Irene rolls into the kitchen in the morning, extending her arms in a yawn. Seungwan is already seated at the island, a plate of eggs and bacon in front of her. She's absentmindedly scrolling through her phone, interrupted only by times where she shovels more eggs into . Sometimes the yolk leaves a yellow smear across her upper lip. She seems to pay it no mind, merely resuming her egg eating endeavors. As much as Irene finds yolk mustache Seungwan tragically adorable, she takes a napkin and approaches her. Hearing her footsteps, Seungwan turns around, giving a grin that outshines the rising sun at this ungodly hour. (Really, it was only 8 AM, but Irene was used to a lot more days of waking up late in the past.) 

"Oh, you're awake? I'm sorry, was I being too loud? I didn't mean to drop the pan earlier..."

"No, you're fine. If there was anything that living in a vase taught me, it's to be a heavy sleeper," Irene responded, thinking back on the state of her furniture, still haphazardly arrayed from her first encounter with Seungwan. It's not that she was too lazy to right them, it's that it was a lot more entertaining to spend time with Seungwan than it was to push around bed frames of pure gold and cabinets decorated with ivory. She didn't care too much for the opulence anyway, with Seulgi's old room being more than suitable for her needs. Seungwan was even kind enough to wish that the room was decorated to Irene's tastes, allowing her to use her magic to add her own personal touch. Every so often, Irene would feel as though Seungwan were the one granting all of her wishes.

Irene wipes Seungwan's mouth, eliciting a groan that provokes Irene to stick her tongue out at the singer. She glances at Seungwan's plate before looking back at her, pouting, "Why didn't you make me any?"

Seungwan gets up from her seat, putting the pan on the stove and lighting the fire. "I didn't know when you were going to be up. I just figured I would make another plate before I go." She rolled up the sleeves of her button-up and cracked the eggs, sounds of sizzles filling the spaces in their conversation.

It was now that Irene realized the state of Seungwan, no longer in her usual pajamas or sweats that she's worn around the apartment for the last two weeks. She was dressed casually, yet professionally, as if she had some important meeting to attend. Irene knew that she wasn't a corporate button pusher, so she was perplexed as to what new circumstances have arisen, asking, "You said you were going somewhere? What's the occasion?" 

Brushing some of her short hair behind her ears, Seungwan focuses on not burning the bacon with enough attention left to respond, "Not much of an occasion, just going into the studio today. The producers really liked the demo I sent over, and want to get started working on it right away. I guess I'm going to leave you home alone today then." 

Irene frowns, "You can't take me with you?"

"Not unless it's Take-Your-Roommate-To-Work-Day," Seungwan laughs, tilting the pan to slide the food onto the plate. She hands it to Irene. "Eat up, hold on, let me get something real quick." Irene just nods, more preoccupied with Seungwan's homecooked meal. She was very glad that she forced Seungwan to go grocery shopping with her a few days ago. As good as food from wishes could be, Irene couldn't help but like the dishes that Seungwan whipped up more. Cook, sing, play instruments. There was really no talent that the girl did not possess. 

The sound of a door shutting and clumsy footsteps resounding down the hall announced Seungwan's re-entrance. She swung around the corner into the kitchen, carrying the large chipmunk plush that Irene had won her. Irene's right eyebrow quirked up. "What are you doing with Manen?"

Seungwan sets him down on the seat next to Irene, saying, "He is my replacement for today! Hug him whenever you feel lonely."

"I don't even hug you, why should I hug Manen?"

Indignant, the singer sticks out her lower lip in a childish, albeit endearing display. "Because he's cute and soft!"

"I didn't say he wasn't. You, on the other hand..." Irene looks Seungwan up and down, a glint of mischief in her eyes, "... are nothing like little Manen over here." She pats the plush on his head as if to emphasize her point. 

"I'm better," Seungwan asserts, taking her empty plate over to the sink. "I don't remember Manen being able to make breakfast."

Hugging the chipmunk (the inanimate one, not the one washing the dishes), Irene quips, "Manen is cuter because he can't talk back." As her arms sink into the soft cotton, Irene just thinks about how much nicer it would be to hug Seungwan instead.

"He's all yours then," Seungwan concedes as she puts her plate on the rack. Checking her watch, Seungwan grabbed a coat on her way to the door. "I've got to go now, knock yourself out with whatever you want to do. You have my number saved in the old phone I gave you last week, right?"

"Yes, I do, but I think I left it in my room." 

