[[TRIGGER WARNING!!!!!!! MENTALL ILLNESS AWARENESS/DISCUSSED AHEAD!!!]]

In the rush of promotions, fan-signs, TV appearances, and fan meetings, life actually took a slow turn for Eun Mi and the members of CELESTIAL. They managed to secure a win in every major music show before Red Velvet’s comeback and after SHINee’s mind blowing repackage comeback.

As always, Eun Mi kept her distance, except for the time in which she and Chae participated as special MCs. Eun Mi thought she would die standing so close to Jonghyun. Backstage, she couldn’t suppress a surprised yelp when Key complimented her new hairstyle. She felt guilty for not returning the compliment, wishing him good luck with Married to the Music instead. Truth be told, Eun Mi hated his broccoli hair, and as a fan, she felt horrible about hating it—but not really.

“I feel so bad,” she confessed to Taewoon. “He’s always so stylish, and he’s practically in charge of SHINee’s styling now… But I just couldn’t compliment his hair.”

Taewoon looked up a photo of the idol in question. “Oh. Damn.”

“Woon-ah!”

“Don’t feel bad. I don’t think you’re the only one that dislikes it. He might even hate it himself.”

The argument on Eun Mi’s lips had died only because CELESTIAL had been called onstage. She vowed to avenge Key, only to forget about it during the performance and following events.

For CELESTIAL’s anniversary fan meeting, the girls went through with DAEE’s idea of sharing Mexican candy. Due to the lack of time and sudden decision, a couple of goodie bags were raffled out; presented to the lucky A.Borealis by the girls themselves.

CELESTIAL was busy, but they were not unhappy. Promotion period was the only time they did not get days off, but they didn’t mind. They enjoyed every single moment of it; from practicing, to performing, to spontaneously meeting A.Borealis before music shows, to the official fan-signs, the girls loved every moment.

In the midst of this, Eun Mi and Tae Jun’s birthday came and went like a hurricane. The company reserved Café Mid-Moon for a private party with thirty fans and a handful of fansite masters. Eun Mi made them all coffee and read a handwritten letter thanking them for their support and love. When she later posted a scan of it on CELESTIAL’s fan café, many A.Borealis left encouraging comments. Tae Jun, on the other hand, serenated AMORES and uploaded the live performance video onto L6’s fan café and official YouTube channel.

The cast and production crew of Follow the Leader also celebrated Tae Jun and Eun Mi’s shared birthday as well as Zico’s all in one go. They attempted several hidden cameras, but none of them succeeded. They were a fierce trio that no one seemed to know how to lie to very well.

That day, they also informed them that their time in the program was drawing to a close. The show had received more love and higher ratings than expected, especially for a program focused on idols. The network’s approach to the leaders’ lives in a documentary manner fused with variety and reality, had given way to many discussions, most positive, but with its fair share of negative reviews. Viewers worried for the mental health of the leaders, argued that the pressure and responsibility placed on them to be the bridge between the company and the group, as well as the one that had to lead them in public presentation and etiquette, harmed the young idols.

In a very long, drawn out meeting, the leaders and their companies, along with the network, decided that the program had run its course, at least for its first season. A special segment to the music festival in October was added in which the leaders would showcase collaboration stages, a product of their time spent together in productive musicality.

It was a great way to tackle the debate on how idols lacked musical talent without the support of their labels. Whether they had choreographed an entire routine, composed, or produced a song, the music festival would be the place where they would reveal these hidden collaborations.

Jonghoon threw his arm around Eun Mi’s shoulder, tucking her in against his side. “We’ve got this in the bag!”

Eun Mi hesitated, looking up from the notebook in her hands, her brow creased. “I don’t think the lyrics are quite ready yet.”

“Of course they’re not. Are you still promoting? Do you have time to stop by FNC and work on them?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

And that was how Eun Mi ended up spending more time at FNC than anywhere else, including Taewoon’s apartment. The time spent with Taewoon—or the lack of—did not matter to her as much as the evenings missed in the company of her girls.

Here recently, DAEE had been distancing herself from everyone. It troubled Eun Mi so much that she often wished Follow the Leader had ended quietly instead of forcing her away from her members.

