Word count: approx. 10,600 words.

APRIL 1990 - MARCH 2012

In the spring of 1990, a star was born.

Except this was no ordinary star. There was no colourful nebula filled with interstellar dust floating in the vastness of space, only a very ruddy and fleshy human being born filthy and wailing in a Beijing hospital; a mere fish in the sea of 5.2 billion other human beings on Earth at that point in time.

This star grew, as stars often do. But unusually for celestial bodies, the Chinese star, still so small and insignificant, began to walk and talk and interact with the world around him. Even from such a young age, people would comment on how beautiful he was, how perfect his small features were, how they were drawn to listen to every melodic word that fell off his tongue, no matter how unintelligible.

This star was shining surprisingly bright for one so minor.

And its name was Lu Han.

*

Throughout his school days, the little deer remained relatively unassuming and blended in with the crowd of other young bodies in his part of the world. His grades were mediocre, proving from the start that he wasn’t particularly academically minded. Instead, he found his place as a football enthusiast; stealing moments on the pitch with his school friends, whatever the weather, and basking in the amateur glory of scoring a few goals and having the on-looking girls cheering his name. It was an early sign, perhaps, that the adrenaline rush he felt then would lead to his destiny of stardom where his audience would grow from tens to tens of thousands. Lu Han would lie awake at night with dreams of kicking the winning shot in a spectacular stadium, all lights on him, preferably for his favourite team of all time, Manchester United.  

As supportive as the people at his school were of his sporting talent, unfortunately his family didn’t share the enthusiasm for their only son dedicating his life to playing football, regardless of the world-renowned club he aspired to be a part of. The lack of encouragement from his parents didn’t stop him playing altogether, but it did dampen his delicate spirits. At an age when most young, fresh minds were finding their forte, Lu Han felt as though he was travelling backwards and not really achieving anything. All he had was his pretty little nose perfectly proportioned under enchanting doe-eyes and an empty delusion of success in life.

That is, until he found music.        

It was on a random weekend in the city, flicking through stacks of CDs in an entertainment store, that Lu Han got his first taste of what Korean music had to offer and so the wheel of fate begin to turn. As soon as the notes hit his ears, his fingers froze and ears pricked up. He didn’t recognise the language at first, but the song had captivated his attention.

He tapped a wandering store clerk on the shoulder and asked while pointing to the ceiling,  “Excuse me, who sings this?”

The employee listened for a moment before answering. “Oh, they’re called DBSK. A Korean group.”

Lu Han bit the inside of his mouth. “Can I buy their album here?”

“Sure, over in the International Music section.” The clerk lead the way to the other side of the shop, weaving between the busy aisles, and picked up this supposed DBSK’s album from the shelf. “Here you go. You’re lucky we’ve still got some in stock, the girls have been going crazy for them. We had to get a whole load more shipped over from Hong Kong.”

“Thanks.” Lu Han grasped the CD tight in his hands, staring down at the cover. The first thing that hit him was how good-looking all the group members were, with hairstyles like something out of a Japanese anime. They certainly didn’t look real – it was no wonder they were popular with the female audience with those beautiful faces and voices combined. Their image was strong, too; strong and confident. Lu Han was intrigued, even though he didn’t know a word of Korean.

So he bought it.

That night, he sat for hours in front of his desktop screen watching the music video he found online on continuous repeat and searching for everything and anything he could unearth on DBSK and Korean music in general. He even made his first attempt at memorising simple Korean phrases and the Hangul alphabet, something he never thought he’d find himself doing. He fell in love with all the songs on the album and printed out the lyrics so he could sing along.

And sing along he did; whether it was catching a tune in the shower, humming along while he walked to school or even just tapping his fingers to the beat and mouthing the words as he sat alone in the toilets, feet picked up onto the seat in the cubicle, with his CD player resting on his hands. Any excuse to listen to his new favourite group, he took. Even if it meant disappearing from his friends during lunch breaks.

Of all things, it turned out he had a pretty decent voice. His dancing ability, too, was impressive considering the complete lack of training he’d received. It turned out those hours on the pitch perfecting his movements had paid off after all – he had stamina, flexibility, decent control and a passion not yet explored but very much surfacing. All of this plus the divine good looks he’d been blessed with meant that he didn’t have to feel so lost after all – he was born to perform, just like DBSK.

As the years passed, Lu Han evolved into a serious Hallyu fanboy and his dreams shifted from sports stadiums to epic stages under a thousand lights in all the countries of the world, his name painted on banners and screamed at the top of everybody’s lungs. It was an ambitious dream, he knew it too well – but that’s how dreams were supposed to be; big and near-on unobtainable. It was almost impossible enough to make him actually work for it. He went from stealing goals to stealing dance moves in front of the mirror, trying to perfect the intricate dance steps of his favourite celebrities. The one he admired above all others, his inspiration, was Yuhno of DBSK; a man-crush if there ever was one. Lu Han had lost count of the hours he’d spent trying to perfect Yuhno’s immaculate body movements; he’d even gone as far as styling his hair like the boyband member, which the girls at school didn’t seem to object to. Whenever his parents were out of the house, he’d quickly flick to K-dramas on the TV and before going to sleep most nights, he would sneak a Korean vocab and grammar book under the covers. He knew that Seoul was where he needed to be.

And Seoul was exactly where he was going.      

When the time came to decide on his future, the capital of South Korea was the only destination in his mind, so he applied for a semester at Yonsei University for a language programme and set the cogs of his impossible dream in motion. By the spring of 2009, almost 19 years since his birth, the star was walking and talking on Korean soil and a certain shopping trip to Myeongdong would change his life forever.

*

He didn’t have any delusions; he knew they picked him out because of his looks. But he wasn’t complaining.

Singled out from the hundreds of faces in the popular shopping district, Lu Han was given the precious opportunity to audition for one of Korea’s biggest and most successful Idol companies, none other than DBSK’s own management, SM Entertainment. It wasn’t a guarantee that he would be accepted as a trainee, it was an audition after all, but he had the confidence in himself and his abilities to put every ounce of his being into getting in. This was where he was meant to end up. It was his destiny – and he nailed it.

