I'd been praised numerous times for my work, from all walks of life. Temporary happiness coming with each expression of warm approval directed towards my music or even my leadership ability. It feels good to be told good things that are genuine. It lifts you up to cloud nine and beyond. I've heard it from many people in and out of the industry.

But not Choi Seunghyun. 

Not from the one person I want to be praised by. In the past, I'd been desperately fishing for his acceptance, staying up all night to write and compose but never had a "good job, CL-ssi" or even a nod of his head come my way after he heard my song. No, he had choosen to remain indifferent as ever, merely brushing past me in the YG halls as if I were peeling paint on the walls. 

I told myself that I had to stop caring then. What good was one opinion anyway? Clenching my teeth, I had walked briskly back to the studio, the door slamming shut behind me. And despite my earlier sentiment about not caring, tears had begun to fall for the words I'd never hear. 

Part of me wanted to believe that I only longed for words from him, but I knew it went deeper than that. I craved his attention that had never been given to me, I craved his love, I craved him. Such silly thoughts of wanting what I couldn't have plagued my mind like never before. And the realization that I couldn't stop thinking about him when he never even spared me a glance had cut me deeply. 

Now our groups are gathered again. It's been a while since we've all been together due to our busy schedules, but everyone wants to be here for the first official listening of 2NE1's album. With a few finishing touches, it's ready; my proudest moment to date because I've practically produced and composed the whole thing myself. Of course, with input from the girls. 

So we sit through the thirty five minutes together, never doing much but listening and feeling the sound that I've worked so hard to create. It sounds better than I could have ever imagined and the unintentional transition from upbeat to ballad-like songs work well. I'm intensely satisfied. 

As the final song fades into silence, my eyes reopen and I'm bombarded by positive reviews from the listeners. 

"Our leader is the best," Bom grins, a pleasant image that contrasts how she'd looked through her scandal. I'm glad that a simple thing such as making music lifts her mood. 

"It's better than I expected," Jiyong nods, giving me a tight hug. "You've written well to suit each person's voice. You all sound amazing."

The girls and I bow our thanks before returning the hug attacks from Youngbae and Seungri who dance to and sing the parts they remember. Daesung makes a food analogy that I can't even begin to understand, but he assures me that he enjoyed it. 

I don't even bother looking at Seunghyun, knowing too well that nothing's going to come, but it seems that everyone else expects him to say something. 

"I didn't like it," his voice reaches my ears; I wish I hadn't heard him. 

Curiosity spiked all around the room by four words. "What?! Why not?" Minzy questions.

"Let it be," I console, playing around with a few loose pieces of paper to distract myself. "We can't expect everyone to like what we put out."

"I'm curious, though," Dara speaks up in her timid voice from her place on the couch. "What didn't you like?"

"The lyrics mainly." Well damn. "Chaerin could've done better."

And that has me turning, glaring daggers into him where he leans against the door. The urge to punch him is building with each passing second, "I tried my hardest and I didn't do it just so I could be belittled by you about lyrics when in 'Turn It Up' you call yourself 'the official pimp'. Look at yourself before you come for me, you ing loser."

"Let them talk it out," Taeyang instructs quietly behind me as he ushers everyone out. I feel him pat my back gently in support before he exits as well. It's just me and the bastard left. Great.

"I know you could've done better, that's all I'm saying," he speaks before I can say anything. "You're still young, but you've experienced a lot and you should've written about it."

"I did do that!"

"You touched the surface," he rectifies, never growing loud. "You could've gone deeper. Why didn't you?"

"Gone deeper?" I scoff at the idiot's words. "Why are you acting like you know me? We barely talk as is and you avoid me every chance you get. Tell me, Seunghyun, what have I done to you for you to hate me like this?"

He remains silent, staring right back at me with blank eyes. His lips are pressed into a firm line as though he's holding himself back from saying something and his eyebrows are knit together in anger. Never does he deny my words. 

"Everything."

