Kibum looked quite peaceful sitting in the car on their way to the hall. He repeated his mantras in his head over and over, and practiced calming breathing techniques he had read about on the internet, and was determined to have a good, maybe even great, evening. His therapist was going to be proud of him. He could do it, he could. He was Kim Kibum of Daegu after all. 

He got out, as glamorous and chic as he could be, in the posh clothes he had designed himself, and waved languidly to a bunch of sneaky fans waiting at the back door with their huge cameras. He walked like a knife cutting through hot, melting butter – his feet gliding smoothly across the ground. He didn't stop to sign anything.

It was on the back stairs that he finally freaked out.

“No, I'm not going, I'm really not,” he muttered, turning around sharply and almost knocking Eunsook off her feet.