They loved his voice, they loved his dancing, they loved his image. He had everything they could want in a new idol. The fact that he was Chinese didn’t faze them, either. His Korean was surprisingly good, although he still needed professional lessons to achieve fluency. The suits at SM had Won signs flashing across their eyes like slot machines – he was the perfect star to showcase to not only South Korea but China and possibly Japan as well. Who could deny that flawless, angelic face? Certainly not all of Asia, perhaps even the world.

Naturally, Lu Han couldn’t believe his luck. Was this really happening? Did he really just sign a contract with SM Entertainment? Was he really going to be…famous?

Of course, he was naïve then. Naïve enough to believe that everything was going to work out perfectly, just as he had planned all along.

Naïve enough to be happy.

Perhaps DBSK’s disastrous split should have shown him otherwise.

They didn’t want him to train for years like the others, they wanted him idol-ready from the get-go. They didn’t want to waste time and money on preparing him for something he was, supposedly, already ready for. He dropped out of university and for only a handful of months, much less than the other trainees which only made them resent him more, he spent every waking moment at the SM building; singing, dancing, learning Korean and acting skills and how to present himself in front of a camera. It was beyond hard work and it even hurt a lot of the time but he persevered through the unbearable schedule, believing with all his heart that every drop of sweat that fell from his temples and every tear he kept locked behind his eyes would be worth it in the end.

He first met Jongin, the fledgling dance trainee, when the copper-toned wonder was only in his early teens. Despite being so young, the kid showed great potential and enthusiasm which soon rubbed off onto Lu Han and pushed him harder. They never grew particularly close, but they remained friends for years, well into Lu Han’s illustrious career. When there were very few faces at SM willing to accept him, he was grateful for the ones that did. Jongin was always a black sheep among the herd, too, with his sometimes intolerable attitude and cutthroat ambition. The two of them had something in common in that respect, despite the age difference.  

The time for Lu Han’s debut appeared like a flash. It had all happened so quickly. One moment he was dancing in the practice room and singing down the corridors, the next he was on the set of an elaborate music video trying to remember the Korean lyrics he’d stayed up all night memorising. His language skills had improved from the lessons but it was still a lot harder to remember Korean words and their natural pronunciation with his native Chinese tongue. He was exhausted from shooting the numerous teasers, dancing the same steps for hours on end, having his scalp yanked and his eyes stung from when they bleached his hair gold. It took almost an entire day to finish the music video, another day of no sleep and too much coffee. He wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed and not move for a couple of days. Just a couple of days. But that wasn’t going to happen.

Lu Han’s debut performance on M!Countdown soon loomed on the horizon. By now the teasers and full music video had been released and there was a massive buzz for the new Chinese prodigy. The hype the company had created surrounding his debut was mind-blowing and exceedingly clever, although Lu Han wouldn’t have expected anything less from SM. Behind the scenes, he stood terrified and shaking as a make-up artist reapplied his foundation for the hundredth time since his perspiration kept wiping it off. He clenched his fists hard at his side to stop them trembling so much.

The woman sighed and looked up. “Don’t worry so much, you’ll be just fine. Show them all you’ve got!”

That was easy for her to say. She wasn’t about to showcase herself live in front of the entire nation.

In the end, all Lu Han could do was a breath deep into his lungs as the lights came up to an earthquake of screams and cheers to tell the world that here he was, here was where he was meant to be, and this was everything he had.

Take it, dammit.

Take it all.

*

The next two years went by in a haze of dancing lightsticks and success. It was amazing how fast time can pass when you’re the centre of your own universe.

Immediately after his debut, Lu Han had been hot topic for many months. His fandom grew and grew and, before long, he was dealing with young girls hiding outside his dorm all night, trying their hardest to steal a glance of their favourite rookie idol. No matter where he was going or what he was doing – whether he was arriving at an awards ceremony or even just walking down to the shop to grab some snacks – fans would be waiting with their gigantic cameras like extra limbs protruding from their eager faces. New fansites were popping up every day and gift bags and cards with sweet messages would pile up at the SM building. When he flew to Busan for the first time, a thick wall of screaming bodies was waiting to greet him at the airport with placards and little antler headbands. The crowd was so big that security had to intervene and help him walk safely through the building so he didn’t get assaulted but fervent hands or miss his flight.

He’d earned the nickname ‘Little Deer’ and the company welcomed it. His visual innocence and cuteness was his selling point. His make-up was kept fresh and his hair lightened. He was under strict instructions to not get involved, in any sense of the word, with other idols or celebrities in case it tainted his immaculate image. Lu Han was Korea’s sweetheart, adopted from China and sent all over the continent to perform for the masses with sweet, uplifting songs about hope and eternal love. Girls and boys alike would swoon and with each new release he became more and more popular. Because of this, his schedule only became busier; with interviews and performances and endorsements to film for every day of his life. He’d forgotten what a lie-in felt like. Or sleep, for that matter.

Sometimes it became too much. During the rehearsals for his first SMTown concert in Seoul, he collapsed from exhaustion and had to be taken to hospital. The doctors recommended he should rest and recover, but the company weren’t having any of it. Within a few hours he was back on stage in front of thousands, barely holding it together. But he was smiling through it all, that was the important part. The pain, the sleep deprivation, the pressure to please the masses – it was all worth it if he could exhibit his musical talents to the world and make the people smile back.

And then things started to change.

In the two and a half years that Lu Han had been coming to the SM building – all through his pre- and post-debut days – he’d been to almost every room. All except one.

On the fourth floor was a conference room with small windows. There was nothing particularly interesting about it from the face of it, but it wasn’t the sort of room an idol fancied being summoned to. The sort of conversations that echoed off its walls were never of the positive variety, or so the legend went. So when Lu Han received word that he would meet his new manager there, he couldn’t help but feel the shadow of a very dark cloud looming forebodingly above his head.

He arrived early with sweaty palms and the mysterious manager was already there, judging him silently as he closed the door behind his back and took a seat at the long table that stretched across most of the room. The lack of light made everything even more intimidating and unnerving, casting dull shadows over the stranger’s face; eyes thin like a snake’s with a bulging nose slightly off-centre.

There was no need to pleasantries. As far as Lu Han was concerned, this manager didn’t need a name, something so personal. He was just ‘the man’ or ‘the suit.’ 

After a long silence, the new suited manager put his fingers gently together and said, “Your album sales have fallen since last year. Why do you think that is?”

