The show ended in success. Seventeen is now a well-known group. And so is Hansol.

Hansol, though he may not be the official visual of Seventeen, is frequently referred as to one.

Most fangirls have him as his bias, mostly of the international fans, due to his English abilities. That’s why he takes the extra step of interpreting and translating things among themselves for the fans.

But tonight, he couldn’t take another step. He was tired.

No, not that kind of tired, tired as in maxed out.

He just wants to plop down his bed and welcome the dreamland awaiting him.

Everyone in the van, and the two other vehicles following theirs were asleep. Except for the drivers and the managers.

And him.

He couldn’t sleep. Though Jisoo had already acknowledged his right shoulder as a pillow. Samuel did the same to his left thigh.

“I sometimes think that Jisoo is younger than you.” Their manager suddenly said, he wanted to break the ice. This manager-hyung is a rookie, he only started last week, and he was doing a pretty good job so far. He wanted to know the guys better.

“I think so too.” He moved Jisoo’s head to prevent those pair of lips meeting his own. “But he’s mature when you need him to.”

“Yeah, because mentioning Kim Possible as your ideal type is pretty mature.” The manager groaned, earning a soft laugh from Hansol.

“Yeah, well besides that he has an interest for female cartoon characters, he’s pretty mature in controlling the situation.” Hansol commented. He poked Jisoo’s nose, the older boy in return scrunched his nose. He then adjusted Samuel’s head that was resting on his thigh and combing softly through the youger’s hair.

“You’re really caring for the two aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I never had any brothers, I think it’s just my body’s impulse due to the lack of masculinity in the house.”

“What about your father?” The manager asked.

“He wasn’t around most of the time. But he supported me nonetheless. One is better than none you know?”

“I know.” The manager shut his mouth, he remembered something that his co-manager said to him earlier.

Hansol had family problems for the past three years when his father wanted a divorce with his mother. His mom on the other hand didn’t agree and forced the family together. But force isn’t the proper thing to do. A week before his debut, the two went on a legal separation and split their properties. Their New York residence now belonging to his father, his little sister Sofia now under the custody of his mother and they are currently living in Busan with his grandmother, their Seoul apartment belonging to no one and he was the only family member who hasn’t returned the key to the landlady.

“Oh yeah, manager-hyung, I have some things to take care of at the house.”

“We’re heading there.”

“No, my house. My real house. In Mangwon-dong.”

“I think I can’t allow you. I’m sorry Hansol.”

“I already asked manager-noona’s permission last week. She said yes. You could ask her if you want to.”

“Okay.”

The manager called his colleague on the situation. She confirmed Hansol’s story and they stopped over at Mangwon-dong.

“Take care of yourself kid. Are we going to pick you up?” The manager asked.

“I can manage. I’ll take the bus. I’d be at the dorm at seven AM tomorrow.”

“Okay kid.” The black van drove off and he headed to their former apartment building.

He looked up at the medium-sized apartment. Not much of a building as it only had three floors. The ground floor, which was more of a lobby, the second floor where everything was, and the top floor, his favorite part of the house.

He put the key in the hole and opened the door slowly. He climbed up the small flight of stairs leading to another door, metal this time. He took out another key and did the same to the lock. He opened another door. He felt for the light switch on the wall and flicked it on.

Empty whiteness welcomed him.

He could only see the nails on the walls in which pictures of their family’s happy memories were immortalized in photo paper and glass frames.

Memories.

Only memories remain of this formerly joyous abode.

He could almost smell the samgyeopsal cooking from the kitchen, a tradition when someone celebrates his/her birthday.

He could almost hear the clinks of porcelain cups that his sister forced him into. Tea parties, the sole reason that he felt his manliness fly out the window. But if it was for his sister’s happiness, he would.

He could almost feel the soft duvet where he and his mother lie in bed together while Sofia was in the other room. A daddy’s girl.

He could almost taste the cough medicine that he took for his sister. Only one of the sinister favors that she got back from him for covering for him when he went home thirty-minutes late.

He could almost see the last moment that he saw occurring before his eyes in this small living room.

Bitter curses and words flying, slaps exchanged, and helpless screams and warnings failing to register in one’s ears.

He who took the punch for his mother.

He who was hit by the swooping projectile that was aimed at his sister, a glass shard.

He who was taken to the hospital that night.

And that night after he was rushed to the emergency room, he settled in a ward.

And from that moment, he wanted to live.

He saw a girl on the television, performing a song unknown to his ears. But he found himself bobbing along to the tune.

It caught his attention, especially the girl’s jazzy singing voice.

And hey, he’s a man. She had nice legs.

His sister came rushing into the room and hugged him. He did the same. His mother came in and kissed his forehead.

That moment was perfect. And 1234 was the song playing in the background.

His sister danced along to the song and repeated the only lyrics she knew,

“1234! Ooohh!”

Hansol laughed hard. His mother told him not to.

“But it’s so funny!”

“It’s not. Now rest. I’m going to turn off the telly.”

“After the song.” He and his sister said in chorus.

The three of them watched the rest of the girl’s performance.

“She’s pretty isn’t she? Her name’s Lee Ha Yi.” His mother said.

“You know her mom?” Sofia asked.

“Yes. She was my student in grade school.”

“Oh.” Hansol repeated the name like a chant in his head.

“Okay Sofie, say goodbye to your brother, we’ll visit tomorrow okay Vernon?”

“Okay mom. Bye Sofie!” Hansol waved, she ran over oncemore to kiss his brother on the cheek.

“Bye Vernon. I love you.” His sister then offered a fistbump which he gladly obliged. “You’re a star.”

“I am not.”

“You have that certain glow. A hero’s glow maybe brother? Or you’re in love?” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“Stop it Sofie. Bye!” Hansol planted numerous kisses on her sister’s head.

“Okay, bye Vernon!”

His flashback stopped.

He looked around the living room and saw a little shiny thing on the floor along with a paper thing.

Stars.

Not real stars, but it matched the one hanging off his neck.

It was his sister’s.

He picked it up along with the other star made of paper. He unfolded it and it transformed into a long strip of paper. It had writings inside.

Stars in the sky aren’t as pretty as the stars on earth.

He re-assembled the paper star and put the amethyst one in his coat pocket. He went up to the rooftop and looked at the night sky.

“Stars, what are they exactly?” He asked himself.

“They’re balls of hot glowing gas billions of miles away.”

A female voice not belonging to the landlady echoed through the small space. Hansol couldn’t make out her face in the dim light.

“Now that I’ve answered your question, you have to answer mine. Who are you and what are you doing here?”

“This is my house.” He held the key up in his hands.

“Well it’s mine now.” She held a similar pair of keys in her small hands.

“Who are you to say that?” Hansol questioned, heading for the light on the corner of the rooftop and turing it on.

Were his eyes deceiving him?

“I’m Lee Ha Yi. I bought this apartment yesterday.”

“I-I’m Choi Hansol. I know you.” He stuttered.

“Yeah. I know you too. Seventeen’s visual? Who considers his ideal type as me?”

“You- you know me?!”

“Of course I do. You’re a star.”