Cheolmin

Cheolmin was seriously considering becoming a journalist. He was amazing at making up headlines, so the only thing left was to learn how to actually write and do whatever it was that journalists do.

“Arora’s manager in the hospital after being attacked by crazed fans.”

“Arora’s manager murders the entire group and escapes through North Korean border.”

“Arora’s manager found dead after rampaging CEO eats him alive.”

All of those were quite good, he had to admit. He was glad he had this skill under his sleeve. After all, he was going to need to look for a new job after the end of this conference.

Hitman Bang was trying to penetrate his defenses with the Bang Death Stare for half an hour now, but this time his attempts were met with some resistance - Cheolmin has consume two shots of soju with Taehee before going in. He figured that if he was going to be fired, he might as well have some fun before gets down. He had to admit, though, that he had miscalculated. Two shots were really not enough.

Meanwhile, that damn fatass of an executive continued.

“... And on top of all let two underage girls into one of those parties! How can you expect someone like him to manage a group?”

If Taehee was here, he would’ve probably defended him, would’ve said that it was his fault he didn’t understand Cheolmin’s word correctly and only forbade Arora’s maknae from attending. Thank god he wasn’t there. Cheolmin had plans for him. He didn’t need to get caught between the crossfires.

Bang Sihyuk apparently still tried to set him on fire with his stare. “Cheolmin?”

“That accusation in particular was an honest mistake.” And he had definitely paid the price for it. His beautiful, beautiful shoes. He still shuddered at the memory. “But the other things you accuse me of… In what ing world do they make sense!?”

Sihyuk sent him a look - one that told him to behave. Once again Cheolmin had to remind himself that there was difference between his private chats with the CEO and actual conferences with the staff.

He took a deep breath, but then immediately regretted his decisions. He hoped no one could smell the soju.

“You accuse me - not for the first time, might I add - of Arora’s failed debut. Do tell, why do you think it was my fault?”

“You are their manager, Park Cheolmin - “

“Yes, I’m their manager. Not a wizard. You gave me three months to develop a plan for a debut and prepare eight girls to be able to perform as one group. In three months. I said multiple times that they won’t be ready. That it wasn’t possible to prepare a group this big for a debut in three months. I was ignored. And here we are now.”

Silence followed. Cheolmin could only watch smugly as all ten people present just stared. Until Bang Sihyuk spoke.

“Do you know who you sound like?” Once again, the Bang Death Stare was activated. This time it was much more effective. “GLAM’s manager.”

Not that again.

“Seriously?”

The CEO ignored the sarcasm in his voice. “Arora’s debut might have flopped, but we can’t ignore the bright sides of the ordeal. It could’ve been much worse. Their song charted quite well, and though they didn’t sell as much as we hoped, they still got recognition - much more recognition than they would’ve gotten if the debut would’ve taken place late.”

Complete bull. Cheolmin knew it, Bang Sihyuk knew it, maybe even the girls themselves knew it. But if everyone knew it, why the was the CEO so keen on saying those same phrases over and over again?

Sure, Arora wasn’t in a position as bad as, for example, groups from unknown companies.  But BigHit was no longer an unknown company - BTS made sure of that. And it was oh so very clear to everyone that their popularity was only going to keep on growing. So if Bang’s plan was to make Arora bask in BTS’ popularity, why not wait a bit longer? Why rush everything?

Cheolmin felt like Bang Sihyuk was keeping valuable information from him, and it was starting to piss him off. Here he was, taking everyone’s crap like it was all his fault, when in reality there were factors beyond his control. But no one was aware of them. No one but Bang Sihyuk himself.

Cheolmin had to figure it out.

“But I completely agree that Arora is far away from the goal the company has set for the group. What we’re here for is to figure out our next course of action. Any suggestions?”

Hmm… how about not add two unnecessary members and make them debut in less than three months? Yeah, that would’ve been nice.

Cheolmin watched the expression plastered on Bang Sihyuk’ face - the mask of calm confidence and curiosity, no doubt masking whatever it was that his boss was really feeling. Probably smugness. That bastard probably had the answer ready on a silver platter and just enjoyed watching them suffer.

“The chinese girl is pretty enough. Maybe we can send her to shoot a drama or something like that.” One of the two women present suggested.

“We can also send Lim Yoonji to King of Masked Singer.” Another one said. “I’m sure she’d like that.”

So predictable. So boring. How the was Bang Sihyuk ever displeased with him as the manager if the alternative was one of those guys?

The big boss’  face remained stoic as ever, but Cheolmin liked to imagine that he was currently fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

There was a reason he had announced this conference today. Something had happened recently that made the CEO want to make a move. And suddenly it was so very obvious. Aeri. . Not that again.

“Really?” Cheolmin looked pointedly at the BigHit founder.

He, in return, raised a brow. “Anything you want to say, Cheolmin?”

“Is it really wise to repeat the same mistakes all over?”