Lu Han bobbed his shoulders slightly and picked at his cuticles in his lap, struggling to make eye-contact.

The man let out a long, slow breath. “It’s because you’re not new and shiny anymore, Lu Han. The whole…angelic image, the baby-face, the squeaky-clean lifestyle… it’s not pulling them in like before.” He leaned forward, over the table and uttered in a low voice, “Now, what are we going to do about that?”

Lu Han swallowed through a dry mouth. “I…I don’t know-”

“You don’t seem to know very much, do you?” He cleared his throat. “Maybe we should just…do away with you altogether. Concentrate our efforts on someone else.”

“N-no!” Lu Han’s eyes flew wide, gripping the edge of the table. “No, please, don’t do that-”

“Why not? You’re obviously not making us much money any longer. Unless…you can rub those brain cells of yours together and think of a better idea.”

“I-…I can change – I can get a new image!”

The man’s thin lips transformed into something that looked like a crooked smile. Just about. “Too right you will. The world enjoys variety, after all. Starting tonight.” He reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a piece of paper which he then threw down on to the surface in front of Lu Han’s pale face. “This is where you’ll be going. The car will pick you up at 10.”

“What is this place?” Lu Han asked, picking up the colourful flyer curiously.

“It’s a nightclub in the city, owned and managed by an associate of mine. You being there should promote you and the club quite well; a win-win. Be sure to wet your whistle before you go.”

“But I don’t dri-”

“You do now.” The man stood up out of his chair. “You will show your face, you will drink, and you will have a fabulous time for everybody to see. Do you understand? That line that keeps you in the safe zone…I want you to dance around it.”

When Lu Han nodded, the suit walked to the door and paused. “And make yourself look pretty. Not too pretty, mind. Look good.” And then he left.

*

He was nervous that evening; nervous enough to experiment with his look and poke himself in the eye with eyeliner while getting ready. He’d never applied it himself before and he hadn’t quite perfected the art of safely running the dark tip along his waterline without damaging his eyeball. His shaking hands weren’t helping in the slightest. He’d performed to crowds in the tens of thousands, sure, but never set foot in a club before. The mere idea of it was daunting. As the car pulled up outside his building, Lu Han took another swig of the soju bottle at his side and grimaced at the overwhelming taste. He couldn’t imagine ever getting used to that.

He was grateful, however, for the buzz that made his head lighter and numbed his nerves. He could hear each and every gasp from the paparazzi as he stepped out onto the pavement. Their thoughts were almost too loud; what was their doe-eyed prodigy doing there, at a nightclub of all places?

If only he knew.

Inside, he stood awkwardly amongst the thrum of bodies as waves of people emerged from the dark corners to talk close to his ear over the music and hand him drinks. Eventually the club’s owner found him and draped a long arm over his shoulder, beaming proudly at the celebrity he’d managed to ensnare in his establishment, much to everyone else’s amazement.

“Cocktails! On the house!” the nightclub’s pioneer boomed, and then proceeded to joke that they weren’t allowed to be al. Once he’d stomached his fair share of champagne glasses, a mojito was shoved into Lu Han’s grasp and the menacing words of the suit echoed in his head.  

That line that keeps you in the safe zone…I want you to dance around it.

Looking down at his drink, Lu Han could practically feel the strings tugging at his bones to lift the glass to his lips and the eyes of circling predators egged him to sift the poison through his teeth. Join us, little deer, their sharpening features whispered darkly. Join us and make the people happy, just like you wanted.

And so the seed of self-destruction was sown and Lu Han poured the contents of his drink down his neck in one gulp. People cheered and clapped and gave him more; it just kept on coming under the lights that danced like rainbows. By the end of that night, and many more nights to come, he’d find his head deep in the basin of a toilet, painfully heaving out his insides; the stomach acid burning at his throat. Watery eyes would render his make-up moot, leading to thicker applications of eyeliner over the coming months. Stepping outside again into the cool air, sometimes being unable to stand altogether, the cameras would be lying in wait to capture every moment of the star beginning to slip.

Waking up in the morning with the realisation of what he had done was the most heart-sinking feeling so far and he buried his aching head under the pillows. When his phone vibrated with a call from his manager, Lu Han had half a mind to ignore it.

They’re going to fire me, he thought, lip trembling. I’m ruined, I must be. After last night…

But he wasn’t fired. On the contrary, when he finally built up the courage to answer the call, the suit congratulated him for such a great success.

“You did it, boy – you’re the talk of the town,” the man croaked. Lu Han didn’t need to see his lips to know that he was smirking.

It turned out Lu Han’s drunken antics, which he couldn’t really remember too well, had earned him the front page of most newspapers that morning and he was once again the most searched-for name on Naver. It didn’t take more than a few seconds on the internet to witness the uproar that had escaladed from the previous night’s escapades. He couldn’t help but wince at the pictures he was seeing – what had happened to him? And why were people liking this?

Of course, it didn’t stop there. For the months leading up to his comeback, the suit demanded the star was seen in every classy, up-town club or bar filled with famous, or rather infamous, faces – in other cities, too; Shanghai and Osaka were other targets, including a brief trip to New York he’d never forget. What truly shocked Lu Han the most was how the public were reacting to his new lifestyle; they loved it. Or, at least, they loved reading about it. The endorsement deals began to deplete, which was to be expected. Nobody wanted a drunk, or possibly worse, representing their product. But that didn’t stop the phone ringing and everybody whispering his name. The music changed, too. To match his new and ‘improved’ image, his new album for an early 2012 release was filled with a more electronic sound and paired with y choreography. It was a little much for Lu Han to grasp at first – his body wasn’t used to moving in that sort of way. Thankfully there was a cure for that ailment.

Kim Jongin.

The dancer had matured considerably over the years. Now taller than Lu Han and with much broader shoulders, the 17-year-old black sheep was now considered a professional back-up dancer, thanks to his rigorous training with the company. And on top of that, he was the star’s new dance teacher, with Sehun the protégée watching intently at the side-lines.

Jongin was more than a decent mentor, but Lu Han was turning out to be a terrible student. He was so used to achieving perfection within a few tries that the idea of spending hours practicing a single move and not nailing it was driving him, and subsequently his teacher, up the wall. In the end, Lu Han could only stop and stamp his feet in frustration.