"You should keep it in your pocket, just in case we need each other."

Irene puts her plate on the counter by the sink, before leaving to get the chunky smartphone from off of her dresser. She rolls her eyes, "It's not like we'll need each other 24/7."

"You never know," Seungwan shrugs, but finishes her statement by shooting a wink Irene's way. "I think I'll need you."

"Leave before I punch you."

"Wait, wait, before you do that," Seungwan fishes her own phone out of her pocket, going to Irene's contact and pressing the call button. Irene's thigh buzzes. She looks at Seungwan, eyebrows raised, as if to ask, really? The girl gets the message, nodding in response. With a sigh, Irene picks up. "What do you want, Seungwan?"

"Just checking if it works!" The singer states, playful and bubbly.

"If you need a wish while you're out, you can always just call me. I'll make sure to keep this metal block in my pocket in case you need me."

"Magic over the phone, wow! Technology has truly changed everything," Seungwan replies gratefully, with a tinge of amused sarcasm. "Just curious, what do you have me saved as?"

The genie tilted her head to the side, wondering what Seungwan meant. "Oh, I just mean the name you attached to my contact." Seungwan shows Irene the contact on her phone, which reads GenRene. "It's pronounced jean-rene, by the way. Pretty clever, I think!" Irene shakes her head in admonishment. Seungwan was definitely unique amongst her masters, and she could now add dorkiest to the list of the superlatives that made her stand out. 

"I just have you saved a Son Seungwan. Was I supposed to put something else?"

Seungwan walks over to her, gently removing the phone from Irene's grasp. "Yes, Irene, you were. I thought we were closer than full names," Seungwan sulked. "Here, I'll change it to something more fun." Rapidly typing in Seungwannie, and adding two hearts at the end, Seungwan hands the phone back. "There you go! Much better." Irene thinks that her smile is too disarming to protest.

"I hope this name change was important enough to show up late," Irene cracks. Seungwan's eyes widen in realization, hastily shoving her feet into her shoes and opening the door. "I'll see you later! If all goes well, I might take you on another date." With a final wink (a deadly tendency Irene thinks), Seungwan disappears down the steps. Closing the door behind her and locking it, Irene turns and looks across their apartment. What to do now...

Arriving at the studio, Seungwan greets the staff and receptionists politely. They respond with nods and waves, some looking visibly surprised to see Seungwan's return, offering sentiments of how they missed seeing her around the recording booths and their lunch break chats. She realizes how much she's missed them too. 

The company she worked for was not the biggest in the industry, nor the most famous, but was a group of amazingly talented individuals. Everyone from the producers and songwriters to the managers and security guards were instrumental to the success of the artists. Sometimes she felt as though she was too lucky to have the opportunity to work with them. Walking down the familiar hallway, she puts her ear to the door of the recording room. She only hears idle chatter, deciding it would be safe to open the door. Inside are two men, one sitting on the couch lined up against the soundproof foam covered wall, and the other in a comfortable swivel chair in front of the mixing table. Mr. Swivel Chair had been fiddling with the mix settings, hands deftly moving across the sound board while Mr. Couch was combing through the audio files on his laptop, both interrupted by Seungwan's entrance. Upon seeing her, they both broke into a grin.

”Wendy!” the heavy-set, middle aged man nearly shouted, hurriedly standing up from the comfortable couch to greet Seungwan. Her name seemed to be followed by two cracks, both of which appeared to have come from the knees which he was now rubbing, bent over with his previous smile drawn to a wince. He sighs half-heartedly, “I must be getting too old for this energetic industry.”

Seungwan appears shocked. ”That's not true, Mr. Lim. Your talent for great production truly doesn't age.” 

“You're laying on the compliments too thick, Wendy. Didn't I tell you to call me Jihoon the last time we met? I know we haven't seen each other in a while, but I thought we've worked together long enough for us to be more than just acquaintances.” He gave a hearty laugh.

Seungwan just responds shyly, “Oh, I just thought I should treat you with the respect that all of your talent deserves.”

This comment is met with a clap on the back, eliciting even more laughter from Lim. “Always a kind one, huh. You haven't changed. Treat yourself with as much respect, okay? You're almost an industry veteran by now. Anyway...” He gestures toward the young man in the swivel chair, who has been listening attentively to their interaction. “This is Sungjin. He's a new producer we've signed on in the couple of months you were out, so you probably haven't met yet.” Sungjin stands up with a smile, large rough hands taking ahold of Seungwan's in a vigorous shake.