“You and I have very different definitions of what a mistake is, Cheolmin. Please share your thoughts.”

Perhaps it was the alcohol in his system, perhaps it was the fact that he just didn’t give a anymore, but Cheolmin decided why the hell not.  “With pleasure.”

Bang just kept watching.

“The ISAC clip of Aeri running has become a small sensation. People loved her, and when the internet Sherlocks figured out she was sick during that time, people started loving her even more. As a result Arora has experienced a surge of popularity over the past week. Why not just ride this wave, make arora do something - like a reality show or a comeback or whatever?” Because that worked so well before.

“Excellent, Cheolmin. I knew I could count on you to figure it out.” The CEO praised, clapping his hands once in excitement. “I must say, this seems like a solid plan. Nicely done.”

Why make Cheolmin say it? It was obviously the plan Sihyuk wanted to follow, so why… Oh. Of course. Cheolmin was disposable - if it all went wrong, they would just throw him under the bus. Bang Sihyuk was not - things would’ve been much more complicated that way.

The conversation went on, but all Cheolmin could focus on was his boss. He couldn’t understand him. Really. No matter how hard he tried, the mind of Bang Sihyuk remained elusive, and his reasonings eluded him as well.

Bang was a risk taker - that was known. BTS was just one big risk after risk, starting with the members themselves and ending with the songs they released. A risk that paid off big time, Cheolmin had to admit, but a risk nonetheless. Another thing that was obvious was that he was trying to do the same thing with Arora. Adding two more members in the last second, having their debut single lowkey tackle … so far it was the same equation all over again. It seemed as if Bang Sihyuk has found the algorithm to success and he was content on using it again and again and again.

Only he had apparently forgotten that it didn’t always work.

Case in point - GLAM.

Bang had taken a great risk when he picked the members of GLAM, and it did not pay off in the slightest. On the contrary, it bit them in the . One of them left because she was a crazy fan. Another was sentenced to one year in jail… and yet the boss made Moon Seoyeon - a ticking scandal time bomb - a member of the girl group that was supposed to redeem BigHit. Why? Why add Shigure, a girl so engrossed in her dance crew and has no actual desire to be in an idol group whatsoever? Why not add instead one of the trainees that could be the spokesperson of the group, someone who can actually connect to the masses? Why make them ride waves after waves of popularity that doesn’t really make them all that popular when they could wait a bit more and perhaps be actually prepared (both physically and mentally) to perform on stage as one group?

Cheolmin had laid all of the facts in front of him perfectly. He knew it all. But one thing. What the was going on inside of Bang Sihyuk’s head.

Yoonji

For most people university was stressful. For Yoonji, it was plain fun.

Of course, after enduring the almost inhumane treatment of a kpop debut everything else kind of dulled in comparison. But Yoonji liked to believe that she enjoyed going to university even before that, and would’ve enjoyed it even if she wasn’t considering it as vacation time from Arora and BigHit.

And oh how she needed that vacation.

Being the leader was hard. Namjoon, despite all of his shortcomings (and he had plenty), had made the job appear much easier than it actually was. He was a natural-born leader, she guessed. She, on the other hand, was not. People were just not really her thing. Well, dumb people. So, like, 98% of them. Even Chaerin, who was supposed to be her mental support in Arora, was starting to get a little bit on her nerves. She had to take a break. And if her break came in the form of listening to a professor and taking some tests, then so be it. Composing was an amazingly interesting subject, so Yoonji didn’t really mind.

Sometimes she felt like she was missing out the full university experience and it made her a bit sad. Usually she remembered how stressful her friends looked and that feeling died down.

Even though the topic of the lecture she was blessed enough to attend was rather dull - music in the 1990s was quite controversial and perhaps influential, but it also gave her second-hand embarrassment (seriously, some of the songs produced during that time were no better than Justin Bieber) and Yoonji honestly found the 1970s or 1920s much more interesting in terms of musical development - it was still extremely nice to be back in class again. Moonho was as ty as ever, just how Yoonji liked it. Sunhee was just as flamboyant. Juna was just as gorgeous and just as frivolous. Everything was just the way she liked it, and it felt damn good.

Even seven hours later, way into the night, she couldn’t help smiling as she recalled the previous day. Juna had gushed all over Yoonji’s looks in Arora’s ISAC appearance (and Yoonji gushed all over how absolutely stunning Juna looked), and Sunhee had presented an amazingly well-done cover of No Oh Oh. It was a damn good day. After days like this Yoonji usually slept like a baby. For some reason today she could not.

The other seven members of Arora were already sleeping peacefully, as they should - days like this, when they had no schedules and no training were quite rare the past three months since they debuted - but Yoonji was still sitting on the couch in the living room, legs stretched comfortably on the glass table in front of her, a half-empty mug of sangria in her hand. Thoughts swirled like whirlpools in the oceans of her mind, creating storms that prevented sleep from reaching her. Yoonji knew that feeling all-too-well. Inspiration was coming.