Jongin let out a sigh, grasping Lu Han’s hips. “You have to relax, hyung. Let yourself go. You’re too stiff.”

Lu Han huffed impatiently, running his fingers roughly through his hair and walking out of Jongin’s hands. It was just so difficult to take himself seriously; his childish face reflected in the practice room’s mirror wall didn’t match the choreography one bit. He just wasn’t y enough in his eyes. Jongin, however, came up with an idea and walked to the side of the room to root through his backpack. When he came back, he held something shiny in this outstretched hand.

A hip flask.

“Here, have this.”

Lu Han raised an eyebrow and took the flask in his hand. He unscrewed the top and shuddered once he’d sniffed inside. “Are you serious?”

Jongin rolled his dark eyes. “Trust me. It’ll help.”

And weirdly enough, it did. Perhaps a little too much.

Yes, the alcohol helped him relax and loosen his movements, just as it had at the nightclub, but eventually he found himself relying on it. The problem was that the flask was mobile and easy to hide; before any interview, which was often an uncomfortable experience since his transformation, or even facing the outside world on a daily basis, Lu Han would take a couple of swigs to settle his nerves. If there was ever a moment where he couldn’t feel the flask in his pocket, he would panic slightly until he found it again, and it was never very far.

In the end, he would sit on the floor of his living area at his dorm, laptop resting on the coffee table as he leant back against the sofa cradling the silver flask in his lap. He’d spend hours watching and re-watching his interview clips and old music videos, even glancing down at the comments to see what fans and anti-fans were saying about him, while trying to hold back the tears. He couldn’t even miss his old life as an idol because he realised that nothing much had really changed.

The fact was, he’d drawn the short straw and was now branded the designated rebel of what would otherwise be an unblemished company in the eyes of the ignorant. But it didn’t matter what mask he wore – the white one with golden eyes like an angel or the dark face painted in wine – it was just a mask. Always a mask; a mask he couldn’t remove. He even felt the pang of jealousy watching them, the fans, all fall in love with songs he didn’t write, hair he didn’t colour, make-up he’d never applied and words that didn’t really belong to him. They were falling in love with somebody else, just as always, with somebody that wasn’t the real Lu Han, whoever that was.

It was a cardboard cut-out of someone he was never going to be.

Sighing, he would lift up the flask to eye-level and say, “It’s just you and me now,” staring at his blurry reflection in the silver surface before stealing one of many sips.

If they wanted a walking tragedy, they were going to get one.

*

And then a Baozi changed everything.

Minseok would never know this, and Lu Han would never remember, but the night of the interview wasn’t the first time the star set eyes on his precious bun.

It was January and the Mercedes was driving through the cold, cloudy city. Lu Han stared out the window, happily people-watching under his shades as he always did on the way to a performance. As the car slowed for a red light, his gaze caught the sight of one of SNU’s buildings on campus and the numerous shapes of students walking past. They all looked so blissful with their heavy backpacks and arms laden with books and folders. It reminded him of his early days at Yonsei and his heart suddenly stung with the memory of moving into his dorm room for the first time. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be a new student again.

One particular face through the crowd caught his eye. He was shuffling along the path with intent, head bent against the wind with his earbuds tucked into the side of his head under fluffy hair. Lu Han couldn’t be sure, but the boys lips seemed to be moving to whatever lyrics he was listening to. The way he could just stroll down the street and nobody but his friends would batter an eyelid…the star envied that now he couldn’t have it. Typical.

As the car began driving again, Lu Han stared after the boy until he couldn’t see him any longer. A fire had ignited in his abdomen. He suddenly wanted to be a student again.

Would the company let him? He doubted it. Could he convince them?

Possibly.

*

“You want to what?”

“To join SNU in the next semester.”

The suit scratched his head, completely perplexed. “Why?”

Lu Han had thought about this. He knew if he gave the real reason, the reason of wanting to feel some normality in his life which had played out more like a fantasy, they would never bend to his wishes. Instead, he took a different approach and chose his words carefully.

He lifted his chin. “To help my image.”

The man looked him up and down in a calculating manner and then rubbed a finger along his chin. “Go on. Enlighten me,” he drawled.

“Well…” Lu Han in a breath. “You said once yourself that the world enjoys variety. What could be better than a fallen star trying to pick himself up again? To redeem his wild ways, or whatever. Everyone loves that kind of stuff, right?”

Lu Han was shocked at the confidence in his own voice but he couldn’t afford to falter. He watched his manager’s face intently to guess the outcome before it hit him but the man was difficult to decipher.

After a long pause, the man nodded. “It’s a good angle. I like it.”

Lu Han couldn’t stop smiling for hours.

*

To an outsider, it didn’t make any sense. Why would a notorious singing sensation like Lu Han suddenly pause some of his promotional activities to become a student, of all things? Surely he had it all – why add classes in draughty lecture halls to the list?

He knew he couldn’t give up his old life forever; he had to maintain some level of petty excitement to keep the suit happy but just having the opportunity to be normal again, or as normal as a renowned celebrity could be, meant the world to him. Nobody would understand how great it felt to smell the books and folders and notepads he’d bought – it was like moving to Korea for the first time all over again, back in the days when no-one in the country knew his name. Now his dreams had revolved back into stealing quiet moments in the library, head bent over a text book at 3AM and sipping a coffee instead of a hip flask. Anything was possible.

He managed to find spare time in his schedule to sneak into the university to attend his induction. Just as predicted, people stopped and stared and spoke in hushed tones as he tried to find his way around. By the end of the day he’d attracted a small following of girls who insisted on stalking him wherever he went. He was used to the attention but it still didn’t stop him feeling self-conscious. He wondered if half of them expected him to start a rave right there on the campus, or something. They would be sorely disappointed.

When he arrived back at the SM building for practice, one of the many stylists rushed towards him halfway down the corridor.

She held out her hands which contained a phone. “Lu Han…it’s for you.”

“What?” Despite his confusion, he took it and answered. “Hello? This is Lu Han.”

The voice that replied belonged to Kim Jongdae, an eager editor from the university. How he’d got the stylist’s number in the first place was a complete mystery. It turned out the music magazine he wrote for, only a small publication, wanted to interview him. Lu Han’s first instinct was to politely decline and tell the enthusiastic stranger to speak to his manager…but he didn’t. He realised this was the first music magazine that wanted to know about him – it wasn’t a tabloid or a celebrity gossip column. His heart lifted.

