She smiled in a big way, the way a girl like that smiles
When the world is hers and she held your eyes
 

But you've already lost
When you only had barely enough to hang on

~ Dusk and Summer--Dashboard Confessional

           “Mom, really, does it have to be me?” I whined as I spread peanut butter on my toast after pouring myself a glass of orange juice. “Why can’t she ask someone else?”

            “Love, I already told you. You’re planning on going into the entertainment industry—college starts in just a few months and you’ve worked your way into one of the most elite colleges in Korea. This is a great opportunity!” My mother, dressed in a sharp-looking gray blazer and creaseless black slacks, covered the speaker on her iPhone and glared at me.

            Oh, it was all about opportunities, wasn’t it? It was all about perfect; with her, it was always about perfection. There never had been any room for argument and there never will be. Oh, how I longed to go off to Seoul University already… escaping the clutches of my mother will be the best thing that will ever happen to me, I was positive.

            “Fine. I lose. You win. I’ll go.” The sarcasm in my voice was not missed by my mother. “Please give me the address and the time at which I have to be there.”

            My mother lowered her iPhone and heaved a long sigh, one of those “I am a frustrated parent and my child is the most difficult thing on Earth” sighs. “Kim Sa-rang, can you please drop the attitude? I have a huge business deal going through today and whatever your deal is…” She waved her hand carelessly, brushing aside my feelings, like always. “Drop it. You’re eighteen now. You’re too old for this.”

            She turned her back on me and retreated into the living room as I stared down at my toast, a lump in my throat. My mother, Kim Ji-eun, had never been one for loving words and encouragement—for as long as I could remember, she had always been the same, stern woman. She ran a huge fashion company in Seoul, Korea and frequently worked with the huge entertainment companies, SM and JYP and YG. She traveled on a weekly basis—I would wake up some mornings and find a hastily-scribbled note on the counter, telling me that she would be back in two days and to use the company card if I needed anything. I had never met my father but I frequently wondered how I came about—my mother had never been a very loving person, not even to me. With her, it was always about approval and doing things correctly instead.

            It was ironic that she had decided to name me Sa-rang, the phrase for ‘love.’ Most people just call me Love though.

            Our apartment in Tokyo was now silent. I stood there wondering whether or not my mother had left yet. She hadn’t given me the address or the time yet, so maybe I wouldn’t have to go after all. A small flicker of hope brightened inside of me, only to be crushed when my Blackberry vibrated on the counter with a message from her.

            “.” I closed my eyes and groaned inwardly. It was my winter vacation—something I had looked forward to for the past three months and she wanted me to spend the first day… working? Not even working… I wasn’t getting paid. So I was basically going to become an involuntary volunteer.

            One of my mother’s close friends had recently gotten a promotion and was directing a Christmas music video in Japan for a new rookie group. However, she lacked Korean-speaking VJs and the group was not very fluent in Japanese yet. Last night, she had contacted my mother and asked for my help since I knew a little about filming.

            In all honesty, I hated Korean pop. I hated the entertainment business. It all felt so fake—the plastic surgery, the performances, the variety shows—none of it was real. I refused to listen or follow any groups and stuck to underground indie bands instead. I had never wanted to go into the entertainment business like my mother, but since I was her daughter, I was expected to do everything she wanted of me.

            There was one thing, however, that I refused to cooperate with her on. Two years ago, I had received a text from my mother asking me to go to a hotel after school. I had arrived in my school uniform, holding my backpack and lunchbox in one hand.

            My mother had been sitting in the room across from a lady that looked just like her—pearls and a pink business suit—and a tall, slender young man stood a little ways off, a dark look on his face. He had jet black hair, but it was a little long and messy. He had been wearing a bright purple jacket with some dark jeans and bright yellow sneakers, earphones hanging around his neck.

            “Ah, Sa-rang! Come in, dear.” The fake smile plastered on my mother’s face made me nauseous. “This is Mrs. Lee and her son, Sung-yeol.”

            I had been frozen, eyes glued to the obviously unwilling young man. He refused to meet my eyes, instead choosing to scuff the toe of his sneaker against the carpet. “Mother… what is this?”

            “Are you stupid?!” Sung-yeol burst out, his voice cracking with fury. “Obviously they want us to start dating so we can get married so their companies can expand. Haven’t you seen enough Korean dramas yet?!” Taken aback by this sudden outburst, my voice had died in my throat.

            There had been an awkward moment of silence in the room. I felt like everything was coming down on me—so I took the only out I saw. I had escaped through the door, running as if my life depended on it. The door slammed behind me but I didn’t look back. Tears had streamed down my face, soaking the collar of my white shirt. My mother had already taken control over pretty much every aspect of my life, did she really have to go this far to dictate who I chose to love? I had only been sixteen, for God’s sake.

            She had returned home that evening, holding a takeout box. I had been sitting on the couch, holding a book and a cup of tea, staring at the wall in front of me, mentally preparing myself for a scolding. Instead, my mother had simply sat down next to me, her own face exhausted.

