10% Battery Left.

Wonwoo’s phone dimmed in his hands as the warning sign popped up in the middle of his mobile game. He immediately dismissed it, but still lost his timing and lost to his opponent. Wordlessly, he tapped to start another match when the apartment lights above him flashed on.

“Jeon Wonwoo! You scared me,” Mingyu said, jumping back at the apartment doors. He held a mask and baseball cap in his left hand and grocery bag full of snacks in his right hand—surely for sobering up. “I had no idea you were here tonight. Want to eat with me?”

“I’m fine,” Wonwoo replied, locking his phone screen and connecting it to the charger. He closed his eyes and stretched out his back.

“Wah, have you moved from that position at all today?” Mingyu asked, moving towards the kitchen.

“Of course,” Wonwoo mumbled. He stood up to go to the bathroom, while Mingyu continued to nag him from across the apartment.

“You’ve been especially lethargic lately, if you ask me…”

Wonwoo closed the bathroom door in the middle of Mingyu’s sentence. He the faucet and splashed water on his face. It was nearly midnight, and as Mingyu predicted, Wonwoo had not actually moved all day. He enjoyed his time at home, playing games on his computer or on his phone. He had online friends to chat with. He had music to listen to.

But lately, Wonwoo felt locked into this routine. Whenever he didn’t absolutely need to be somewhere, he was at home, alone, playing games. He had his share of good laughs with online friends or by himself, but lately those laughs felt far and few between. His hobby was becoming a routine, out his energy instead of supplying him with new energy.

Wonwoo looked at his reflection in the mirror, and his mind flooded with other tasks that he had put off for today.

“Tomorrow,” he told himself.

As he exited the bathroom, he ran into Woozi, who had also just arrived home.

“Jeon Wonwoo, tomorrow you are going to the gym with me,” Woozi said from across the hall.

“We’ll see,” Wonwoo laughed. Woozi had been making this claim for weeks now, with Wonwoo joining him just once.

“I’m leaving at 7,” Woozi said, as he headed into his room.

By the time Wonwoo returned to his room—the living room—Mingyu was already out of the kitchen. Wonwoo dimmed the lights once more and rested on his bed. He immediately reached for his phone and opened the game he was playing earlier. But as a new match began, his eyes wandered to the window, where he could see Seoul’s lights still bright outside. Wonwoo unplugged his phone from the charger, put on a hoodie and sneakers, and headed outside.

The air was still relatively warm outside, as summer was fast approaching. Wonwoo still stuck his hands in his hoodie pockets out of habit. He began walking in the direction of a nearby park. Though he didn’t often take walks or jog outside their apartment, he was familiar with this park after visits with other members or friends.

The sidewalks were empty and the streets carrying only the occasional high-speed car. Wonwoo’s feet stopped at the park entrance. The park was empty, except for its benches and public gym equipment. Tall cherry blossom trees—now just barren, crooked branches—stood tall under the harsh streetlamps.

Last time he came to this park alone, there was someone there waiting for him. They were someone Wonwoo trusted, confided in. They always listened to what Wonwoo was worried about, and had a way to make him believe in himself, even if just for a moment. The two of them would talk for hours at a time, whether through texts in the middle of the day or through a call in the middle of the night.

But now, no matter how much Wonwoo wished, they were not there.

Wonwoo’s phone then chirped with a notification, and his heart jumped at the hope of who it could be. But as he pulled out his phone, it was one of his managers, requesting that Wonwoo not stay out too late. Wonwoo placed his phone back into his pocket and finally walked into the park, finding a bench to sit on.

Not a minute later, another text from a different manager, reminding the members of their upcoming annual reviews. Just like any other employee for a large company, each member underwent one-on-one annual reviews with one of the company directors. Just thinking of the upcoming review made Wonwoo anxious. He gripped his phone tightly with his right hand and slammed his left hand into the wooden bench below him.

Then, another email from a third manager, sending out an upcoming tour schedule, including the rehearsal schedule beginning next week. Wonwoo’s breathing suddenly quickened, and he felt different emotions all at once—anxiety, ambition, insecurity, frustration. Without realizing, he brought his phone up above his head and slammed it into the concrete sidewalk below.