She might’ve thought that the 90s music was kind of (well, a lot) embarrassing, but she could still appreciate some of the songs produced around that time. Their professor had showed them various songs as examples to the production difference between the first half of the decade and the second, and Yoonji couldn’t help wanting to try some of the techniques he had showed - while they were outdated, she liked trying different styles of mixing. It helped in her search of developing her very own, unique way of making music.

Patterns of beats and notes were dancing around her mind. It was confusing. She needed to do something about that.

Taking another swing of the sangria, downing the whole mug in the process, she sent one long look at the paper in front of her before scribbling down some of the notes that came to her mind. A peculiar pattern, she noted. Kind of familiar. Kind of not.

It continued for twenty more minutes during which Yoonji tried to organize the cords into a coherent melody. What lay before her was indeed a coherent melody, but nothing close to what could be an actual song. And Yoonji still felt itchy. Her brain refused to stop working.

“ing hell…” She murmured under her breath. Why did inspiration come at such inconvenient times? It was 1 a.m, for ’s sake. Why now!?

And that was how Yoonji found herself wandering around the BigHit building at night, a bottle of wine in her hand (already open, already half-empty). The dark corridors would’ve been terrifying had it not been her thousandth time doing this. Now, she already knew every twist and turn and followed the path almost blindly, focusing instead on thinking about the melody that played in her mind.

She opened the door with a swing of her leg. The studio opened like magic, welcoming her with the familiarity of an old friend.

The chair cracked naturally under her weight. The computer came to life with a swish of her fingertips.

As soon as the program was on, Yoonji got to work. It felt so good to be inspired again - the ISAC afterparty really helped boosting her creativity and she was exceptionally creative in the past week, but the thing with those boosts was that they tended to disappear as quickly as they appeared and so Yoonji always feared she’d wake up and it’d be gone. That was why she tried not to sleep. She had to milk it all while it lasted. Everything flowed from her brain, through her fingers into the computer screen with such ease, it was almost physically pleasuring. It felt amazing watching how the notes arranged so beautifully into a melody, how the beat matched perfectly with the pattern of song, how everything just fit perfectly into one, whole composition. It probably felt even better than giving birth. It didn’t include physical pain, at least. Only mental.

Everything fit into place so well. Like pieces of a puzzle, being solved one by one, creating together a new piece of art, a new -

“I can’t believe you’re here again.”

Yoonji was not even ashamed to admit that she screamed like a little girl. Really, it’s not like she acted like a - it was way into the night, she was supposedly alone in a very dark building. Only a robot would’ve acted differently. Yoonji was still not quite there.

Namjoon apparently found her distress funny. Bent halfway, his whole body shook violently as he laughed and laughed and laughed.

“You think it’s funny you !?”

Namjoon only laughed harder. Only a pen to the eye made him stop, but even then his body was shaking with aftershocks of his feat. Yoonji could only glare in return. “That… that was hilarious. I wish I had a camera. , that would’ve been a great counter attack for August 5th.”

“You’re delusional if you think that was of the same worth as what I have.”

“Come on,” Namjoon practically whined, seating himself on the other chair in the small room. “It’s on the same level as the pink tutu.”

Yoonji huffed, and a few stray hairs flew off her forehead. “You forget that there were other things there. If I remember correctly, a p-”

“STOP! Stop! No need to repeat that!”

“That’s what I thought.” Yoonji - 1, Namjoon - 0. “What are you doing here?”

“I just finished working on something.” Namjoon did a little spin with the chair, and Yoonji was suddenly reminded of their trainee times. He always used to do that when they were working on songs together. She hated to be reminded of that.

As she observed him she noticed that he really was still dressed in the same ripped jeans and grey shirt, and his hair was dishevelled exactly like it always was by the end of the day. Sometimes she forgot how alike they were (or used to be).

“Is it the song you were telling me about?” Namjoon finished his little spin, and his eyes were pinned to the screen. “Did you finish writing it?”

She did, but that was three days ago. “That’s a different song. I started working on it today.”

Namjoon looked impressed. “Today? Nice. But wait, what about that other song? Can I hear it?”

“No, it’s on a flashcard back home.” It wasn’t. But that song was too personal for him to hear. In the past she might’ve played it to him, but they were no longer who they were back then. No matter how much Namjoon wanted it. She knew - she just knew - that if she played the song to him he’d get everything wrong. He’d look for the Yoonji that he knew and loved, and forcefully he’d find her. But she would not really be there. She’d never be there anymore.

Did he ever wonder what happened? He must’ve. He was way too smart not to. But he was also smart enough not to ask. Yoonji could respect at least that. She really didn’t want him prying into the depths of her mind on top of everything else.

Ugh, no. She was not going down memory lane again. She was way too drunk to deal with that.

To distract herself, she clicked on the “play” button. Her new child immediately began to play.

Namjoon’s ears perked up immediately. “Is that… Whatta Man that I’m hearing?”

