41. Upstream
Phoenix Rising
Chapter 41: Upstream
In the week that followed, LADY debuted as three. The whole team from the top executives down to the interns were exhausted. Last minute rescue efforts had ranged from from emergency green screen shooting in the studio and intensive retouching and photo manipulation to new dance formations. Audio had been the hardest to rescue, and everyone on that end of the business was best left alone unless strictly necessary. Baekhyun had received a tongue lashing when he'd ventured into distribution to confirm the destruction of thousands of pressed CD's. The losses kept rolling in.
Park Entertainment and Tena's family issued matching statements citing 'health concerns' for Tena's departure.
Marketing went into overdrive.
LADY charted at number seven in their first week.
It wasn't fantastic. But everyone agreed it could have been worse. If it weren't for Kris, the group would not have charted at all. Projections had been lowered, and marketing had already begun planning work on a male supergroup concept comprised of star trainees. LADY's star had fallen. Kris' joint promotions were cut back.
It didn't bode well for Baekhyun, whose fledgling division had yet to get off the ground. CEO Park had reassured him that he was to keep his eyes on the prize and remain undeterred. Too tired to question the CEO's zealous pursuit of the futile - he simply nodded and applied himself quietly to his work.
He found it easier, in the wake of LADY's predebut turbulence, to simply keep his head down and do what he was told. Fear dogged his heels at each step. But it kept him out of trouble.
Eyes followed his every move. He had never been particularly important outside of his designated roles. However, more and more, things were coming to his attention for approval, eyes darted surreptitiously to him in meetings, and email chains waited on his final say.
What was happening?
"Why are you so surprised, boss?" Jongdae said one day as Baekhyun shook his head after signing off on Kris' latest shoot.
Baekhyun could only shake his head and frown, exhaling a long breath as he sat back in his chair. "It's just strange."
"People look to a leader," Jongdae said mildly.
Baekhyun arched a brow. "A leader? Not a rebel?"
"They aren't always mutually exclusive," Jongdae chuckled. "Perhaps you gave quieter people a voice without realizing it. Not everyone is so brave as to challenge the entire management of one of the biggest entertainment firms this side of Asia."
Baekhyun shivered. "Don't remind me."
"Do you regret it?" Jongdae tipped his head.
"No. It's a total injustice. Someone had to say something. If I hadn't--" Baekhyun held his face in his hands, pushing slender fingers up through his hair. "Will it be okay, Jongdae?" He asked, letting his guard down just a little. Jongdae, solid Jongdae, was the one rock in his tumultuous ocean. Temptation lingered on his tongue at every turn now, it pushed at the closed seam of his mouth, urging him to confide in the younger man. With no one he could trust aside from Jaehee - and a limit to what he could expect her to bear - he felt isolated and anxious, bracing for impact when the other shoe dropped. It was coming, he could feel it.
"That's why I follow you, Executive Byun," Jongdae said simply. "You are a leader."
For a long moment, Baekhyun could only stare at his associate. Jongdae held his gaze steadily, before folding his arms over his notebook and bowing to him.
A leader. Baekhyun repeated the words to himself over and over. He was no leader. He was a shipwrecked sailor praying the storm blew him ashore. He was a foolhardy idiot who spoke out before thinking of the consequences. He was an ill-begotten activist who could stand up for others but not for himself. But he wasn't a leader.
Tossing in bed that night, Baekhyun scrubbed his hands thrrough his hair and stared at the ceiling. Did leaders berate good men for their kindness and help? He snorted to himself and rolled over onto his stomach, pressing his eyes closed as he tried to catch sleep. Each breath and each beat of his heart raced by quickly, as if they had somewhere to be, somewhere to go. He tried counting his breaths, but it was to no avail. He tried listening to music, but the lyrics of every song made his chest tighten and his eyes ache. He wrapped his arms around himself and let out a frustrated cry.
Twice, he'd picked up his phone, thumbing through his contacts to hover over Phoenix's name. He had never changed the entry to Chanyeol.
I miss you. I'm sorry. It was still in his drafts.
It was not the first night of this ritual. As he lay in the darkness, silent and alone, he wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel anymore. It was a jumble inside him, frayed ends tangled into a heavy knot in his gut - regret, longing, fear, guilt, determination, and weakness. Did a leader feel like sinking to his knees in defeat? Did a leader pray for someone stronger to come away his fears? Every bone in his body longed for Phoenix' soft touch, his deep voice, his strong embrace. The memory of his voice in his ear made him instantly choke up, the thought of his hands on his skin set his blood on fire. He hadn't expected regret to find a way in, weighing heavy around his heart.
In the dark night, he let out a shaky breath and blinked back the wetness in his eyes. His fingers dug into the pillow as he swallowed down a wave of guilt. He wanted nothing more than to apologize, to set things right, to earn back his place in Phoenix's arms even if it was for just night. A proper goodbye. Not this.
How had he been reduced to this? How had it come so far?
Jaehee had no idea what she was asking of him.
Or perhaps, grim realization dawned, she knew exactly what she'd asked for.
Jaehee's advice was sound and her forgiveness a blessing - but it was also a test. If he was her, would he have forgiven her so easily? Were a bouquet of flowers and handful of days enough to mend the hole he had ripped in their relationship?
Unlikely.
She was waiting for him to put the nail in the coffin, clear his accounts with Chanyeol and say his goodbyes. She knew better than he did that it wasn't over til it was over.
He rolled onto his side and furrowed his brows, staring into the soft citylight that glowed at his window. Curling one arm under his head, he scrolled through his contacts again. He paused as he skimmed past a name.
Ga In.
A shi
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