

You nodded, reaching forward to check out the fine china the staff had set out for you. The teacups were empty but thankfully clean. Your fingers delicately wrapped around the handle, trying not to make too much sound while the director got everything ready.

"Action!"

Immediately, the restaurant exploded into chaos.

The actors started arguing loudly, throwing napkins and food at eachother. You watched as some whipped others with the table cloth, keeping their faces either terrified or unserious.

The group was supposed to act calmly, clinking glasses with eachother and taking sips out of the teacups.

Keonho had his arms crossed, his head leaning down onto one shoulder while the cameramen walked over.

You all watched the preview, nodding as the directors asked if it was good.

You had just been sitting off to the side when a staff member came up to you.

You had thought it would be for something else–maybe a shoelace untied, your hair somehow messed up, but when he held out a mini air-fryer to you, confusion spiked through.

“We originally bought it for the shoot, but we’ve just gotten told that we won’t be needing it,” he said before dropping the box into your arms.

You flinched as it landed onto you, looking up at him with even more puzzlement.

“If you don’t want it, we can take it back. But honestly it’s kind of an old model so none of the staff members want it.” He shrugged.

You open the box–even though it was an ‘old’ model, the air fryer itself was in new condition. You traced your hand over the metal, the cool surface feeling nice against the back of your hand.

“Do you want it?”

You contemplated your decision–if you took it, then maybe you could finally try that one smore recipe you saw in an article. Plus, you didn’t really have much kitchen stuff because you barely ate.

And who could really say no to free stuff?

Yep, you were taking it.

You nodded in response, hugging the box close to your chest.

The next scene came with the spinning camera in the middle of the table.

"What should we get?"

Martin asked as the camera spun towards him. Keonho let out a confused shrug next to him while Juhoon just said 'something tasty'.

James and Seonghyeon tried to act serious, asking eachother questions while you just pretended to groan about food.

"Why can't we just order steak?"

"We're at a fancy restaurant, you should order something fancier."

"Fine, then seafood."

"…This is a barbecue restaurant?"

After a few more scenes–James getting creeped out with the people around you acting weird–'What You Want' wrapped up.

It was odd to think about.

Tomorrow you'd be filming the rest of 'GO!' and then you'd be all the way in New Zealand, filming 'FaSHioN' and 'JoyRide'.

You can't help but feel a sense of relief as you bow for the cameras one last time, shouting out your group name while syaing thank you to everyone there.

You look over at the staff members who had been with you since 'GO!'.

Some look a little happy and most look tired.

They all clap as filming finally ends.

You don't know what to feel as the guys cheer, putting their arms over eachother while laughing.

They really do look like they're having fun.

It just always happens to be when you're not around.

You think back to Miya's words as you stare out into the sea.

She lied.

The sea was calm for today, but the temperature was absolutely boiling hot. You had unzipped and zipped your hoodie up at least ten times since you had gotten to the docks, hot air seeming to blow from all sides.

Surely you couldn't be the hot weather that made everyone pissy, right?

The waters were probably even warmer, making you grimace as you stood near the edge.

The guys had decided to hog up the portable AC close by, using the pumps the blow air in their faces.

As soon as filming starts, you can't help but be envious of the staff under the portable gazebos, sitting on chairs and benches while the group had to jump and dance.

"The heat is insane," Martin said, trying to talk over the fan that was blowing in his face. "How do people even survive here?"

You all stood by the AC, trying the atleast get some amount of cool air on you.

It didn't work though, as Juhoon had decided to put his long-sleeve over one of the pumps that released air.

You had the slight urge to push him away but kept your hands to your sides.

"Let's switch members and try again!" The director yelled out.

Keonho was perched atop a ladder, holding up a mirror while Seonghyeon lip-synced. They switched spots soon enough, with Keonho now below Seonghyeon.

You held up your fan against your forehead, feeling the way your scalp had somehow decided to start sweating now. An assistant was kind enough to gift you a small box of dabbing tissues, meaning that atleast the sweat around your face would be cleaned up.

You watched from the side as Martin got underneath a car, his face close to the chassis and concrete as he lip synced.

You could tell his scalp was probably burning against the asphalt, but he tried to play it cool by smiling at the camera.

Keonho was next underneath, his cap now off as he laid against the floor.

"For out next album, we'll film on a boat, and for out 3rd album, we're going straight for a chill vibe on a yacht." You stood next to him as he went on.

Even though he was complaining now, he was probably glad that this was going to be your last day of filming. He also looked like he was partially losing his mind on the heat,but then again everyone else did too.

You all lip-synced around the camera on the floor, trying your best to look actually excited.

At some point you started going around in a circle, with Keonho putting his hands on your shoulder.

Seriously, you ought to start getting used to physical contact.

"Should we go up?"

You had just been standing around with Seonghyeon while a staff member redid a few of the clips in your hair.

James had asked the question, pointing up at the large container crane. He had taken his jacket off to the heat, which wished you could do if not for the stylist who stared you down everytime you tried to take something off to alleviate the heat.

The crane stood tall in all its glory, the red paint providing a satisfying look to it.

The cameraman ushered for you to go with them, pulling at your arm while trying to get you to catch up with the guys.

You look back at him, a small but evil smile on his face.

You tried to ignore it, walking closely to James.

"I think we can go up." James simply stated.

You walked up slowly on the stairs, realising how big the cranes really were.

Seonghyeon held the phone as you all walked up, feeling the way the wind was much cooler under the shade. It blew through your faces like a fresh breath of air.

You walked higher and higher, more of the sea getting revealed to you in a scenic way. 

You were never really scared of heights, but Seonghyeon looked to be.

"This is scary…" he whispered, holding the phone close to his chest while keeping his other hand on the railing. You had walked a little further ahead from him, waiting every few seconds for him to catch up.

You only ended up reaching the second floor, as one of the managers yelled for you three to get down.

You looked back up the structure–in truth, you wanted to walk up the whole way.

You looked down at your shoes in disappointment as you walked down, the metal slightly rattling as you all walked away.

"We're running again," Keonho said the camera, pointing out to the empty stretch of pavement across from you. "I've probably ran for this music video more times than I have for my school years."

As soon as the scene was done, the director yelled out the best news you had in weeks.

"Alright! That's a wrap for everyone but Keonho and Martin!"

James, Seonghyeon, and Juhoon all cheered as you walked off underneath the shade.

You were already sweating bullets and if you had to pretend to like touching sweaty teenage guys you would've jumped into the sea.

Keonho pouted as the staff blew air into his face. The guys were still cheering, an unbearable sense of FOMO crawling through him.

He only had one last scene to shoot and then he would be finally done.

You watched as his thought process jumped, the previous pout now replaced with a placid smile. His eyes looked far away, like he was day dreaming.

He looks weird…

The hideout was the one place you truly felt like you didn't belong.

You had only been there once, and decided never again. The room was filled with drawings from the guys, vibrant colours and bright words covering the walls. The mirror was even filled with random pictures, making your reflection pretty much invisible.

You stood next to Seonghyeon while 'Stay Away' by Nirvana played from one of the speakers.

"We don't have ny more scenes so we changed back into our own clothes," Seonghyeon explained to the camera. "Martin-Hyung still has some shots left."

You walked over to the couch, pulling your phone out while Seonghyeon and Juhoon walked over to the random whiteboard in the room. It was filled with scribbles and random signatures, all in bright neon colours.

You were about to scroll through your phone when something on the wall beside you caught your attention.

It was small.

It should've meant nothing.

But you still found yourself staring at it.

It was a drawing of six stars.

The lines were too intricate to be any of the guys', and you had always been too afraid to draw anywhere here.

You stared at it for a while.

Even when the music was turned off, and even when the director said 'action', the drawing never left your sight.

Reminders of Bo-ra were everywhere.

On the floors, on the mirrors, and especially on the walls.

Even though you hated how Martin and Juhoon acted because of it, you hated it even more that you understood why they did so.

As soon as filming wrapped, you all went out for a quick dinner.

Your manager ordered to get beef, leaving you behind with the guys as they talked all over eachother. You sat furthest from them, keeping on the side with the least amount of people.

How strange it felt to be surrounded by such loud people, only to feel like the loneliest in the room.

🍪🍪

Keonho didn't know how to feel about you.

Throughout his trainee years, he had been known to be someone easy, someone who just went with the flow.

If the other trainees didn't hang around one specific person, he'd blindly follow them because he would think it was the right thing to do.

He soon found his own voice when he got added into the project.

At first, he was lost.

He was too young to understand anything about himself, and now they were basically forcing him to dig through the sand dunes to find something.

Music was something he knew he liked when he worked on tracks with Martin. So that's what he did.

He found his own passion and rhythm through music, but the lingering feeling of not knowing what he was crept through him on most days.

When he first met Bo-ra, something felt off.

She was sweet and she was kind, so he felt guilty for even thinking that. She was even exactly like them in every way–loud and easy to talk to.

But he couldn't help but be slightly uneasy whenever she was around.

He tried to ignore it.

His hyungs however, seemed to absolutely adore her.

Of course they would–she was sweeter than candy and constantly considerate of others.

The most she would hurt some one was by an accidental stumble during practice, and even then she would immediately apologise.

So Keonho bottled it up.

He went with the flow.

He went with it like one of the many fish in a school did.

It was easy.

It was like he was swimming all over again–diving into the water and simply letting it carry him to the finish line.

He didn't love her as much as Juhoon or Martin did.

So he just pretended to.

He asked her questions all the time, fooled around with her and Seonghyeon, and even would go on late night walks.

He found parts of him enjoying it, but with every fake laugh he made and every polite smile he gave her, he couldn't help but feel weird.

One thing he really hated was when Martin and Juhoon started bringing her up in all their conversations. It started out small, with passing remarks like 'oh, Bo-ra knows her' or 'Bo-ra would like this'.

It was fine.

He could handle it.

But when her name started infiltrating every single conversation, even the ones they had late at night, he couldn't help but feel annoyed.

It was all 'Bo-ra this' and 'Bo-ra that'.

He tried, he really did to like her.

But no matter how many moments they shared together, he just couldn't.

So when she left, something didn't feel right.

She was gone, and he was supposed to be sad about it.

So why didn't he?

He remembers pretending to be upset with her decision to leave out of the blue, but in reality he couldn't even find it in him to figure out what was wrong.

While the guys were upset and crying, he would sit by their sides, patting their backs while also trying to ignore that strange blotch of contentment that took place inside of him. As stupid and strange as it sounded, Bo-ra had left and taken every weird feeling he had about her with her.

He felt guilty for even thinking in the first place.

Then you came into the picture.

It was easy to blame you.

You were the quiet freak who had replaced the girl who they spent months with. 

The guys hated you.