Wonwoo bent forward, digging his elbows into his knees and curling his face inward. He gave a muffled yell.

Some moments were just too much for him.

It wasn’t the schedules. It wasn’t the people. Wonwoo loved his job. But some moments, the pressure to perform, the dangers of failing, the expectations for consistency… Some moments, Wonwoo wondered if someone like him was meant for this job as an idol at all.

Tears streamed down Wonwoo’s face as he looked up to the quiet sky above him. He removed his glasses to wipe away his tears, but they would not stop coming down. He sat at the bench, sobbing until he felt his heart become a little lighter.

“I just want you here, next to me,” Wonwoo quietly whispered. When the tears stopped falling, Wonwoo continued to sit at the bench, staring at the rest of the park around him. He then picked up his phone. The screen was shattered and the LCD had broken, making corners of his screen unusable.

Wonwoo stared down at the broken phone in his hand in interest. He was never one to have a short temper or lose control of his impulses; he was the opposite. How, then, could this have happened? As Wonwoo unlocked his phone to test its responsiveness, the screen shut off and a low battery sign appeared.

 

A mechanical clock ticked the seconds away. A mini waterfall cycled water down its cliff, up its plastic pumps. Wonwoo shifted uncomfortably on the couch.

“So, how does this work?” he asked, folding his hands together on his lap, as if he could minimize the space he was taking up in the room any further.

“This is talk therapy. Since this is our first time meeting, I appreciate you telling me a little bit about yourself already. Now, why don’t we talk about what is on your mind recently? Talking is one way you and I can both better understand how to help you,” the therapist asked him, with a polite smile.

Wonwoo nodded, but needed a moment to organize his thoughts. He took a deep breath before beginning. “Well, recently I know my mental health hasn’t been the best, but things have been actually been getting better—or so I thought. And then, last week, I… I smashed my phone into the floor, so I don’t know…” Wonwoo searched for the words to say next. “I’m not usually the type to do things like that—I’m not violent or anything like that,” he explained, with a smile.

The therapist gave a nod. “So you didn’t break your phone on accident?”

“No—well, I didn’t exactly intend to break my phone. But I did… it wasn’t an accident what I did.”

“How did you feel after?”

Wonwoo stared into the cycling waterfall. “Somehow, I didn’t feel any regret. I do regret that I have to buy a replacement—which I haven’t, yet. But I don’t regret what I did. But, it also didn’t make me feel any better,” Wonwoo said. He began to recount that night, walking to the empty park, reading the updates from his managers, and missing someone close to him.

“It’s not like anything at work is changing, or the updates I received were too much to handle. I knew that those messages were coming, so I don’t understand why I needed to throw my phone. But… throwing my phone on the ground… it was the only thing I could do,” Wonwoo said. He then looked back to the therapist to see their reaction.

“It sounds like a difficult situation,” they responded. “Now, this person you mentioned, what is the reason that you cannot reach out to them anymore?”

Wonwoo bit his lips. He knew this conversation had to come up, but he wanted to deny it. “They were a friend. Then a romantic partner. But now we aren’t speaking.” A minute of silence passed before the therapist spoke up.

“If it is painful for you, you do not have to elaborate,” they said, reassuring Wonwoo. “But you made a big step in recognizing your own anxiety as you came in today and shared some of your life with me. Now to help you, why don’t we think of small ways to address anxiety, and we can work our way up to the bigger conversations, okay?”

Wonwoo nodded in agreement, giving a small smile. One breath at a time was something he could do.

“Anxiety impacts us all in different ways. Even just within ourselves, anxiety can impact us differently on different days. It is completely fine that you didn’t feel any regret after breaking your phone. Because that was the best way for you to respond to your anxieties in that moment, as your usual support system is changing,” the therapist said.

Wonwoo nodded. “That was… okay?”

His therapist laughed. “Well, I would be concerned if this becomes a pattern. But these things happen in the heat of the moment. It doesn’t mean you’re going to lose control of all your other impulses at all.”

“Right,” Wonwoo said, letting the words sink in. The session concluded with a discussion on anxiety relief tips and scheduling for their next meeting. And as Wonwoo left, though nothing was tangibly different, for the first time in a long time, he felt a little more hopeful.