So after making the arrangements and quickly noting down his plans on a scrap piece of paper from his pocket, he agreed to meet with one of the writers.

Named Kim Minseok.

*

He didn’t realise until the last moment that his interview plans collided with a guest appearance at Enigma, a new club opening in Hongdae. At first he thought he could quickly get the whole thing done before he had to be there but he took so long getting ready that it was over 9:30PM when he finally found the red eye-glitter he’d spent forever looking for.

“Crap!” he cursed, looking at his watch. He patted his pockets for the hip-flask bulge, quickly downed a mouthful, and rushed out of the door while grabbing his blazer from the hook.

Inside the car, he drummed his fingers on his leg impatiently. Would the writer still be there? Had he lost his chance? Perhaps he could ring the magazine after the weekend and apologize; hopefully they’d offer him another chance. Surely they’d still want to talk to him…right?

As the driver turned the corner, it suddenly occurred to him that the editor had given him the writer’s number and he’d stored it in his phone. He was beyond late now but it was worth a shot.

He got out his mobile and scrolled through his address book. His foot tapped while it rang.

And then the writer answered. “…Hello?”

“Hello? Is this…” Lu Han paused. Bugger, what was his name? He quickly looked at his phone’s screen but he’d only saved him under ‘Writer’. Helpful. “Minseon? Is this Minseon?” He winced. He knew it wasn’t Minseon.

“It’s Minseok. Kim Minseok. Who is this?” The writer sounded a little pissed. It wasn’t a good start.

“Oh right, Minseok. Sorry. It’s Lu Han!”

“Lu Han?” There was another pause, on Minseok’s end this time, and then the sound of a long breath being drawn out. “Did Chanyeol put you up to this? Dammit, put Chanyeol on the phone.”

Huh? “Chanyeol? Who the hell is Chanyeol? Listen, I know I’m really late, but I thought I’d ring you and let you know I’m on my way.” Then something occurred to him. “What are you wearing?”

Silence, and then, “Umm…why?”

They’d just have to work with what he had on. “You’ll see. See you in 10, Minseong!”

He hung up, a smile blossoming on his lips. The writer had a nice voice, that much he’d noticed. Rather than trying to rush the interview before, he thought of a different approach. Why suffer another empty night of pointless, drunken chit-chat with the same faces when he could have fun with a new friend? This was all providing the writer was actually fun, but he had high hopes.

The Mercedes finally swerved into the university’s campus, Lu Han’s new home, and slowed down outside the Humanities block. The star squinted through the dark glass to make out the shape waiting for him. He had the strangest feeling he’d seen that face before, but he couldn’t place it. It took him a while to realise he’d just been staring the whole time so he quickly rolled down the window, a little flustered.

“Hey! Are you coming or not?” Lu Han shouted into the dark.

The writer only stood there dumbfounded for a few moments, frozen to the spot.

“C’mon, man, hurry up. Places to go, people to see…”  Lu Han wound up the glass again and started straightening himself out, suddenly conscious of any creases or bits of fluff stuck to his blazer jacket.

And so began one of the greatest weekends of his life.

*

Just as the star had foreseen, taking the clueless writer out on the town made his night and he wouldn’t regret it.

He found himself just watching Minseok the whole time; everything in this world was so new and exciting and nothing like the mortal among Gods was used to, or so it seemed. The way his eyes widened at all the things Lu Han had become numb to over the years; the pizazz, the glamour, the superficial lies that everyone flaunted alongside their Prada – it was all so shiny and tempting for the neophytes that couldn’t see between the cracks yet. Lu Han didn’t want to be the one to burst Minseok’s bubble, and thankfully he had a feeling he didn’t have to. Minseok didn’t seem the kind to wear rose-tinted contacts and hunger for a slice of the glitz. But that didn’t stop his jaw dropping inside Enigma all the same.

Knowing I’m a part of this masquerade…does it make you like me any less?

There was no interview in the end, but Lu Han learnt more about himself that evening than he ever thought possible, and it was all thanks to the sweet-smelling someone he hooked his arms around past 2 in the morning.

“Okay, wow.” He felt Minseok sway under his weight. “Loving the skinship, huh?”

Lu Han pulled away nodding, the world slightly revolving around him so he held on. But when Minseok ran a thumb under his eye, along his tingling skin, it all stopped moving and the pull to fall against him was almost too much to resist. The way he looked back into Lu Han’s eyes…he was really looking at him; not staring at his façade and waiting for him to do something disreputable like a performing monkey.

It had been a long time since someone had looked at him like that.

“You look a state, do you know that?”

Lu Han knew and he didn’t care. Not one bit.

Despite the usual hangover when he woke up, he still dragged himself into the university in the hope of seeing the bun again, even though it was a Saturday, but he briefly remembered Minseok saying something about going into the office. He got a little lost trying to navigate his way around the Humanities block but found Jjang! HQ in the end, nestled on the top floor. After only waiting a short while, his heart skipped when he saw his Baozi emerge from the elevator.

Minseok never did promise a tour of the campus, but it was a good enough excuse for Lu Han to tempt him with some quality time together. And it worked.

It worked to the extent of being able to snag an entire couple of days, almost, in the presence of his new friend. His time at Stripes, in particular, had been an eye-opener; that star was more than envious of the relationship Minseok had with his friends. Lu Han really didn’t have that with anyone, not exactly. Their music, too , was impressive and he made the mental note to mention their band to officials when he went to Busan. It was the least he could do.

As he fell asleep, curled up next to his Baozi at the highlight of their time together so far, Lu Han smiled against the pillow when a single tear fell from his eyes and LuMin left his lips, knowing that, at least in that moment, he was truly happy.

*

“So, how was your weekend?”

Lu Han smirked. “What do you think?”

It was late Sunday night and Lu Han had settled himself on his bed, back propped against the headboard and laptop safely balanced on his thighs. Prickly hair still wet from the shower fell over his eyes and he shook his head slightly so he could see the familiar face looking back at him from the glowing computer screen.

