I walk out of the meeting room with a sigh. Truth to be told, everybody is. It’s a hectic week for the whole office since we’re going to work on a new issue for the next edition. Yes, I work at a magazine. Sounds fun? Of course. But you never think that this whole thing is a proper job for a human when the word ‘DEADLINE’ with all capital letter slaps you right on the face. I was an intern here up until two months ago before I got my official position as a junior writer, and I’m still adapting to this whole no-sleep office culture and the continuous craves for caffeine.

I look around and everyone on my team literally running around the office. Some are on the phone trying to set up appointment with their interviewees, some are busy gathering props and selecting model’s portfolio to choose the right models for the photoshoot, some already typing down busily on their laptop. Meanwhile i am, despite being the youngest-writer on this team, still seated down in my cubicle with a blank expression. Ms. Hong, my team leader then walk to my side and throw a bunch of papers to my desk.

]
“This was all of the print out of interviews we ever did with him. Search through it and find something interesting, okay?” her hawk eyes meet mine and I couldn’t help but shiver a bit. 5 months knowing her and I still couldn’t kept up with her charismatic and dominating aura.

“O-okay, Team Leader Hong.” I answered nervously. If answering her were already making me this nervous, I didn’t know what I would be if I really voicing out my wishes to swap the article I have to cover with someone else. I think I would be a dead meat by then.

“Oh, and also, try to ask personal questions as many as possible. He’s the most desirable Hip-Hop artist nowadays but he is known to be so closed up about his private life, so do well and make an epic coverage, understood?” I gulped and nodded my head a couple of times.

“Yes, I understand Miss. I’ll try to make something out of it.”

“Good. Now shoo, hurry up and listed down your questions!” And with that, finally she walks away and I can finally let my breath that I unconsciously hold back since she came.

I look around the papers Miss Hong gave me and found out that almost all of the articles were done in a laid back and hip hop style, but strangely it still felt distant, as if the person being interviewed is being too formal, except when he answered questions about music. And in the last page of the articles’ pile i found the profile of the person that makes my head hurts since this morning.

Name: Suga (Min Yoongi)

Birthday: March 9th 1993

Occupation: Rapper, Composer, Producer.

Company: BigHit Music Entertainment

Blood type: O

Hobby: Music, Sleep, Basketball.

Life Motto: “I don’t give a .”

I sigh as I read the profile again and again. It’s not that since this new hip-hop phenomenon known to be as stiff and quiet as a person that I’m afraid to do this coverage, it’s because I actually know this rapper way too well as a person.

I nervously play with the strap of my bag as I wait for the door to open. I am in front of Suga’s apartment unit in Gangnam, since the interview is like a disclosure of Suga’s life, we will make it look like a photobook and the pictures will be in rows according to his activities. Fortunately, I wouldn’t have to deal with this all alone, since a photographer, Minho, would tag along as I interview him.

Suddenly the door in front of my face open up and revealing the face that I haven’t seen for quiet a long time. He still looks the same except for his hair color and I couldn’t help but hold my breath as I realized how handsome he is after not seeing that face for over a year. Minho nudged my elbow and I took the signal to greet him and introduce the both of us.

“Good Morning, I’m Min Hari, and this is Son Minho, your photographer for today, we are from Nylon Korea.”

I said as me and Minho bow slightly towards him and his manager, I supposed. He doesn’t even reply the greetings as I manage to catch his widened eyes for a second.

“Min Hari? What the hell are you doing here?!” He shrieked, unable to hide his shock.

“You know her?”

“You know him?”

His manager and Minho ask at the same time.

I take a deep breath and brace myself.

“Well, yeah, I know him.” I grinned to Minho but my eyes glares at him desperately trying to sent him a signal to cut this conversation short.

“She knows me well, hyung.” He said to his manager. But I think his manager is as clueless as Minho right now, because he keeps asking question about it.

“Oh, really? That’s good then. Where did you guys know each other?’
His manager looks at me as he smile. I just fidgeting at my spot, trying to find the proper answer to this question. But before I opened my mouth with some made up white-lie to overcome the situation, he answered it for me already.

“She’s my ex.”

There,