A bad feeling gnawed at the pit of her stomach; a feeling that continued to grow as the days passed by. She could only think of it for a few moments at a time before she was required to refocus on her work with Jonghoon. They had a hit song to create, after all.

DAEE zipped her jacket up, cramming her hands into the pockets as she pushed the door of the roof open. The wind whiplashed her hair, making it stand on end. Ryouta stood by the ledge, but not on in. DAEE sighed her relief.

“Ryou!”

He turned, smiling at the sight of her. He opened up his arms for her; she rushed into them. DAEE tucked herself against his chest. There had been a time when she had been taller than him. Taller and smarter and stronger. She wondered when the roles had reversed.

He kissed her forehead, d her cheeks, before crushing his lips to hers. DAEE allowed herself to drown in his passion for a few seconds before she heeded the alarms going off in her head. She drew away with a blush when he attempted to nibble her lip.

“Noona?”

Ryouta’s eyes lacked their usual sparkle, lacked the vivacious gleam that had drawn her to him in the first place. His hair hung limply, his dark roots creating a gloomy, dreary contrast against the silver. DAEE caressed his cheeks with the back of her fingers. He caught his hand in his, kissing it, biting.

“Ryou, stop.”

He looked at her with those dead eyes that made her soul cry. He dropped her hand, blinking slowly.

“Ryou,” she choked out. “Please, let’s get help. Let’s go talk to someone.”

“No.”

“Ryouta, please.”

“No! Do you think it will get better just by talking to someone? Do you think anything will change just by having someone tell you that you are officially crazy? How naïve can you possibly be, Park Dae?”

Her real name felt like a slap, a cold, wet slap, merciless and evil. She took a step back, swallowing hard. “You need help.”

“You need to mind your own business, noona. Don’t bring it up again.”

“Or what? You’ll break up with me?”

“Yes.”

DAEE threw her shoulders back, standing straighter. She could feel her eyes sting with tears, her chin trembling with the threat of sobs. She extracted herself from Ryouta’s arms, hoping that her voice did not betray how badly his words hurt.

“Then break up with me. I was your friend before I became your girlfriend. I have cared for you from the moment we met. I don’t need your permission to worry about you, just as I don’t need your permission to love you.”

DAEE had hoped that her declaration would light a spark in his eyes, return some of his old self into this stone cold new being that stood before her. She hoped in vain. Ryouta’s eyes remained as dead as the day he’d returned from the police station.

“Then we’re done,” he deadpanned.

She was losing him, slowly, quickly, all at once and in tiny pieces. His mind was consuming him from the inside out. How did no one else notice? How could no one else worry about him?

She coughed into the crook of her arm as she rushed back into the building. She had to find Eun Mi. If anyone knew what to do, it would be Eun Mi.

So consumed by her worry, DAEE did not notice how Su Jong lingered just beside the rooftop’s door, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, a tight, knowing expression on his face.

Eun Mi accepted the V Live app phone with a gentle smile. CELESTIAL, in their final weeks of promotion, had been granted the opportunity to do a live broadcast through the new app. Though the project was still in its beta stages, many idol groups had successfully interacted with fans via V Live. The novelty of having an app that focused on connecting K-Pop idols to the rest of the world, to their international fans, made it all the more exciting. CELESTIAL hadn’t been able to attend K-CON as of yet, so they did not know just how many international fans they had. Eun Mi, especially, wanted to know how they were received overseas.

“Is that the V app phone?” ReNA inquired, bouncing from foot to foot. “When do we go live?”

“Twenty minutes. Stop jumping around. You’ll make our stylists work twice as much if you mess up your hair.”

ReNA frowned but listened. “I thought this broadcast was supposed to be real, candid.”

Eun Mi would have replied with thrice the sass if she had not spotted DAEE rushing into the room. The fear in her splotchy face unnerved her.

“Chae Young.”

Chae materialized beside her, attentive, ready. She had grown stronger, more responsible during these past promotions. Eun Mi had gradually allowed her to take a few leadership roles here and there; CELESTIAL would follow Chae in Eun Mi’s absence, but Chae had to believe that she could lead for it to work.

Handing her the V Live phone, instructing her to connect it to the selfie-stick, Eun Mi made her way to DAEE. Already, one of the stylists was fussing over her windblown hair; DAEE’s eyes pleaded, cried out desperately in a way Eun Mi had never seen before. They made her hesitate, stumble in her approach.

