You lived without want in a world that spun around in an ever watched universe. Call it the purest form of selfish want and need, the desire for fame was fire hot and would burn your throat without a single apology. You were, at best, the single piece of horrid contrastive personality with a sweet smile and quick tongue. Your smiles weren’t ( always 100% ) fake when you gave them out but for now, you’d give a fake laugh to the MC when he made an unnecessary joke that contained both the words ‘chub' and 'stress’. The bright neon orange fabric of street style Jeremy Scott copy would seem accusing when you smoothed it out, as if chastising you for biting back your tongue in front of the camera. Hell, what were you known best for?

    The girl with quick tongue and the ability to dish out what she was given for little apology. You were tough, the evidence of a harsh and complicated upbringing would only seep out in your on stage strength when that crowd was shouting their 2XU fanchants. It slipped when a MC would go too far and you forgot your place of seniority despite living between Seoul and countryside when your mother came to agreement with your father. The girl with a sad childhood who pushed it all aside to rise about in a hip-hop duo you’d have expected from YG themselves and yet— Here you stood, shoulders held high with whatever pride you could muster up, laughing when Inhye gave a light hearted jib, her bright brown eyes with their treasured flecks of green giving the ever knowing hint to your own.

    “You’ve both been so quiet since debuting last year, we’re excited to see what you’ve guys have been working on!” he grinned, an outlandish outfit given for only affect. “How do you feel, going up against—”

    His voice felt like a buzzing, trailed away when you recognized the question he’d ask. Fluorescent lights above that would give shine off from the cheap flooring underneath. You were all backstage, the bustle and hustle of incoming idols and groups being the background noise. Lens pointed to all three, the ever loved 2XU and the show’s MC. Inhye would make a joke, she was best at that sort of thing; being cute with her messy pigtails and dark red lips, voice light and airy when it smoothed out into a laugh. You almost joined in too late but her fingers had given a nearly ghost of a tug to signal.

    Eyes on you for your own answer. Stage fright could sprout up here and make it’s weary, yet familiar, trek home to your soul. The depths of it, you’d never get over how awkward it felt to speak about your music. Self-given praise, sour on your tongue when mistakes and imperfections immediately gave their show in front of your eyes. Restless nights, writing songs and helping produce. Nearly unheard of and yet here you were, callouses on the side of your fingers from gripping pen and pencils, the ink and lead sinking into your blood and bones.

    “We’re excited for everyone to finally hear what we’ve been working on. It seems really out of the ordinary for us to have dropped a mini-album then to just… disappear from the stage!” you paused, mouth drying suddenly when the MC gave the microphone a gentle tilt your way. stage fright for idols doesn’t exist in front of the camera but if someone looked closely enough, leaned in enough, they’d see the tremor of your fingers and hear the shock it sent to your voice. on edge, almost so, your lips pressed thin to thought with familiar gnawing to what a chart topper “ME/YOU” could be.

    Already in top ten to fourth and that was a slow crawl yet many called it an accomplishment given the competition. The nagging habit to bite and pull teeth across your bottom lip was calling; your lipstick would smudge and gloss would be the taste on your tongue, tip tainted with wax and glitter. The blinking red of the camera reminded you to go on in a ramble when you gave a shake of your head, “I’m sorry; I’m just so nervous! But I’m really grateful for all the support our fans have given us. We do this for them and for them to enjoy.” settled answer with a quick nod of your head.

    Solidarity; thin fingers and fake silver of a tedious manicure to smooth out the cotton of your outfit. the President of your company would be satisfied enough for this answer, you felt his dark browns on your face, searching for any crack that would give the floor to your wavering. You weren’t the worse at these interviews but it’d been too obvious how horribly apparent your discomfort was when focused was too long. Fidgeting under camera lights, the heat apparent and feeling like it was clicking teeth against your cheek; the phantom pain of make-up melting or smudging from the glare and stares. How was it, really, that you would always be so shy in front of cameras but so natural on stage?

    A question for another time. No doubt the President would want a talk, your manager for sure already squabbling quietly in her foreign voice, drawling accented Korean before slipping out a smooth English sentence. You could picture her in her almost middle age, if thirty-two was exactly middle-aged but you figured it might be a bit different—

    “Yah. Pay attention.” the softer voice with the only slight sharp edge; Inhye gave a comfortable tug of your dyed hair strands, the platinum needing to clash against neon fabrics and make up yet confidence in fashion was a ploy easily pulled off. You gave her a somewhat startled look, brought out of the exact age limits that existed in the entertainment world. She continued, eyes meeting your own before casting off into a pointed gaze, “They said we’re waiting here with another group so you have to pay attention. I can’t always be here to shoo you away from your thoughts.” she laughed, nudging a shoulder against your side.

    Easily enough, the both of you barely a difference in height. You could measure the difference by putting half your thumb over her shoulder and there’d you be. Measuring by contrast, comparative; the differences between you and Inhye were outwardly apparent in her soft and patient ways, you with edge and bold. Since ages of ten and eleven, the both of you had trained together, watching this or that girl join in before going out. School had been no breezy thing to get through but late night studies on dance floor with various homework papers around styrofoam takeout containers had a special place in your heart.

    Inhye with her always long hair, tied up lazily into a bun with a strand here and there falling loose amidst drying sweat. The both of you had grown accustomed to both unnatural and natural smells after hours of practice, the way it felt when muscles ached and cotton stuck to the heat of your backs. That had been over eight years before you debuted, those blurred lines of when day and night started, when it all ended. Three o’clock mornings before the sun rose, dancing to whatever hit song that your evaluators wanted to see, American or Korean. Clocks were given passing glances when you’d both realized that it meant nothing if your step wasn’t exactly right or your voice wasn’t hitting the note perfectly, when a lyric had to be rewritten and reedited a few hundred more times. Time had little meaning in your world where breakfast was a novelty idea and late night snacks had been bumped to dinner status.

    You were about to ask if she had known who before her “Oh…” slipped out.

    Confused for the second, you’d look over to where her eyes stayed and immediately tugged on her fingers to bow at the waist, throat closing up and eyes following to grant you a split second of calm for that singular blink. You’d grab time for this moment; catch your breath and grab a smile to slap onto your mouth, regardless of any sudden shyness that was bound to slip out of you both. Because during those last few of the eight years, you’d both became fond of dancing and singing to a certain band with a certain influence of a certain company. Inhye and you were both still girls, fans at heart. You’d known that there was a chance to meet these five guys soon but really— Now? Excitement bubbled up and your nervousness would tingle out underneath your skin. There was no hiding the shy smile, and you knew Inhye would have a much harder time pretending to keep cool.

    Which is why, when she looked to you with a hidden grin and almost pale pink flush against her cheeks, you wanted to hit her shoulder for the lack of professionalism.

    But then again, who hadn’t been a fan of Big Bang?