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And if I even did—would they ever find me, outside of my band, outside of those close people I’m allowed to spend my days with?
I take the stairs two at a time and get on the elevator and go to the basement level, then slowly walk up the street.
It’s weird when you’re an idol. It’s lonely. Everything is so normal around you, the universe just keeps going, the world keeps spinning, things just happen, and yet you’re stuck in this world that nobody but those in it can understand. And the stress, the unbelievable stress that you’re not allowed to talk about.
And it’s not just that, it’s not that you can’t say you’re sad or anxious, it’s that if you show anyone that things are hard you jeopardize your company, or maybe even yourself for being weak.
On top of that, you have to deal with haters who have never liked you in the first place and finally have an in.
And in, being, they see your weakness and pounce because literally their only job in life is to make sure that you feel bad so they feel good.
It’s fleeting, I’m sure, and I’ve seen it first hand, how powerful keyboard warriors feel when they put you down because there is no way they feel like they can be up. It’s sad, it’s hurtful, but at the end of the day, it still stings, like several tiny little cuts that never heal, and each time they stab you, you must nod your head and smile and say thank you.
I think the worst part is that people say I asked for this, I asked for fame, so deal with it, know it comes at a cost, being loved. And being hated. And I get that point of view, but also, why? Why can’t people just be humane? Why can’t they just say, hey, not my favorite person, but you do you, instead they throw hate.
Last year a person was arrested for attempting to throw acid at my face because my nose looked too foreign. I don’t even know what that means, and yet I had to smile, bow, and say, thank you.
For what?
Why do I have to thank someone for their cruelty? Because that’s what it is. It’s the only thing you can call it. Some people get off on hurting those they think are invincible.
I realize I’m too deep in my emotions as I get to the parking garage, and then I immediately scour the area and wonder…
Will she be here?
My blood heats up at the thought of seeing her. Of smelling her sweet, intoxicating scent and just being close enough that I can touch her skin. I’ve seen her twice in the past month. And the memory of her face is burned in my brain. I know she’s trying to keep her distance. It’s better for both of us, maybe not for my sanity, but my career. Shit. I really need her right now.
I need Rae’s sister.
I need to touch her.
I need her energy.
I feel like I’m a dead man walking and she’s the only thing that will bring me back to life. I wish I could be free of this need and desire for her. I wish she didn’t matter. But damn, she does. I try to shrug it off as I walk toward the street when I see the familiar red Maserati pull in.
My blood rushes as the window lowers. “Get in.”
No hesitation. I’m inside with my seatbelt on in seconds. Instead of acting cool and unaffected, I’m suddenly overwhelmed by my whole fucking life. And to my utter horror tears burn my eyes and I’m forced to look away from her.
She says nothing. She just gets us out of the building and drives to a small store I don’t recognize. She leaves me with my emotions raging and comes back with chips—my favorite—and Sprite, the one thing I’m not supposed to drink.
Soda. Oh but Soju? Totally fine, we’re brand ambassadors. Bullshit.
With shaky hands I take the stupid chips, candy bar, the sprite, and look down at my worn shoes. What is wrong with me? Could I be any more useless?
Her hand slowly slides across the consul. I stare at her fingertips. I want to touch them so desperately it makes me sick.
Ari’s careful to keep her hand in sight of any waiting cameras. Thankfully, her car has extremely tinted windows, one of the reasons I like it. She says nothing, just grips my fingers and stares straight ahead. “It’s going to be okay.”
“I should feel lucky.” I say back in Korean. “I should be thankful.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “You should feel whatever you need to feel and allow yourself that luxury.”
I grip her hand and a tear escapes. I’m mortified that I’m so weak in front of her.
But she does this to me. She crawls inside my body, my heart, my goddamn soul, and surrounds me with that effervescent energy of hers, that light, that light that makes me believe everything is going to be okay. Because she will make sure it is.
I don’t know what I would do without her in my life.
