The feeling again. Of stepping off the ledge of a cliff into the gaping mouth of anticipation. Oh Sehun’s chest pumped up and down, his eyes set on the poster pinned to the cork board. Something he’d been eyeing the past month.

Juliet posing on the poster. The rest of the information about the theater department’s musical described below; time, place, the main cast.

Kim Namjoo as Juliet.

Biting his lower lip with a grin, Sehun peeked left and right. Few students occupied the hallway, but most importantly no one paid him heed. Just a nosy student passing by. But he wasn’t just anyone. He was the best friend of the musical’s student director, Oh Hayoung, who would be letting him sneak into their rehearsal.

Heart thudding erratically, he ripped the poster off the board, folded it at the speed of lighting, and tucked it into his jacket pocket. No more pondering as he dashed down the hallway toward the official performance theatre

Pushing the heavy door open he poked his head inside. The rows were empty and shadowed in darkness. Ahead he heard loud voices bouncing off the walls. In front of him the first three rows were inhabited by the department professor in charge of the musical and students handpicked to direct the musical. Experience was important for the future or so he’d heard his friend chant a few times.

“Psst!” A sound snapped his attention to the right. Standing tall in an empty row Hayoung beckoned with a hand for him. Glancing to the front one last time he slipped toward her.

“Why the hell are you so late?!” she whispered sinking into cushioned chair.

“The Ethics professor wouldn’t shut up when class was already over,” he huffed dropping into the seat beside her. “What scene is this?”

Coyly eyeing him, she leaned over to say, “Your favorite.”

Watching the front, he grimaced, “Can’t you cancel out this scene?”

Hayoung chuckled as he muttered under his breath curses about Romeo passionately kissing Juliet.

“What’s this?” Plucking out the poster in his pocket she unfolded it.

“That’s mine.” Sehun snatched it back and smoothed out the creases on Juliet’s face.

“You’re the true definition of pathetic,” Hayoung muttered. “Just tell her you like her.”

“Then have you told her?” he asked absorbed in the image on the poster; Juliet cradling a rose while serenely staring up at the windowless sky. Lowering the paper, he hopelessly focused on the stage where Kim Namjoo was smoothly reciting a monologue.

He didn’t know her. She didn’t know he existed. Very likely she had no clue he was even here in the same room. She wouldn’t blink an eye even if she saw him. Sehun was just an irrelevant passerby.

What he did know though, was he thought she was pretty and ambitious. Hayoung had said she passed the audition for Juliet right away. But really it was the day when he came to get his psych textbook from Hayoung. He had passed the theatre. The doors were left open and with it he had heard singing. A peek inside and on the golden lit stage was a lone girl singing by herself.

Scoffing, she said, “It’s not my place to tell her.” Slapping his arm, she whispered, “Hey, dream boy, you better slip out. Rehearsal’s almost done. The lights are going to turn on. If the professor sees you, you’re…” she made a motion of slicing her neck.

“Fine.” He uttered. Getting up he reluctantly peered at the stage a last time and quietly stepped outside. The heavy door closed quietly. Leaning against the wall he glanced at his watch.

Within the half hour boredom eased through him. Sehun was prepared to ditch and go find dinner by himself. As if on signal the doors burst open and students filed out noisily chattering. He caught the professor amidst the group.

“What, you’re still here?” Hayoung raised a brow upon sighting him.

His mouth opened to answer when she shoved him forward so fast he bumped into one of the last students exiting the theatre.

“Oh! I’m sorry,” he immediately recoiled with apology. His mouth hung open when he recognized who he just smacked into.

Touching her arm, Namjoo’s big eyes landed on him. The silk strands of her long hair slipped over her shoulder like a waterfall prettily. Sehun’s voice immediately died in his throat. Suddenly he couldn’t think. His heart raced wildly. Finally up front and personal with her and he was a . He hated himself so much!

“Namjoo!” A voice called out.

They turned and he saw a tall man arm raised for attention. Sehun first noticed he was a looker and grew insecure, tiny like he’d just shrunk into the size of an ant.

“It’s ok.” Namjoo turned to him before hurrying toward the handsome man. Sehun heard their hushed voices as they turned in sync and started down the emptying hallway.

“Idiot.” Hayoung name-called coming up to his side.

His eyes darted after the duo. “Are you sure she’s not dating anyone?”

“I think he’s her friend.” She assured.

“You think.” He disdainfully repeated.

“Want to find out?”

He eyed her doubtfully. Grabbing his arm, she dragged him forward. “Where are we going?”

