Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
I always try to keep calm on the outside, easy going—but the more famous our group gets, the harder it is to maintain the illusion. The carefully crafted persona the world sees. And with our success comes more work, more comebacks we have to do, which basically means if our album sales skyrocket—which they have been, then we have to release a song in between comebacks. And I just learned, thanks to our label, we have to work on another comeback for the winter.
It’s only been two months since our last comeback and all the drama that came with it—also known as our intern falling in love with Lucas, one of our main rappers. Lucas made the scandal even crazier by going to the press and letting them know that him and our lead singer, Rae, were actually half-brothers.
And he didn’t stop there. He also committed the cardinal K-pop sin—he not only got into a relationship with someone who worked for him—but he kissed her on live TV. Neither of them planned it and though it was a bold move and could have cost us a lot, I was happy for both of them and literally thought to myself, well that’s it, we’re done here, people are going to burn our albums and cancel us in the process.
Our international fans for the most part were thrilled, but the netizens or keyboard warriors in Korea had mixed feelings about how it might take him away from SWT.
In the end, it all worked out, album sales skyrocketed past six million in less than three weeks and airports were filled with rabid fans all thinking, hey if she can land someone from SWT, we all can. Must be so easy.
So, it backfired in an epic, no longer can even walk down the street, sort of way.
I was a guy that liked at least a little bit of freedom, even if it meant going for Ramen or just taking a walk in the park.
But now? The only way to express myself is through tattoos and music. And truthfully, being forced to be creative takes the fun out of actually being creative.
I keep this sentiment to myself.
I smile for the cameras, I play the “innocent” role that the company gave me. It’s my job as the Maknae or youngest of the group to be as pure as the driven snow.
What a joke that is.
So far, I’ve avoided scandal, but I guess that’s been easy because there’s only one girl that haunts me every hour of the day. I can’t stop thinking about her. God knows I’ve tried, but she’s my kryptonite—the only girl capable of drowning me-—willingly.
I put on a hat, sunglasses, a black face mask, pull my grey hoody over my hat, and look at myself in the mirror. Good enough. I’m wearing ripped jeans, nothing designer, and an old pair of black Converse.
The worst idea would be to just sprint out of the dorms in Celine, Dolce, Supreme—anything that looks expensive.
I walk over and knock on Rae’s studio door. “Yeah?” He looks over his shoulder, his hair is dyed a bright platinum again, he has bags under his eyes though, he’s already writing, planning, producing for us like he tirelessly does. “You going somewhere?”
“Yeah, I’ll be careful and make it back by curfew I just”—I shrug.—“never mind. Just need some time to think about some songs I can write later.”
I know he can see through my lies but he lets it go. He’s too perceptive, but luckily right now since he’s so focused on our Winter album and he’s only got the emotional bandwidth for writing and getting our tracks ready. We all pitch in, but he’s the mastermind when it comes to the sound we should go with for each comeback.
He looks back at the computer, then his phone, nods his head, and I know I’m good.
I leave, because I know he’s the type to think it through and then be like, what? Where are you going? Do you have your find a friend on? And right now, I don’t want it.
Do I even have a friend outside of this world other than her?
Do I?
And if I even did—would they ever find me, outside of my band, outside of those close people I’m allowed to spend my days with?
I take the stairs two at a time and get on the elevator and go to the basement level, then slowly walk up the street.
It’s weird when you’re an idol. It’s lonely. Everything is so normal around you, the universe just keeps going, the world keeps spinning, things just happen, and yet you’re stuck in this world that nobody but those in it can understand. And the stress, the unbelievable stress that you’re not allowed to talk about.
And it’s not just that, it’s not that you can’t say you’re sad or anxious, it’s that if you show anyone that things are hard you jeopardize your company, or maybe even yourself for being weak.