Chapter 4

 

By the time I got back into the building, I was done, sweaty and overwhelmed. The cafe was busy and there were fans stationed outside specifically to hunt idols from the company. I didn't think to preorder the food, so I was met with a bunch of requests for pictures and autographs while I waited. We were told to try and decline requests, and if I were with the guys, it would've been easy enough. But since I was alone, I struggled to say no. It had been a difficult morning already and I was starving. The boys had made fun of how easily my mood switched when I'm hungry. That's why I carried snacks wherever we went. My bag has a pack of ramen, different assortments of candies and bags of chips. Eating for me was a priority followed by sleeping. No one wants to see an even more sluggish version of me. They already call me a sloth on the d/l, so it's not a good idea to deprive me of sustenance. 

I thought my mask and my sunglasses would be a good disguise, but I guess we're known enough and people had seen me enough times with the same camouflage that I could no longer hide. 

I was cranky by the time I got back inside the building. I had our drinks and breakfasts on both hands, so trying to call the elevator was not fun. I tried to maneuver the bags and the drink tray to get to the buttons to no avail. Just as I was about to put down my packages, I heard a voice that held amusement called out to me. 

"Hey, let me help you. Which floor?" I looked to my left and was surprised to find sunbaenim Yeonjun smiling at me. 

"B-1, please and thank you," I said, bowing to my senior. 

"You're welcome." He was a bit taller than me but shorter than Martin, for sure. Our group and their group has a group chat. We tried to keep it professional at first, but slowly, it devolved into a chat group that you would expect a bunch of young men and adults could devolve into. That is to say, no filter, no holds barred, free for all idiotic behaviour. Before we debuted, we sent them samples of our music and had asked for their opinions. Their feedback was mostly positive and they've been very supportive of us since day one.  

"Is Martin okay?" He asked.

"Mostly, yes," I answered while shifting the packages and the drink tray comfortably. "He will be, at least. I think he just needed some time away from his phone." I'm not surprised they already know what happened. Like I said, it's a small community. 

"Good, good," he looked at my occupied hands. "Are you sure you're okay? Shall I help you carry those?"

"Oh, no I'm good. I need to get these to him though." 

Thankfully, the elevator doors opened at that moment. I've always admired sunbaenim Yeunjun. So much so that I get flustered whenever he's around. I just think he's one of the coolest people I know. Running into my idols in real life would never get old. One of the perks of working for this company, but it's also a pitfall when you worship someone all your life. 

My face was flushed red, a rare occurrence, for sure. 

"Thank you again," I said and gave him a final bow. 

"Tell Martin to keep his head up for me, okay?" He said and strode to the other elevator. 

"Will do!"

When I got to the dungeon, Martin sat by the groove box, headphones on, bobbing his head. He was in the throes of music-making. It was always going to be a sight to behold, and the fact that he was a producer at such a young age with a few successful songs under his belt, would always be one of the things that I admire about him. 

I decided not to bother him and placed his breakfast on the coffee table. I had things to do as well. I have been writing lyrics in my journal, dabbling in mixing beats as well. Martin taught me when I first joined. He was patient and kind, and since music has been in my blood for as long as I could remember, he said I was a natural. I downloaded mixing software almost instantly. I've created folders and files of music I've made. I've also been sending files to Martin on the off chance that he could use it on one of our songs. For me, Music and Math go hand in hand. Something about how the brain is wired. Solving math equations and deciphering musical notes traverse the same avenue in my head. I can't explain it. 

One of the things he'd taught me about writing lyrics was to write about what I know. Don't over-complicate things. It's the same philosophy that I would like to apply if I ever want to quit this job and start writing books professionally. It would be cool to write about life as an idol, though. But I don't have enough experience in my cache about that. Someday, I hope. 

One day, I got the courage to show Martin what I wrote. It was nerve-wracking. He told me that I wrote like a poet and was a little too mature for our audience, so I've been revising my work. There's no guarantee they would ever see the light of day, but I wanted to keep writing until I can hone my craft. 

Ten minutes in, a weight settled on the couch beside me. 

"You still writing?" 

I looked to my right, Martin sipped on his matcha, looking a little better. Some pink on his cheeks and the far away look on his eyes was gone for the time being. It's great to see some semblance of his old self again. 

"I haven't stopped," I said under my breath. I didn't look up from my journal, scribbling and pausing. "If I can't go to school, then I have this. It's like homework for me." I smiled at him. 