♠♠♠♠♠

Cooked meat wafted through the air. Finding an available table Hayoung slid into the chair facing the kitchen at the back of the restaurant, a cheap and affordable eatery catered to poor college students. An ambience of home resonated from the yellow walls and open kitchen. Spicy stew was on the stove. Hayoung could tell by the scent because her mother ran a restaurant of her own.

Several tables behind dumb Sehun Hayoung eyed her object of admiration sitting facing her. Well not really her because Namjoo was opposite him at their table, but on this far side of the room it felt like they were sitting together. And she felt shy and embarrassed but content and happy like a little girl.

Kim Jongin. Also in the theatre department. Though he wasn’t taking part in the musical he was part of the drama club going to Busan for member training. Of course, Hayoung was going, too. She was vice president of the drama club.

So she knew lanky and handsome guy Kim Jongin wasn’t dating Sehun’s crush. At most she hoped not.

“What the heck are we doing here?” Sehun whispered hunkering down.

“Oh shush-shush,” she waved him off.

“I can’t do this.” Freaking out, Sehun rose. Hayoung immediately pushed him back down. Her eyes frantically danced to the back of the room making certain they hadn’t drawn attention. She’d just die if Jongin saw them.

Hayoung hadn’t rehearsed what excuse she’d give for choosing this restaurant out of all the other twelve eateries in the area. Particularly why this one?

“Anyway,” she switched the topic, “are you coming to the musical?”

“Obviously.”

“All four of them?” she wondered. “You do know Namjoo’s on every other day.”

“I’m only coming to hers.” Sehun stated. “I don’t care about anyone else.”

“What about the Chicken Road festival?” Hayoung asked. “Isn’t it on the same weekend?”

“I can make time.” He nodded certainly. “I’m a capable man.”

“Sure, you are.” Hayoung peeked over his shoulder to see Jongin hungrily eating. A smile spread across her face. He was so endearing. Especially the way he ate so eagerly.

“What are you –” Sehun started turning around.

“What’d you want to eat?” Hayoung interrupted.

♠♠♠♠♠

“You’re eating all that?” Namjoo questioned, gaze dipping down to the assortment of foods then up to her friend pigging out. “I thought you were on a keto diet.”

“I’m muscle building,” Jongin answered through a full mouth of green and white and orange. Namjoo tried not to gag and reached for her glass of water. “You want to see my abs?”

“No.” She spat with disgust.

Jongin chuckled. “Want to see my muscles?”

“No.” She grimaced.

Jongin flexed his arms anyway and patted his biceps. “Don’t they look bigger?”

Namjoo flatly stared unimpressed. “What am I supposed to see?”

“Ouch.” Jongin commented. Scooping some broth, he poured it into his mouth.

“Seriously,” Namjoo leaned away from the table. “Why do you eat like that?”

“Want to share?” he held out his spoon.

“No!”

He continued laughing amused. “See?” he pointed his spoon at her again after taking it out of his mouth. “That’s why you’re no fun. Lean back and relax a little, Namjoo. Your old folks rub off on you too much. You’re not even an actress yet. Don’t strut around acting stiff and professional.”

“It’s called being cautious,” Namjoo pointed out. “You should start watching your actions, too. You don’t know who might be watching you and one day that person will remember and share everything about you. It’s more dangerous now, you know.”

“You think someone’s watching me eat? Seriously?” Jongin countered. Angling his arm out he said as matter of fact, “I don’t see anyone watching.”

Twisting around Namjoo observed the restaurant densely occupied by noise and the student body. Everyone sharing some sort of conversation, absorbed in their own groups. Back to Jongin she sighed.

“Someone will remember you.” Namjoo guaranteed.

“Yes, yes,” Jongin mumbled wiping his lips with a napkin. “So, cash or credit?”

Pulling out her wallet, Namjoo slapped down some twenties. “Never mind. I got you.”

Jongin whistled impressed. “Wish my folks were filthy rich.”

“Shut up.” Namjoo said getting up.

“It’s good to be your friend.” Hurrying after her Jongin linked his arm around her neck. “I remember when your parents used to give me allowance. Wish I could have stayed a child forever.”

“Leech.”

“Hey, it comes with having celebrity parents,” Jongin said. “So, they coming for your musical?”

“I told them not to come.”

“They’re not even going to send flowers?” Jongin wondered. “Not even a hundred roses?”

“You’re not funny.” Shoving him away Namjoo continued without him.

On campus they lived in the most expensive dorm, a newly constructed four-floor building of concrete slabs. The windows were tall. The lights glowed. The carpeting was fresh. In the basement was a pool table, vending machines, and down the shared hallway washing and drying machines accommodated with study tables. Whereas some older buildings consisted of stairs their building had only elevators. This was as stylish a mode of living as anyone could get on campus. Minus the ones studying here on a grant or scholarship.  

