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The number of times my mom has approached me asking if I think I should take the exam for college, or suggesting I look into becoming a plumber. She’s subtle, my mom…
I don’t have a problem with either of those things, but…
I was born on a piano, and I was born to be on a stage. Look, I get it. My mom is worried about her son. She’s not intentionally trying to be a dream killer; she’s just trying to temper my expectations and not so subtly tell me that this could all go to shit. She’s always been concerned about my career choice. Even when I was little, she would tell me that I had talent, but she didn’t know if I was good enough—like she needed to make sure I understood how hard this would be so I shouldn’t get my hopes up.
I hated hearing it, but she’s my mom, and she’s supposed to worry.
So woopty-fucking-do.
I’ve been trying, pushing, climbing… but I’m exhausted, I’ll never admit it out loud, but I’m wiped and it has nothing to do with my graduation today.
I’m in actual hell and the only thing I want… the only thing I’veeverwanted—is to sing.
That’s all.
That’s my biggest dream.
So here I am on the day of my graduation among a sea of students who know exactly where they’re going and what they’re doing in their life. Everything is guaranteed for them, whereas I’m taking the biggest risk ever.
Damn.
I can feel my nerves make their way up my spine. Disintegrating into a coldness that pushes down my body.
I wish my parents were here, but they can’t afford to take off work, so instead I have Rae attending. He’s the leader of our group and he’s one of my best friends.
The other guys wanted to come but were stuck in rehearsals and were threatened that they’d lose all of their stipend for food if they left. The label wants us to release our first album in the next six months, along with our first MV, the music is done, the choreography is nearly flawless and they still say it’s not good enough.
I’m feeling more anxious than usual. Maybe it’s because I know my own past. I know it. And I know the risk. Tears threaten. I hate them. I hate it.
I look up into the stands and find Rae all alone, holding up a sign that says GO SOOKIE. It’s almost funny. Nobody recognizes him, all they know is that he’s an idol trainee just like me, part of a group that may not ever even make it.
I get up out of the uncomfortable seat and start walking toward Rae. Before I take five steps a foot pops out and trips me, causing me to fall to the ground. My knees hit so hard that you can hear the bone bruising against the floor.
“Sorry.” Baek-Hyun’s smile is anything but sorry, he’s with his bully friends, all of them are smirking down at me. He cocks a brow and tilts his head to the side and smirks. “I slipped.”
I wish I could slip and punch him in the face. Just seeing the surprised look would be worth all the trouble I’d get in.
But no, I swallow the urge to beat the crap out of him and play my dutiful role.
“Yeah.” I get up and straighten my tie. I hate that it’s faded and doesn’t look expensive or flashy. I hate that I have to stick out like this too.
This tie is the only one I have with my uniform, while other students have multiples.
I’m aware my uniform looks like shit, I grew two inches last year so my socks are showing, and everything is worn to the absolute extreme. My parents have invested everything in my dream, and I still feel sick with guilt from it, considering I rejected every other suggestion they had for my future career. And now, after years of working hard, losing sleep, not eating enough, and a few mental breakdowns in between—I have nothing to show for it. I can only hope that when we debut, people take us seriously.
Truthfully?
That’smy biggest fear: being on stage and completely losing my shit—and keeping my shit together totally depends on the audience’s reaction. Yeah, I know all the gurus tell you you’re not supposed to care what people think—but my whole dream in life depends on it. If people don’t clap or of if they stare at us like we’re amateurs and have no clue what we’re doing, that will crush me. Kill my soul… and I don’t know if I could ever recover from it. Maybe it’s because I’m the youngest in the group, along with being the main vocalist, but the pressure is immense.
Which brings me back to the asshole Baek-Hyun, he found me one day in a bathroom stall having a panic attack after our CEO said if we can’t take it, we need to give up. The whole band had come down with the flu, but he didn’t care.
I puked five times, crashed at midnight and had to get up at five for choreography before school at seven. It was one of those moments I’ll never forget—like the kind you reflect on when you finally make it. Baek-Hyun was such a dick to me and made sure the whole school found out that I was having a moment.
Did I want to beat the crap out of him?
Yes.
Do I want to now?