Zhang Yi Xing; one of the very few people that Lu Han considered a friend, and a very close one at that, still managed to light up his evening despite being 2000km away in his home city of Beijing. Yi Xing, like Jongin and Sehun in Seoul, was a dancer he’d known for many years – since close to his debut, in fact – and the only human on the planet he would trust with his life. He, also, happened to be a Chinese child-star which was always an amusing topic of conversation whenever the two were together, although those times were seldom. Other than their scheduled video calls, which entirely depended on time and convenience, it wasn’t often that Lu Han got to talk to his beloved friend and hear his mother tongue under that precious smile. Yi Xing’s Changsha dialect occasionally slipped past his lips but even then it reminded the star of home – a nostalgic punch of home sickness that echoed off the empty walls of his Busan hotel room.   

Lu Han adjusted the towel hanging over his shoulders to keep his t-shirt underneath dry from the dripping ends. “I’m guessing you saw the pictures…?”

“When does anyone ever not see the pictures?” Yi Xing joked, fluffy hair long enough to just about tickle the base of his neck. “The place was called Enigma, right? It looks…interesting.”

Lu Han rolled his eyes. “Okay, Mr T-Total Health-Nut. I know you don’t approve of all the drinking and partying but…yeah, it was interesting, actually. Very interesting.” The corners of his lips tilted up slightly at the memory of it.

Yi Xing leaned closer to the screen. “I know that smile, Lulu. Who was he? That guy you were with?”

“Just…a friend,” he replied coyly, cheeks reddening and bashful. “He’s a writer for the university’s music magazine. I was supposed to meet him for an interview but...” Lu Han wiggled his eyebrows. “I had better ideas.”

The dancer let out a breathy chuckle. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you. What’s this writer’s name?”

Baozi. “Kim…umm…” Lu Han’s forehead furrowed deep in thought and he scratched awkwardly behind his ear. “Kim Min-something-or-other…I think…”

“Well that’s a good start, forgetting the guy’s name...”

He ignored the playful jibe. “He’s cute, though, right? Don’t you think he’s cute?”

“Do you think he’s cute?”

Lu Han bit down hard on his lip as Minseok’s image floated in front of his eyes; round cheeks hugging a half-grin, hands awkwardly clenched at his side while attempting to dance, those terrible shoes that should’ve been chucked out decades ago, the odd strands of his flyaway hair that got caught in the wind…

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Really cute, actually...”

Yi Xing threw his hands in the air. “Then do whatever makes you happy. You know I only want that for you.”

“I know.” And he was more than grateful for his friend’s selflessness. He didn’t see much of that in the industry that had stolen his soul.

The dancer leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head. “Any plans to see him again?”

“Nothing set in stone but I’m sure I’ll sort something out when I’m back in Seoul.”

“Oh, yeah. I almost forgot you were in Busan. How’d the interview go?”

Lu Han sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “Same as always – they ask inappropriate questions, I smile and throw back witty quips, they laugh, I smile some more and then they demand news about the next album…nothing changes.”

Yi Xing’s face was suddenly painted with concern. “You’re doing okay, though, right?”

“As fine as I’ve ever been. Why?”

But rather than answering, Yi Xing only threw back, “And you’d tell me if it was anything different? If something was wrong?”

What is he getting at? Lu Han wondered. “Of course I would, XingXing. I tell you everything.”

Yi Xing merely bobbed his head thoughtfully and thinned his lips, showing off his adorable dimple. “Good. I’m glad to hear it.”

*

Naturally, their relationship bloomed into something of a fairy tale,  and when Minseok held him on the grassy hill overlooking the river, he actually felt as though nothing could break him, not anymore. Not now he has his Baozi.

How very wrong he was.

But until the time he was to realise that for himself, Lu Han engulfed his life in all things Minseok, surrounding himself with his friends and his studies and the arms of someone more than special to his heart. He would spend his mornings and his evenings curled up in Minseok’s bed or on Minseok’s sofa and try to block out the parts of his life he didn’t quite enjoy so much – such as going to the SM building to practice. He knew he’d feel the consequences of that decision at some point but it didn’t trouble him. Instead, he concentrated on showering the steamed bun with kisses and trailing teasing fingers along his happy trail at night just for fun.

Back at his dorm, when he was there, it was a different story. Sometimes, when he was on his own, he’d find himself patting his pockets for his hip flask out of habit before he’d remember he didn’t have it anymore. It made him smile to think of Minseok throwing it into the Han river where it now slept on the riverbed, no doubt. Still, the temptation to resort to old habits worried him slightly and it gnawed at the back of his mind. Whenever he was plagued by darker moments, he’d calm himself by writing Kim Minseok over and over in the notepad – one, because he wanted the name to actually stick and two, because it was therapeutic and helped him forget his problems.

Then he made a decision, a decision that someone might be thankful for some day.

He ripped off the corner of his piece of paper and scribbled along the front;

In case of emergency,

                                Call Kim Minseok.

And slipped it into his wallet.

*

This time it was Lu Han who was early; it was Lu Han who got to silently judge the suit as he strode into the conference room, newspaper lodged under his arm, and sat down in his usual leather seat. Neither of them wished to be there, you could feel it in the air that hung with a heavy tension. There was only one reason for either of them to be back in this room.

Lu Han was in trouble.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” said the man after a long silence.

Lu Han picked nonchalantly at his nails. “I’ve had other things to do.”

The man scoffed. “Other things than doing your job? What we pay you for? That’s interesting…very interesting…”

Lu Han kept his mouth clenched shut, staring at the opposite wall.

The suit tutted. “You’ve taken things too far, Lu Han, and you know it. That’s the real reason you’ve been avoiding me.”

“I really don’t know wha-”

But the man slammed the newspaper on to the shiny surface. “Are you sure, Lu Han? Don’t lie to me. It’s not in your best interests.”

He knew what was on the cover, but he had to look anyway. It was him; him and Minseok on the bridge with the lights of the paparazzi’s cars illuminating them from behind. It was actually quite a beautiful shot.

Lu Han spoke through a tensed jaw, trying to keep the worst of the words he wanted to say behind his tongue. “So I can’t kiss who I want now? I can’t like someone?”

“You’ve never been able to kiss who you want, you little brat. That’s always been our jurisdiction. And kissing a boy of all people? What the hell were you thinking?”

