HWANG YEJI

 

The star that burns twice as bright burns half as long.

 

Snap, snap, snap.

 

The cameras click away. She poses. She smiles. Her face is burning. There’s a red carpet under her. Walking, she dazzles.

 

Cheering, screaming. A cacophony of sounds.

 

Then, she’s dancing. The world spins. One, two, three, four. Remember your steps! Breathe here. The choreography is fierce. Her breathing is violent. She narrows her eyes. Biting the bile back in , she sings. The cheering becomes louder. Finally, the song finishes. She stares into the stadium. Darkness reflects back, engulfed by the flames of the stage lights. An ocean of applause booms.

 

The bigger the star the bigger the target.

 

They receive threats on a daily basis. She’s grown weary, her barren face ancient with worry. Every corner lurks danger, her members don’t know. Ignorance is bliss. Her laptop’s chalked to the brim with threats and online forums slandering their name. She’s saved them all. It’s so heavy, full, she thinks it might burst right open with the wings of all the evil fluttering about around her head. 

 

Anxiety frays her nerves, inundated her senses. She hates it. She hates being judged by people she doesn’t know with rules she didn’t even know existed. With fame comes the onslaught of daggers, their tips poisoned by the wrath of angry nameless faces typing behind screens.

 

Behind the illustrious career and title, who was she? Who is Hwang Yeji? She’s startled when she’s alone. Because when she isn’t being mobbed by fans and by a world that only demands more from her, she finds that she has nothing left to give.

 

SHIN YUNA

 

Yuna beams as prettily as the bouquet of flowers clutched in her hand. When she sneezes, she laughs. Allergies.

 

One of their managers approaches from behind. He demands it from her, but she shakes her head from left to right. It’s a gift, she says with a sunny smile, I’d like to keep it.

 

Why? He asks in return, but he’s not surprised. Yuna has that effect, she’s always carried an odd whimsical quality. Sometimes she manages to take two steps forwards while skipping five steps back. And for people like her manager it leaves them in dizzying circles.

 

Later that night she buys a crooked little glass vase that catches light and throws it around. The kitchen is only brighter for it. 

 

HWANG YEJI

 

She’s exhausted and listless in her bedroom. Aside from the whirring of her fan, the dormitory is silent. Exhaustion has pried away her senses and left her littered with its bruises. Today’s schedule involved mainly Chaeryeong, Lia, and Ryujin for commercial shoots whereas Yuna had finished hers in the morning. Yeji, on the other hand, had the day to herself. A day which primarily involved eating and resting. That was until Yuna came home.

 

“Come on!” Yuna’s insistent. “The store will close by the time you’re finished. Don’t you want to hurry?”

 

“Let’s go another day,” Yeji sighs for the nth time. She’s flat on her back on the couch. One arm’s sluggishly draped against her eyes.

 

Yuna pouts for a moment, becoming quiet enough for the older girl to crack an eye open curiously. However, the playful look on her face only spells trouble. Seconds later she’s being tickled. Deft fingers squirming against her stomach. Between gasps, she falls off of the couch in a fit. “Hey!”

 

“You’re up now,” Yuna snickers, bounding off with a screech before Yeji could tickle her back. Somehow she ends up with sneakers on, and the doorway to their dormitory slams with a bang.

 

A pair of butterflies scatter on the sidewalks as they tumble by. They run together, first with Yeji chasing Yuna and then the other way around. They leap across puddles, fresh from the rain, and float past flower beds. Yeji laughs enough to where her lungs begin to burn and clench. They’re drenched in evening sunlight as they go. Before they turn the corner of an avenue, Yuna stoops down to pluck a dandelion. She’s mindful when she does it, and stops Yeji by the cuff of her shirt.

 

“What are you up to now?” Yeji’s eyes narrow when she teases, the mirth fluffing her smile. They hide under the shadow of a tree, basking under it as orange shades of heat from the sun slither between the branches and dot their faces with light.

 

Yuna lifts it to Yeji’s chin and sways it until it makes her wriggle. “When’s the last time you’ve done this?”

 

Pausing, she splutters in return, “it’s been some time, really. I don’t have much to spare these days. It always feels like I’m being tugged left and right and oomph–” Because here she is being tugged again, but this time it’s both Yuna and her heart that startles her down the street once more. The soles of their shoes pounding against the pavement, the rubber squeaking against concrete.

 

The convenience store has advertisements plastered all over its doors and it’s small but homely. Empty bike racks crowd the already busy exterior along with gleaming metal benches. A buzzing neon sign flashes the store hours. The door is hot to the touch.

 

A bell chime announces their entry with a bright jingle. The pair both pause for a moment to bask in the fresh blast of air conditioning, a welcome cool drafting across their bodies. Innocuous pop music brushes her ears while Yuna releases her grip to scour out the ice cream. Her hair sways back and forth like reeds when she walks. Yeji wipes at the sweat collecting under her own chin.

 

She hears her name softly. She’d