Everytime you walked into the practice room, their lively conversations would stop. Everytime you tried to say your opinion, they would shut it down.

It was easy to.

Keonho acted annoyed, fake-laughed at the guys' rude jokes about you and would even make some himself.

But in reality, it was never anger towards you.

It was anger towards himself.

He didn't like how he felt about Bo-ra, and he especially hated that he couldn't feel so strongly like how the guys felt.

He didn't enjoy it one single bit.

He thought you would be angry–yelling at them, screaming at them to just shut up. He thought you would be loud, and storm out of the room.

But you never did.

You ignored it all, like it wasn't supposed to bother you one bit.

Like it was just another day for you.

He couldn't understand you one bit.

If he were you, he would've left long ago.

So why didn't you?

Everytime the guys got angry and annoyed at you, you would just give them a blank stare and leave it alone.

You were your own person, and he didn't know how to feel about it.

If he was simply a small fish in a pond, then you were like the unmovable waves of the deep, deep ocean he so desperately wanted to swim through. He wanted to feel what you felt every time the guys were rude or annoyed, he wanted to know what the waves of your thoughts felt like when you were quiet.

Were they gentle?

Or had you just built a damn high enough to hold them back?

When you had given him those AirPods, something had changed.

You didn't seem like that quiet and uncaring girl who he thought you were.

He found himself paying more attention to you, watching the way you carried yourself on days where you were all tired, walking near you during the shoots and talking to you about stuff in passing he usually did with the guys.

He noticed how you didn't eat at all, and worst of all, how you didn't seem to care that you looked like skin and bones. He noticed how on some days, you would just zone out, staring into space while the guys around you were jumping and having fun.

When he started talking to you, it was like some weight had been taken off his shoulders.

Sometimes though, his actions would register as borderline weird.

He wanted to get closer to you, sure, but making offhand remarks about wanting to sleep in your room probably weren't the best for that.

With you in the group, it somehow didn't feel heavy on nights where he usually did, and talking to you felt more natural than he ever did with Bo-ra.

The guys never questioned it, and he was secretly glad they didn't.

What he felt for you wasn't love or like.

What he felt wasn't as warm as that.

What he felt was cold and piercing, stabbing sharply into his guts.

It was the realisation of how little he really was.

Even now, he can't even bring himself to apologise to you for how he treated you.

He stares at you from across the table, pretending to be in conversation with Seonghyeon about something random.

In reality he had already mentally tapped out of the conversation ages ago.

He watched you as you scrolled through something on your phone–probably a random news article because for some strange reason you didn't have social media.

You were much too different from all of them, and yet a part of him wanted to be closer to that.

But he knew that deep down his feelings wouldn't be enough.

He needed to act, and accept the consequences of what he did.

Right now, he was 16 in Seoul, watching you across the table.

©wukiyo I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Apologies for any mistakes I’ve made!

That was a fact you had known ever since you were three years old, when you found yourself humming and singing uncontrollably to whatever song your parents had played through their fancy radios.

You were obsessed with the notes, the cadences–the way the sounds just seemed like absolute perfection in your ears.

When your parents realised this, it was like a gold detector triggered inside their brains. They dragged you to a dance class even though you could barely coordinate yourself to your houses hallways, forcing you into the middle of the room while everyone around you were fully grown and experienced adults. 

It was a fun class though, filled with people from all over the world who wanted to try learning something new.

You weren't perfect at it, but you enjoyed yourself, and that should've been all that mattered.

…Right?

"You were unfocused." Your father said. He brings his hand down, slapping your right cheek. The sound echoes around the living room, a strange ringing making your ears hurt.

Tears stung at the edges of your eyes, shock and pain filling your tiny body. Just as you were about to look up at your father, your mother pulled harshly at your arm, adding hurt to your already aching shoulders. You tried to twist out of her grip, but she tightened it further, almost cutting circulation off to your wrist.

She dragged you over to the basement door, ignoring your cries as you tried to run away.

"You're an embarrassment–the people around us kept laughing at you because you kept getting the moves wrong." She shoved you into the basement, ignoring your cries as she slammed the the door closed behind you.

You remember the sense of dread that crawled through your entire body, staring out into the darkness. 

"You won't be coming back out of there until tomorrow." She simply said, her heels clacking away. 

You don't know how long you stayed there for, banging against the door while your wails for help fell on deaf ears. You were scared–the basement was dark and filled with unknown horrors a three year old couldn't even imagine. You were too short to reach the light switch, and too scared to leave your spot near the door. You kept reaching for the door handle, twisting it and turning it like it was going to do something. The warm light under the door mocked you. Despite only being behind three inches of wood, you couldn't reach it if you tried.

By the time you realised you couldn't leave, you cried yourself to sleep on the basement steps, feeling the way the cold cement engulfed your body.

You felt numb by the time you woke up, almost every emotion you had completely disappeared.

The next day they brought you to the class, you didn't make a single mistake.

After that incident, you became almost closed off.

You didn't bother smiling at strangers on the street with that childlike wonder, and you didn't bother caring about what people thought of you anymore.

You focused on what your parents wanted–dancing and singing. 

You liked doing dance. You liked being able to move your limbs freely with no restrictions, and despite how stupid it was to admit, you especially liked receiving the attention that your parents gave you after every choreography you learned fully.

You were a child, filled with too many expectations that honestly left you feeling pathetic.

You loved singing even more though.

You liked the way the notes passed through your vocal cords with an ease that was the same as blinking. It felt almost natural to do it. If you weren't singing, you were humming, tapping your knee to whatever song was playing inside your head.

You guessed that's why you were labeled as a bit of a weirdo. 

Despite your talents bringing such trauma from your parents, you couldn't help but be your happiest when you could do them.

By the time you were five, you had learned almost every dance type you could in Korea; break dance, hip-hop, waacking, voguing–everything your parents could think of you learned.

Every lesson had your body feeling like it was genuinely on fire, your body straining to just to keep up. Every time a muscle or limb ached, you forced yourself to push through, scared to know what your parents would do if you failed. Nonetheless, you enjoyed doing them.

Instead of days filled with learning how one plus one equaled two, your days were filled with learning choreography and training your ears to have perfect pitch. Everything you did just seemed to revolve around music.

By the time you turned six years old, you already knew what your parents' plans for you were.

'Become a k-pop idol.'

You weren't sure why they specifically wanted you to become one, seeing as they had about two other kids to care about. For some reason, they saw you with nothing but dollar signs around you, deciding that you were going to be the famous one.

Your parents were rich, but not rich enough where it got them noticed. Your father owned a business that allowed everyone in your family to live comfortably, and your mother owned a cosmetics line that probably offered her a less amount of fame than she'd like to say.

K-pop was something most people would've heard of in Korea. Groups like EXO, BigBang, and BTS were on the rise, diversifying k-pop's audience.

It was rapidly growing, and your parents decided to get a head start.

They applied you to JYP entertainment.

They signed the forms, allowing you to become a trainee under them. 

At first, it was okay.

You were one of the youngest trainees there, making all the older girls warm up to you fast. They poked at your cheeks, called you cute, and even did your hair whenever there was time. You got closer with them when you moved into the trainee dorms, having small night-talks with them like you were way older than you actually were.

You thought they were cool.

"Don't you think she's kind of weird?"

You had just been walking back from the bathroom, stopping yourself in the hallway as a trainee's whose voice you recognised said your name.

"She acts like a robot half the time."

"I'm kind of tired of her to be honest. She hums whenever it's supposed to be quiet and it honestly pisses me off."

"Right? Don't get me wrong though, she's really talented for her age, but every time I ask her a question she just zones out."

You tilted your head. Were you really like that?

"Maybe she's one of those odd cases–y'know, like she might be handicapped."

You furrowed your eyebrows. What the hell did that even mean?

You ignored their words for the most part, deciding that you had better things to do rather than listen to hormonal 16 year olds talk bad about you.

The lessons themselves were nightmares.

"Again." Your dance teacher claps her hands, a disappointment evident in her tone. You stand in the middle of the practice room, feeling pity from all sides of the room.

As soon as the beat drops, it was like your body moved on autopilot. Clean lines and sharp angles became a part of you, even when you were half asleep.

You couldn't think of anything as the music played, your mind blank and your throat dry. You hadn't drank anything for two hours, and you were starting to feel lightheaded.

Eventually, you passed out.

You don't remember anything other than the faint sound of sirens in the background while your parents looked down over you, clicking their tongues and pinching their nose bridges. The faint smell of disinfectant and blood rose through the air, a nauseous sensation trickling through your body.

Despite being the same age as an elementary school student, you had already become tired of your world. Lessons upon lessons were thrust on to you every single day, not a single hour or minute to spare.

You were eight when you reached first place in all the monthly evaluation rankings.

Usually it was something you celebrated, something you would squeal and clap about. The people beside you were shocked and mostly displeased that an eight year old beat them. 

You felt nothing as you stared at the board.

It was strange.

You started to feel nothing for dance and singing anymore and you didn't care if the other trainees talked bad about you each time you left the company for another singing lesson. You didn't feel anything when the instructors berated you or borderline abused you.

You didn't care.

You didn't feel.

And for a terrifying reason, you didn't seem to care about it at all.

The days that passed you were constantly a blur–another lesson and another evaluation tumbled and followed each other aimlessly with no amount of end to any.

You were 10 years old when your parents decided to move you to a different company.

None of the trainees cared as the week before you moved passed by. By the time it was Saturday, you had packed everything you had in your small suitcase, and your bed laid bare. For almost three years you had spent every single night there, sleeping in a room full of people who almost hated you.

You weren't uncomfortable in your time with them, but you recall all the times it was hard to get any sleep when you would have to stay up late at a laundromat, all because they decided to egg your bed.

You had already decided that you weren't going to miss this place.

Your new company was called Pledis.

Being a trainee under Pledis offered a series of changes a little more terrible than the last.

Some things were the same though–instructors yelling in your face and girls around you who hated you.

It's fine, you thought.

Nothing you haven't faced before.

The dorm situation was lousier.

"You can't sleep in the same room as us. Go sleep outside on the streets." An older girl had said to you, shutting the door in front of your face. You could hear their giggles and laughs muffled through the door, followed by a high-pitched 'that was so mean!' before they all burst out laughing once again.

You stood blank faced outside the door, the suitcases handle clutched loosely in your hands.

You ended up finding a small nook you could sleep in, sitting down against the wall while keeping your suitcase under you. Not an ideal sleeping position, but you'd rather that than be dead-tired.

You ended up finding an empty room the next night, when the girls kicked you out once again and refused to let you in. The whole building was rented out by the company, so most of the rooms ended up being free for most of the trainees.