Lu Han tried to keep his breathing steady. “Not that long ago you were telling me to dance around a line and now-”

“This isn’t dancing around a line, this is crossing it!” The man jabbed the paper angrily, crushing on Minseok’s precious face. “When we sent you to America, we didn’t expect you to bring back some interesting customs. This is not how we do things here!”

The only sound to be heard was the two of them breathing, both out of anger and frustration. Eventually the suit lowered his deep voice.

“I don’t want to see another picture with him again otherwise you’ll be kissing your career goodbye. Although you were doing that well enough on your own. We can make life hard for him just as easily as we can for you, don’t make me play that card.”

Inside, something inside Lu Han cracked. Just the tiniest bit, but he really felt it and tried not to let it show across his face.

The manager continued, “And we’re bringing your Japanese promotions forward. You’re leaving for Tokyo in two weeks.”

He couldn’t keep silent any longer. “What? But-…but what about my semester at SNU?”

“There is no semester at SNU. Not anymore. You’re dropping out for…professional reasons, or whatever other motive you want to spew at them. You decide.” The suit’s lip curled. “Do we have an understanding?”

Lu Han was rendered speechless. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. No more Seoul. No more SNU.

But most importantly of all…no more Baozi.

*

To say that the walls of his life had crumbled around him…would’ve been an understatement.

He tried to shut himself away and be forgotten. But it’s a little bit difficult when someone actually appears to love you and not want  to let you disappear.

His phone buzzed. Often.

First with an answerphone message:

Hey, it’s Baozi – me and the boys are heading to the steakhouse tomorrow and wondering if you wanna come? Give me a call back…umm, yeah…bye!

Delete.

And then the texts:

Did you get my last message? ~ B

Hey, you okay? Your Baozi misses you ~ B

Delete. Delete.

And then the phone calls he didn’t answer.

Minseok would never understand. He’d never let it lie. That’s the kind of person he was; brave and determined and strong and everything Lu Han wasn’t. He actually deserved his place at SNU, not the star that got in on less-than-average-grades and a heavy wage-packet. He’d say how ridiculous the whole situation was and how he’d wait for Lu Han to come back from Japan and how he’d keep it all a secret…and…but Lu Han couldn’t risk it. Not anymore.

Otherwise everything he’d gone through over the last 3 years…all the pain, the exhaustion, the tears, the heartache…would be for nothing.

All he could do was hang his head in his lap, crying into his arms, while his phone vibrated on the bedside table and he prayed for it to stop. At the same time, his laptop rang with the message of an incoming video call from Zhang Yi Xing. It was never-ending. He held himself tightly.

Please, Baozi.

Everybody.

Just let me disappear.

*

And then came the night that changed everything.

Lu Han leant against the bar at Enigma, stirring his drink without any real thought. He stared out at the crowd, uninterested and empty. Not even the colourful lasers or pounding music could remotely lift his leaded spirits. Jongin’s eyes bored into him from his side.

“It wouldn’t kill you to crack a smile, y’know,” the dancer snapped. “Even Sehun’s having a better time than you.”

Lu Han wasn’t listening. He didn’t have the patience for his attitude. Not tonight.

His leg twitched. He pulled his phone out and something lodged itself in his throat.

I’m outside. Please come out and see me. One last time ~ B

The pain that painted itself across his face must’ve been even more obvious than he realised, because Jongin snatched his mobile from his grasp.

“Hey!” Lu Han cried, but Jongin was already shaking his head.

“I can’t believe this kid. Doesn’t he get the hint?” He pushed the phone back into Lu Han’s hands. “He’s a bigger idiot than I thought.”

“Don’t you dare talk about him like that. You don’t know him.”

Jongin glared and walked up so close to his face, Lu Han was sure they were almost touching. “Don’t tell me you’re still crazy about him…”

Lu Han continued stirring his drink, trying to ignore Jongin’s breath on his cheek.

“I was wrong, then,” he spat. “You’re the idiot. I’m going to settle this crap once and for all.”

Jongin downed his glass, slammed it onto the bar and stormed over to the elevator. Lu Han went to grab him as he left but his feeble attempt failed and he watched Jongin’s form disappear as the doors slid shut, too drunk and scared to really stop him.   

Sehun ran over from the dance floor, weaving his long, thin body through the crowd. “Where did he go?”

“To ruin everything,” Lu Han croaked. If I haven’t already.

Sehun put out his hand and linked his fingers in with Lu Han’s. “C’mon, we can still catch him.”

He pulled the star to the other side of the room and the two jumped up and down impatiently waiting for the lift to descend back down again. Lu Han didn’t want to think about the things Jongin could be saying to Minseok’s face in that moment.

Don’t hurt him, not any more. He doesn’t deserve it…

The ground floor was heaving with bodies waiting to get into the elevator, but Lu Han and Sehun squeezed past them without much hassle. Until they reached the doorway where Lu Han froze.

Baozi…

He could see Minseok squared up to Jongin, the two looking at each other with pure poison shooting out of their pupils. It physically hurt to see his face again, knowing what he was giving up. He kept reminding himself, over and over, that what he was doing was for the greater good and Sehun’s hand rubbing up and down his back reassuringly calmed him slightly. Still, that didn’t stop the present situation.

“What should I do?” Lu Han asked him.

“Maybe talk to him yourself? Ignoring him doesn’t seem to be working…”

Sehun had a point. It wasn’t working at all.

Just then, Minseok’s arm swung out of no-where and collided with the side of Jongin’s face, sending him fast to the concrete. Lu Han gasped and threw a hand over his mouth. He did not expect that to happen.

Before he could stop himself, he shouted, “Jongin-ah!” and ran to the dancer’s side with Sehun on his tail. He helped him stand, dabbing the side of his now red, throbbing face and trying not to look up at the writer now staring wide-eyed right at him. But that didn’t work either.

“…Lu Han?”

He let his eyes wander up and their gazes connected.

That was his first mistake.

He kept his face as blank and indifferent as he could, fighting the urge to break down altogether while drinking in the sight of something he used to hold and kiss and whisper sweet words against. But not any longer. With every ounce of strength he could muster, Lu Han turned and walked back towards the entrance, fully aware of every pair of eyes watching him and the whole encounter. He prayed Jongin and Sehun were close behind so he didn’t have to look back…

“IS THAT IT THEN, HUH?”

