When a familiar figure steps out of the car, Krystal’s jaw drops. She snaps it shut and hopes that nobody saw. 

Son Seungwan. Krystal could kiss Taeyeon out of sheer gratitude. Son Seungwan is going to be her model. She forgives Taeyeon for bailing out and resolves to buy her cake. Probably something fancy and expensive that she’ll devour in seconds and won’t appreciate. But Krystal does not mind, because, well, Son Seungwan is hers tonight.

Krystal remembers the first time she saw Seungwan. A girl much like the rest; dark-haired, dark-eyed, pretty in the way that most idol hopefuls tended to be. Krystal dismisses her. 

Idols are forged through hard work and dedication, that much is true. But only the ones that make it, the ones that survive, know that Idolhood is baptism by fire. The heat tempers them, shapes them, makes them strong. All that remains of the weak are ashes, dreams and names lost to time.  

Then Seungwan takes the stage and seizes the breath from her lungs. And Krystal is left reeling. She curses her foolishness then, curses her ignorant eyes as Seungwan is seared into her very being. What is seen can never be unseen. For weeks after, whenever she closes her eyes, Seungwan appears in a halo of fire. 

She burns brighter, hotter than the rest and that’s when Krystal knows. Seungwan is going to be an idol, Seungwan is going to be great. And it saddens her. Because Son Seungwan is as incandescent as the sun itself and she’ll burning anyone and anything that gets too close. 

The first time they’re face to face, Seungwan is shaking. She bows and apologises and tries to hold back  her tears. She’s feeling terrified, inadequate, lonely and Krystal decides, then and there, that Seungwan is a force of nature and tells her so. Seungwan leaves the room glowing. And Krystal smiles.

She debuts as predicted and Krystal smiles.

Red Velvet takes South Korea by storm and she is so, so proud. 

She stops smiling when she realises the world doesn’t see what she does; that it’s blind to Seungwan’s radiance. By the time they realise, it’ll be too late.

 Seungwan burns twice as bright, but she’ll only burn half as long. And when they notice eventually, because they always do, just a step too late, just a moment too soon, as it always is, all they’ll have left is the cold that the absence of Seungwan’s light brings.

They are more than acquaintances and less than friends. Krystal is happy with that. 

She thinks the girl is a walking masterpiece; a study in aesthetic satisfaction. There’s a certain tranquility that overtakes her when she’s in Seungwan’s presence. And Krystal knew then, what she knows now, that admiring Seungwan from afar  is enough. It has to be.

Sometimes Krystal imagines trying to catch the sun. Imagines the inferno at her fingertips. She dreams of wings and wax and the ocean's cold embrace. 

She offers her arm with a shy smile and when Seungwan takes it, heat flares between her shoulder blades. She does not touch Seungwan again that night.

Krystal is charming and  Seungwan is charmed and she knows there could be something between them. She knows there is someone between them. She doesn’t know who it is, but she hopes that they are just brilliant, just as magnetic as Seungwan is. There's worlds between them, this Krystal knows. So, she'll toe the line and she'll play it safe. And she hopes that one day Seungwan will find someone worthy of her. 

She's been baptised by fire and  knows that Seungwan burns more than it ever could.