That was your room for the next year and a half–you used the public bathrooms to shower and again, ended up staying late for more nights at the laundromat than you intended.

An 11 year old definitely shouldn't have been faced with these conditions, but you couldn't muster up a single ounce of energy to care.

You just felt empty.

"We're sending you off to the States to train. There are a few song camps and dance classes we think you would be perfect for."

Huh.

"Who knows, maybe you'll get a whole new insight while you're over there."

You're on the plane the next day. 

Your parents had been elated when they heard you were going away, saying that if you were getting sent off, that meant the company definitely had plans for you to debut.

You can't recall the last time they had been that happy around you, and to think that it was because they didn't have to be around you anymore.

The States is a country with too much space, you think.

The chaos at the airport and the chaos outside of it has you thinking that the U.S was just constantly busy, as opposed to Korea that always had some type of order. 

You reach the rental in no time.

It's a small apartment with only one bedroom and small bathroom. A few managers would be living near you, but none of them ever tried to be close with you.

You don't really blame them.

Song camps were fun.

Producers from all over the country were around you all the time, giving you advice and telling you all kinds of tricks that producers made to make the song sound better. A few producers weren't able to make it, as Covid ended up making its big appearance.

You were trapped inside the rental for a while, no communication to the outside world. You spent your days learning whatever new k-pop dances that would come out through the small TV in your room.

It wasn't fun at all.

Covid came and passed.

Producing and composing was something you had thought about doing for a long time–before you had become a trainee, and way before your parents had discovered your talents. For some reason, the thought of making music had been in your head far longer than becoming a singer.

You liked creating music that made you feel.

You liked how just a simple sound could make everything feel different, whether it be on a day of sadness or anger.

Soon enough, you were making songs about everything you could think of.

Your first experience of kindness came in the form of a laptop.

A Japanese producer by the name of Miya had saw your love of music, how you were eager to learn and listen to every single piece of advice your mentors gave you.

"It's for you." She smiled.

The laptop felt heavy in your arms, like it was some prophecy given to you.

"You love music just as much as everyone in here, it's only fair you have something that lets you express it." She patted your head, leaning down and pinching your cheek slightly.

"You're young and have so much life to live," she chuckles. "When you debut and achieve your dream, I'll be the first to support you."

She was sweet and kind, and definitely someone you looked up to during your time in the States.

A few months before you turned 12, you were called back to Korea permanently. Your time in the US. offered you more comfort and freedom than you liked to admit. Even though you were still on a strict diet and schedule every day, the fresh air of LA made you feel better after another monotonous day of dancing and singing.

"We initially wanted you to just come back for a trainee showdown, but we have a plan for you."

As soon as you told your parents, they were just about ready to jump for joy. Again, your dorm situation was the same as it always was–shoddy and poorly maintained.

By the time the showdown rolled around, you were already too tired to care about where you placed. Eventually you made it to the quarterfinals. You sat in a room filled with trainees, managers and staff stationed at the walls like they were guards. The trainees around you are around the same age as you, their nervous eyes darting around the room and flinching whenever the MC called out people on stage.

"We're going to have a hip-hop dance battle."

At those words, a few people clap and cheer around, excitement seeming to buzz out of everyone.

"We're going to choose random opponents–you'll dance to the same song for one minute," he said. "There will be a total of two rounds."

A judge picks up his microphone, clearing his throat to catch everyone's attention. "Today's criteria will be about your energy, so I'll be looking at that more than technique."

The MC nods, bringing the microphone up to his mouth once again. He calls out a random name, bringing up a trainee in black clothes.

"Please choose one random ball."

The trainee walks over to the ball, digging his hands through. You see a few trainees around you hold their breaths. The trainee holds one up, opening it up and unrolling the paper inside. He walks over to the MC, who was holding the microphone up to his mouth.

"Leo-hyung, get out here!"

The minute those words are uttered, a loud shout echoes through the room.

You recognise the name–he was from Trainee A.

You had heard the name uttered during the first few days back in Korea.

'BTS' successors?'

'BigHit's new boy group after almost three years!'

They were pretty much destined to be great. You had even stumbled upon a few of their videos online, seeing how the comments found them lovable just for being themselves.

They were all good dancers, and you had seen a few of them dance during the cypher a few days ago.

A soon as the beat starts, his opponent immediately starts dancing. 

The rounds were almost neck and neck, but Leo's opponent is called to be the winner.

A tall boy gets called up onto the stage. 

For some reason, your eyes can't help but be drawn to him. His hair is cleanly cut, and despite his height, his voice tells you that he was around the same age as you.

"Sangwon-hyung, get out here." He softly says.

The battle goes as well as you expected–the tall boy matches the vibe of the song, catching the beats with a precision not a lot of trainees would've noticed. He's good, but Sangwon seems to have him beat by the end of it.

A few battles later, a trainee named So-i is called up on stage.

She walks over to the bowl with a raw confidence you can't describe, but it's enough to catch people's attention.

Then, she calls out your name.

The reaction around you is immediate.

Everyone goes silent, looking around the room to find you.

The minute you stand up, hushed whispers and gasps wash over the room.

For some reason they all know who you are.

You, who had ranked first for every monthly evaluation. You, the trainee who had been sent over to the States just because you were too good to stick around in Korea. 

You, the youngest trainee in the room.

You walk up to the stage, bowing slightly to So-I.

Only one thought rings through everyone's heads as the music starts.

You would win.

The showdown comes to an end.

You had gotten second place, beating James and getting to go against JJ in the finale.

You didn't mind your ranking, seeing as how JJ had given it his all to win.

"You'll be debuting next year. Congratulations."

You're in the ADOR meeting room today, facing with Min Hee-Jin. The president of Pledis sits next to her, signing a form that allowed you to be under ADOR.

"You'll meet the girls next week." She smiled and stood up. You bowed as she exited, Pledis' president giving you a small pat on the shoulder.

"You should be proud of yourself. It's been years since you started training, anyone would be happy to be as lucky as you."

Luck, huh.

Would luck really have faced you with such unlucky consequences?

Your parents barely cared for you outside of your new career and treated you like some thoroughbred horse. All they wanted was money, and if your body could offer that then they would be sure to give the price.

Honestly, outside of being a trainee, you weren't sure who you were.

Becoming an idol wasn't a dream of yours. 

You loved music, that was sure.

But eventually everyone gets tired of chasing after a dream that won't come true.

Your parents had took that love for music and squeezed it until only a few drops remained. Everything else was poured into their greed, coating their egos with your talents.

You meet the girls on Wednesday.

They're all buzzing with an excitement you don't have.

A passion that had long since passed you.

After you had all introduced yourselves, everything changed.

Danielle was kind and gentle, always willing to help and talk to you even when you were quiet. 

Hanni and Minji were like everyone's anchors.

Minji was that calm presence everyone needed, like the quiet tide of oceans early in the morning.

Hanni was the stars. She shined brightly in everyone's presence, and especially got along the best with Danielle. The two went hand in hand, like the sun and the sky.

Haerin had a charm about her that was uniquely hers. If you were to describe her, she was more like a cat than anything else.

You recognised Hyein immediately.

She had been at the showdown and went against James, another Trainee A member. 

She was cool and just as talented as everyone else.

It helped that she was close in age to you, which brought you two closer than you probably realised.

That first week with them felt good.

It felt amazing.

You shared every genuine laugh and giggle with them, having late night talks and doing everything that trainees always did–midnight walks without having to worry about the company, sneaking in snacks during practice, and hearing the latest behind the scenes drama from the staff.

Every dance practice was filled with excitement, every movement you all made seeming to flow like a smooth river.

This was it.

This was the group you wanted to be with.

Soon enough, you found yourself looking forward to practice. An attitude you couldn’t believe was coming from you yourself of all people.

It felt too good to be true.

For the first time in years, you found yourself enjoying your trainee life.

But…

Even though you were part of the group, it felt like you were just leftover material. You were that odd piece of a puzzle that just didn't seem to fit, no matter how many pieces you interchanged. Everytime the instructors or staff addressed the group, they would only ever talk to the five girls.

While everyone praised them for being so in sync, they would ignore you like you were some annoying stain they couldn't get rid of.

No matter how many times the girls were kind to you, no matter how many times you shared a laugh or a hug with them, you couldn't help that odd feeling in the pit of your stomach that you hadn't felt in years.

Doubt.

Doubt that this truly was going to work out for you.

Doubt that you were going to debut.

"We want you to produce a track for the group." Min Hee-Jin smiled at you, one that honestly gave you more dread than anything else.

"We think this is a great choice for you, plus it'll make good use of your experience in the US."

You started working on the following week.

You made 'Hurt'. 

It wasn't hard to make it. It was soft, minimalistic and heavily reliant on the lyrics you wrote. Despite being the one who made it, you gave yourself lesser lines than everyone else. You decided that being the one who made it was enough credit, and decided to put everyone's vocals to where you believed best suited them.

You were proud of it.

It was proof to you–proof that you were trying, proof that you should've belonged.

But it wasn't enough.

"I'm sorry. You won't be part of the group anymore." Again, it's Min Hee-Jin sitting in front of you.

This time, a remorseful expression is on her face, her hands clasped in front of her tightly.

Although you know she doesn't mean it.

"We need to cut costs, and we realised that six members would be too much to handle on our company."

So you decided to cut a member.

You didn't bother arguing about it. You didn't bother to ask about it.

You just simply stayed silent.

The members were devastated.

"They can't do this!" Hyein had cried, hugging you close to her chest as tears seemed to pour out of her. She patted your hair, and act that used to annoy you because she would do it only to tease you for being the youngest.

Now you weren’t sure what to feel about it.

Hanni and Minji stood close to you, patting your back while trying to hold back their tears. Danielle was close to protesting the decision, but Haerin held her back.

You had been with them no less than three months, and yet that was enough to have you crying in their arms.

To think that you were crying for a dream you swore you never wanted.

Your parents were the worst of it.

Your dad hit you repeatedly, slapping your face and whipping your arms with that leather belt had always seemed to have.

The metal bits hurt the worst, the cold ends feeling like deep scratches to your already inflamed skin.

"What is wrong with you?" He yelled.

You stayed silent the whole time, too drained to even think of anything to say.

Did he think you weren't going to be upset about it either?

"We raised you to be the perfect idol. You inherited our good looks, and we even spent a fortune so that you could graduate school early!" He roared, suddenly grabbing you by your throat and choking you against the wall. You sputtered, wincing as your shoulder blades painfully pressed against the hard walls. His calloused hands pressed against your neck, your throat closing up.

"Wait!" Your mother said. "Don't do anything too brash, she still needs to sing." Her words calmed him down, his arms lowering. She checked up on your throat, careful to check if any bruises were left.