“Not quite, but yeah, heavily inspired. I went to university today, and my professor talked about 90s music. My mind kind of stuck on it for the rest of the day. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t focus. I had to push it out… but you know how that is.”

“Yeah,” he nodded absentmindedly in response, clearly very focused on the music that was playing. “That bass. Man, that transformation before the chorus is brilliant. I can’t believe you managed to do it while being so drunk.”

She was not - “I’m not that drunk.”

This time Namjoon actually raised his eyes and met her dark gaze. His chuckle was dark and rich, but also somewhat bitter. “Come on, Yoon. That bottle is almost empty.”

Oh ing hell. He was so not the one to lecture her on that. Here he was - the Kim Namjoon that she was so tired of.

“Alcohol unblocks me.” She replied dryly, trying (and failing) to conceal her own bitterness. “You have the same thing with weed.”

“Weed doesn’t harm your body.”

“Jail does.”

Yoonji - 2, Namjoon - 0.

Instead of taking it to heart, he laughed, and once again the tension was defused. It was so very easy to just lose herself in the moment, forgetting about their problems and just focusing on the fact that once they used to be best friends, and maybe if they just put everything aside they could be best friends once more. It was so easy to forget that she couldn’t just let go, forgive the loss of trust. She both treasured and despised those sweetly sinful moments. He was her best friend (use to be. Used to be) after all.

“You know, I noticed you’re either dark as or exceptionally cheerful when you’re drunk. There’s no inbetween.” He laughed, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe it was a good thing you didn’t drink as much on August 5th.” Before she could comment on the incident any further, Namjoon continued. “You know, I’m kind of not really tired anymore. Do you need any help mastering this track? It really is amazing, but you tend to be just a tiny bit sloppy when you drink. Like in the bridge, when you do that thing that…”

Six hours later, Yoonji was awakened (quite rudely, might she add) by a distressed-looking manager.

Throwing Namjoon’s arm off her - he must’ve stretched it in his sleep. Yoonji didn’t really remember how they dozed off, but she thought she remembered how the guy fell asleep first on the other side of the table - she yawned widely and ran a hand through her hair. That was not a pleasant way to wake up. The slight hangover she was experiencing did not add to her overall feeling.

Cheolmin looked like he had slept as much as she had, dark circles the size of the han river and hair in the serious need of a brush. He too, for some reason, was dressed in the same clothes as yesterday, and the realization quickly jolted Yoonji upwards. Something was clearly wrong.

“What happened?” She asked.

“You’re the leader, Lim Yoonji. You’re supposed to be my right hand. You can’t disappear on me like that.” His voice was hoarse from lack of sleep, but it still retained its usually chillness. “Come on, the other girls are waiting in the training room already.”

Namjoon murmured something in his sleep, but Yoonji paid no mind. Standing up, she quickly followed the older man, slicking her hair back in a desperate attempt to look like she did not spend the night sleeping on a hard, cramped desk. “What happened?”

“The staff wants Arora to prepare a comeback. They want a non-album release to be prepared within two weeks.”

“What!? That’s insane. What are they thinking? Two weeks are not enough time for a comeback!”

“At least they don’t demand an album.” Chelomin said. “We only need to record one song, memorize a choreo, shoot an m/v and that’s basically it. It can be done in two weeks. It can be done.”

Was he repeating words for his own reassurance? Or hers? Yoonji wasn’t sure. But she was sure that the higher ups were absolutely mad if they thought they could manage to prepare a comeback - and it really didn’t matter if it was only one single - within two ing weeks. That was taking stuff to a whole new level. Yoonji thought their debut was rushed, and they had three whole months to prepare for it. This… this was absolutely insane. What the were they thinking?

“Why?” She couldn’t help asking. “Why a comeback all of the sudden? We finished our debut promotions not even two months ago. That doesn’t make any sense whatsoever. And why two weeks? I really don’t get what’s going on in their heads. I mean, yeah, I get it - they’re sitting behind their desks making decisions, not knowing what we’re going through, how hard we train. But that’s… that’s a whole new level of being an . Seriously - “ Oh. OH. “Wait… Do we need a song? Because I have one.”

That actually made Cheolmin stop walking. “You… have one? You just have a song. You can’t be serious.”

In response Yoonji pulled out her phone. The final product of the night’s work was already downloaded and ready to be played to the world. Cheolmin listened to it carefully, his eyes going from the phone to her and back to the phone. “That sounds a bit like Salt-n-Pepa, doesn’t it?”

“We can call it a remake. People love remakes.”

The manager nodded slowly, eyes still fixed on the device in her hands. “That… That could actually work. You composed it yourself?”

“Namjoon helped a bit, but yeah.”

Once again he simply nodded. “Someone would have to write the lyrics, and some polishing clearly needs to be done because it’s an absolute mess right now, and we’ll have to check Whatta Man’s copyright… but it could work.”

And suddenly the thought of comeback wasn’t all that horrible.

