Time to return to practicing. It had been almost two months since the attack. The company insisted that the girls travel with bodyguards now. Due to her hospitalization, Blue lost her place in the drama. Instead, she was given the opportunity to release a solo single and promote it. Most of the excitement in her life had died down since she told Dongwoon about her Hoya problem. Even though Hoya said he would “be there,” she had not heard from him since she left the hospital. Dongwoon, of course, remained around, visiting every day until the group left to promote in Japan. Jaehyun vanished.

            Together A. Drenaline left their dorm with their three new bodyguards—Kiseob, Sihun, and Jinhee. It was their day to record another song for the album and Academy Entertainment deemed traveling to the studio alone unsafe. Blue felt guilty; after all, it was her fault. She should have made Hoya leave. She should not have accepted the ride. She should stop running through the park. As a result, her band mates had to be tailed by killing machines who were awkward at everything except guarding. Angel told the embarrassing story of having to tell Kiseob and Sihun she had to go to the bathroom. The two men stood outside while Jinhee, the only woman, went inside. What were anti-fans going to do, climb through the vents and attack Angel on the toilet? Nonetheless, it was “standard procedure.”

            They climbed into the new truck, safer and more efficient than their manager Sunhwa’s truck. Blue sat in the far back with Kiseob, earphones in and listening to the B2ST’s latest single. With the practicing and recording and Dongwoon’s promoting and fan meetings, she missed his voice. She missed their absurdly long phone calls when Dongwoon would talk incessantly like a school girl until she heard Doojoon yell “Ya! Go to sleep!” in the background or Minah would throw a pillow at her and leave the room. Of course when they did talk, she could never say that she missed his voice or him. That was her little secret.

            Angel, Hara, and Minah went into the main recording room while Blue sat with the sheet music and lyrics of her solo single, “3 Strikes.” She worked with two other composers to create the instrumental and her raps and vocal parts. All that was left was for her to record it, add choreography, and record the music video later in the week.

            The main composer for Academy, Rocha, called her into the smaller recording room. “Have you listened to the instrumental we finished earlier? Are you confident with it?”

            She nodded. “Ne, I think people will like it. I really like it.”

            “When do you start dancing?”

            “Uh, practice tomorrow and Wednesday and then we shoot the music video Saturday.” She grabbed the sheets and headed into the small booth. She slipped the headphones on and listened to the early pulsing bass, setting the lyrics on the stand.

[“3 Strikes” is like a combination of “Mr. Simple” by SuJu and “Hot Issue” by 4minute.]

Strike one, strike two, strike three, and you’re ouuuut. Baby, don’t make it that way. Just take my heart and let’s get down. I wanna love you today. Doesn’t matter if you’re mad or sad or you’re waiting for the day when I turn into a bad, bad girl. I’ll be watching your mistakes, just try and play the right way, my way, no pain, no gain. Every time you let me down, it’s just more rain in my heart. What are you thinking of right now? I want to know. Are you thinking of me? Because I need to know. Did I tell you, I’m scared and you’re killing me. And if you don’t give me love, then it’s strike three.

If you want to see the real me, you’ve gotta work hard. I won’t give my love away to anyone.
If you want to dance with me, you’ve gotta win my heart. Tell me you love me or it’s strike one.
If you want to get down, you’ve gotta move fast. I can’t wait around for you.
If you want to spin my head ‘round, you’ve got me in your grasp. Don’t let go or it’s strike two.
If you want to hit a home run, you’ve gotta take a swing, take, take a swing at me.
Because the game will end. I can’t say a thing. Tell me you love me or it’s strike three.

No matter how many times that I tell you I’m alright, you’ve gotta know better than to take that lie. Here and now, it’s do or die, it’s sink or fly, and you are mine but I can’t be the only one. For the million times I’ve cried, staying up in the night, thinking, “Are you really real?” I don’t know, yes, no, I need to go. If you don’t want my now, you can just turn around. I’ll be fine. That’s a lie, but I don’t mind.