Your cheeks stung with a pain much deeper than you ever had, and the red lashes all over your arms throbbed everytime you tried to move them.

Your mother cleared her throat. "It's fine if you don't debut right now anyway. You're still much younger than the people in the industry and there are still plenty of choices for you."

It’s not comfort for you, it’s comfort for herself.

The girls debuted a month later.

As expected, they were quick to grow in fame. They were pretty much everywhere at some point–billboards, advertisements–every single scroll on social media just seemed to have something related to them.

At that point, you hadn't even turned 14 yet. 

You weren't sure what someone like you was supposed to do.

You weren't expendable, but you were just another too-talented trainee who was cut for debut. 

You took the highschool GED the day you turned 14.

On the same exact day, another offer came for you.

"We have a survival show called R U next coming up. It'll be under BeLift Lab, and we'd like to know if you would be interested."

Survival shows didn't confirm a debut, and almost all of the ones you had seen were pretty much rigged anyway. You were far too exhausted to deal with everything that came with being under a survival show–hate because of 'evil editing', trainees that refused to compromise, and the strict judges who constantly criticised teenagers.

You couldn't be bothered to face another chance to debut, only to get cut at the last moment. 

Your parents ended up finding out about the offer, and forced you to audition for it.

You passed, but at the last moment you choked up.

The second round of auditions for the show went terrible.

You ended up passing out in the middle of the room.

You should've known it was going to happen. You felt the same lightheaded sensation you felt years ago, along with the fact that your vision had started to blur out and you couldn’t tell the judges apart from the other girls surrounding you anymore.

Each turn that you had been so used to made you almost trip, and every clean angle you used to hold turned sloppy.

You woke up in the basement a day later.

A small IV drip was attached to you, the room illuminated by the fluorescent lights above you. You were laid against the cold cement floor, the faint smell of dirt and dust filling your lungs.

A small note was attached to the wall–'the next time you fail, you'll be trapped in here forever.'

For some reason, that caused more panic than you than you thought.

"I have something for you."

The Vice President of BigHit sits across from you, a polite smile forced onto her face.

"You've been considered to be a part of a co-ed group."

You don't say anything as she shows you everything about it.

Plans for self production and the aesthetics that she was sure to make everyone obsessed. It's mixed with everything you could imagine a teen being drawn to–skater-punk, grunge and Y2K streetwear. Apparently the project had started just over a year ago, and another girl was considered to be a part of the group.

"She left," Hyun-jung said. "Most of them do anyway."

You wanted to refuse.

But it seems she sensed that.

"Before you refuse, let me tell you something–your parents are in debt to us."

You look up, confused.

"The only reason why you've been considered to be part of this group is because they paid us a hefty amount of money. Enough to the point where it would probably bring down both of their businesses if this got out."

She slowly closed her laptop, not bothering to make eye contact with you.

That fact scares you even more.

Despite the words coming from her mouth, her casual demeanour made it worse.

"If you don't accept this, then you won't be able to debut anymore." She stands up and walks away, not caring if you even bowed to her.

Ever since they had kicked you out of NewJeans, a strange feeling had resided inside of you like a tumour. It rotted inside you, taking place where that large hole you had was supposed to be.

That can't be right.

Surely you had more chances to debut? Surely she was just joking, right?

You were panicking.

You were scared.

A co-ed group couldn't be your last chance. You were still young, you could apply to other companies–

No, you couldn't.

Kim Hyun-jung would probably spread that information to the public, meaning that no matter where you would go you were always going to be someone who was only known to be someone who paid their way into the industry no matter how many times you could deny it.

Then it would all be a waste.

Your years of training, your experience overseas–the laptop. Everything you had done for the past seven years, all gone in a moment like that.

You realised you were desperate.

Desperate to escape, desperate to find a way out of your family.

You accepted the offer the next day.

You entered the practice room quietly, watching their expressions range from confusion to frustration.

You didn't expect any of them to be kind to you, seeing as how you were really only there to replace the other member.

Martin was affected by it the most.

"I hate you." 

You turned, finished with buying a drink from the vending machine close to the practice room. 

He looked out of breath as he said that to you, his jaw clenched and his hands tightened into fists. The hallway is dark, even when the lights from the practice room were fully on, slightly revealing his still silhouette.

"You shouldn't even be here. Why did you have to be the one to replace her?" He spat out, his narrowed eyes hidden behind his brown hair.

You let him continue.

"You're not her, and you'll never be her."

It seemed everyone else shared the same sentiment.

They all hated you, even though you hadn't even done anything.

Keonho and Seonghyeon ignored you everytime you talked, and James and Juhoon acted like you didn't exist at all. Every time you tried to be team player, your ideas and actions were disregarded like it was background noise.

Eventually you accepted it.

You couldn't change anything about it.

You can't.

No matter how many times you tried to be nice, no matter how many times you picked stuff up after them, no matter how many times you tried your best in everything.

They just couldn't let go of it.

You stopped caring about it.

You didn't care if the room became painfully tense the minute you entered, and you definitely didn't care whenever they would so obviously talk bad about you, even if you were in the same room.

You weren't upset at them, but you definitely weren't going to be best friends with them.

No matter how many times you worked on a song with them, no matter how many dance practices that passed, you weren't going to be the one apologising for something you couldn't even be sorry for.

Your manager took notice of it quickly, when they had recorded clips for a 'documentary' and every single video looked more like you didn't exist even though you were a key member.

Their attitudes changed, but only because they were forced to.

Keonho sometimes cracked a joke whenever you were around, but each time you all you could see was his clenched jaw. Martin and James eventually stopped overlooking your ideas and silently accepted them every now and then. Seonghyeon and Juhoon just stayed quiet.

The tension never went away.

It was just simmered down, waiting until it could boil over.

Soon enough, a few of them started to get over it. 

Keonho and Seonghyeon were the first.

Instead of constantly ignoring you, they actually started hearing you out for more things. If you had an idea for a sample or a track, they'd listen, but only because of professional reasons. They would never talk to you outside of the job.

At some point, James started to genuinely switch too.

Instead of just quietly accepting your ideas like he used to, he encouraged them, saying that they were good and how he actually liked them.

Martin and Juhoon never changed.

You don't really know what you would've done even if they did.

At some point, their hatred for you became routine.

You just kept going, just letting the days pass by.

You just needed to debut.

The sound of someone calling your name snaps you awake.

The practice room floor is cold, the feeling seeping through your sweatpants.

“What are you doing here?”

You look up and see Nam Yuna–a Korean trainee only a year older than you–standing in front of you with her hands placed on her hips.

She stands with her chin held high, her eyes narrowed and mouth curled up into a shape of annoyance and disgust at how you were just casually sleeping. But her eyes also have confusion, wondering why the hell you were in here in the first place.

“The Vice President is calling you in.” She says as she pulls you up from your sitting position, not bothering to care that you were basically half-asleep. Pain shoots up from your shoulder as she roughly pulls your arm, but you don’t say anything about it.

“Okay.” You barely mumble out. You’re not sure if she heard it, and frankly you think she wouldn't even care.

It’s dark at this time–lights from all over Seoul reflect into the company’s hallways. Your footsteps thud against the carpeted floors as flashes of red, green, and yellow graze past your eyes.

You’re tired, but for some reason not a single complaint leaves your lips.

Your bones and muscles ache as you continue to move through the floor, all the empty space making it all feel like an insane asylum.

You reach the meeting room in no time.

Kim Hyun-Jung sits in the middle of the room, her presence unwavering.

You bow and greet her.

She gestures for you to sit, a calm expression on her face.

“So, I’ve heard that you’ve been skipping practice with the guys, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Can I ask why?”

You let the question hang around the room for a moment before responding. “Do I have to?”

You see her eyebrow twitch upward slightly in surprise. “Of course you have to. This is your future here, and if you keep skipping, the company will have no choice but to kick you out.”

“But you can't.”

Her expression breaks and you watch how her professionalism changes in an instant.

“The only reason why I’m skipping is because I don’t need to anymore.” You calmly elaborated, looking around the room. “I’ve practiced enough times with them, and I highly doubt they appreciate me being there.”

Hyun-jung’s expression doesn’t change as you go on.

“I’ve already done what I need to.”

“But to my understanding, you’ve been a trainee for years now. Wouldn’t it make more sense to work harder now that your debut is coming?”

You frown. 

Why was she playing dumb?

"The only reason why I'm debuting is because you're forcing me to, and because Bo-ra left."

Your words seem harsh, albeit rude, but Hyun-jung doesn’t seem to care at all. You do catch the way her jaw clenches at the mention of that name, but she doesn’t make a comment on it. She sighs and stands, gathering whatever papers she was working on. “Alright then, just don’t make any mistakes, otherwise they’ll have my head rolling.”

You stay quiet as she packs up. In a few short strides, she reaches the door, making you stand up and bow. Just as she was about to leave the room, she turned back around, calling your name.

“Also, congratulations on your debut.”

You keep your head bowed down even after she leaves, too tired to care.

You leave the company at exactly 11:28 pm, walking back to the dorm in a relaxed stride. Your trainee card swings side to side, your lanyard clutched loosely in your hands.

You walk onto the Hangang bridge, gazing out into the cold icy waters. It stares back at you, still and dark.

The moonlight ripples onto the water, illuminating the buildings around.

You recall your parents telling you that ‘Seoul doesn’t sleep’. You guess it was true.

Cars zoom past, pedestrians still walk, and there’s still an occasional biker trying to fit in their daily cardio even if it was almost midnight.

You didn’t do much at all today, and yet you’re still tired. 

How ironic.

You get to the dorm after an hour of walking, nodding to the security guard and pressing the elevator button to go up.

The guys were probably sleeping at this time, as long as Martin or Keonho weren’t messing around.

Your dorm sits across from theirs, just down the hall that barely anyone goes to.

It’s much smaller than theirs, as it was really only made for one person.

You lean down to see the keypad, pressing the numbers that correspond to a birthday that isn’t yours. Each number makes a beeping noise that resounds around the hallway.

Suddenly the boys’ door opens.

You look over, the familiar click catching your attention.

It’s Martin.

Despite his initial hostility towards you, he found his own way to cope–by deattaching himself from his emotions while talking to you.

“Why’d you come back so late?” He doesn't say it in worry, he says it in that tone you would say in passing–like a question you would ask someone you only knew for two minutes. But that wasn't true for both you–you had known eachother for four months, and yet not a single moment of warmth was shared between you. He doesn't look tired or exhausted at all, and in his hands is a rag.

Cleaning late again I see.

He doesn’t even seem the slightest bit curious or concerned as to why you weren’t at practice.

“I walked.”

The number pad beeps, letting you know the door was unlocked.

