o n e

“Annyeong~!” I waved at the little boy, Jooweon after signing his album. He was only a toddler, no older than 3 years old. We had just ended our fan signing event at Gwangju, the little boy and his (young) mother were the last fans lined up. I watched his retreating back with a big smile plastered on my face and kept waving at him until he was out of my sight. Just then, a thought crossed my mind. “How I wish I have a baby,” I thought out loud, unaware that it spilled out of my mouth.

“What did you say Hyo?” Bora unnie, who was seating on my right, asked.

“Errr… Just that… Look at Jooweon’s mother. She’s still young yet she already has a son,” I sigh. “And then look at us. Will I even have a child before I turn thirty?”

Don’t get me wrong. I love our fans. I love performing for them. It has always been my dream, but there’s just times when I forgot that we’re idols. I forgot that we’re risking our personal life by being an idol. It’s like we can’t even date when we’re basically humans, too. Of course, when we do date, the female gets the hate. It’s so unfair. The world is so unfair. No, scratch that. The people living in it are.

“Hold your horses, unnie!” Dasom exclaimed, who was seated next to Soyou that was by my left. “You have to get married first!”

“Dasommie,” I started. “You don’t have to get married to have a baby”.

Gasped escaped from the other girls’ mouth and I just looked at them, puzzled. Suddenly, Soyou spoked. “Unnie, does that mean you want to have a baby BEFORE you get married?”

My eyes buldged, understanding where this conversation was heading. “What? No! I mean-“

“Hyorin-ah!” Our manager oppa called out.

“Yes, oppa! I’m coming!” I excused myself from the girls and backed away from the fan signing table, heading towards our manager.

“Let’s go,” our manager said. “You have to finish recording for your solo album, come one!” I just nodded and followed him towards the van.

In the van, I thought about what Soyou said. Do I want a child badly that I want it before I actually got married? No. Of course not. But the thought rang in my mind all the way to the studio.

I used to be so scared to enter the recording studio. I remembered how when were trainees, I used to ditch recording, all because once, I was scolded for not singing the way they wanted me to. I guess it became like a trauma for me. It was scary but now, the recording studio is like my second home. It’s where I let all my frustrations out on a piece of paper and if I’m in the mood, probably I would make music out of it but never have I let anyone hear it. It’s too precious. It’s too personal. It’s too embarrassing. I don’t have the proper skills to produce good music yet. When I’ve polished my composing skills, I might let our producer have a listen. Keyword: MIGHT.

I burst through the studio’s door with my head held high and I shouted like I usually would. “Wassup hommie!”

The only response I got was our music producer’s stern voice. “Hyorin-ah, we have a guest here.”

I turned to where he was motioning and saw… What’s his name again? Ah! Zico? I think that’s his name. I stared for another minute and realized I may have come out rude when this is our first meeting. I came to my senses and bowed to him. I just left him a bad first impression. Wow Hyorin, wow! What a great start!

“Annyeonghaseyo,” I spoke, feeling slightly embarrassed.  “Sistar’s leader, Hyorin ibnida.”

“Annyeonghaseyo sunbaenim,” he bowed back. “Block B’s leader, Zico ibnida.” So, I am right. It’s Zico. Block B’s Zico.

“Ahhh… I’m sorry for that sudden greeting.“

“Don’t worry too much, it’s okay,” he smiled. How enchanting. Have I ever mention that I fancy rappers who looks so bad- but then, off stage, they’re really not? Well, I do.

“Since you guys have exchanged your greetings,” the producer interrupted. “I think we should proceed.” We both just nodded our heads.

I followe