It was time to take flight.

The skies were starting to lighten with the very dawn of sunrise. The street lamps slowly turned off. The array of vehicles were starting to flow increasingly through the street above him.

The cold wind of approaching winter caressed his skin, urging him to wear his sweater, but he remained motionless. He didn’t think that was necessary, not before this time anyways. His black parka, smaller than anyone else’s in the band, was left unattended at the back of the stage, while everyone celebrated the success of yet another feat, neglecting his very absence.

s thought after another tiring day, he just wanted rest from the noisy crowd. Yes, it was his usual routine; to go somewhere else quiet to recuperate from the hype of the past several days leading to today. Away from the nosy reporters digging into his personal self, deliberately biting at the edge of his tolerance. Away from the screaming supporters, whose fluorescent boards beg for attention, worshipping him like he was the fourth person on the Holy Trinity.

Also, away from the staff, greeting Good efforts for the umpteenth time. It has became unbearable to hear them say it out of courtesy, with no sincerity in the cup of encouragement. His manager was away too; that tyrant who devoted his life into making the idol successful, but unbeknown to him, pushing his limits.

He was thankful that no one noticed his leave.

When he opened the white door, he smiled. The air here was so much fresher than that downstairs. It felt less stuffy, less suffocating. Just as he desired, the rooftop was quiet, was empty.

He then walked to the edge of the rooftop and used his arm to push himself up across the railing, ignoring the Danger! No Climbing! sign. Then, he plopped himself on the edge of the building, looking into the horizon.

The metropolis city of Seoul was beautiful. Having grown up in the second largest city of the Republic of Korea, this was almost a similarly spectacular view he had lived with. Up here in this rooftop, he has always been here to cool himself down. He would let out the scream of stress up here once in a while, with the leader he looked up to, who loved him like he was his little brother. He would also come up here to play with his dongsaengs1, entertaining them. This place holds so much fond memories, and it will cease to be part of his life after this.

He inhaled deeply and started to close his eyes. There, in his mental vision, he saw so many scenes of his life leading up to today.

He visualised himself on stage, smiling widely, to the extent his eyes was almost closed. Next to s whose builds were greater than his, so they casually put their arms on him. He often try to scoot to the side so he doesn’t have to gain too much attention. He wants this off - the costume, the makeup, the personality he had to assume. The role of being someone older than half the band, it was difficult to bear.

He also saw himself sitting at the dance studio, on the soft wood that was already warm and tattered by the amount of footsteps. In front of him is the mirror, which reflected the green walls behind him and himself. He was panting, his cheeks were red from all the work, and his shirt was dampened by the sweat. There was only one light that shone from the ceiling, and it created a spot for him to sit under. s were gone; they had left him alone after a tiring punishment. He was there, reflecting on what has gone wrong, and what could be done better.

He then see himself on the outside of the recording studio, watching s record. At every bit he was dissatisfied of, he would push on the red button and stop . He would tell them how they needed to push their vocals a bit higher, use a rougher tone, sing more sincerely, and more. Over time, the mood would sour as he finds flaws, but what they never knew was that he had taken this worse than them.

He saw himself at the recording studio again, testing his music. His mentor was beside him, eyes like a hawk, ears sharp and sensitive. For every mistake he made, he would be asked to revise everything from the top. Whenever he felt the glory, the pride, of finally making sense out of a 4-minute melody, he would be criticised for what he did by his mentor.

The sight replicated itself in his mind, that moment he had to stand on the side of the wall, waiting for his seniors to get down from the stage. He too, had to say those meaningless Good effort. They were equally out of courtesy, lack of sincerity, and out to just make themselves look good. Some seniors would greet back, but some would walk past them wordlessly, condescendingly shrugging their greetings aside. They were doing all this for the sake of getting into the good books of the society. However, it seemed like there was a long way to go for a rookie.

He recalled himself at the make-up studio. For the first time he dyed his hair, he was fascinated by the very fact of his hair colour changing. He was flabbergasted at the striking colour he has to put on. He wasn’t exceptionally famous, but he had to stand out. The striking colour was in stark contrast with the hair of other members. When he was done, s loved to his hair, lovingly and out of fascination.

Apart from his hair, there was the photoshoot. A simple white background, yet a completely foreign atmosphere. He had to smile into the camera, and try to look good. He was asked to do poses he was uncomfortable with, for it was the first time, and the cameraman praised him. At times, he was allowed to get a sip of water, and look at himself from the camera. He was also caked with makeup, so much that it was obstructing the very ability of his skin to breathe. The coordinator noona was busy taking measurements, often asking him whether he would grow anymore. Some of them would argue that he was adorable that way, but honestly to him, it didn’t matter. Music was his life, and nothing else mattered.

Then, he remembered himself all the way at the beginning of this event. The day when he finally confessed to his parents about wanting to be a singer. It was that very day that he received his first slap from his father, who had loved him so gently throughout his life. The rage on his father’s face, the disappointment in his mother’s kind eyes; they felt so foreign to him. He regretted saying it, completely, but had not felt it then. He was so determined to show his parents, who wanted him to be a lawyer, that he could be as successful too. Now, all he wanted is to return to them, his sanctuary, his haven.

Reminiscing himself embarking on the day where he would live his dream - audition day. He was extremely nervous, his heart palpitating like nobody’s business, and its speed could put a heart attack pale in comparison. He walked up to the judges, whose faces were all stoic, and he started to sing his heart out. Some judges smiled pleasantly, while some continued to scribble down notes.

Then, he see himself, three months later, walking into that same building again. This time, he sat at the director’s table, one-to-one, with the CEO. The now-old man was smiling kindly, holding the paper to him. The Contract. It could simply bind him into this job. Back then, he had excitedly signed it, mentally prepared for the things he would be going through for the next 10 years. However, thinking back to that very day several years ago, he should have not signed it. It was because of that his life has come to this point.

He see himself having another day’s rest at night, and it was always uncomfortable. Nights after nights, he has been planning of when to take flight. s, beside him, the tallest of the lot, and above him on the top bunk, would be mindlessly sleeping their weariness away. The dorm would be filled with people nonchalant to his plight, to his desire to find quietness, solitude, and ultimately, the time to take flight.

He then opened his eyes, and could see the sun in full view ahead of him. It is now ten o’clock. The bustling street below him is now filled with cars of different colours, and full of people going in and out buildings. It was almost time the people noticed his absence, of his long hours of disappearance.

He now stood up, dangerously on the edge of the 24-storey building. He thought about the things he had been through, and the people he would be leaving behind. He thought about the things he regretted, and the things he would regret missing out in future. However, all this didn’t matter anymore. Like a thin string supporting a heavy weight, suspended in the tension of its life. A little bit more, and it would break.

He stretched out his hands like an eagle’s wings. He inhaled one last time, taking in his final breath. From now onwards, he isn’t who he is anymore. He wouldn’t need to go through this anymore.

He lifted his right foot and took a step into air. And off he goes.

It was time to take flight.

-

1dongsaeng - younger sibling

Picture credits to Google, dusanoutofoffice.eu

Author's note:

Hooray! Done with this thing!

I honestly spent so much time trying to decide how to describe this member. To be honest, it was more difficult than it seemed! Who do you think it was? Leave your guess on who's the main character in the comments section!

It's a really short piece, I admit. I was having my writer's block, and at the same time I was writing my other fanfic, Friends. It was really difficult to twist the story into the perspective of an idol because I'm not one, and I was foreign to the member I was writing about. To be honest, I made it super obvious (I can't hide things lol). 

Enjoy! Do comment, subcribe, upvote and anything possible to show your support! Thank you ^_^

~ Grace