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“Ladies and gentlemen, Byun Baekhyun!”

The announcer’s voice managed to boom over the screaming crowd in the concert venue. As the platform I was standing on began to rise onto the stage, I began to sing and strum my electric guitar to my latest song, Starstruck.

“Every girl, every boy, they got your posters on their walls,” I sang, a large grin on my face.

I loved performing. The excited pulse of energy, the loud shouts of the crowd, the adoring looks on every face as they watched me. Nothing made me happier.

I flashed a smile at the girls in the front row as I sing, and I saw them lose their heads, shrieking even louder. At the lyrics, “As soon as you move,” I stopped playing the guitar, took the microphone into my hand, and walked towards the edge of the stage to crouch near the fans who went crazy over my fan service.

God, I loved performing.

I almost groaned and rolled my eyes when I entered the living room and saw my older sister, Hyunjin, watching that stupid Baekhyun boy perform on the TV again.

“I just love Byun Baekhyun,” I heard her sigh.

Just to annoy her, I walked to the TV and stood in front of it, blocking her view. She tried leaning right and left without actually moving from her spot on the couch, but when she realized she still couldn’t see the stupid Baekhyun guy, she whined, “Eunsung!”

I turned around, feigning innocence. “Oh, I’m sorry, Hyunjin. Am I blocking your view of what’s his name?”

“Mmm-hmm,” she said sweetly, nodding, before her smile dropped. “Move it or lose it, sister.” Her finger went across her neck threateningly to indicate that’s what she’d do to me if I didn’t do what she wanted. I just rolled my eyes and moved to the kitchen.

That’s when my parents entered, my dad with suitcases and my mom with the laundry.

“Hyunjin, Eunsung, suitcases,” my dad reminded us.

“Come pick out your clothes and get packed,” my mom added. She dropped the laundry basket next to my sister on the couch. “We’re leaving for the airport right after school tomorrow.”

My sister let out a squeal of excitement before going through the basket. I watched with distaste as she lifted articles of clothes, my clothes, one at a time before dropping them onto the ground with a judgmental “ew” each time.

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