Chaerin

Could a hangover stretch over an entire week?

On one hand Yoonji had said no, and Chaerin was (usually) prone to listen to her. On the other hand... Chaerin’s body was really trying its best to prove that it was very, very possible. Or break a guinness record. Either way she felt like .

The first day had been the worst, obviously. Chaerin couldn’t describe how horrid she had felt. The second day had been slightly better, but still nothing short of awful. Seven days later, she still didn’t feel completely like herself, though she didn’t quite understand how. But she didn’t feel normal. Something was obviously wrong.

Maybe it had something to do with the party. Pictures of that night flashed in her mind every once in awhile - a moment here, a moment there, nothing too concrete but still enough to give her some sort of a picture about what went there. She drank. Then she smoked weed. Zico and she discussed some deep, philosophical questions. She drank some more. She partied with Yoonji. She partied with Jungkook… and then there was something else.

Nope. She was totally hallucinating. Nothing happened. Nothing could’ve happened. She was a good girl, a good person. Nothing happened.

In a (rather futile) attempt to distract herself from her treacherous thoughts, Chaerin focused on what was going on around her. The arora practice room was quite noisy - Yuealing and Seoyeon conversed quietly between themselves, but the main source of noise was Ardene, who had taken the attention of the other three girls. Yet another conspiracy theory was discussed, Chaerin realized.

“... so then I talked to that guard, and he told me he was also working for, wait for it, JYP entertainment.”

The New-Zealand-Born waited, but everyone just blinked in response.

“He works for JYPE! Something is definitely going on!” She exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air exasperatedly. “Why am I the only one who’s seeing this!?”

“Maybe because it’s not actually true?” Shigure offered with a shrug.

“Unnie, didn’t you say you were high as a kite during the party?” Aeri asked, stretching her arms over her head. A week of rest did wonders, and now the main rapper was good as new. A rosy hue now adorned her, admittedly still pale, cheeks and her eyes no longer looked like they were about to fall off her skull. Oh no. Now it was Chaerin’s turn to look half dead. “Plus, how does it connect to the drug dealer theory?”

Ardene looked at them as if they were retarded. “Because JYP is a drug dealer, obviously.”

Wasn’t this girl Namjoon’s cousin? How on earth did those two share the same gene pool. Perhaps Namjoon took all the brains while Ardene stole the visuals. Seriously, a drug dealer. Doing drug business with BigHit trainee Jaekwang. Makes total sense.

“Did the guard tell you anything else, unnie?” Xiuying asked.

“I don’t really remember. Next thing I know I’m singing ‘somewhere over the rainbow’ with Hwasa.”

And if Ardene didn’t remember half of the things that happened that night, then surely Chaerin could visualize things that didn’t really happen. Definitely. Nothing happened.

. She needed Yoonji to come, like, right now.

The traitor came to the rescue only 183 seconds later.

Bursting through the door like the corridor was on fire, she followed Cheolmin like a feminine, scrawny shadow. But Chaerin couldn’t really focus on the leader - the manager had commanded the attention of the entire room. Shigure would’ve probably called him a dictator.

“Listen up people!” He said loudly, and everyone’s attention was immediately on him. “I have an announcement to make, and I will not hear any objections. No matter what you say, it’s not my decision so I can’t do anything about it.”

The last sentence was said with slight bitterness that he probably wished went unnoticed. But everyone noticed.

“The staff wants you to comeback in two weeks.”

Chaos erupted.

“Are they ing crazy!?” Shigure immediately exclaimed. “Two weeks!?”

“It’s not humanly possible!” Ardene agreed.

“It took us almost two months to prepare our debut, oppa.” Seoyeon said. “How can we do it in two weeks?”

“And why so soon?” Aeri asked, running a hand through her hair. “We finished promotions not even two months ago.”

“And where were you?” Yuealing added, practically sneering at the manager. “You’re our manager. You exist to prevent things like this.”

Cheolmin seemed unfazed by all the accusations. Chaerin could practically see his eyes battle the urge to roll. Observing the room with his cool gaze, he asked, “are you finished? Can I go on or do you have more childish accusations you want to throw at me?”

Chaerin really wanted to reply with a cheeky comment, but Yoonji silenced her with her glance. So the situation was more serious than she thought. Lovely. Fun times were coming.

“As I was saying… Arora is going to comeback in about two weeks. There’s no set date as of yet, but I imagine it’ll be decided once we start preparations. I tried arguing that waiting might create more anticipation for a comeback, but others were convinced that with the group’s sudden increase in fame thanks to ISAC we should act as quickly as possible. In the end, I was overruled.”

Aeri flashed a small, sheepishly guilty smile. “Oops?”

“We’ll be working on a single album, not an EP, so that gives us an advantage. So there’s only going to be a title track. You just need to record one song, learn one choreo and shoot one music video. It’s more than doable in two weeks.”

But neither he nor the members looked convinced by his words.

