Chapter 9

Seulgi

“Lady Gaga is tacky.” Seulgi leaned forward onto her toes, ready for flight.

“You know, you’re absolutely right. Way too much glitter, that one.” Her partner’s too-loud voice responded.

She narrowed her eyes. “Rihanna is far superior to Beyonce. In fact, she should have replaced her as queen years ago.”

Sehun nodded his head vigorously. “S & M beats If I were a Boy any day.” Seulgi could feel her hands coiling into tight little fists.

“Miley Cyrus’s performance at the VMAs was brilliant, a perfect blend of class and unadulterated creativity.”

“What?... Oh! Now that you mention it, I completely agree. It was a of pure genius, really. Very inspiring.” It was all Seulgi could do not to throw herself, or better yet her partner, through the nearest wall.

Instead, she threw her hands up and strode back into their small bedroom. For once, the room did not appear as if it had recently had a run in with a tornado mixed with an earthquake. The so-thin-that-whoever-designed-the-apartment-should-have-just-opted-forhardwood-floors carpet was almost completely covered in stacks of neatly aligned boxes. Aside from Sehun’s sleek, black alarm clock and a pair of grey pillows (one on each bunk), everything else had been packed. The lack of personal possessions lent the small room an austere feel; the metal bars that comprised the frame of the bunk beds gleamed dully and jarred outwards at harsh, garish angles while the white walls (no longer hidden behind a collage of Disney posters) seemed to expand in every direction. Seulgi shivered. Their room, once cheerful and full of life, now looked awkward and strained.

“What’s wrong, Seul?” came Sehun’s growl, a bit raspier than usual, from the living room.

“Nothing, Sehun. Just nothing.” Her heart leapt in response to her own thinly veiled irritation (and the jolt of pain she knew Sehun must have experienced as a result), but it couldn’t be helped. Things with Sehun had been, well, awkward and strained over the past couple of days. Their comfortable routine and witty banter had gradually devolved into Sehun becoming intensely interested in the floor when Seulgi entered the room and finding himself suddenly incapable of disagreeing with anything that Seulgi said. Not that Seulgi minded having her opinions reaffirmed (because, let’s face it, she was almost always flawless in his tastes), but Rihanna better than Beyonce? Miley Cyrus the epitome of class? COME ON.

She walked over to one of their packed boxes and landed a well-placed kick. The boxes on top of the one that had just been viciously assaulted began to sway. Seulgi fixed them with her best I-am-definitely-not-in-the-mood glare. They stopped moving.

That’s what I thought. She closed her eyes and sank to the ground. This whole moving fiasco had occurred so quickly that Seulgi never really had the chance to stop and think. Sehun’s lease on their flat was due to run out next week (apparently the agency didn’t believe in sending out helpful reminders) and neither of them was prepared. Seulgi had only moved to Seoul for her job; she didn’t have anywhere else she could stay. So what did she do? She asked her partner, the only person in the world with whom she really felt safe, to go flat hunting with her. Which would have been fine, you know, if Sehun hadn’t gone all hey-I’m-going-to-pretend-that-everything’s-fine-eventhough-I’ve-completely-lost-my-bloody-marbles on her. AH.

She could feel herself worrying away at her bottom lip again. What the hell had happened? Just last week Sehun