He should have kept walking.

*

Jongin and Sehun had booked a hotel room that night. Had Lu Han been sober, he would’ve been tempted to make a plethora of inappropriate jokes but at this moment he was concentrating on not throwing up. One arm hooked around Jongin’s neck, he was hauled into the room and two of them collapsed onto the sofa in the small social area. Sehun followed behind, closing the door and mumbling something about needing water so he disappeared to the mini-fridge. Lu Han rested his head on Jongin’s shoulder and the dancer a lone finger down his cheek.

“Doesn’t it feel better?” he purred.

“Hm?” asked Lu Han sleepily.

“Knowing you don’t have to worry about him anymore?”

Lu Han’s eyes flew open. “I think…I think I need the bathroom-”

He pushed himself up and headed straight for the bathroom door, slamming it behind him hastily. Short of breath, he braced himself over the sink basin and stared intently at his pasty, damaged reflection. The skin on his face still tingled from where Jongin had touched him and he quickly rubbed it clean. The same haunting image of Minseok’s angry, hurt and precious face troubled his mind.  The bastard had fought for him, just like he knew he would…

And now he’d torn him apart like the vultures Minseok always warned him about.

Minseok…Kim Minseok…

Lu Han didn’t want to be without him. He didn’t want to be in Tokyo very much, either. Or wear so much stupid eyeliner. But everything about his life from that moment dictated the complete opposite.

What was even the point anymore?

His line of sight fell on the see-through container sat by the boys toiletries. They were pills; strong painkillers by the looks of it, for Jongin’s chronic back pain.

Before Lu Han could really justify what he was doing, he unscrewed the top and poured the contents out into his hand. He shoved half of them into his mouth and tried desperately to swallow, but his mouth was too dry. So he cupped his other hand under the running tap and threw water between his lips to make it easier. Once he’d forced one lot down, the did the other and clamped his mouth shut.

That was his second mistake.

Maybe now he could finally get some sleep.

Giving in to his heavy limps, Lu Han curled up on the cold floor, tucking his knees up under his arms and gratefully let the darkness take him.

*

When he came to, there was the sound of a fist colliding with the door to greet him.

“Hyung? You okay in there?”

Followed by the distinct feeling there was something very wrong with his body.

“Lu Han? Can you hear me?”

Within seconds he was on his knees, lifting up the toilet seat and violently emptying everything poisonous that had rested in his stomach. The sound of his body retching was enough to quieten the panicked voice outside the room.

Wiping his mouth, he couldn’t help but sit back on his heels and wonder; What the hell had I done to myself?

His head was clearer now, if only slightly. This wasn’t the way it had to be. This was not the future he was going to write for himself.

Back on his feet, avoiding the sight of his reflection in the mirror, he was faced with an unusually pale Jongin outside of the door, but he walked straight past him.

“Wait! Where are you going?”

“To fix everything.”

“What?” Jongin had run to catch up and positioned himself between the weakened celebrity and his only way out.

“You heard.” Lu Han swallowed through the feeling his stomach was going to start convulsing again. “I messed up. I made the wrong choice, so I’m going to fix it. Now let me go.”

He made to stumble around Jongin but a hand shot and grabbed his wrist, holding him in place.

“No.”

“Jongin-…what are you doing?”

“I can’t let you do it, Lu Han. I can’t let you throw everything you’ve achieved out the window like that.” He tightened his grip, making the star squirm. “We’ve been together since the beginning, the very beginning, remember? I saw the passion in your eyes and the thirst for this life and now you’re just gonna stop caring? For him? He’s nothing! You deserve better!”

Lu Han tore his arm from the dancer’s grasp. “Better? This is better? This is nothing! I thought I knew what I was wanting then but I didn’t have a ing clue! And now look at me! I don’t even know who I am anymore!”

“I know who you are.”

“No, you don’t, Jongin. And if really cared, you’d let me pass.”

Lu Han, head beginning to cloud again, roughly shouldered past him to the door. As soon as his shaking hand felt the metal knob, a low voice echoed behind him.

“But what about me?”

The star paused. “Goodbye, Jongin-ah.”

Goodbye to that life and everything that came with it.

That was his third mistake.

He dragged his heavy feet and throbbing body out into the corridor, squinting through blurry eyes to find the elevator. Once he’d clung to the wall on his way, he pressed the button eagerly but the lift was taking too long for his patience. Looking up, a glowing sign for the stairs pointed to the end of the hallway. It wasn’t too much further, so he abandoned his original plan and chose the stairs route.

A wide, marble staircase wound down the side of the building and as Lu Han approached and peaked over the railing, it began to spin. He gripped the bannister, throwing his weight onto it, and tried to gain his balance.

C’mon, you can do this. It’s just a few steps. Get downstairs, get to Baozi, it’s not far…

But just as he thought that, his stomach suddenly jerked in pain and the star doubled over in agony, now clutching his lower body with one hand while trying to hold himself together with the other. If he’d been in his right mind, he would have laughed at the situation he’d got himself into. However, with every second that passed, his world melted more and more into a watery mess and shapes were hard to make out anymore. Nevertheless, he was determined.

He in a shaky breath and tried standing again, slowly but surely. He straightened out his trembling knees. Is that a step? Lu Han put down a tentative foot to test it and it hit solid ground so he trusted his judgement, still half-leaning against the banister. What he didn’t expect was the second convulsion to hit, harder than ever, as he walked forward and his foot half-missed its mark. Through the wave confusion from the pain and the slip, he threw himself entirely against the railing, squeezing his eyes shut as tears escaped, only he threw himself too hard…

…and the star fell.

The celestial body had travelled too close to the Earth and gravity had won.

It wasn’t a smooth fall. He half-collided with the banister again a floor down and it flung his body solidly against the stone steps. If his shoulders hadn’t have been at the angle they were, his head would have been crushed against the hard surface and he would’ve died instantly. Instead, his body rolled and his head was saved until the last moment when it finally landed against the last surface.

Bright, gaseous wings had burnt up in the atmosphere in flashes of seared gold and ghostly fingers reached out, grabbing helplessly at the memories that faded to dust with every stone step his broken body collided with, one by one, until there was nothing left.

Even the face of Minseok.

No…

And everything went black.