The next few days were… tensed, to say the least. They were their last days off before preparations began (and the only reason they didn’t begin immediately was because the company still figured out which song to use. That was how rushed the entire ordeal was), but instead of relaxing all they did was worry. The worst of them were Aeri and Yoonji. Aeri felt unnecessarily guilty about the fact that they were forced to comeback because she made them go viral with her running, and it was stupid. Arora became more famous and she felt bad for it. Chaerin tried talking some sense to her - numerous interventions were involved - but the rapper still felt slightly bad for that. And then there was Yoonji, who was nervous as because of her song. Honestly, that one was hilarious to watch.

Chaerin didn’t think she ever saw her friend as concerned about something as she was now. The amount of time Yoonji spent in the studio was borderline alerting. The amount of coffee and liquor she consumed in the past two days was also alerting. Every possible second was spent perfecting the song she was working on, and the effect such pastime had on Yoonji’s body was clear as day - dark circles branded the skin under her eyes, and a few pimples sprung to life on her skin. There were not a lot of times when she had seen Yoonji look so bad, and it was reaching a point Chaerin did not want it to reach. Yoonji was never one to know her limit. She always needed her for that.

“Do you think I should add another layer of bass to it?”

“Yoonji, it’s time we had a talk.”

Yoonji looked at her for one, long moment. “I know where children come from, but thanks.”

“Dude, I’m not joking! Have you looked in a mirror lately? You look like .”

“Gee, thanks Chaerin. Exactly what a girl wants to hear.”

“Lim Yoonji, stop. This is an intervention and I will not tolerate sarcastic remarks.”

Yoonji rolled her eyes. “Can it wait? I want to fix a part of the beat first.”

“That’s exactly my point!” Chaerin exclaimed, putting her hands on her hips. “You’re overworking yourself! I know this song is very important to you, but you need to catch a break. You can’t produce an entire song by yourself, so stop trying to.”

“Chae, this song is not important to me. This is my chance to break into the production scene. One successful song is all it takes, and a song can’t be successful if it’s not perfect. I know you’re concerned over me, and it really warms my heart, but please stop with this. I’m a grown woman, I can do what I want.”

“Grown woman my ! You’re acting like an angsty teen who thinks the entire world is fighting against her as she fights for world peace. If you’re stupid enough and don’t think about your health, then I will!”

“ing hell, Chaerin, how many times do I need to tell you -”

And then it would all repeat itself again and again and again.

Yoonji’s tendencies for self-destroying weren’t news for her, but they were still unnerving to watch every time. When a goal was set before her, nothing was sacred, and that included sleep and health. It was stupid, but Yoonji tended to become dumb when she turned like this. Usually it passed once the objective was reached, but it didn’t mean that Chaerin would stop trying to knock some sense into her. She was her friend, and that was what friends do - telling each other when they were acting stupid.

And how Chaerin had wished Yoonji would tell her that she was acting dumb. Granted, that would require Yoonji knowing that she sort-of-not-really-nope-nope remembered something happening during the party, and Chaerin was not ready to talk about it with anyone. Talking about it would make it true. And it was not true. Nothing happened.

. Avoiding Jimin like the plague was getting tiring. It wasn’t as if he was seeking her out - from her observations he acted pretty normal - but she was still fearful that he might make her memories real. Or were they fantasies? Maybe it was her brain telling her things - no. Not Jimin. Jimin was her friend. Bongyoung was her boyfriend. ! Bongyoung! She had Bongyoung!

Her boyfriend - hot, gorgeous, amazing boyfriend - answered after the second ring. “Hey babe.”

“Bong!” She practically whined into the phone. “I miss you!”

She heard laughter and then shuffling. “Are you emotional again? What happened?”

Jimin happened. “Nothing. I just missed you. Can’t a girl miss her boyfriend?”

“I miss you too, Chae. Do you want to come over tonight?”

“Yes please.”

“Do you want me to order some food? We haven’t eaten fried chicken in a whi- ah . I’m late to class. Text me what you want and just come when your schedule is over. I love you babe, bye!”

Thirty seconds of Bongyoung were not distracting enough. She needed an alternative. Luckily, preparations for the comeback turned out to be distracting enough.

Unluckily, they brought unwanted drama.

The Eleven of them - the eight members of Arora, Cheolmin, Supreme Boi and Hitman Bang - were supposed to gather in the recording studio for the first listen of the song. Yoonji was… nervous, to say the least. Chaerin was too, of course, but Yoonji was practically shaking with anticipation as they made their way to the studio (late, of course. Chaerin couldn’t get there on time. She just couldn’t.  The universe would explode or something if she was on time). Her fingers fiddled with the edges of her red plaid shirt, fighting each other for dominance over the fabric. It made Chaerin uneasy.

“Everything’s going to be fine.” She said, comforting both herself and her friend.