Namjoo’s expenses were covered fully by her family. For the rest of her life she had nothing to worry about. Both her parents were in the entertainment industry. Well-known actor and actress Kim Joon Suh and Lee Bi. Namjoo’s legacy was to follow in their footsteps.

Jongin grew up with her. Same school, same tutor, same dinner table. He was like a brother she never wanted. He was just there. His father produced a popular sitcom her father starred in. Their business relationship brought about her unique friendship with Jongin.

Whenever his parents weren’t around, he was dropped off at her house, so her caretaker could also look after him. There was nothing Jongin didn’t know about her. The partial difference was Jongin wouldn’t be taking over the acting industry with her. He was going to be a script writer. That was his dream. And that was also that between them.

“Hey,” Jongin hopped into the elevator with her, “I’ll be there.”

“Be where?” She punched the button for her floor.

“At the musical.” Jongin grinned. “Someone needs to come support you, right?”

Being on stage was never something Namjoo feared. She grew up on stage. From performing in ballet shows to singing with the church choir. Once when she messed up her lines in a junior play her mother had sat with her all night lecturing and advising her. Anxiety or not she had to come out stronger. She had been taught it was part she must play. To defeat any phobia, be the best.

Until now nothing had ever felt challenging. Namjoo never questioned. It was as if God had predestined this smooth obstacle-free path for her.

“Make sure your mic is on.” The performing director reminded.

“All right, everybody! Show starts in five!” The professor clapped her hands at the door of the dressing room.

Smoothing out her dress, Namjoo put down her phone. Truth be told she never told her parents about the musical, but they got wind of it somehow. Thankfully because it was last minute neither mom nor dad were going to make it. Namjoo prayed to God for their hectic schedules.

Leaving her mobile on the desk, she followed the rest of the cast out.

♠♠♠♠♠

Everything was smooth sailing almost as if Namjoo was born to do exactly this. Perform on stage, and also the exact words he’d heard her mother utter a thousand times. They were also the specific words Jongin hated with all his guts.

Namjoo was not born to do this, that, here, there. Jongin daren’t say those words. His father would kill him for sharing his measly opinion to a family of stars. It wasn’t like Namjoo would hear him out either. Her servitude was to her mother. Her life’s meaning was to make her parents proud by being like them.

Jongin didn’t and did understand where Namjoo was coming from. She’d never been exposed to anything other than fame. Her entire life was as smooth as baby’s skin. Nothing was ever difficult for her, as if her mother had reared her to become beastly as prophesized. But Namjoo possessed her own free will and he questioned if she’d imagined doing anything other than performing. Did she not want to experience the joy of failure before success? Of doing something different? Anything?

Then again, Jongin was not in the place to tell her what to do. He could not intervene with Namjoo’s wishes. He wasn’t supposed to be an influence on her. He, too, had to live by his father’s rules not to meddle in Namjoo’s life. It would only offset a troublesome chain that would lead to her father and cause problems for the business relationship his dad had with her family. Jongin’s only purpose was to maintain that balance.

He never understood how a circle of friends could turn nasty till now.

Jongin waited for the last scene to leave his seat. Crouching down low in order not to block the audiences’ view on his way out. At least he was intelligent enough to buy a ticket for a seat at the end of the row. Easy in, easy out.

The plastic rustled in his hand as he made it out into the hallway. A small bouquet of roses he’d grabbed on the way here. If Namjoo’s parents would not be coming, no one was here for her. This was the bare minimum he could do, so she wouldn’t feel alone.

Jongin gave it another half hour scanning the crowd exiting the theatre before weaving his way through to the dressing room. The advantage of being a theatre student was that he was a familiar face and could go where he pleased.

The musical cast was high-fiving and rejoicing in a job well done when he neared the opened doorway to the dressing room. Jongin plastered his back to the wall to make room for Servant A running out with his backpack dangling from his hand. Familiar faces nodded to him in welcoming as he entered. Some brows shot up at the roses he was carrying. He saw others cheekily grinning as he passed them. For some reason Namjoo hadn’t turned at the commotion.

“Hey,” he called out approaching.

Namjoo turned to him surprised, but it was not her his eyes set on. Jongin’s focus drifted to the bigger bouquet sitting on her vanity table.

“They’re not,” her attention lifted from the flowers in his hands to his face, “from you.”

***Wow, it definitely feels like I've been gone for a while! But actually I've had two work weeks and spend my off week playing mobile games and reading. But now I'm back! Seems my writing has gotten a little rusty, but I'm sure I'll get back on track! It's nice to see you all again :D I hope you're still here!