"You're a weirdo," he muttered with a snort. "Can I see?" He asked and tried to reach for my journal. 

I held it away from him. "Nope," I laughed. "You know I don't show my work until I'm ready."

"Bro, don't make me wrestle it off your hand. You'll lose," he threatened. 

I grabbed my bag, stood up and backed away from him. He followed suit and menacingly walked towards me. 

"Quit, it, man. I'm not giving it to you," I said as I tried to shove the journal back into my gym bag to no avail.

I dropped it on the floor. 

He slowly shuffled in my direction like an oversized ogre that he was.

"I'm not kidding, man. Stop it!" 

"Give meeeeee..." He moaned like a zombie, lurching like it too. 

I took off around the couch, hiding the journal behind me. "Stop!" I yelled, laughing so hard because he looked ridiculous. Then he bolted towards me, and because he was taller with longer legs to boot, it took two seconds for him to reach me. Quickly, he yanked my arm and grabbed my journal.

He strode languidly to the other side of the room. 

And before I could second guess myself, I ran fast and jumped on his back. Like a spider monkey, I latched on to him. Both legs wrapped around his back, and one arm reaching out to my journal. 

I grabbed his stretched out arm, attempting to lower it at a reachable angle but he's strong. His arm was stiff and wouldn't give. 

"Give me that!" I screamed at his ear. My cheek touched his cheek and under normal circumstances, my body would've been sounding the alarm. But I didn't care.We were both roaring in laughter. I was trying so hard to hold on but I was slipping. I climbed higher, one arm digging onto his shoulder.

"Ow, bro! That hurt!" He yelped. 

We must looked ridiculous. "That's your fault! Give me my journal!" I yelled back at him. 

While we were both screaming in laughter very loudly that we didn't realize the door to the dungeon opened. 

"Excuse me, are we interrupting something?" Our manager cleared his throat. With him, stood James, Sean and Keonho. 

I looked down at Martin, and our position for that matter. Abruptly, I jumped down and snatched the journal from him. He didn't fight for it.

He straightened and cleared his throat as well. "Nah, we're good," he said and laughed again.

"I need to talk to you, Martin," our manager walked in followed by the other three. "Let's go to the office for a bit." All serious tone. 

Martin had no choice but to comply even if he didn't want to talk. I know he only wanted to check up on him, to make sure he didn't lose focus on the tasks at hand. And boy, do we have a long laundry list of things to do. We're about to enter a busy time, schedules to keep up, appearances, and a whole slew of promotions. We really could not afford to be distracted. Least of all, by this inconsequential thing that happened. 

I sat back on the couch where the three were looking at me weirdly, smiling like Cheshire cats. 

"What?" I asked and looked away, guilty all of a sudden. 

Keonho smiled even wider, his signature one that's equally sweet and mischievous. 

"So he's good now?" He asked. "What did you have to do to make him feel better?" 

I shot him a look. "Don't be gross." I can't help but laugh though. I'm used to his and Sean's teasing by now. Martin couldn't escape it either. He's usually their main target, never passing on the chance to ask him about his supposed, "unrequited love" or some shit. It's funny as hell, but if I was being honest with myself, it made me feel warm and giddy. And no, I'm not addressing the elephant in the room right now. That's just way too much introspection to handle at this juncture. 

"I bought him matcha and hotteok," I murmured, still smiling. "He's pretty easy, to be honest. You just bribe him with food." 

"So he's like you, then?" James teased. 

"Ooof," Sean countered. Laughing as well. 

Before I could answer, the door to the office opened. Martin shuffled out, dropping on the couch beside me. Managerim followed closely then stopped in front of us. 

"I sent the schedule to your emails. We fly out in a couple of days, so work on whatever you need to work on but it's still your day off so make some content or go home. I don't really care, as long as you tell me where you'll be," he rushed out, his voice boomed in the cavernous space. "If you need a ride to go somewhere, call me and I'll arrange it. No more ride-shares, okay?" He looked at his watch. 

"And Martin, turn your phone on, please. I don't care who has it, but I need to know everyone's location at all times, understood?'

Everyone nodded in agreement. He left just as quickly as he came. 

I tried to hand Martin's phone back to him, but he didn't take it. 

I guess he wasn't ready yet. 

He turned to look at us. 

"Well, kids, what shall we do today?"