Yoonji didn’t respond. Her eyes were fixed on Cheolmin, who had emerged from the studio and was standing by the door, arms crossed. The preparations were rough on him too - such was obvious from his ruffled hair and the dark stubble that adorned his face. His clothes, unsurprisingly, were still ironed to perfection. God forbid Park Cheolmin wore anything that wasn’t wallstreet-worthy.

But Yoonji didn’t seem to notice the manager’s rugged appearance. Instead, she seemed to focus on the expression he adorned. Chaerin could practically hear the wheels spinning in her brain, analyzing his face. For some reason she came to a gloomy conclusion. “They’re not using my song.”

It was said in a flat tone, but Chaerin knew better.

The manager observed them for a long moment, before nodding slowly. “The staff thought it was too far from your current concept, and they don’t want to scare off your fans. It’s a good song, Yoonji. But -”

“I get it.” Yoonji cut him off. “You don’t need to make up excuses.”

“I’m not.”

“Good.” With that, Yoonji entered the room, not waiting for any further responses. Cheolmin sighed, running a hand through his hair, before noticing that Chaerin was still standing there. In a matter of seconds he was back to the professional-looking manager that he was. Gesturing with his hand towards the door, he waited until she entered the room before following suit and shutting the door after him.

Inside everyone was already waiting. Hitman Bang spared her one, short glance, before proceeding.

“Thank you, Chaerin and Yoonji, for finally joining us. As I was already saying, the song you’re going to record has a similar vibe to Liar Liar, and a relatively similar style as No Oh Oh, so it shouldn’t be that hard for you to convey the right atmosphere.” Yoonji had positioned herself in the far corner of the room, and Chaerin had no other choice but to sit between Aeri and Seoyeon on the sofa. “But the vocals are also meant to sound a bit robotic, as if you’re dolls. It’s hard to explain using words, so let’s just listen to it. Who sings the vocal guide, again?”

“Shin Jaein. She’s a relatively new trainee.” Supreme Boi answered.

The CEO nodded in acknowledgement, and the composer hit the play button. Synthesized notes began to fill the room with a joyful melody, joined by a kicking beat. It was very easy to see why Hitman Bang said it was quite similar to their previous tracks. Very bubblegum, very upbeat, the kind of pop song that the mainstream audience loved. The vocals of Shin Jaein joined the music, and they progressed towards the build-up of the chorus, where it became clear what the producers meant by mannequin-like vocals. It was a well-produced song, Chaerin had to admit, or at least it sounded like it (it’s not like she was proficient in the area, like Yoonji was). Xiuying, Shigure and Seoyeon visibly enjoyed the song, moving their heads along to the melody, and even Yueliang didn’t seem like she hated it too much. But Ardene and Aeri looked rather uneasy, and Yoonji seemed like she might explode any minute now.

“You can hear the 80ies influence in some of the synths.” Hitman Bang commented, seemingly unfazed by the fact that some of the girls didn’t look all too pleased. “And the low-key vocals are quite important, as they are a part of the overall concept. Listen closely to Shin Jaein’s vocals, this is how we want you to sound. Kind of robotic, but not emotionless, with some saccharine and bubbly feel to it.”

“The song is basically about you trying to win a boy’s heart with a game of russian roulette. So it’s like a game of cat-and-mouse, with you acting as the cats, sneaking your way into everyone’s hearts and destroying them. So the combination of dull vocals and emotional vocals are very important.” Supreme Boi added.

“I couldn’t help noticing that there are only vocal parts.” Ardene remarked.

“Rap doesn’t fit the style of the song.” The producer said. “We tried adding it for the sake of you and Aeri, but in the end only vocals worked best.”

Aeri raised her brows. “But… we’re rappers.”

“You’re idol rappers.” Bang corrected. “None of you entered the company as a rap-based trainee. You two can sing well enough, and it might be a nice change.”

“Idol rappers?” Ardene didn’t sound pleased by the term. “Do you say that we can’t rap?”

“Don’t take it as an insult. One must know one’s strengths and weaknesses in order to thrive, and the fact is that Arora lacks in terms of rappers. You, Ardene, was accepted because of your dancing skills, and Aeri was scouted based on her potential as a performer. But you can’t compare yourself to rappers like L.E or Yezi.”

Aeri looked mildly offended, and Ardene looked like she has never been so insulted in her life.

“I have a question.” Yoonji spoke, and Chaerin could see that she was pinching her hand the way she always did when she was trying to keep her anger at bay. “Why was this song picked over my song?”

“Because while your song is quite well-done and has a lot of potential, this song fits Arora’s concept better and will be more profitable.”

“That’s bull.”

From behind her, Chaerin could the sound resonating off the manager’s forehead as his palm hit it with force.

“I’m sorry?” Hitman Bang raised a brow.

“Aren’t we called Arora because our concepts are different every time?” Yoonji crossed her arms on her chest. The tone of her voice was getting angrier and angrier with each moment passing, but she was still struggling to remain calm. “That was what you had me memorize before our debut showcase. Was that a lie? Are we not going to be bold enough to try different concepts, different kinds of music? My song is unique and innovative. It can easily fit every single one of our members - vocalists and rappers - and it will stand out among the hundreds of other songs that are always coming out. This mundane bubblegum bull, however, will not.”