“U-unnie,” she cleared , tried again. “Unnie, can I talk to DAEE, please?”

The stylist grumbled under her breath, rattling off a string of accusations at DAEE over how easily she destroyed her image. Eun Mi bowed a slight apology, taking DAEE by the crook of her elbow and leading her out of the room.

“DAEE, what’s the matter?”

Shivers coursed through her body, perspiration sliding down her neck, accumulating over her lips. DAEE’s breaths came in short, shallow gasps. Eun Mi dug around her sweater’s pockets; she’d placed a couple of tissues in there earlier, or so she thought. She patted DAEE’s face dry with her sleeves when she didn’t find them.

“Unnie,” her voice cracked, a sob wrecking her body. “R-Ryouta…he—”

“Oh my goodness, DAEE, you’re burning up!”

DAEE pushed her hands away from her face, trying to speak over her fussing. A sob paired painfully with a cough. She hunched over, pressing a fist to her chest as she nearly hacked a lung out. Eun Mi rubbed her back comfortingly. DAEE had a vague notion that she’d called for help.

“U-un-unnie, R-Ryouta—”

“I know, I know. I’ll call someone to go get him. He’s on the roof, right?”

DAEE glanced at her, almost managing to feel surprised before she started coughing again. Eun Mi continued to rub her back until Na Na unnie arrived.

“Have you been walking out in the cold wind?” she scolded. “You know how sick you get when you’re out and about during the change of seasons. And with your goodbye stages just around the corner. What am I going to do with you?”

“I-I’m sorry.”

“If you’re sorry take better care of yourself!”

Eun Mi watched them go, a foot inside the door as the staff continued to call her back into the room. She rushed to send a message to Tae Jun; he should be somewhere in the company, he could go get Ryouta. It made her nervous.

“Ms. Song Eun Mi!”

“Yes, coming!”

Su Jong sat on the bench behind Ryouta, watching the kid step on and off the ledge. He stuffed his hands in his jacket’s pockets, hunching his back against the wind. He tilted his head up to better see ; funny how a cap could limit someone’s sight so much. Ryouta’s hair whipped about. Su Jong thought it looked freaking cool.

“If you’re going to jump,” he finally said, making Ryouta nearly lose his footing, “you should pick another building. Unless you want to come back as a ghost and secure the success of our next album, please don’t haunt this place.”

“Are you freaking insane? I could’ve fallen!”

Su Jong grinned, the kind of grin that said he was crazy, the kind he only ever showed Eun Mi. It stopped Ryouta’s blood, froze it over in terror. “You aren’t the only one with a few loose screws, Ry-ou-ta-chan.”

Ryouta hesitated briefly before stepping down from the ledge. He watched Su Jong watch him as he made his way to take a seat beside him. Su Jong offered him a piece of gum, then reached into Ryouta’s pocket, pulling out the pack of cigarettes and tossing them over the ledge.

“Hey!”

“You’re a ing singer. You make a living out of using your lungs and you’re going to them up with cigarettes?” Su Jong smacked him upside the head. “Where the is your brain?”

Ryouta glowered, rubbing the fierce ache away. “I haven’t—”

“Become an addict? That’s what all addicts say. Denial. Straight up deny they have a problem. You know who else denies they have issues?” Su Jong leaned in close, the bill of his cap brushing Ryouta’s forehead. He grinned again, tapping his temple. “People with ed up brains.”

“W-what?”

Su Jong grinned then proceeded to laugh manically. He tossed something at him, a small container that rattled. Ryouta’s reflexes weren’t fast enough, he had to pick the little bottle off the floor. He read the label, but didn’t understand. He counted six pills inside; the label said it was due for a refill in three days.

“Hyung?”

“Do you have a dad, Ryouta?”

Su Jong knew that he didn’t. Everyone knew that if someone did not talk about one parent or the other, or both, they weren’t in good terms with them, or dead, or both. That’s just the way it was. It’d started with Eun Mi and carried on. No one liked to talk about what skeletons were hidden in their closets. Su Jong didn’t like to talk about how he was partially hidden inside one, too.

“You know I don’t.”