”I'm a huge fan! I love your voice, your lyrics, your compositions—“ He's cut off by Lim. 

“Ah yes, I forgot to mention how much he likes you. Honestly, before you even came in he was rattling my ear off about the last album you released. I worked on that! I can't believe he wouldn't gush about my arrangements instead.” The man gave a playful pout, an interesting look for his age. Seungwan always found him endearing like that. As to whether she found Sungjin's enthusiasm endearing... she had yet to see. He still hasn't let go of her hands. As if reading her mind, he quickly releases her from his grasp, ears glowing red as he clasps his hands behind his back. “I'm sorry. I wish I could've left a better first impression, but I just wanted you to know how excited I am to be working with you. It's not every day you get to work with the Wendy!”

As much as his initial exuberance was off putting, the kid was nice enough, Seungwan reasoned. Her surprise wore off and her whole demeanor softened. Waving her hand ambiguously, in the odd, yet humble Seungwan manner, she said, “It's fine, but I don't think I'm even famous enough to be known as the Wendy.”

Sitting back down and flipping a few switches, he beams. “Well you should be! I was listening to the demo you sent, and I think we can help this track get there. All other Wendys better step aside!” 

While Sungjin turned his attention back to the sound board, Lim gave Wendy a reassuring pat on the back. “He's right, you know. I think this is going to be a good one. Glad to have you back in the studio. Now, we've nearly set up everything, so go on into the booth and let's get this show on the road!”

She goes through the glass doors, the lingering scent of dust filling her nose. The atmosphere was so nostalgic, the time far too long since she had last adjusted the microphone to her height, last run her fingers along the ridges of the sound proof foam. The electricity was still the same, the room almost buzzing with the unmistakable feeling of inspiration. Seungwan wondered why she had ever left.

Placing the headphones over her ears, she looked through the glass at Sungjin and Lim. Pressing a button, she heard Sungjin's voice come through the speakers. “Ready?”

With a nod, she saw the red light turn on, beckoning her to start. She heard a basic melody come pouring through the headset, likely the product of initial planning on the part of Sungjin and Lim, replacing the simple noodling on her guitar and the hum for a bassline that she recalled sending in. With the entrance of the drums, Seungwan let her voice join the track.

“Like the day I first wore my school uniform,

I feel awkward and excited...”

Her voice was smooth, no coarseness, leaving only the shine of a pearl shaped by encounters with too much sand. Yet, perhaps it was too smooth, sounding far too velvety and experienced to be a voice reminiscent of teenage infatuation. The red light blinked out, backing track fading from Seungwan's ears. “That was good, that was good, but not quite the feel we're going for here. How about you think of your own first love, or a first date! Let's try that again.”

Seungwan nods and the red light shines again.

She shuts her eyes, imagining the excitement of first love, attempting to instill in herself the sweat of interlocked hands and the thrumming heartbeat of youth. She needed her voice to match that anticipation, to hold the same nervous anticipation and awkward naïveté. The concepts dancing on the backs of her eyelids were vague, scenes of a drama flickering like old film in the black and white of her vintage imagination. A boy bowing with anxious confession. A girl sheepishly accepting flowers. 

Her voice followed the images in her mind, chasing the notes as breathlessly as a boy biking to the train station to confess his love. In that moment she knew what romance was, to the extent of the movies and shows she had watched, to the extent of the love she had seen as a facade on the faces of trained actors with smiles too bright to be genuine. She faltered, the anxiety and distance becoming too prominent for her to mask. Why should she sing of a love when she did not know how it felt? Why go to such lengths to convey a love so generic?

These thoughts dug cracks in her mind, created cracks in her voice. If she squinted, she could see that the red light cracked too.

“Are you good, Wendy? You were doing so well until...” Sungjin's eyes dart down, stopping himself from moving on and potentially insulting his idol. Lim broke the tense atmosphere with a joke, “We know that this song is supposed to convey the nervous excitedness of new love, but don't you feel like you're being a little more nervous than excited here?” His boisterous laugh is met with awkward chuckles from Sungjin and Seungwan. He makes a motion at Sungjin, before stepping into the booth himself. His familiar and comforting presence eased some of Seungwan's worries. Speaking in a softer tone than his usual rambunctious self, he said, “Look, you're very talented, alright? No need for any anxiety, we've been through this before. Singing is what you do best, so just do your best and we'll do another few takes, got it?” Seungwan swallows the lump in . He seems to take that as enough of an affirmation, mumbling, “You know, I've never even heard her voice crack until now,” as he swings open the glass door and plops himself on the couch behind Sungjin.