“You’ve packed for the States, right?” He asks it out of necessity, his tone lands flat like he was told to ask you.

You nodded, pushing down on the handle.

He hums in response and closes the door, the silence in the hallway now much louder.

You weren’t even sure how he heard you from inside the dorm.

You walk in, taking off your shoes as you take in the familiar smell of laundry detergent and a lavender perfume that no matter how many times you clean, won’t go away.

You traverse through your small apartment, walking straight to the bathroom.

The apartment consisted of a living room, a kitchen, a bathroom, and a small bedroom.

It’s small, but it’s yours. It's much better than the shoddy rooms you used to be in anyway.

You showered and changed into sleeping clothes, flopping straight on your bed.

This has been your routine for the past three months.

At the start, you would all go to the company and practice, preparing for whatever the debut needed before going home.

Tomorrow, you will be going to the States to record the group’s music videos.

You don’t feel nervous about it at all, but you certainly weren’t happy either.

You just felt tired.

You wake up with a light knock on the door.

Your manager stands in the doorway already, still in his sleeping clothes.

“We go at 10.”

You nod in response, still half asleep.

You shower and stand in front of your closet, pulling out clothes while water drips down from your hair. 

Just as you were about to grab a shirt you always wore, you spotted the Hybe shirt hanging in the back. 

You had gotten it on your first day with the guys, mainly because it was the company’s way of saying ‘congratulations’.

An idea pops into your head, so you grab it and pair it with basic sweats. You make sure to grab a mask too, knowing that none of the guys would wear masks.

You get dressed quickly, the cold Seoul air already thick inside your apartment.

You can hear the guys vaguely, although it was usually just Martin yelling something out.

You bring out your suitcase, rolling it out into the hallway. You curse under your breath, the air somehow much colder outside.

During the days you didn’t want to go to practice, you just stayed behind and cleaned your room.

The guys had already put their suitcases out, Keonho at the door checking something out on his phone.

He doesn’t notice you until your suitcase's wheels start rolling, making him look up from his phone.

He gives you a nod before spotting your shirt and mask in hand, which makes his thick eyebrows raise in confusion. You pretend to not notice. After a few seconds he walks slowly back into the dorm, probably to talk to Seonghyeon about something.

You go to the airport after an hour.

One thing that will catch anyone’s attention in Korea, are idols and their staff.

An idol could walk past and you’d maybe notice, but if you travelled with multiple staff that also happened to wear the company’s shirt, there was no doubt that everyone would notice you.

Especially when it’s the Hybe shirt.

“Hybe? The company BTS is in?”

“Are they staff members?”

“Who are those boys with them?”

“Quick! Take a photo.”

No one needed to know it was going to be a co-ed group, and you’d prefer it that way.

Even though your shirt was bringing attention, it wasn’t bringing attention to you.

You visit one of the restaurants, sitting down next to your manager. You ordered your own basket of fries while everyone else discussed something.

“What’s the first thing we should do when we get there?”

“Visit the beach again–although I’m not really sure what time we’ll get there.”

As they go on, you feel multiple stares from all around the place. A few even pull out their phones, recording the boys. 

They don’t talk to you at all.

They shouldn’t anyway, you’re supposed to just be staff.

You can already imagine the headlines though–‘BigHits new boygroup’ or ‘Stunning visuals from BigHit boys seen at the airport’.

You cringe, imagining all the article titles that they’d have.

You’re on the plane two hours later.

Thankfully, no one else was in the seats next to you, meaning that you didn’t have to share that tiny armrest with anyone else. That and the fact that if you dozed off, you wouldn’t have to experience that awkward romcom moment of falling asleep on someone’s shoulder.

LA is a hot place, you realise.

As soon as you landed, the air hit you like a truck, blowing your hair out immediately.

You comb it back down with your fingers, furrowing your eyebrows as the wind seems to push harder.

After grabbing your bags and getting through security, you finally see the familiar sight of LA.

You travel in two vans–Juhoon, James, and Martin travelling in one while you, Keonho, and Seonghyeon ride in the one behind.

Keonho holds up a camera, recording the houses you go past. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, but he’s probably more excited now because of the reason why you’re there now.

Seonghyeon and you had both decided to just listen to music, earbuds already popped into your ears.

You reach the rental in no time, a strange tiredness already washed over the group.

Your manager had already assigned room arrangements–Juhoon and Martin, Seonghyeon and James, Keonho and you.

You didn’t hate being around Keonho, and he didn’t exactly care either. Even though he absolutely hated being in your presence for the first few months, he eventually acknowledged the reality of the situation.

You just treated each other as the exact thing you were–coworkers.

You walk to your room with him, pushing your suitcase against the smooth floor. 

As soon as you walked inside, he asked you a question.

“Which bed do you want?”

You shrugged, too busy trying to fit the suitcase between the gap.

He thinks for a moment, placing his hand under his chin. “Then, rock-paper-scissors? Winner gets the one furthest from the door.”

You nodded, reaching your hand out.

A few months ago you probably never would've imagined doing this with him.

“Rock-paper-scissors, shoot!”

You look down–he played rock, you played paper. 

You won.

He didn’t look disappointed at all, and instead helped you push your suitcase next to your bed. The atmosphere was somehow light with him now, like you didn’t have to go out of your way to avoid him.

He seems to notice it too, looking a little bit more relaxed after you both set up whatever you needed for later that night.

Even though it was your first time sharing a room with a boy, not a single part of you felt nervous or scared.

The group didn’t do much that day–although the air around them seemed to be less tense.

Maybe it was because they were in LA, or maybe it was because they didn’t need to constantly be handed schedules, but you saw the way they just seemed happier here.

After showering and changing into actual sleeping clothes, you both sit on your beds, scrolling through whatever.

Then you hear the familiar sound of rain pattering against the window, soon followed by the familiar flashes of lightning. The lights had already been turned off at this point, so the flashes had caught your attention immediately.

You’re not someone who’s particularly scared of it, so you went back to scrolling.

Although, as the flashes of lightning and the sounds of thunder went on, the bed next to you kept shuffling.

You tried to ignore it for the most part, but after a whole minute the shuffling didn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon.

You looked over, finding Keonho staring at the curtains with his phone right up in his face. His phone illuminates his face, exposing the way his eyebrows were furrowed, and his bottom lip was caught in between his teeth. It’s like he’s waiting for something to hit.

He notices you staring quickly though, immediately turning his face back towards his phone.

You turn back to your phone, trying to ignore it.

But when another lightning flash strikes, he almost whimpers.

You were confused on what to do–you hadn't been around people long enough to the point where they could be scared of something, and even though you didn't want to say anything, you couldn't help but give in when you see his eyes completely shut, his expression scared and vulnerable.

“Keonho?” You find yourself suddenly asking.

You mumbled it out too fast and maybe too quiet because he doesn’t seem to hear you.

Although after a few beats of silence, he turns his head, his expression now looking a little bit more relaxed.

“Yeah?” He whispered.

“Are you scared of thunder?”

As soon as you said that, a loud clap sounded throughout the room, seeming to rattle the windows as the rain went on.

You don’t hear him respond, but the way he buries his head further into his blanket tells you everything you need to know.

After a few minutes, the thunder seems to settle, but the rain pattering hard tells you it won’t be over for a while.

You’re not sure how to comfort someone like Keonho. 

“Do you…want to listen to music?” You softly asked.

Again, he doesn’t respond.

Your cringe immediately. Why would you ask that? He won’t be able to sleep–

“Okay.”

His voice was so quiet you almost couldn’t hear it.

“Then…do you want my AirPods?”

Is that…the right thing to say?

You watch as he sits up, nodding slowly while also looking at the window once again.

You moved on autopilot, grabbing your AirPods out of your bag and holding them out to him.

He reaches out slowly, the blanket rustling as he moves his hand. His fingers softly grazed against yours, his warm touch seeming to linger even as you let go.

He grabs his phone immediately, putting your AirPods in both ears as he connects to them.

He seems to connect to them fast as soon after he pulls his blanket over himself once again, eyes closed and fully prepared to sleep with them in.

You go back to scrolling on your phone, noting the way he seemed to be much calmer.

“Thank you.” He suddenly mumbles.

It catches you by surprise, making your eyes widen. Shock spreads through your body faster than anything before.

“No problem.” You say as a sudden warmth spreads through your chest.

You push it down immediately, pulling your blanket over your head.

You wake up the next day to clear skies and your AirPods fully charged.

Again, the air is hot and humid as soon as you walk outside the room.

The living room is brighter than it should be, with the sun at every corner.

Despite such hot temperatures, the tiles are as cool as ever, pressing against the balls of your feet as you walk into the living room.

You think to yourself that you should’ve bought sunglasses before coming here, now you have to suffer the consequences of your eyes hurting at eight in the morning.

You look over to the side, finding James eating Buldak.

He has his eyes focused on something on his phone, presumably another Thai show.

You never really understood why the guys ate such random food in the mornings, although then again the company never exactly restricted them on that either.

You walk towards the kitchen.

Martin and Seonghyeon were already there, both pouring hot water into two separate pots.

Your manager was sitting down on the couch, on a call with someone while Keonho and Juhoon sat down on the floor, watching something on the TV.

You think maybe the trip won’t be bad after all.

You lied.

As with any trip, there were bound to be bad parts of it.

The recording for JoyRide was one of the worst.

Recording songs were fine, it just couldn’t be this song.

You all entered the familiar studio, although this time it was without any of the producers.

James handed you the lyrics sheet, gesturing for you to go inside.

All the guys tried to look indifferent, but you could tell even through the glass that they all looked upset.

Like they didn’t want to even be there.

Martin set his laptop up, not a single expression on his face.

You put the headphones on and flipped the pages over.

At every top right corner, words written in a bright pink highlighter catch your eyes immediately.

‘Seo Bo-Ra’s lyrics! Keonho don’t steal them >:(‘

It was written rushed each time, like they had written it all in one go, similar to how Kindergarteners would rewrite the same words over and over for a punishment.

You try your best to ignore it.

Each lyric that’s supposed to be yours are all annotated by that same pink highlight, tabs and random sticky notes already on it.

It’s clear that it was used and perfected over many times, and now you were there to replace those words with yours.

“I’ll start with the guide, then we’ll start recording.” Martin said.

You nodded, hearing the first few beats of JoyRide play through the headphones.

Keonho’s voice starts the track, although compared to now he sounded much more childish.

Then, Martin and James’ voice plays, their familiar tones over the pre-chorus.

Right after them, another voice starts singing.

It’s too soft and sweet to be yours, and it was clear that it was none of the guys’.

You narrow your eyes, feeling a misplaced guilt form in the bottom of your stomach.

Your eyes dart over to the other side of the glass, watching how each of the guys reacted.