            “I’m sorry, Love.” Her voice had been soft.

            From that moment on, I had never been asked to meet any more boys by my mother. It was an unspoken agreement between us that I would get to choose the man I spent the rest of my life with. I had never met Lee Sung-yeol again or heard of him, and frankly, I didn’t care. I knew she still kept in touch with Mrs. Lee and that a small part of her still hoped for us to get together as a couple, since he was going to inherit his mother’s company after she retired, but we never talked about it.

            I checked my watch, my food practically untouched on the counter. It was almost time to leave so I padded back to my room and pulled out a pair of dark jeans and a gray sweater. I knotted a mint green scarf around my neck and threw on my favorite black coat, sweeping my hair out of my face and tugging it up into a high, wispy ponytail. Retreating into the bathroom, I smoothed a layer of foundation over my skin, watching as it hid imperfections and flaws. After lining my eyes and curling my eyelashes, I swept a thin layer of blush over my cheeks. I fastened a pair of silver hoops in my ears, knowing that it was important that I look professional and chic on set—my mother’s reputation was important to her and having a sloppy daughter simply would not work, even though I loved to lounge around in sweatpants and sweatshirts at home.

            I grabbed my caramel-colored leather bag off the couch and slipped into a pair of my mother’s high-heeled leather boots, preparing to head out. The apartment looked so cold and empty—everything was so spotless and clean that I hardly felt like it was lived in at all.

            The winter air was cold but not freezing outside, just the way I liked it. I glanced at my Blackberry as I got into a taxi, bag in hand. The driver stared at me quizzically when I told him the address, but made no comment. Perhaps they were filming in the slums?

            A short fifteen-minute drive later, I was standing on the corner of what seemed like a rather empty neighborhood on the edge of Tokyo. It was very clean and there were a few shops here and there, but they were all closed. I didn’t see anyone with a camera and that worried me. I started walking in a direction, hoping to find someone who could direct me to the set. This day was already starting off miserably, thanks Mother.

            “AH!” I suddenly lost my balance as something large and heavy crashed into me from behind and knocked me on my face, my bag falling off my shoulder and my feet flying out from under me. I rolled over once and groaned in pain as I touched my cheek, now sticky with blood from a scrape. “WHAT THE HELL?”

            “Oh my God, I’m sorry!” I turned my furious gaze and met the wide eyes of a guy sitting next to me, his own lip bleeding. “I didn’t see you… oh, you’re bleeding… I feel like a total klutz, let me help you up.” He stood up and held out his hand. “Damn it, why am I always falling?”

            “No need.” I stood up and quickly brushed myself off. Thank goodness the heels of the boots were still intact. However, the contents of my bag had fallen out in the process and were now scattered across the road. I sighed, exasperated.

            He stared at me with a worried look on his face before dropping to his knees and picking up my notebooks. “I’m really sorry… I can go buy you some medicine for that scrape so that it doesn’t scar before I start my shoot.” I paused and turned back around to look at him, holding my makeup case in one hand.

            “You’re here for a shoot?” He nodded, face serious. I suddenly realized that he was unusually good-looking, even with the blood dripping down his chin. He seemed unaware of that fact, concentrating only on stacking my notebooks together.

            “Here you go. I’m really sorry.” His eyes landed on my cell phone and gasped in horror. “Oh, the screen cracked. Wow, I feel like such an .” The guy rummaged through his coat for a piece of paper and a pen. “Give me your name and number so I can pay you for the damage.”

            I took it, but didn’t write anything down. “Your lip is bleeding.”

            He touched his mouth, frowning. “Oh, , the makeup noona is going to kill me. Ah, I have to go… I’m going to be late. I’m not even dressed yet.” The guy stood up, holding his chin. “You don’t happen to have any tissues, do you?”

            I handed him a crumpled napkin from a restaurant I had visited two days ago. “Um, actually, I’m here for the shoot as well… you’re in an idol group, right? I’m here to help film the music video.” He took the napkin and looked at me in surprise.

            “Oh?” He tried to smile but grimaced in pain. “Well then, what a coincidence. I’m L, nice to meet you.” L held out a hand.

            “I’m Love. Nice to meet you as well.” I answered formally. “I’ve been looking for the shoot site, can you take me there?”

            “Of course, just follow me.” L his heel and began walking in the opposite direction in which I had been heading. I supposed that it was good that I had bumped into him, no matter how painful, because I would’ve gotten hopelessly lost if not for his help.

            He was tall and his dark hair had obviously already been styled, but there were pieces sticking up again after the fall. His jaw was very angular and his eyes were mysterious when they weren’t wide with panic—he had that smoldering gaze that made girls weak-kneed and the perfectly straight nose. No wonder he was an idol—he could easily be a high-fashion model as well. Filming him would be easy since he was so good-looking; there probably wouldn’t be a specific angle I would have to shoot him from.

