Present Day

YG Entertainment

      “Yongbae Oppa!”

      He turns around from talking to the receptionist, a pile of papers in his hands. Looking around, his eyes meet mine from the cafeteria entry way. He sends me his infamous eye smile and waves.

      I wave back, and go down the one step pedestal towards him, my left hand holding a gift bag tightly. Those Seungri fan girls are going to be the end of me.

      “Long time, Dara.” He says when I’m a talking distance from him, his eye curving into upside down crescents.

      “Oppa, I haven’t seen you since you came back from Singapore.” I pout. “When did you leave for Tokyo?”

      He hands the papers to the waiting receptionist and leans on the sleek white table, sneaking a glance at his wrist watch. “I left five days ago or something. Just came back before the weekend.”

      “A friend of mine is there.” I smile remembering that stupid grin at the airport before he had left Korea four years ago. “Kang Daesung? He graduated with us I think.”

      “Yeah, I know him,” He smoothens his Mohawk slowly, his bushy hair making him look y. Like the idol he is. “We never kept in contact though.”

      I nod. “I haven’t spoken to him in a long time as well. He might be busy with the recording company.”

      “What’s that?” He chuckles, his finger pointing to the red heart-shaped gift bag I’m holding, a bunch of wilting roses sticking out awkwardly. I blush, embarrassed.

      “Some trainee wanted me to give it to Seungri.” I mumble just as he bellows out in laughter. “Why are you laughing at me?”

      He pats my shoulder. “It’s not you I’m laughing at. Some girl is fooled enough to like that kid?”

      “I told you not to make fun of him. You’re his inspiration or something.”

      “Are you sure that isn’t Jiyong?” He teases

      “He still treats him like trash.” I sigh, but a small smile creeps out nonetheless.

      If Seungri was a girl, I would’ve said he was smitten with Kwon Jiyong.

      Jiyong hyung, this. Jiyong hyung, that. All the time.

      As if I wasn’t getting enough of him on my own daily plate.

      He has been sticking around me this whole week. Having lunch with me after scaring Seungri off, Getting me coffee after my class sessions, and dropping me off whenever Seunghyun oppa was unavailable.

      Whatever excuse I would make about going home alone, he would always see beyond the lie. How, I wouldn’t even know myself. He just gets me.

      I may act like I don’t like it, but truth be told, I’m be enjoying it a tad bit too much. He has this spell like thing on me where I can never say no to him.

      Not without a struggle that is.

      “I don’t think your best friend is sane.” I mock whisper to him, meaning the dragon. Yongbae’s face twitches in amusement. “How can someone be so…”

      He raises his eyebrow. “Vulgar? Rude? Inconsiderate?”

      I shake my head, and search around for a more suitable word. “Bipolar.”

      “I’m sorry?” He covers his laugh with a cough, and I look around to make sure no one is looking.

      “I don’t know,” I take a deep breath and tilt my head, recalling his behaviour the last week. “One second he’s yelling at some poor staff member in the corridor. Then I say hello and he goes all, ‘It’s okay, Man. Mistakes happen. Do you have any other chart breaking sound effects I could use instead? Oh, hey Sandara. I haven’t seen you there.’”

      Yongbae smirks. “That compliment sounds awfully ingénue.”

      “It does right?” I snap my fingers. “I knew it.”

      “I’m pretty sure he doesn’t mean any harm, though.” He adds quickly.

      “I’d debate you on that one, but I don’t have time right now.” I slightly stick out my tongue. A move I’ve learned from my ‘mature’ fiancé.

      Yongbae shakes his head. I lift the bag in my hand and do my best puppy eyes “Can you give this to Seungri in Jiyong’s recording studio upstairs?”

      He folds his hands across his chest. “Why in a hurry and why don’t you give it to him yourself?”

      “Seunghyun oppa is picking me up in a while.” I say in a hurry and smile sheepishly, “And… Jiyong is in there with Seungri.”

      “So?”

      “So what?”

      “Why does it matter if Jiyong is there?” He smirks. “I thought you were getting along well?”

      I bite my lower lips and twitch my fingers. “Seungri has been locked in there for the past two days with him and said that he was in a really bad mood. As if he’s ready to blow up in seconds”

      “When isn’t he?”

      “Well…” How do I retaliate that? Damn it.

      Why does he always have to make sense? Jiyong was right when he said he can be a pain.

      I try once more. “Please?” I pout, “Pretty please?”

      “None can do, sweetheart.” He shakes his head and smiles, walking backwards already. “I’m supposed to be meeting with sajangnim now, but I’m already late. See you later and good luck with everything.”

      With that, he into the open elevators without looking back. Not even once. I think his bad company is affecting him.

      I sigh in defeat and look at the dying roses in the bag and the humble chocolate box. Seungri won’t need this, would he? I can just throw it outside in the large bin and no one would notice. Or give it to some poor guy on valentines. Or…

      The trainee’s hopeful face comes to my mind, her face glowing with sweat, moisturizers and hope. Hope that I would deliver this gift.

      I can’t let her down, can I? I take a deep breath. Okay, it’s no big deal anyways. It’s just Kwon Jiyong.

      The cold, rude, childish, playful, bipolar producer who everyone stays away from.

      Everyone but me.

      Great going, Sandara.

      Now you have to deal with another big baby.

      A big baby that throws tantrums whenever humanely possible.

      As if Seunghyun oppa wasn’t enough.

      So I head to the tenth floor. The elevator doors open to a dim lit area, where green neon lighting was the only thing that was florescent enough to distinct it from a funeral house.

      Amongst all the doors that surround the circular seating lounge, loud suffocated bass music comes from a room at the very farthest corner. ‘Kwon Jiyong’, a silver sign on the black door says, with a huge red ‘No Entry’ sign hanging right below it.

      Taking a deep breath, I open the door without even trying to knock. Who would’ve heard me anyways? How come musicians aren’t deaf?

      I don’t think my presence was felt, for no one had turned around.

      I hardly make out the isolated producer. His body slumping behind a huge black chair in a nearly out room, his foot tapping along with the EDM beat. The recording booth in front of him was dim as well, but not as dark.

      The person I’m looking for was inside, looking as dead as ever. His dark circles were heightened below the hanging bulb above him, his voice flat.

      I never knew why Kwon Jiyong liked the dark so much. Poor Seungri can’t even say anything about it.

      The music stops suddenly. “Yah, Lee Panda.” Jiyong yells into the mic and I see Seungri rubbing his face, his hair muddled as if he hadn’t taken a shower in days. He has, right? “How many times do we have to do this part? Why can’t you get it right?”

      “Hyung,” Seungri croaks from inside, “I’m tired.”

      “Jiyong…” I say and close the door behind me. He turns around almost i