Watch me move it. Watch the way the light loves me. Can you love me that way? Are you loving me now? Strike one, you can’t touch me. Strike two, you can’t love me. Strike three, I’m dancing you off my skin.

            When the finished, Rocha was giving her the thumbs-up in the booth. He buzzed in, “Let’s try the backing vocals this time. That was perfect. No need to go back over it.”

            Hours of layering harmonies and mixing and she was done. She had recorded her first single. Of course she loved performing with the girls, but this was her own, in which she could show versatility as the singer and the rapper, as the dancer and the pretty girl. By the time she reached the larger booth, Hara was wrapping up her small parts and they were waiting for her to add the rap and ad-libs.

            Blue collapsed onto her bed, exhausted. Her arms and feet hurt from the dancing they did from 4PM when they finished recording the album to 1AM when Angel finally synchronized with the rest of the group. Sitting neatly beside her was the bear Dongwoon got her—named Kia. She stared at it when her phone rang: DONGWOONIE.

            “Yeoboseo?”  She knew she sounded exhausted.

            He caught it. “Oh, Misu, were you sleeping? I’m sorry—”

            “Ani, I just got home from dance practice. How is Japan?”

            “It’s sunny and the food’s delicious. The hyungs and I are enjoying the hotel room service a lot and there’s a pool, but we’re too busy to go swimming. I keep forgetting we aren’t on vacation. I get to share a room with Kikwang-hyung but he’s asleep so there’s nothing to do. I don’t understand much Japanese so I get confused watching TV and the only Korean is dramas. And—” He cut off. “I’m sorry, I’m talking too much.”

            “It’s okay. Japan sounds fun. I hope we get to promote there one day. Where to next?”

            “China, then Thailand, then Taiwan, then Malaysia, and then I will be home. I’m sorry I’ll be missing your birthday next week.”

            She sighed. “It’s okay. It won’t be very fun anyway because I have to do a prerecording of my solo single. I’m nervous.”

            “You’ll do fine. Your bad luck doesn’t touch your performances. Just don’t fall and remember your lyrics.” She was smiling like an idiot at this. “I’m going to let you go to sleep.”

            “Dongwoon?”

            “Ne?”

            “Will you sing me to sleep?”

            She could tell he was smiling at this request. “Ne…” The song he chose was obvious from the first line, “I believe dream for you and me. You are the long awaited rain in my draughty day. You soaked my heart and gave me courage. You make me smile and fly again, coming into my arms and giving happiness silently just like a rainbow after a shower.” She was asleep before he finished. “Goodnight, Misu.”

            Blue’s favorite part about shooting music videos were the clothes. The story of her music video was her attempt to pursue a guy that she liked. They were in a nightclub and she was dressed in a black mesh shirt with a tank top underneath and sparkly silver pants. She had sleek leather Stiletto boots with a shiny metal heel and her arms were covered in silver bracelets. Her shoulder-length hair was perfectly straight. Her makeup was dark and smoky. It was just the kind of look she wanted. Playing her boyfriend was none other than Taecyeon from 2PM.

            When the director yelled “Action!” she was no longer Blue, the shy girl. She was now Blue, the seductress, the y, charismatic singer, rapper, and dancer who could have anyone she wanted. The camera followed her as she strutted towards Taecyeon who was surrounded by girls in the club. She pulled him away by his shirt with a sinister grin on her face.

            The choreographer approached gave them an overview of how they were to dance. The director reminded her to sing at this point. She did as she was told, arms around his neck, circling her hips before she popped her chest in front of the camera. She could see the impressed looks of the crew. While she moved, with each slow caress and another pop in her torso, she rapped. She smirked.

And as soon as it began, she was changing into her next outfit. With blood red shorts, a white tank top with a silver skull in small spikes on it, black high top Converse sneakers, and spiked hair, she joined the other dancers to the perform the choreography she learned earlier in the week. She perfected every stomp, every kick, and every pop. She toyed with the camera when they did close ups. Then came the dance break, with the dancers surrounding her on all sides. When she jumped, the crumpled to the floor and she surged forward, dancing better than she ever had. When break was over, she was panting.

They recorded another scene, with Taecyeon moving down the hallway and she leaped on his back, tackling him. Then they recorded another, with him walking down the street until she threw a net on him. With him captured, she smiled. And that was a wrap.

She paced back and forth, fiddling with the zipper on her leather jacket. Everyone had convinced her she was ready to perform the single alone. If she was so ready, then why did it feel like her insides were turning to mush? It was time for the prerecording, and they called her and her four male dancers on stage. They took their beginning poses, the beginning bass pounded, the fans did their cheer, and she sprung to life.

Blue stepped out of her head and let the performing stranger take over. The stranger sang, danced, and rapped with vigor that Blue felt she could not muster up. And before she knew it, she was surrounded by dancers collapsed on the floor in their end pose with her mischievous expression. It was the best birthday gift she could give herself: succeeding.

With a sigh, she and bodyguard Kiseob moved down the hall to her dorm. After dancing so hard, she wanted to sleep. Sleep and tell Dongwoon that her performance didn’t crash and burn. She changed into a black tee shirt and baggy grey sweat pants, though she did not remove her makeup or un-spike her hair. She flung the door open, kicked off her sneakers and—

“SURPRISE!”

Her bandmates, Hoya, and all of Style X with the exception of Jaehyun stood in their living room wearing party hates. Dongwoon held birthday cake with the candles lit and sparkling. They all grinned. “Happy birthday, Blue!”

She blinked in surprise and smiled, walking further into the living room. “Uh… thank you, guys. Whoa.” The one thing she did not expect was a surprise party.

She watched Dongwoon, dark rings under his eyes, smile wide, flailing out, yelling, “Surprise, Misu! I lied, I came back today and I saw your performance and I’m so proud of you! You were great! Happy birthday!” The cake slipped out his hands and crumpled on the floor and everyone gaped.

Hoya sighed. “Ya! Look what you did!”

She shook her head and sighed. “It’s okay. I’m not really a cake person anyway.” She grabbed Dongwoon’s hand. “Let’s go get the frosting off of your shirt.” She pointed to the bathroom and went across the hall to sit her bag down.

As she emptied out the bag, she heard Dongwoon say, “So this is what your room looks like.” Her eyes widened and she shut the closet door. “Don’t surprise me like that.”

            He had a large bag with him and he held it out for her. “I want you to open it before everyone else’s. I think you’ll like it.” The frosting on his shirt was barely wiped away. She sat on the bed, he sat beside her, and she reached in the bag. Inside, there were two boxes—one large, one small. She retrieved the small box and saw through the plastic a golden charm for her phone, a rectangle with Japanese characters. He was beaming. “It’s a omamori, which is supposed to protect you from bad luck. You know, because you need that.” She promptly attached to her cell phone. It looked nice there. Then, she attended to the large box. Inside, there was a nice black dress with silk ruffles and a belt at the waist. There was no way he picked that out, considering his lack of personal style. “I remember one night you said you always wanted to go to a fancy restaurant so I got you something to wear so that we can go when you have free time. The coordinator noona helped me pick it out. I hope it fits. I hope you like it; I didn’t know what to get you so—”

            She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. The box fell from her lap but she did not move. “I love it, Dongwoon. Thank you so much.”

            Someone cleared their throat in the doorway. She let go and saw Jaehyun with a small, rectangular box in hand. He gave a small smile. “They, uh, said you were back here. Happy birthday, Hyori.”

            She headed to the door and Dongwoon followed. “Uh… thanks, Jaehyun.”

            “And I’m sorry, Dongwoon,” he added, “for you know, everything.”

            The uncoordinated giant shrugged. “It’s alright. I’m over it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

감사합니다 to wynthe for the idea about the good luck charm. XD I figured it would make a cute birthday gift. Also, I could NOT resist tossing in “Oasis.” It’s just a sweet love song. Spastic Dongwoon say whaaaat?