My Summer in Seoul

He cursed. “Stop with the reverse psychology.”

“Look.” I stood and grabbed the chair, turning him toward me. “Every job is hard. But you chose this. This is your dream. Own the consequences of living what most people never get to.” I leaned down until our faces were close. “I hear office jobs are really fun. The pay is great too.”

His eyes narrowed. “That’s not what I meant.”

“My dad’s accountant might have a nice internship, you know? One day you might even be able to get a corner office with a leather couch and your own mini fridge. I bet they buy the good water over there—“

He cupped a hand over my mouth. “I get what you’re saying.”

I pulled it down. “No, you don’t. Because the problem isn’t necessarily with the fans or with the pressure.” My smile was sad. “The problem is you, Lucas.”

He jerked back like I’d slapped him; hurt flashed across his face, but he needed to hear it, and if nobody else was going to tell him, I would.

“You feel everything.” I pressed a hand to his chest. “And that’s okay, but it also means you don’t know how to shut it off. You need to talk to someone about your feelings rather than just shoving them beneath the surface. You’re using the performances like an addict uses a drug, but that can only get you so far, and then you’re back at the apartment wondering why you work so hard. You wonder why you’re tired, why you’re anxious, depressed, because by then, the high is long gone, and after a while, you need more and more hits of that adrenaline to feel worthy.” Tears welled in my eyes. “Your worth isn’t defined by the intensity of screams at concerts; it’s defined by how you feel about yourself. And I don’t think…” I blinked furiously and choked through the last words. “I don’t think you’ve liked yourself for a really long time.”

“Get out.” He shoved me away.

“Lucas.”

“Get. The. Fuck. Out.”

A tear slid down my cheek. “Okay,” I whispered. “Okay.”

I went to the door and closed it, then squeezed my eyes shut when I heard something crash against the floor.

“Everything okay?” Rae suddenly appeared because, of course, he would.

I swiped the tears from my cheeks. “Yeah, Lucas is just… it was a tough love moment. I wouldn’t go in there.”

He tensed. “What did you say?”

I lifted my chin. “What you wouldn’t.”

Panic etched across Rae’s face. “Tell me exactly what you said.”

“No.” I crossed my arms. “It was a private conversation, and even if I told you, it doesn’t take anything back. He can’t keep using performances to mask what’s really going on. He’s going to self-destruct, and that’s going to be on you and the label. So I said what I needed to say.”

“Shit.” Rae shoved past me and knocked on Lucas’s door. “Open the door, Lucas.” He tried the handle, but it wouldn’t turn, and real panic set into his eyes. “Lucas! Open the fucking door.”

Rae pounded his fists against the door.

Abruptly it opened. Rae stumbled but quickly caught his balance.

Lucas still had his makeup on and contacts in, but he was completely changed. He shoved past me, paused, and faced Rae. “Sorry, had my headphones on, didn’t want to hear anyone else talking.”

My throat closed up.

I looked away.

I’d ruined everything with my honesty.

I fell in step behind them as the rest of the guys gathered. It felt like slow motion as we wall walked down that hall and outside to screaming fans brandishing signs behind a barricade.

There were at least five hundred girls screaming, along with a few guys. Most of the fans were crying, cheeks soaked with tears

With well-practiced choreographed movements, SWT all lifted their arms and waved and gave small bows, meeting some of the fans, signing things, accepting massive teddy bears, flowers, gifts.

They pulled away as a group almost in perfect sync and posed, doing the little heart sign with their fingers that I’d learned was basically like someone in the States doing a peace sign but way cooler.

I wasn’t wrong, I thought, as I watched the crowd’s response to them and Lucas’s response to the crowd.

No. I wasn’t wrong at all. And even though my chest felt like it was going to explode and it hurt to hold in tears—I would have said it again.

People could only let themselves be defined by what they did and what others thought of them for so long.

And then it was all darkness.

Because eventually, all people fell, they failed, and who would be with them at the bottom of that cliff?

The buzz of the crowd was intense. I could understand how it could affect the idols’ reality and the way they saw not just the world but themselves.

They’d be invincible.

Until one day when they would be forgotten.