Martin’s face is completely expressionless, but you don’t miss the way his hand tightens over the mixing board. Juhoon looks the exact same, his eyes looking anywhere in the room. Those two seemed to be the only ones affected, as James, Seonghyeon, and Keonho all looked like they couldn’t care less.

After listening to the guide once, Martin starts the recording.

You swallow the lumps forming in your throat before singing, looking down at the colour coded lyrics like it was supposed to protect you from the piercing glares that Martin was sending you.

The recording is done no less than five minutes later.

They weren’t the best takes, but every time they replayed your voice over a lyric that wasn’t yours, Martin and Juhoon looked like they could strangle you.

They’re both quick to leave, going outside to get some water. They don’t leave in some big dramatic fashion, but their clenched jaws and pained eyes are enough.

You walk out the booth, handing the sheet to James.

He doesn’t look up at you, but he doesn’t look entirely upset either.

“They’ll get over it.” He mumbled.

Seonghyeon and Keonho nod beside him, both looking down in their laps.

You don’t say anything in response.

It was just a matter of when.

©wukiyo. apologies for any mistakes! I hope you guys enjoyed this. I’m a little ashamed that I’m starting another series despite having like five others up 🥹 but I promise I’ll get to those soon!

Now, usually you would never be the type to be caught dead anywhere near that class, but to your divine misfortune, it was a mandatory elective that every class had to do.

“I just don’t get it.”

You had complained to your two friends, Stella and Ian as you sat in the large classroom (if you could even call it that).

It looked more like a theater hall, with instruments strung up on the wall like costumes. Students were spread around the room in their groups, either loudly singing and playing something, or talking like they had all the free time in the world.

“You don’t get what? Music?” Stella chuckled, an amused expression on her face. She crunches onto another chip, bringing her hand back into the packet even though she was still chewing.

“Kind of? I mean, obviously I like listening to it, but making it is a whole other process.”

Ian nods, seeming to agree with your statement. “I get that. Making music is hard when you’re not particularly passionate about it.”

“I guess.” Stella shrugs, only to open her mouth again when an idea strikes her mind. “If you’re really struggling just ask Martin.”

“Who?”

She responds to your question by turning around, presumably to look for this ‘Martin’ fellow.

When she does find him, she points and turns her head back around. “Him.”

You realise soon enough that it’s kind of hard to miss Martin.

He’s tall, with blonde hair that’s easy to spot in the sea of brown and black. Plus, you would be lying if you said you didn’t find him attractive.

He looked like every punk 2000’s guy–a studded belt (you were sure the school had already given him a detention for), painted nails, and those black studs stuck into his ear.

He looked cool.

He was cool.

“He’s kind of a genius when it comes to music. Although don’t expect anything else.” She adds begrudgingly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She thought that because he was so smart at music, he could tutor her for math.” Ian answered for her.

Stella huffs. “I failed the exam because of him.”

You look over, watching as he talks to his friends.

You think about it for a moment–it wouldn’t hurt to ask for a bit of help, but a part of you would rather rot away than ask for help in music composition.

“It’s fine, I think I’ll manage anyway. How hard could music composition even be? All you’re doing is arranging beats.”

It was, in fact, harder than you thought.

“42.” Your teacher says as she hands the marking paper back. “Not the lowest mark I’ve seen in this class, but at least you tried your best.”

You look dumbfounded as you look at her feedback–

‘Beat is incoherent. Too many bass lines.’

‘Drums are all over the place.’

‘Did you use the metronome like I said?’

Stella reaches out, looking at the paper.

She stifles a laugh and points at the feedback, showing it to Ian as you stared into space.

Failing a subject was bad enough, but failing music?

You would like to call yourself an avid listener of music, but that horrendous mark proved the exact opposite. If you couldn’t even understand basic scales and tones, how the hell were you ever supposed to pass this subject?

In the midst of your silent panic, Stella taps your shoulder with an incredulous laugh. “Hey, I think it’s time for you to ask Martin for help.”

Those words are how you find yourself in the cafeteria at exactly 11:37 in the morning.

Your uniform suddenly feels too big, you're too aware of the strange smell the food gives off, and your hands feel like they're sweating way too much.

All you’re doing is going up to a guy and asking for help.

So why is your body reacting like you’re about to ask him out?

Nonetheless, you take a deep breath and walk up.

He sits with his friends, loudly talking to them about something while everyone else just seems to ignore it.

You stand behind him, tapping his shoulder lightly.

For some reason you can feel your heartbeat thumping loudly in your chest, watching his back like it would do anything.

He whips his head around fast, a look of surprise on his face.

“Can I talk to you?”

The two boys who you recognise as Keonho and Seonghyeon look at you with the interest of a zoo photographer. They looked at each other with a smirk before immediately bursting out laughing, making you even more nervous.

Martin nodded, saying a quick ‘see you later’ to his friends before following you to the hallway.

Compared to two weeks ago, chains had replaced his belt, jangling against his pants.

“What did you wanna ask me?”

Suddenly you’re very aware of how tall he is, and how you basically had to crane your neck up to look at him.

His adams apple bobs up and down as he looks down at you, like he was the nervous one.

“I need your help with music.”

His right eyebrow raises slightly in surprise.

“Music? Uh, okay but why’d you ask me?”

“You’re the top student in it. Plus, Stella is busy with her student council stuff.”

He seems to accept that answer. “Okay then. Do you want me to like, tutor you? I can show you how scales and chord progression work, but you could really just go on youtube and search it up.”

“I deleted youtube.”

His eyebrows knit together. “Why?”

“Too many ads.”

Martin we can meet at my place i can teach you there properly

“I can’t believe the first time you spend one-on-one time with a boy is because you’re failing at music.” Ian had said to you after class, waiting as you locked your phone and packed up your books.

“Well it’s not like I want to date the guy.”

“Yet.”

You roll your eyes at her. “I don’t like the guy.”

“Right, and the sky is red. You can lie to others all the time but don’t act like you don’t find the guy attractive.” She folds her arms, like she fully caught you in a lie.

“Yeah because I want to shove my tongue down his throat.” You stick your tongue out, a small disgusted noise escaping your throat. “Just go to your reading club and leave me alone.” You joked.

She holds her palms up like a caught criminal. “Okayyy, but don’t blame me if you guys suddenly make out or something.”

It was only meant to be a fleeting comment, but for some reason, those words were burned into the back of your skull.

You walked her to her club room, saying a quick bye before walking out of the school’s gates.

He had already sent you the location to his place, which was surprisingly only a ten minute walk.

Once you had reached his place, you pressed the doorbell. You didn’t bother changing out of your uniform, seeing as he had already told you the session wouldn’t take long.

The small ring sounds across the whole house, making you curious as to what it looked like.

It was clear by the grass that his dad was probably one of those serious lawnheads, and the flowers around the door added a cute touch.

After a few seconds, the door roughly opens, revealing an out of breath Martin, like he had run down just to not keep you waiting.

“Hey, you can come in.”

You give him an awkward nod, taking off your shoes as the smell of vanilla envelopes you.

“My mum is kind of on another baking spree, so if you smell something sweet that’s probably just another one of her desserts.”

He had changed out of his school uniform, now in comfortable sweatpants and a hoodie. His hair wasn’t spiked up like it usually was, instead parts of it looking dampened like he had just showered.

You follow him around–family photos hang perfectly on the walls, making you curious as to what the tall boy once looked like.

You see a photo of him in a choir, then another where he was in Kindergarten. You have the slight urge to laugh at how adorable he used to look but decided against it.

In another photo, he holds a guitar that dwarfs him. A man who you assumed to be his dad stands next to him, holding up a rock hand sign.

Martin looks happy in the photo, a huge smile on his face while he almost caressed the instrument.

After a few seconds, he leads you straight to the kitchen.

“Martin! Taste this–oh hello!”

A sweet voice said from the counter. You look from behind Martin, finding a very nice woman with an apron covered in flour.

Even though she was just taller than you, it was clear how strong the Edwards’ Genes were.

“You didn’t tell me you were inviting someone! What’s your name?”

You tell her your name, feeling a little embarrassed as she ushers you to come taste some of her treats.

“These are what you teenagers call ‘Brookies’! I tried my brownie and cookie recipe, so hopefully you’ll like it.” She cuts a piece out of it, offering it to you on a pretty plate.

Martin doesn’t say anything, just seeming to wait around until his mother is finished.

After she hands you six more desserts, she pushes you towards Martin and tells you to go upstairs. 

“Don’t do anything stupid!”

Martin’s ears turned slightly red at her statement, but you were too busy eating her brookies (which were absolutely delicious) to notice.

You reach his room in no time–it was surprisingly clean, seeing how most teenage boys his age would at least have a couple of clothes on the floor.

You shiver, remembering the stories Stella told you about her exes.

He gestures for you to sit next to him on what you assumed was a small bench. His setup was surprisingly big too–two monitors and even the whole recording setup you would see in an artists booth.

“Uh, so what specifically do you need help with?”

You sighed, running your hands through your hair. “Just about everything.”

“Oh. So you’re pretty much hopeless?”

“Hey!” You lightly smack his shoulder. “I’m not hopeless, I just need more help than most people.”

He chuckles, the sound of his raspy voice suddenly sending a warmth up your neck.

“Okay, I guess I’ll teach you scales–these pretty much decide the mood of the song, depending on which notes you use of course. Uh, do you know the notes of a piano?”

You shake your head. “No, I don’t even know how to play that instrument.”

“…right. What’s your grade in this class again?”

“I got 42 in the last assignment.”

You can basically see his soul leaving his body.

“I’m so cooked…”

“You will be if you don’t help me! Just teach me how this works!”

He sighed. “Alright.”

To no one’s surprise, it took you two hours just to understand how scales worked. Although, during that time you had truly understood how good Martin really was.

He explained it in an easy way, even for someone who was completely clueless like you to understand. He was patient too, answering your questions with a calm and gentle voice that made you feel at ease.

Something you weren’t really surprised about was how loud he was the whole time.

If you got something right, he would clap loudly and cheer, his raspy voice bouncing off his poster-covered walls. If you or him made a mistake, he would loudly groan, running his hands through his hair in frustration.

You would never admit it, but you found that part of him endearing.

Every time he complimented you, a warmth would spread through your chest, making you feel almost embarrassed.

But you never stopped him.

He even showed you a few of his tracks, which in your opinion (although you don’t think it really mattered much to him) actually sounded really good.

“I don’t get how that took so long.” Martin mumbled.

“Well, not all of us were born with musical talent.” You say, chewing through another brookie while tweaking a track he wanted you to work on.

He told you that he intentionally messed up the chords, and wanted you to fix it into a ‘jazz’ piece.