Pumping his fist in the air, Sungjin hopes to instill more confidence in the singer. ”You can do this Wendy!”

No, she can not do this. They've gone through six more takes, three of which ruined by vocal mishaps (She knew she should've warmed up before recording) and the other three rejected as not matching the correct tone for the track. Every time, she felt more motivated to continue recording, to correct her mistakes, yet she also felt her confidence waver with every additional take. “Okay, let’s try again —“ Sungjin starts, but is interrupted by Lim cutting in to say, “I think that's enough for now. We'll take a ten minute break and continue soon. You must be getting tired, Wendy.”

Disappointed and frowning, she exits the booth and makes a move to leave to the hallway. Lim cuts in front of her, grabbing the door handle and Sungjin's wrist. “Stay here and rest, we'll leave the room to you instead.” She feels too tired to verbalize her thanks, hoping that a warm smile would suffice. Sungjin takes it as his cue to leave, but Lim lingers for a bit. “I'm not exactly sure what's gotten into you, but you can get through it Wendy. The song is going to be excellent. Your voice is excellent.” He places his hands on her shoulders, letting out a quiet exhale. His eyes are crescents, gleaming with the same pride of an uncle to a niece who has just placed second in the science fair. Seungwan feels like that niece right now, unworthy of his praise. He continues, “I've seen a lot, you know, being in this industry for so long. I've seen so many talents, but none quite like you.” He pauses. “But I've also seen so many talents squashed. Maybe it was pressure, maybe it was the fame. There were any number of reasons, but each time was such a loss. I don't want to see that happen with you." Putting his hands down and reaching for the door, he turns around and leaves one final comment. "I know the last promotion cycle didn't end too well. You should know you're not the only one who read those comments either, but there are still so many people who believe in your talent. I'm one of them. Sungjin is one of them. You should be one of them too." He steps out, the door closing with a click, a last sound to usher in the silence that now filled the room.

Seungwan drags her feet along the floor before sinking back into the leather cushions, weariness seeping into the crevices of her joints. She wishes she could dissolve, as close to relaxing as she could be, yet so far in that she could still feel the anxiety intermingle with her exhaustion. Both threatened to consume her. Before her hiatus, she never felt like this, couldn't feel the mistakes compound upon her like rabid dogs cornering a squirrel in an alley. The worries bubbled like the foam at their mouths. The more she thought, the more the teeth threatened to sink into . Instead, she let sleep take her away.

Messages flashed across the screen. 

nowanlikesyou: "why is wendy a rising star in the industry when she is actually so overrated"

getsomewanelse: "^^ ikr!!! like she's sposed to be indie but she produces things that are way too generic"

wendyanti3: "if you actually like her, you need better taste~~"

ihatewendy: "I swear if half of you weren't raging lesbians, you wouldn't even like her. Just because she performs in a suit doesn't mean she's good."

ot0stan: "how many times are you guys going to fall for songs that all sound the sAme and talk about the saMe things! can't you tell that she's been single for liFeEee" 

The endless parade continued, each word marching down until they flowed into a strange amalgamation of black ink pooling at the bottom of the screen. They dripped down incessantly, like a faucet with a leak that can't be repaired. The whine of the flow seemed to whisper the messages aloud, "Quit now Wendy. You'll never be special. We need someone better."

Each one hung in the air before disappearing, edges fizzling and crackling out like glitches across a broken monitor. Graphs of plummeting lines took their stead. Red lines going up and down the charts, yet showing only declining sales as compared to her previous releases. The lines multiplied, but all contributed to a downward trend, seeming to overlap and intersect in some sort of malignant mathematical failure. The pattern became clear when the grid shrunk, leaving the lines to spell out article headlines:

"Wendy in a slump"

"Indie turned generic pop?"

"Son Seungwan: overrated or not?"

"Why does Wendy write about love when she's never loved?"

The words peeled off of their background, swimming towards Seungwan like eels, wrapping around and squeezing as she fell with a splash. Water pooled around her ears as she reached out, palms finding cool glass. Quickly, she covered her eyes as the flashing lights of cameras shot through the tank. Though the water muffled the sounds, she still found the clicks and flashes deafening. The words, the sounds, the water. All of it flooded her lungs. She couldn't scream. She couldn't escape. She couldn't take it anymore. She had to leave.