Not in the mood for this, I move to go out the door but he clutches my hand to thwart my exit. I resist thinking deeper about the way his hand feels in mine when he pulls me back to look at him. I try to pull away, but he doesn't let me.

"Let go of me, ," I order. 

He ignores me. "I hate everything about you, I don't know where to begin."

My eyes narrow and I slide my hand from his grasp before balling them into fists at my sides. Chaerin is long gone and CL has come out to play, angry and offended. But I know it's merely a façade to stop myself from crying again. I'm tired of releasing tears over someone who doesn't deserve it. 

"Do you want a ing notebook to write it down?" I sneer; it's comes out harsher than I intended. "You're such a self-important, irritating bastard who thinks he's all high and mighty. I'm done with your . You need to get your back down to earth and realize that your words aren't law, they're just the opinion of one-"

"I hate that you don't let me explain," he cuts me off, holding up his index finger while looking me square in the eyes. He raises another as he goes along, "I hate that you curse so much and the way you can get really loud sometimes. I hate the way you never fully bow to me like you do to everyone else."

Seriously, what is this? "If you don't like those things then let me leave and we can continue avoiding each other."

"No," he shakes his head, his expression telling me that I'm missing something obvious. "I need you to hear this."

"Oh, well then let me take a seat," I say sarcastically, folding my arms across my chest and tapping my foot in an attempt to purposefully annoy him because of my impatience. He doesn't budge. 

"You'll never understand how much I dislike your sass, your overly revealing fashion sense, the way you get into everyone's personal space when they're down or the way you walk down the ing halls-"

I arch my eyebrows in disbelief at that, "The way I walk down the halls? Wow, you're a psychopath."

"Oh, but I'm not CL, you just don't see it," he disagrees. "Your hips sway in the most seductive manner and you don't even realize it. That's the worst part. You're killing me with no knowledge of it."

Am I hearing correctly? Because this conversation has taken a complete turn. I'm so genuinely confused that I don't know what to say, so I keep my mouth shut. Thankfully, he fills the silence as he goes on. 

"Your finger smoothes over your lips when you're deep in thought, your nose scrunches up when you laugh wholeheartedly, you can love and associate with everyone freely, you smile wider when you give a gift than when you receive," he relates to me, eyes closing as he seems to be reliving a memory. "I can't remember when I first realized I had feelings for you, but that's when I started avoiding you. I tried to stay away, but it seems distance made me more observant as I picked up on every little thing you did when you weren't looking my way.

"You taunt me like a minx, but I can never have you. We're just labelmates, co-workers, acquaintances in a company where that's all we are allowed to be. If only things were different, I'd have you already."

And I suddenly feel like I need a drink of water right now because fainting is the last thing I want to do. This is the confession I've been imagining, but now that it finally came, it's far too much to process. Instead, my lips spill the only words I can muster, "I'm n-not something that you can just have....I'm a person, not an object."

He chuckles, stepping closer to me and I step back. This continues until I'm pressed up against the wall beside one of our company's expensive artworks and Seunghyun is right before with a hand on either side of my shoulders, caging me in. 

Slowly, almost cautiously, he bends his head to trail his nose along my collarbone and up my neck, inhaling. I visibly shiver, praying that I don't do anything embarrassing like moan out loud. 

"Tell me now, Chaerin, before it's too late," his husky voice sounds. It's my first time hearing it at such close proximity and my eyes threaten to roll back in my head, "A simple 'no' and all this will stop."

Okay, now I want to roll my eyes for a completely different reason. Is he so dense to think that I'll be willing to turn down such an offer? That thought hasn't crossed my mind. So bravely, I reach my hand out to his back before pulling him to me, closer. That's all we need to be, close. 

His inviting lips curve into a smile and I come to terms with the fact that he isn't one to utter such things as 'I like you' or 'let's date'. No, he's more a man of action and I certainly don't mind. As if on cue, his brings his lips closer to mine but I pull back at the last second.

I have to ask, "Do you really not like the album?"

"I'll show you how to feel," he promises, his eyes darken minutely. "And then you can write about that."