It was a bit of an exercise, but it wasn’t that hard.

He shoots you an unimpressed look.

“Is that the last one?” He points to the dessert in your mouth.

“No, there’s two more.”

He leaned over, his arms just barely reaching the edge of the plate. You hadn’t noticed how close he had gotten, as you were too focused on what was on the screen.

After a few more replays, you decided it was good enough and turned your head in his direction.

Although as soon as you did, your lips met his.

The touch was so brief you almost couldn’t even tell it happened, but as soon as he flinched back and touched his lips, you knew.

Holy shit. You’ve just kissed Martin Edwards.

He turned red fast, the light coming from the computer making him look an odd shade of purple.

“Uhm, I’m sorry.” He quickly said, sliding himself to the edge of his bench. He dipped his head down, his expression completely hidden from you.

Oddly enough, you didn’t seem to care, like at all.

Although, that’s just what he thought.

Inside, every single muscle and bone inside your body felt like it was on fire.

“It’s fine. Uh,” you cleared your throat, rubbing the back of your neck. “Can you tell me if this sounds good?”

“Yeah, sure.” He went back to his original position, although this time he kept inching away as he listened to the track.

For some reason, the moment kept replaying in your head.

During that short moment, you had noticed the way his mouth was slightly parted, and how soft and plump his lips felt against yours.

Maybe it was because you hadn’t ever kissed anyone else in your teen years, but a part of you wanted to kiss him again.

You look over to the side–his jawline looked sharper in this lighting, and his hair fell over his face perfectly.

For some reason, you felt yourself missing how close he was.

At the end of the track, he nods in approval. “You fixed it up nicely. I don’t have many notes but do you want to try another one? Maybe rock or hiphop?”

He looks over to the side, making eye contact with you.

You snap your attention back to the screen, looking at the notes and bars staring at you.

“Uh, I think I can try hiphop.”

He nods shortly after that, checking his folders in case he already had something for you.

You look at the desserts, which were basically the whole reason why you felt this way in the first place.

They mocked you, staying perfectly still while that strange flush crawled up your neck to your cheeks.

Get yourself together! You didn’t even know he existed until two days ago!

After a few seconds of waiting, you snatch the plate up and offer them to him, almost forgetting that he wanted them in the first place.

He looks down at them, but he shakes his head.

“It’s fine, I already tasted them from you.”

You snap your head in his direction.

“Are you…teasing me?”

He doesn’t look at you, still looking at the screen. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

You don’t respond, too dumbfounded to even think of your next words.

A silence settles between the two of you, although surprisingly it doesn’t feel awkward.

After one more hour, you were finally done.

Even though your thoughts had gotten sidetracked, you had learned a lot from him.

“Thanks Martin. I really don’t know what I would do without you.” You say, putting your shoes on. “I promise I’ll repay you soon.”

Even though the connotation behind those words were innocent, you can’t help but look up to see his expression.

His eyebrows had slightly raised at that sentence, sending the butterflies in your stomach in a frenzy. “Why not repay me now?”

“Huh?”

He chuckles at your expression. “It’s not anything bad.”

He leans down to your height, his cheek directly in front of your face.

“Just a kiss.”

Your mind goes blank.

Seriously? Martin Edwards was asking you for a kiss on the cheek.

You wanted to hit him in the face, but another part of you wanted to comply.

“Well?” His voice snaps you out of it.

Now, you weren’t sure what thoughts led you to doing the next few actions (you probably weren’t even thinking of anything), but you reach up and grab his jaw, twisting his head to make him face you.

You then leaned in and pressed your lips against his, hard.

Fuck, you were really doing this.

You shut your eyes fast, not wanting to see his expression. Your other hand snaked up into the back of his neck, pushing him further into the kiss.

A surprised noise escaped from his mouth.

You pressed harder.

He leaned into it, placing his hands on your waist. 

He pulled you against his chest, his thumb rubbing against the material of the uniform. He kissed you like he had been waiting for it for years, the touch of his lips warm and filled with need.

He smelled perfect, a deep but gentle musk that made you almost want more.

You stay in that pose for the next few seconds before parting, roughly pushing him away.

“Bye, Martin.” You breathed out, turning around before he could say anything else.

You could feel the warmth in your cheeks more clearly now, your head still full of the feel of his lips.

You had just walked a few strides away when you looked back around, finding him standing completely still at the doorway.

He looked completely red, his hands held out in front of him like he was missing something. 

For the first time that night, Martin was silent.

You chuckled, the cool night air calming your nerves.

You stand in a sea of black clothing, expressionless faces standing everywhere.

You’re not sure why the family has decided to hold the funeral at a church, considering the fact that they were all devout atheists, but maybe a part of them hopes that their sweet girl can go to heaven.

Not a single face in the crowd looks even the tiniest bit remorseful. 

No one actually cares about the person who died.

You can imagine all their thoughts–

What am I gonna eat after this..

Can they hurry up?

This is so boring…

Cruel, right?

So why do you not feel a single ounce of empathy at all?

Your eyes sweep over the altar, finding the open coffin laid out for everyone to see.

No one’s even looking at the girl who lays inside.

Her face is paler than usual, and her hair laid out around her like a veil. They dressed her up in a long black dress, with a bundle of lilies placed on her chest.

The girl's family stood off to the side, premium silk handkerchiefs held up to their faces. They all look distraught except her father–his stoic face unreadable. He stands with a straight posture, hands clasped out in front of him and only moving when his wife needs something.

Once the piece has ended, the Pastor walks to the podium, giving a passionate religious message about peace and hope.

The person next to you has adjusted his tie 19 times in just 30 minutes, muttering about whether it was too tight or too loose. No one stops him, all too bored to care.

You tune it all out, looking over at the pastor again.

Everyone knows he’s corrupt, but no one seems to bat an eye even as he continues to preach the word of God.

You stare at the state of Jesus behind the pastor, wondering what his expression would like if he were here.

No one here is innocent of their sins, and not a single one is repentant about it.

When they close the coffin, the cries from the girl's family become even louder, her mother dropping to her knees in front of it.

The service is over in an hour, everyone leaving silently.

The minute you step outside, the scene changes.

Instead of sorrowful cries, laughter and chatter surround you. It doesn’t feel like you’ve just exited a funeral, it feels like you’ve just walked into some loud school exhibition.

You hear conversations all around you–

“Bro, that took way too long.”

“They don’t even care about her–what’s the point of holding a big funeral service?”

“It’s more of a favour from the pastor. Julie said that her mother wanted to get closer to the chairman…”

Your friend, Moon Sayeon, finds you immediately. She takes off her veil headpiece, scratching the parts of her head that were irritating her.

“Fuck. My feet hurt so bad from standing so long.” She mutters, intertwining her right arm for your left.

Your heels clack against the pavement, the sound following you as everyone walks off into their cars.

“Oh look, there’s that sad sister of hers.” She points off to the side, your gaze landing on a girl dressed in bright pink. The girl looks at the church with a frown, leaning on her car while talking to her assistant in a harsh tone.

Sayeon chuckles next to you, now taking off her Christian Louboutins she swore she needed for the funeral. “I don’t get why she even showed up. She didn’t care about her sister before, why would she care about her now?”

You walk over to Sayeon’s car, her chauffeur opening the door for both of you.

You give him a nod before sitting down gracefully into a seat, while Sayeon gives her heels over to her assistant.

“Are you glad she’s dead?” She suddenly asks, dropping down next to you with a relaxed sigh. She begins to take out her makeup bag, quietly complaining about how cakey her makeup got.

“Are you?”

“Of course I am, but you don’t look sad at all.” She glances over at you, wiping off the red lipstick her mother forced her to wear. “It’s better she’s dead now.”

The car starts to move, making you look out the window, finding kids from your school still standing outside. One of them is even celebrating, pulling out wine glasses from his limo and giving them to everyone around.

“To her death!” You hear muted from the window. The students cheer, clinking their glasses together before drinking every last drop.

“Now that’s just uncouth.” You hear Sayeon click her tongue.

You look back at the church one more time.

It stands in its solid ground, fancy and elegant. Too much money has been spent on it not to be used, and too many prayers have been said inside not to be heard.

Well, just as the Romans say: Mors vincit omnia.

The janitor was the first to report it.

No one expected it, especially the smell of rotting flesh lying around on the gym floors. The weather had completely cooked up everything inside the gym, making the entire place feel hot and sticky.

It wasn’t even the body that smelled so bad–the murderer had written on the gym walls with pigs blood.

Surprisingly, the security guards hadn’t noticed a single thing, not even the perpetrator writing the big words: ‘ALEA IACTA EST’.

Most were confused, and it honestly sparked more conversation rather than Na Kyung-Hee, the third daughter of the chairman of Myunsung Motors, dead on the floor.

No one cared, not even her own best friends who just walked away, complaining about the smell.

The police had closed the gym for investigation, but because of the scandal, the ‘murder’ was spread out as a suicide.

You had arrived just as the morning assembly was supposed to start, so imagine your confusion when you find nearly half the school trying to look into the taped area. The policemen had stood right at the edges, stopping anyone who tried to look too far over the tape.

Reporters had already been waiting outside, trying to desperately find any new piece of information to feed their audience.

Her body was spread out like she had fallen from a tall building, her legs awkwardly posed under her. Her arms were spread out, and for some odd reason, she was still in her school uniform. You could see from afar that her eyes were wide open, like she had died with shock.

Her own blood surrounded her, her blazer and skirt completely soaked in it.

You couldn’t feel anything.

Everyone just assumed that she was killed, but because the police had taped off the crime scene so far out of the gym, no one could truly tell what the cause of death was.

Murmurs had spread around the school fast, some actually believing that she actually tried to kill herself, while others decided to make up horror stories.

The police decided to take the witness statements an hour later.

They were all over the place–some were saying they spotted her leaving and others had said that they saw her staying behind.

But, no one could actually take the interviews seriously.

You remembered waiting outside one of the English classrooms, hearing muffled laughter and excited words from the guys while the detectives tried to be professional.

“Hey, you can tell me if she killed herself.”

“Myung-Jae, please answer the question.”

“Hey, don’t be like that! Come on, I have seven million won on this! You can’t expect me to lose!”

You tried to tune it out, focusing on something random.

Na Kyung-Hee, a 15 year old girl with too much power who somehow ended up dead in a school gym.

With her background–the youngest of three children, rich background with little to no attention from parents–you would mostly just expect her to be a snobby rich kid.

She was loud and obnoxious with little to no care of what others thought of her.

She hung out with two friends–Lim Hwa-Young and Ha Soo-Jin.

The three were inseparable despite always talking behind each other's backs.

They found out how much power they held soon enough, when they had demanded a student to strip in front of their class and threatened to have their family’s business shut down if they didn’t.