            We walked in silence and I quickly realized that he wasn’t a talkative person. He walked slowly and leisurely—I couldn’t figure out why he had gone barreling around the corner like he had when he collided into me. We arrived at the shoot site in about five minutes and the stylists were instantly panicking upon seeing us.

            “Omo, L, what happened to you? We thought you were just going to go check out the shoe stores before the filming crew got here… how’d you wind up getting hurt?” L was whisked away to makeup and styling for the second time and I looked around for someone with a camera.

            A bearded man was standing at the side of the road, smoking a cigarette. He had a small camera in his hand, but it didn’t look very professional. Perhaps this wasn’t a very professional shoot?

            “Hello… I’m Kim Sa-rang, are you in charge of shooting here?” His face lit up upon seeing me.

            “Oh, thank God you’re here! My assistant bailed last-second and there’s no way that I can shoot this by myself. Hi, I’m Mr. Yoo and today we’re shooting INFINITE’s ‘White Confession’ music video.” His voice reminded me of Santa Claus—it was so deep and comforting.

            “INFINITE?” I nodded slowly. The group name sounded familiar—maybe some of my friends had been into them. “Okay, that sounds good. What would you like me to do?”

            “We’re going to be shooting L for the first half of the day and then he’s going to have a joint scene with another group member. So first, I’ll need to have you set up the shots so we can get this done faster.” I nodded. “We only have this camera to work with, but even if the footage comes out a little bit low-quality, we can always edit it in the studios.”

            “I understand.” He handed me the camera and a tripod to work with if I needed it. “Does L have any preferences about how he likes to be captured on camera?”

            Mr. Yoo shrugged. “He doesn’t seem to care. You’ll see that he’s a very quiet guy, one of those mysterious types. He doesn’t like to talk much and he just does what he’s supposed to without a fuss. And he’s one of the easier members to shoot because you don’t have to worry about angles with him. I’m going to go retrieve the music player from the van, so why don’t you set up the first shot?”

            He walked off quickly and I looked over at the stylist and makeup noonas, still fussing over L. I looked around the empty road, noticing that since it was morning, it would be a nice visual effect to shoot L walking away from the sun so that it would be like a silhouette shot. I quickly set up the camera and left it off—not wanting to anger Mr. Yoo although he seemed like a very nice man.

            A tap on my shoulder startled me. “I’m ready.” I turned around to face L, who was now dressed in a striped shirt with a dark army-style coat. His hair had been fixed, his lip had stopped bleeding, and he looked extremely handsome.

            “Uh, okay.” I felt a little flustered. He towered over me, at least ten centimeters taller. L reached down and touched the scrape on my cheek. I winced and pulled away from his touch as if it burned.

            “You should go get the makeup noona to fix that before you start shooting. It looks like it hurts and you don’t want it to scar.”

            “I’ll finish setting up the shot first and then I’ll go buy some medicine while Mr. Yoo films the first scene.” He nodded, the same serious expression on his face. Combined with that smolder, it almost physically hurt to look at him directly.

            Mr. Yoo returned from the van with the music player and set it down. He turned the volume up and the first notes of the song began to blast out of the speakers. “Thanks, Sa-rang ssi. L, let’s get started. Why don’t you go down to the end of this sidewalk?”

            I waited until they began filming before heading over to the makeup noona. “Hello, I was wondering if you had some medicine to keep this scrape from scarring.” She smiled brightly.

            “Of course I do! Myung-soo ah falls so often that I have to carry medicine around with me at all times. He’s so clumsy, honestly.” She swiped a little bit of the paste on a cotton swab and touched it to my scrape. “Did he bump into you?”

            “Yeah… he was barreling down a small hill and turned very quickly and we had a collision.” I admitted.

            “Sounds just like him. It’s such a hassle to keep up with him and his falls.” The makeup noona turned around and picked up a small bandage. She gently pressed it onto my cheek. “There you go, it should be fine now.”

            “Thank you so much!” I stood up and smiled at her.

            “Sa-rang ssi, are you ready?” Mr. Yoo was calling from the sidewalk. I quickly walked back to where L was sitting on a fire hydrant, obviously resting. “I need you to help decide on how we’re going to shoot the next scene.”

            “How about… we have him walk from over there and then stop to look through this window here, and you can go inside and catch a shot of his face through the glass?” I suggested, watching the clip of L walking down the sidewalk, the sunlight highlighting brownish tints in his hair.

            “Good idea, let’s do that. Can you go inside the shop and set up the camera? I’ll tell L how we’re going to be shooting it.” Mr. Yoo beamed happily.

              The music was still playing and L was singing along to his part softly. His voice was actually very clear and it was obvious that he had talent for music. He caught me watching him and stopped abruptly, clearing his throat. My cheeks flushed and I turned away, focusing all my attention on the camera.

             Why did I keep looking at him?

            Why do I keep getting the feeling that he’s… different?