“Me either. The bastard left my mother for another woman’s fortune. He tried to become a politician, ended up on someone’s bad side and, kqwiiiik,” Su Jong ran his thumb over his neck.

Ryouta flinched.

“Messed up my mom some. Messed me up a lot.”

“Hyung, why are you telling me this?” Ryouta wanted to run away, to stop listening. He didn’t recognize the man sitting next to him. The mischievous gleam in his eyes, the troublemaker tilt to his smile, was gone.

“Why? Are you scared?” Su Jong threw his arm around him, pulling him in against his side. “You should be. You see that little bottle you’re holding? That’s my stabilizer.”

“H-huh?”

Su Jong laughed, a foreign sound that Ryouta had never hear before, one he hoped he’d never hear again.

“My shrink says I suffer from cluster B personality disorder. It sounds lame, I know, nothing fancy. In fact, it just means I can’t control my emotions very well.”

The annoyance and anger Ryouta had continued to feel disappeared as a wave of uncensored fear took over. A thousand tiny instances in which Su Jong had seemed at the verge of hitting them, the slumps he seemed to fall into while they were in hiatus, the nights he’d stay up obsessing over his most recently developed hobby flooded into his mind.

“Why are you like this?” Ryouta heard himself ask the question aloud, felt himself gulp.

Su Jong sighed, sounding more like himself than he had throughout the entire exchange. “Now that’s a good question. A bit of it is genetics, another bit is life experiences, traumas, and the other bit…maybe bad luck? Eun Mi says that first world citizens develop and illness of the soul and mind because we don’t suffer physical maladies. That’s the word she used, maladies. I swear she pulls that vocabulary out of thin air. Who uses the word maladies?”

“Eun Mi noona.”

They shared a laugh.

Su Jong took his medication back, putting it away. “Some people say that having a mental illness is like missing a puzzle piece. I say it’s more like walking a tight rope. You need to keep your balance, otherwise you’ll end up dead.”

They sat in silence, staring up at the electricity cables that ran from one pole to the next, envisioning themselves on their thin lengths.

Ryouta wondered if he would end up dead. He felt so close to the ground, tipping over, falling. He thought of DAEE and of AMORES, of s and his aunt waiting for him at home. He thought of his puppy, Lemon-Honey, and of the little kitty he’d seen at the vet’s. He thought of the plans for next year’s concert and the rush of being onstage. He thought of never being able to sing or dance or perform again.

He whispered his choked cry so softly, it would have disappeared with the wind of Su Jong had not been expecting it: “Help me.”

Su Jong pulled him closer, planting a big, loud, wet kiss on his cheek. “Our little maknae is growing up! I’m so proud!”

Ryouta reeled, pushing him away, feeling more like himself than he had in days. “Hyung! Ew! Stop!”

“Let yourself be loved, kid! Lemme give you another one!”

They goofed around until their hair and clothes smelled like metropolitan wind, until they laughed so hard their sides hurt. Ryouta felt closer to himself and his friends than he had in a long time. He took the hand Su Jong offered him and held on tight.

“I need to apologize to DAEE,” he whispered.

“You do,” Su Jong agreed, nodding his head. “Better make it soon unless you want her to take the breakup seriously.”

Ryouta nearly stumbled down the stairs. “H-hyung! You knew?”

Su Jong flicked his forehead. “Duh. Everyone knows. We’ve known for a long time. Eun Mi said we had to give you two time to figure it out and tell us yourselves.” He rolled his eyes. “DAEE really, truly cares for you. People like us need someone like them to make it. Don’t mess it up.”

“I-I won’t.” Ryouta paused. “But did everyone really know about it?”

“Yes. Everyone. You can’t hide it from us, and even if you could, you’d never be able to hide it from the leaders.”

Ryouta sighed. “I guess it was stupid to even try.”

“Just a bit.”

Everyone knows.

It felt like a sick joke, a creepy premonition, a way of saying they’d all been aware of his struggles and done nothing and everything to help. Ryouta didn’t want to think about it; he just wanted to find DAEE and apologize. He also wanted to tell her that he would get treatment, like he promised her, like he’d been promising her for months.

Ryouta couldn’t believe he had waited this long, let it get this bad. He had to apologize and get better.

Apologize and get better.