The photos and videos were out soon enough, but the three’s faces were always blurred out. 

They found new victims everyday, but they only ever stuck to the people who were ‘below’ them.

Kyung-Hee was the worst of them all.

She found victims from all over the place.

One time, she had blackmailed a boy with his sister's nudes, and repeatedly sexually assaulted him. He didn’t go to your school so the rumours were limited, but everyone knew of it. She would record her ‘escapades’ with him, even downright drugging him when he refused. No one knew what she did with the recordings, but he ended up dropping out of his school.

Another time, she bullied a girl to suicide.

This time the details were everywhere–she branded her with hot metal, the word ‘slut’ burned at the back of her thigh. She would force her to be a servant, and every time the girl did something wrong she would waterboard her at the school pool, and every time she gained consciousness, they would do it all over again, the vicious cycle restarting.

No one did anything.

Not even when the girl’s screams echoed through the hallways every single day, not even when she would get down in front of her knees, begging for help.

Everyone would ignore her each time.

Including you.

Should people have done something?

Yes.

Was that responsibility going to fall on your shoulders?

…

No.

Even if you wanted to, the chairman always covered up Kyung-hee’s actions, not even bothering to acknowledge what she did before paying off the principal with another kind donation.

The injustice was enough to have people clenching their fists, but just like everything else in life, they got over it quickly enough.

No one went to the girl's funeral because she was too poor to have one.

The real cause of Kyung-hee’s death was buried beneath excuses from the police and the fake autopsy papers the chairman somehow spread.

In truth, Na Kyung-hee was a coward, hiding behind the power of her father to pretend she was actually someone outside of her last name.

No one was allowed to say it, but everyone knew she would never be able to kill herself.

When it came to your turn, you couldn’t say a single thing.

“Were you close with her?”

“No.”

“Then, do you know anyone close to her? Other than Hwa-young and Soo-jin of course.”

You shake your head. “No.”

The two detectives sigh. “Okay. Before you go, do you know anyone named Park Woojin?”

You blink. “No, I’m sorry.”

The detective on the right sighs, bringing his fist onto the table with a loud ‘bang!’.

“Okay. Thank you for your time.” The detective on the left offers you a polite smile, but the tight grip on his pen offers you no comfort.

You nod, walking out of the room in a few strides.

Sayeon was waiting at the school’s front doors, leaning against the wall and scrolling through her phone when she spotted you walking out.

“The guys in my class kept talking about some bet.” She says, shoving her phone into her bag. “None of the detectives would say anything though, so they just kept the money out for some other thing.”

She walked you to your father’s car, waving to him as soon as you got close. He spotted her, flashing her a quick smile.

“Mina is throwing a party for Kyung-hee tonight, something about a celebration of her life. Wanna come?”

You shake your head while opening the door. “It’s too last-minute. My mother would refuse.”

“Okay,” she sang. “See you tomorrow then, if I’m not too hungover.”

You nodded, waving goodbye as soon as you closed the door behind you.

She waved back eagerly, giving you a big dramatic air-kiss before walking to her limousine. You chuckled at her actions while setting your bag down beside you.

“How were the interviews?” Your father suddenly asks, his deep voice reverberating through the car.

Your father is a man with enough money to not care about a single thing in the world, and yet he still drives you home. You’re not sure if it’s because he cares about you, or because he’s bored.

After all, he was never one to care about his family.

“They were fine.” You looked out the window, the sun setting the sky into a beautiful orange.

He hums, not bothering to ask any more questions.

You don’t know what to think about Na Kyung-Hee.

You’re not sure what to think about her pleasure in torturing others, and you certainly wouldn’t know what to say about her death.

Some would be happy, some would be sad, and yet you don’t feel a single thing.

The only thing you were left with was questions.

Questions about who could’ve been behind it, why they did it in the middle of the year, and how they did it.

You recall the ominous message on the wall–what did it mean?

Was Kyung-hee’s death supposed to be a warning or a message?

What was their goal?

And, were they going to kill any more?

Your eyes snap open to a dark classroom.

The sky had already fallen almost jet-black, the moon illuminating whatever it could. 

Dark blue light encroached the room, the desks reflecting back the cool lighting. Shadows had completely covered the floor, making it almost difficult to see anything in front of your desk.

Shit, you were still at school.

Your parents were out for a business trip, so for that whole week someone else was supposed to be picking you up. Sayeon hadn’t shown up because her parents decided to bring her along for a small day trip to Fiji.

None of your classmates had bothered to wake you up. 

You don’t blame them.

You sit up, looking around stiffly.

Everyone had obviously left for the day, and it was still too early for the security guards to start their rounds.

You were all alone.

A cold wind blew in through the open windows, the opaque curtains beginning to flow through the air. 

A chill sent down your spine.

You grab your bag off the hook, rushing out of the classroom. 

You slide open the door–

Silence.

Everything feels too still and too quiet. 

The hallway lights are completely off, the shadows crawling onto the walls and floors.

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the way your heart had slightly sped up.

It’s fine.

You take a few steps forward, following the same path you took everyday after school–through the hallways and down the stairs.

Your shoes thud against the floor with an echo, filling up the still air.

You keep your arms to your sides, your fingers brushing against the hem of your skirt.

Your blazer doesn’t do anything to keep you warm, instead almost letting the cold air freeze you.

You keep your eyes wide open, too alarmed to let them blink.

Then, you heard it.

Footsteps.

The sound was unmistakable.

Too heavy to be yours, and too slow for the security guards.

You almost froze.

You kept your ears open, trying to figure out where they were.

They took another step.

…

They were behind you.

You sped over to the stairs, trying to keep your footsteps quiet.

If they had heard you, they didn’t let you know.

They didn’t say a single word, not even a whisper escaping them.

Somehow, that made it worse.

You walked down quickly, your breathing quickening when you reached the fourth floor.

Fuck, why did the school need to have so many stairs?

You bit your lip, walking down the similar hallway once again.

Your school’s layout was simple, but at this time very annoying. If you wanted to reach the third floor, you would have to walk all the way over to the other end of the hallway and walk down the stairs, and then do it all over again until you reached the first floor.

You heard the footsteps again.

This time, they were quicker.

And they were on the stairs now.

Your eyes widened.

They knew you were here.

You let out a sharp intake of breath before speeding off, not caring if they heard you anymore.

Your bag swung loosely over your shoulder, hitting your rib in a dull way that irritated your skin.

You didn’t care though.

You sped up again, almost running at this point.

They sped up too, their footsteps echoing louder than yours.

Your heartbeat sped up again, and your breathing had turned erratic. You could barely hear anything except the loud thumping in your ears.

You ran down the third and second floors, not looking up once to see who it was.

Your mind was running faster than ever, forcing you to think of solutions in case you got caught.

You ran and ran, your footsteps echoing loudly behind you. You cringed every time your shoes hit the floor.

You reached the first floor, panting as you ran to the school’s doors.

You let out a sigh of relief.

But it was too early to celebrate.

You reached out, your fingers enclosing around the handle.

Your heart drops.

It was locked.

You panic, trying to push it open like it was going to do anything. Dread seeps into your gut like blood on sheets, each helpless tug against the door making it worse.

Just as you were about to start banging on the door, cold icy fingers wrap around your wrist.

You gasp.

“What are you doing?”

A deep voice cuts into your thinking.

You almost screamed.

“There was a–“ you pause. 

The footsteps were gone.

It didn’t make sense–just five seconds ago, they were banging against the floor louder than anything you could imagine.

But now, you couldn’t hear a single thing other than your ragged breathing.

You look over, finding the person who had a vice-grip on your wrist.

His pale but supple skin reflected off the moonlight, his dull eyes boring into yours. His hair curled over his neck and eyes, framing his face too perfectly. The school uniform fitted him completely, like he simply belonged in it.

You eye his name tag–‘Kim Juhoon’.

“What are you doing?” He repeated.

Shit.

You can’t tell him you heard footsteps. 

You can’t tell him that you were getting chased through the school.

He wouldn’t believe you anyway.

You swallow the lump in your throat, putting on that mask you always wore around people. “I just slept for a few hours. I was just trying to get out.”

He looks you up and down, scrutinising your almost disheveled appearance.

“I have the key.” He simply says, letting go of your wrist.

You calmed down, tucking a few loose hairs behind your ear as he pulled out the key for the door.

Why a rich school still needs a key for the doors you don’t know, but you’re glad he has it.

He opens the door for you, letting you pass.

“Wait.”

You still, finding his cold hand wrapped around your wrist once again.

“You didn’t…see anything did you?” He hesitantly asked, his eyebrows twitching slightly.

Your eyes widen a fraction of an inch.

A cool breeze sweeps over the school entrance, brushing up against the back of your legs.

“What?”

Was he…involved in anything?

He shakes his head, seeming to realise that asking was a mistake. “Nevermind.” 

“Just don’t stay so late.”

You tilt your head. “But…you’re here?”

“I’m part of the school council, sometimes I have to be here.”

It made sense.

It should’ve.

But the distrust in you was growing bigger every second you stayed longer.

“Okay.”

You turned, ignoring the obvious excuse.

You can’t involve yourself.

You can’t.

He nodded, closing the door behind you. You look at him through the glass, his dreary gaze still peering out.

He looked like a ghost.

You wake up with your phone ringing next to your ear.

“What?” You groaned out.

“Get to school. Now.” Sayeon’s voice cracked through the phone speaker, horror and confusion in her tone.

“Huh?”

“Just get to school!” She hangs up, the ringtone beeping right after.

You were left even more stunned.

What the hell is happening?

Sayeon never sounded that panicked for anything.

And she certainly wouldn’t have called you so early in the morning if it wasn’t serious.

You arrive at the school 20 minutes later, finding Sayeon already waiting at the drop-off area.

As soon as you exited the car, she pulled you along, dragging you harshly as you walked through the entrance.

“What is happening?” You try to ask, only to be ignored as she guides you roughly through the hallways. While she drags you through, you’re reminded of everything that transpired last night.

The footsteps, the rush of adrenaline, and the boy.

You stay quiet.

The hallways are eerily empty, even at this time in the morning.

When she leads you to the school pool, it all starts to make sense.

Almost everyone was gathered there, holding out their phones while talking loudly.

Everyone is at the edge of the pool, whispering and talking about what was in it.

Sayeon walks both of you to the front, creating a clear pathway that lets you see what was inside.

Your stomach churns.

Right in the middle of the pool was the vice-principal’s son.

With a knife stabbed through his heart.

©wukiyo Mors vincit omnia: death conquers all. Alea iacta est: the die is cast.

I hope you guys liked this! It’s my first time trying to write anything thriller/horror related lol.