Chapter 6

 

A couple of hours after our manager left, we're still in the dungeon. Since we wasted half a day, we decided to forgo our own plans and stayed together. And because it's not a work day, we spent it goofing off, using up all our energy into doing mindless things. 

While the other three snoozed on the couch, I sat with my feet up, hoodie off and watched Martin do his thing with the mixing board.  The equipment were off to the side, so since he was facing the walls without the mirrors, he couldn't see me watching him, making sure he was being honest when he said he was over it. I kept imagining if one of my favourite artists, say Daniel Caesar, did  the same thing to me. I didn't think I could get over it as easily as Martin claimed. I would wallow and let self-doubt consume me. It's one of the reasons why I kept off social media as much as I did. The world of Kpop artists was a vast body of water full of blood thirsty piranhas. 

"Jju, your turn," I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't realize Martin had stopped working. 

"Hmm?" 

"Come play something," he asked and pulled up a stool in front of the keyboards. 

I stood up, put my hoodie back on and walked towards his direction. 

"What do you want me to play?" 

"Anything."

Before I fell asleep last night, I watched an old movie. I'm trash for romance, so I put on La La Land. Its instrumental theme embedded in my brain somehow that it had me playing an imaginary piano until sleep whisked me away. In fact, it played in my head the whole time I was overcome with worry after seeing that Instagram post. So I played it from memory. The notes were simple enough though according to chatgpt, it's suitable for those with intermediate skills. 

I let my fingers took over, flying through the keys. I love its valleys and peaks, and it sounds romantic. None of us had any experience in love or crushes for that matter. My young life has been solely focused on academia, then training. The same with the guys, I would imagine. No one really broached the subject of relationships in our 'before life'. I think we just assumed that each one of us had no history since we were all too young when we started. 

Once, we were asked why none of our songs talked about romantic entanglements, and James answered because we didn't have any experience. Sometimes, the topic of crushes would come up and it came to no one's surprise that most of the people we found attractive were celebrities -- both male and female. But it's easy to confuse attraction versus admiration.

When I looked to my right, Martin had that far away look in his eyes again. 

"D'you make anything good today?" I was hitting the keys softer, so the song was like a mist spraying in the background. 

He sighed. "I don't know," he sounded defeated. "I feel like an imposter all of a sudden." He put his head head down, his voice muffled by his folded arms. 

I stopped playing. "Hey, stop that," I reached out and rubbed his shoulder, wanting nothing more than to erase his memory of ever liking that artist. "How much do you care about that person's opinion?"

He turned his head and faced me. "In the grand scheme of things, their opinions do not matter. I don't know them personally nor do they know me. And while it's easy to just say, none of it matters, it still sucks, man." He said softly, his eyes watering. "But what if they're right? What if I'm nothing but a fraud all this time?"

I moved closer, draping my arm around his shoulder in a side-hug gesture. I'm not the most touchy-feely type of person. Aside from that time when I cried on Sean's shoulders and that time I tried to comfort James, I'm a rock, steadfast and stoic. But I also have loads of empathy especially to the guys whom I considered as my brothers. 

There was this passage from that book I lent him that stood out to me at that very moment. So I recited it back to him in a British accent.

"The question is not whether we evaluate ourselves against others, rather the question is by what standards do we measure ourselves?'

He snorted. "I remember you saying there was nothing special about that book."

"Yeah, well.  The author primarily bullshitted his way into writing a self help garbage but I must admit there were some nuggets of life lessons in there as well. Aside from the shock and awe of the title, it's the thing that stood out to me."

He straightened out from his sitting position, rubbing his unruly hair into submission. He cleared his throat and recited one back to me also in a British accent.

"The dream job you take is the job you will stress over. Everything comes with an inherent sacrifice - whatever makes us feel good will also inevitably make us feel bad. " 

"Good lesson, chap..." I was nodding, then countered back one at him again. I fixed my imaginary bow tie. 

"The true measurement of self-worth is not how a person feels about their positive experiences but rather how they feel about their negative experiences." 

He laughed. "I thought you said you hated the book."

"I did, but I have a good memory so I can recite more if you like," I smiled at him. "Want to hear another one, ol' chap?"

He shook his head, staring back at me intently. 

I had to look away. 

"You once reminded me that shitting on myself and lacking self-compassion only amplifies self-doubt. That the more I beat my inner critic up, the faster I'll forget why I made it here in the first place. Forget my self-worth. You said to befriend my inner critic by acknowledging what it's telling me." I reminded him. My hands were stuffed inside the front pocket of my hoodie, trying to warm them up. It had gotten cold since I stopped playing the keyboards. The serious conversation didn't help matters either. "I know it's easy to forget all your accomplishments when things like this happen, but bro, you just turned 18. I don't know any 18-year-olds who's done so much at such a young age."

I turned to him and returned his gaze. "I hope you'll remember that. I also hope that you know we're all in it for the long haul. This will not be the last awful thing that people will say about us."

Finally, I gathered up all the courage I have left in my skinny frame and grabbed his hand. Mine was clammy and frozen, his was a blanket of warmth. "We just started, bro. We're already miles ahead of some of the groups that started at the same time as us or even before us. The bigger we get, the more they'll come and try to pull us down a few pegs. We have a long way to go."

I gave his hand a squeeze then let go. I look towards the couch and smiled at the three who were all alert and apparently listening to us. "Never forget the important people whose opinions matter. Never forget why you're doing it in the first place. Because there will be people who will say bad, hateful things about us and gas light us into thinking they're coming from a place of kindness. Or they'll say the hate is not directed at us but the company we keep."

I looked back at him, very stern and serious. "Ask yourself if they were ever present on your come up. Did they help you get here? Are they characters in the story that you're writing? No?"

The heaviness in my heart slowly faded away. I didn't realize I also needed to exorcise some of the feelings that were weighing me down. It was like talking to myself as well. It was very cathartic. "Yeah, it hurts right now. But at the end of the day, you're giving them power over you." 

I let my last words settle in the room. Hoping against hope that even though I sounded like a dumbass, someone who took words from a book I thought was drivel, he would take it to heart. Remember it for the next time he gets targeted. 

"Wow, hyung," Keonho called out from the couch. "Your brain is so big, I can see it from here."

We all laughed. 

"You're an idiot," Sean picked up the small pillow and bashed Keonho on his head. "Way to ruin the moment."

"Ow, punk. That hurt!"

James stood up. "Come on, kids. Meeting of the heads, now."

We all converged in the middle of the dungeon. Placed our arms around each others shoulders then bowed our heads in the middle. 

"Fighting!" We all echoed. 

Then we separated. Martin kept his arm around my shoulders. 

"Who's hungry?" He yelled.  

"Me!" We all screamed back.