The glass shattered. The flashes stopped. All that was left in this black void were the scratches on her skin, the damage in her lungs, and ringing. Where the hell was that ringing coming from? It grew louder, louder, louder, until...

She woke up.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, dumb, annoying marimba ringtone permeating the still air. Though the contents of the nightmare were nothing more than vague blurs to her, she still felt shaken. She almost denied the call until she noticed the caller ID. GenRene. Seungwan didn't hesitate to pick up. 

Irene's voice came through the receiver slightly nervous and hesitant. Perhaps she was still warming up to the idea of telephone calls. "Hello? Seungwan?" 

She can't help but smile at how cute Irene is being. It was as if those two words were enough to combat the unsettling feeling in her chest. Laughing, Seungwan responds, "Yes, it's me. Did you need anything?"

"No, no, I just wanted to check to see how you were doing. I hope I didn't interrupt anything."

"It's ok, you actually did me a favor." Irene was halted in her confusion, the pause acting as Seungwan's cue to continue. "You just rescued me from the worst nightmare." She sighed, but did not let her anxiety get in the way of the opportunity her greasiness had just paved. "If only I could see you in my dreams instead."

"If I could slap you through this phone I would Son Seungwan. Seeing as you must be completely fine, since you have the luxury to be sleeping on the job, I think I'll hang up now."

"No, wait. I think I have a wish for you."

Seungwan can almost see Irene's eye roll. "Oh really? Let me guess, is it five more minutes to nap?"

"No, actually, I don't think I want to go back to sleep for a while. Can I wish to do well in this recording session? I know it's kind of weird, and I don't know if it accidentally trips a technicality but--"

She hears a snap. "Wish granted. Now you'll perform your best, magically guaranteed."

Seungwan feels a surge of renewed confidence. If you can't get organic assurance, store bought is fine. "Thank you Irene, I--" She's interrupted by a knock on the door. "I think the producers are back, I should go."

Irene loses the previous snark in her tone. "You'll do great, Seungwan."

She grins. "You always know what I want to hear. When will you ever stop?"

"Whenever I stop being your genie." Her response is short, but conveys more than Seungwan thinks it does. "Now get to it, Seungwan. I better be the first to hear the finished song."

"You will, you will. I'll even dedicate it to you!" She hears Irene giggle over the line. "I could introduce the song at performances by saying it goes out to the most beautiful girl in the world."

"What did I say about hitting you through the phone?"

Seungwan chuckles, "Alright, I get it. Bye, Irene."

"Goodbye."

Seungwan turns her attention to opening the door, with Sungjin and Lim walking in with take out bags in their hands. "Good to see you're up. We saw that you were resting and didn't want to bother you, so we decided to take an early lunch. Don't worry, we got food for you too." Lim shoves a drink in her hand. "Sungjin remembered that you said you liked boba in an interview, so here you go. Didn't know his enthusiasm for you ran so deep that he knows your favorite drink, but I guess it worked out in our favor this time." Sungjin didn't want to respond lest he embarass himself more. Lim was doing a phenomenal job of that himself. Trying to change the subject, Sungjin jumped in, "Did you rest well, Wendy? Are you ready to go again?"

She sets the drink on table beside the couch, grinning. "Yeah, I think I'm ready."

Lim can't help but smile back at her, returning the same energy. "You seem enthusiastic. I guess a good nap really does cure all."

"I find that Wendy's voice is a cure-all."

"Oh, shut up, Sungjin. Now get in the booth Wendy, let's see those cure-all vocals shine."

She steps up to the microphone with certainty. Whether it was the magic or her excitement, or even a combination of both, she couldn't tell. The now too familiar chords meandered through her headphones. She felt anticipation. She felt electricity. As she imagined scenes of first love, her mind was redirected toward images of churros and corn on the cob, images of darts and fair prizes, of quips and snark, of interlocked hands, of kisses at the tops of ferris wheels. Her heart was racing. Was it the song, her love of singing, or was it the genie on her mind? Though the track lacked all of the trappings of polished production, she could almost hear the risers and the swell. Her heart was filling the blanks of the harmonies and crescendos as her entire body seemed to respond to the idea of new love.

"Step by step, I like walking with you

I like this song that only we know"

She takes off the headset in a daze, still quietly humming the infectious chorus. The red light flashes in and out as if it were applauding Seungwan.

Sungjin's voice comes over the speakers for the final time.

"That was perfect."