Skylar

All in all, the preparations for the comeback weren’t going as badly as they could’ve.

Sure, some people (Liangie, for example) argued that it couldn’t be worse, but Skylar always reminded herself that anything could get worse, and they should be happy with what they have. It was a lesson taught to her by her mother, and her mother was a woman who had learnt this lesson on her own flesh. So Skylar tended to listed to her. Plus, it wasn’t such a bad motto to go by. Being optimistic never hurt anyone.

And so, despite the song recording being filled with tension and stress, Skylar faced them with a smile on her face. It could’ve been worse.

Granted, even she had to admit that it was very close to being the worst scenario possible. Everything and everyone seemed to be against them, and it was not an easy environment to work in.

After her song was rejected by Bang-PDnim, Yoonji-unnie became completely discouraged. She never once failed to show her dislike to their title track (even though the song was really nice and fun), and did everything she was ordered reluctantly and without any desire or drive. The song recording was especially difficult. The leader did everything in her power to sound as robotic as possible, under the claim that “this was what Hitman Bang Bang wanted”. The fact that they were supposed to include some emotions into singing as well was ignored completely by her. The producers, left without a choice, decided to give Skylar more of the main-vocal lines, and the extra pressure was affecting - it was aching from time to time and sometimes her voice even cracked. Ginger tea was helpful, but even it had limits. Yoonji-unnie was undoubtedly the best vocalist in BigHit. She was supposed to sing the lines that no one else could, not Skylar.

But the problems with the recording didn’t stop there. The fact that they were supposed to sing instead of rap had left the rap-line tensed and nervous, and during recording sessions those feelings surfaced above the ground. What made it even more nerve-wrecking was the fact that for some reason the producers were very keen on giving Aeri more and more lines. “Try this one, Aeri-sshi” they would say every once in awhile, and when she protested they would ask her to just try, nothing more. It was weird, but Skylar had to admit that Aeri did have a rather pretty singing voice, one that fit the song quite well. Ardene’s voice fit surprisingly well too, no matter how grumpy the older girl was about it. The one of had the most trouble was, not very surprisingly, Shigure-unnie.

The Japanese girl had the peculiar combination of a very high-pitched, very boyish-sounding singing voice, and it made her stand out in a bad way. She was heard the loudest during the chorus, and the producers struggled to find lines that would compliment her vocal tone. It made both them and her very frustrated, and in the end Shigure received one line that she repeated three time throughout the song. Her vocals were cut out of the chorus completely.

Liangie and Xiuying were the ones who dealt with the ordeal the best. The two lead vocalists managed to sing their parts with ease and confidence, and were the quickest to finish their recordings. Skylar didn’t want to admit it, but she kind of envied them.

When they were finally finished with the recording, new problems arose.

The choreography was on the same difficulty level as their previous songs, but certain people still struggled with it. Well, not exactly struggled, as much as created more difficulties to the group. Yoonji-unnie did everything reluctantly there too, and Chaerin-unnie acted very weird around teacher Bongyoung. Her behavior resulted in more mistakes on her part, and even more practice sessions for all of them. Sleeping was getting more and more scarce, and the diet they were forced to endure was taking a toll on their bodies. Everyone was grumpy and annoyed, getting angry at every small mishap and mistake. Even she had a hard time staying positive, but when such hard time arose she just forced a smile on her face, clapped her hands and cheered on everyone.

Most times they responded with a “ off”. It didn’t stop her from trying. She was doing it for herself as much as for the rest of the group, and she knew that if she stops then it’s the end for her. So she continued.

Such an approach came in rather useful when it was time for them to shoot the music video. They were given a good night sleep so they would look their best for their shoot, and no matter how nervous she was, the rough schedule had taken its toll and Skylar fell asleep a few seconds after her head hit the pillow. That ensured reduced (but not gone completely) eye-bags that were easily masked with the help of makeup. Everyone look absolutely on point: Aeri and Shigure’s roots were bleached to match the rest of their hair, Ardene’s hair was colored a lovely pink, Yoonji’s hair became even darker, and Xiuying’s was cut a few inches shorter. Hers and Yueliang’s remained quite similar, even though they did spend the entire day in the hands of their hair stylist.

The concept for the music video was quite brilliant, she had to admit. Whoever came up with it was an absolute genius. With the way Cheolmin-oppa was walking around, adorning a smug expression on his tired face, he probably had something to do with it. It fit their group amazingly well - everyone agreed on that.

“Can’t say I would mind murdering all of you at this point.” their leader grumbled into her coffee cup, hiding her face in the steam that rose from the scalding liquid.

“Voluntary manslaughter?” Ardene asked, fixing the ponytail on her head.

“You have no idea.”

A/N: