Grace
There wasn't enough coffee in the world for what I was trying to accomplish—I was instantly brought back to finals week, where I had been so worried I would fail my Econ class that I stayed up until four a.m. studying and almost missed the entire final.
I got a B.
I still blame lack of sleep.
It wasn't just the exhaustion that was kicking in; it was the fact that this group, VIXX, wasn't anything like I'd ever seen in the US, and I'd been a One Direction fangirl.
I was adult enough to admit to screaming at one of their concerts when I was fifteen and crying when they broke up the following year, so I thought I understood what true fandom was.
I was wrong.
So very, laughably wrong.
K-pop fandoms brought fangirling to a whole different level. Idols didn't just write and record albums and go on tour. Nope, they had their own merchandise. Their name was on every piece of candy, every soda, friggin' ramen noodles, socks… People consumed it, they branded it, and the fandoms devoured it.
Furthermore, they didn't just have group fans but individual fans that made groupies look tame. They even had leaders of the fan clubs, and if you did something wrong? Those leaders would gather up everyone in the fan club and get them to cancel the K-pop group. Basically, the fans held a huge amount of power. Even worse? Those were the fans that just liked them—the other fans? The Sasaeng went to tremendous depths—even dangerous ones—to get the idols' (see, I'm learning!) attention, from stalking them outside their apartments to actually breaking into their apartments; their only hobby in life was the K-pop group, which just brought the insanity to a whole other level.
I wasn't trying to judge; I just couldn't comprehend that level of obsession—I tried to compare it to some of my celebrity crushes and realized I didn't even know where most of them lived. LA? A few lived in Sun Valley, Idaho, but I would never be so bold as to send something to their house… on the other more positive side, some of the fans would get together to honor their favorite celeb on their birthday, which was actually really cool, and I could totally see myself participating in something like that.
It was just so foreign to me, and I felt stupid that I knew nothing, not when I looked like I should on the outside. Would that be a problem? Who was I kidding? It already was a problem.
I looked kind of Korean—at least according to everyone in middle school who used to make fun of me.
And I knew how to say hi.
Fantastic.
With a sigh, I grabbed my phone again and brought up YouTube.
I saw one whole video on an idol who was sent a dead pigeon because the girl thought he was dating some actress he'd worked with. This girl also broke into his apartment, stole one of his shirts, sent another dead pigeon, and honestly, it just got weirder by the second.
Thankfully, Solia had given me pages and pages of what to watch out for, especially when it came to taking the guys to and from rehearsals. I assumed they had bodyguards, but I quickly learned that these obsessive fans weren't deterred by much of anything, which made it even that much more complicated—and scary.
I might be curvy, but I had about zero muscle, so if someone came at us, all I could do was chuck my cell phone and say a prayer.
I wondered if that was what had happened to Lucas. A superfan attacked him, and now he was to blame for a scandal that wasn't even his fault?
I couldn't imagine being in the public eye twenty-four seven, record sales or not. You would have to truly love what you did in order to put up with it. And according to the manual I was reading, these guys even filmed on their off time, some sort of live-fan website where they would talk about their day, answer questions. It truly never stopped for them. Always working. Did they ever sleep?
I turned the page and stared harder than what was probably appropriate. All five of the guys' headshots were glaring up at me.
Some of them had different colored hair now, but other than that, it seemed like a recent shot of them. Each one had their own personal style that clearly was strategically done in order to appeal to the masses. All I could compare it to was One Direction, and the thing that I noticed first was that One Direction was constantly pushed as a band, not as individuals, at least not really. Whereas these guys each had a different job, one was the main vocalist, one was a visual: which basically meant that they were the best looking of the group, another was the best dancer, and one, honest to God, was looked to as the "dad" of the group.
Hah, tell that to my friends' dads, because they looked nothing like this. I mean, obviously, they meant it as a leadership term, but it still made me smile when I read through their bios.
I yawned behind my hand as laughter sounded from the kitchen; the chef had arrived about an hour into my studying.
I'd been sitting on that uncomfortable metal chair, coated in plane sweat, for the past two hours, and I could feel myself fading fast. Meanwhile, all the guys from VIXX were joking and eating whatever amazing smelling thing the chef was cooking.
I wanted to complain, but this was an opportunity, and I was only a few hours in. I needed to suck it up and dream about three months from now when I'd have enough experience to apply to a few studios back in the States.
My eyes blurred as I quickly read through their different profiles, some of them only included the bare minimum like where they were born, favorite hobbies, and their position within the group. Interestingly enough, it actually said in the information pack that they purposefully didn't give a lot of information to their fans as a ploy to be more secretive and clearly it was working. I quickly read through a few more, stopping when one of the profiles answered what their bias was when it came to dating.
My eyes widened a bit.
Their favorite type… Huh, almost all of them said "cute."
I scrunched up my nose as I took a quick inventory of my slippers, joggers, hoodie, and gross bun.
Yeah, they weren't talking about me.
I had zero cuteness.
I'd always been curvy—size zeros could suck it—and my mom always said that my features were the envy of every friend I had—bigger lips, a wide smile, catlike eyes, and enough muscle to look like I could at least fake my way through an arm wrestle session not that I'd ever won one, but that was beside the point.
More laughter had me looking up at about the same moment my stomach growled. Was I allowed to eat? Did I get bathroom breaks? These were the things I should have asked before Solia stormed off, but she was too angry, and I was too tired to even think about asking. The last thing I ate was that meatball sandwich from the plane, and I was being generous even calling that thing food.
I blinked, eyes heavy, and tried not to think of all the reasons I was ready to gnaw my own arm off.
Good opportunity. Good opportunity. Good opportunity.
I blinked a few times as my vision doubled and looked up just in time to see one of the guys poke his head around the kitchen to look down the hall.
I quickly glanced down at my profiles. It was Hwan-Sook or Sookie, the youngest one of the group, still apparently in high school. I spoke his name out loud, testing it on my tongue, and noticed his wide pretty brown eyes do a little double take at me before he disappeared around the corner again.
Great, I even scared the innocent high schooler away. Maybe I should have led with something like, so high school… that was fun? Ugh, I was the absolute worst at small talk, and who actually enjoyed high school? I mean, really.
I rubbed my stomach again and suddenly wished for a giant pillow I could scream into as more laughter filled the air.
I eyed the really nice-looking black leather chair at the end of the hall. It was pointed away from me, the first chair in the living room, overstuffed, comfy. It wasn't like I was told exactly what sort of chair I had to sit in to block the door, right?
And who got in trouble over a leather chair?
Decision made, I dropped the profile onto the metal chair and walked with purpose toward the living room. It couldn't be that heavy, and it's not like I was a little twig. I could handle a friggin' armchair.
Silence ensued as I waltzed into the living room. I didn't give them a second glance as I got in front of the chair, leaned over, and started sliding it toward the door. It didn't budge at first.
I would not fail.
Not in front of them.
Come on, chair!
I put everything I had into it and finally got the chair moving slowly, slower than an injured turtle, down the hall.
It went something like this, sweat pouring down my face as I made a noise that probably sounded like a parakeet giving birth and the chair moving at about the speed of paint drying.
Turtle power.
I was going to have to take a break.
I was halfway.
I would not surrender.
I plopped down in the chair and let out a sigh, giving the guys major side-eye as they watched like I was a new reality show, only they were rooting for the chair to win.
Of course, they were.
"A little help would be great, you know," I said under my breath. "But we wouldn't want to ruin that perfect lip gloss." Okay, that was a low blow.
Sookie flinched like he understood me.
Which made me narrow my eyes at him while he quickly looked down at his food and started shoveling it into his mouth as though he was ravenous.
Same, bro. SAME!
"That smells good." I stood and took a deep breath. "But I'll survive off air. Done it before; I can totally do it again, no big deal. It's like that one time I was pledging for Delta Zeta and thought that if I just stopped eating for two days, I'd drop a dress size and look cute during pledge week. Totally nailed it, and I didn't even pass out in the punch bowl, though I did start hallucinating after one beer."
Was I really talking about passing out from alcohol in front of one of the biggest K-pop groups in the world? Yes, yes, I was. My blood sugar was clearly nonexistent!
"Honestly, though…" I grunted as I shoved the chair harder. It made a strangled noise across the floor. "It's not like it would have mattered. They still let me in despite the fact that I didn't meet their dress size requirements. Starving isn't the way to live! People need food, you know? I would push each and every one of you off a cliff for a Dorito right now. Not like—" I bent over and pushed. "You can, even— Son of a bitch! Why is this so heavy? I know it's not nailed to the floor because it is moving." I paused and panted a few breaths. "Why am I even asking? It's not, like…" I exhaled. "…you can understand me." I held my breath and pushed harder. "If this is like childbirth, I'm not doing it. I mean not not doing it. That's not what I meant. Oh man, I'm so glad you can't understand me. I'm delirious. Do you even realize how long that flight is? In coach? I almost parachuted out then realized I'm afraid of heights, so I'd pass out halfway down." I halted again and took a few deep breaths. "Almost there, ten steps, nine…" I had actual back sweat, but it would be worth it. I'd be comfortable. I almost quit when I was a couple feet from the door.
"I'm only taking a break," I told no one in particular, realizing I now had as an audience every member of the group plus the cook as they watched in fascination. "Because I need to breathe, people need that…" puff "…to live, and even though you guys probably hate me, I want to make this work." I fanned my face. "Why is it so hot?"
I bent over again to shove the arm of the chair when a pair of hands joined mine. I gaped as Rae, at least I think it was Rae from the picture and profile I'd just read, with his perfect blond hair and flawless skin, helped me push it the rest of the way, and within seconds the chair was at the door.
I was too stunned that he'd saved me twice in a few hours to say anything. Did I bow? Say thank you? Stare more? I licked my lips, ready to open my mouth and try some more Korean via my handy app, when he leaned his tall frame over until he was about two inches from my face and whispered, "I would save the full life story until after we actually know you better, but thank you for at least clarifying that you're on the fence about childbirth. Really… enlightening."
In. Perfect. English.
The noise that escaped my mouth was half-rage, half-embarrassment. I almost launched myself at him, but he pulled back just in time with a full, amused smile and walked back to the rest of the guys.
All of them grinned at me like I was the best entertainment they'd seen all day. Please, God, please let them not all have understood every insane thing that had come out of my mouth.
Please and amen.
I didn't see them, and I hated that I was curious, especially after memorizing their profiles along with their schedule.
They had six hours before they had to be up for choreography. I wondered if that was when I would get to sleep while they were at practice.
Choreography, a variety show after lunch that looked sort of fun, more practice, interviews at the apartment, and dinner again. I was tired just looking at it.
I plopped my feet up on the armrest and read about the Showcase coming up. The last thing I remember was something about the military, and then I was out.