Welcome to Gaia! ::

Yeah... after a long slump... I'm back into writing again ^^;... seriously... if you guys like it... PM ME CONSTANTLY SO I DON'T FALL BEHIND DX

Table of Contents:
Prologue: Kun Shou Zhi Dou (Duel of Trapped Beasts)
Chapter 1: Fen Lie (Split)
Chapter 2: Si Mian Chu Ge (Attacked From All Sides)
Chapter 3: Ge Qian (Stranded)
Chapter 4: William Castle (Wei Lian Gu Bao)
Chapter 5: Heart's Rain (Xin Yu)
Chapter 6: Ni Bi Cong Qian Kuai Le (You're Happier Than Before)
Chapter 7: Adorable Woman (Ke Ai Nu Ren)
Chapter 8: Bu Hui Ku De Ren (The Person Who Cannot Cry)
Chapter 9: Retreat (Tui Huo)
Chapter 10: An Jing (Silence)
Chapter 11: Zhao Kuai Le De Ren (The Person who Tries to Find Happiness)
Chapter 12: Bu Neng Shou Mi Mi (Secrets I Can't Tell)
Chapter 13: Hei Se You Mo (Black Humor)
Chapter 14: Shi Jie Mo Ri (End of the World)
Chapter 15: Jian Dan Ai (Simple Love)
Chapter 16:Bu Wan Zheng De Xuan Lu (Incomplete Melody)
Chapter 17: Lo Ho Xia (Sound of Rain)
Chapter 18: Meng Xiang Bei Leng Dong (Frozen Dreams)
Chapter 19: Gai Bian Zi Zhi (Change Me)
Chapter 20: Nui Fu (Coward)
Chapter 21: Tian Xia Da Tong (The World Remains Unchanged)
Chapter 22: Da Chen Xiao Ai (Big City, Small Love)
Chapter 23: Mian Ju (Mask)


~~~~~~~~~~~~~




Prologue: Kun Shou Zhi Dou (Duel of Trapped Beasts)

The room was completely frigid from the air conditioning, though the factor of tension within the room could also have played a part in how cold the room was. The manager stared at the girl before him, cold eyes that seemed to pierce the soul made their way right to a pair of warm brown ones that waited expectantly for an answer from the man. The graying man sighed after a moment of what seemed to be hard consideration on his end. “... Miss. Mogami...” He began tapping the papers in his hand into order. “... your request... will be accepted... though... I must warn you.... Because of your upbringing and where you come from... I do believe you will not be accepted.”

“I understand that. But I am willing to go through with this.” The girl before him replied in broken Korean. “I believe I have the will to go through with this... All you really need is my talent in the end is it not?” She asked tilting her head slightly in a confident manner.

“... Yes... that is what I am really after.” the old man stated plainly. “So I suppose we have a deal? You work for DBSK and Super Junior for one year and we pay you the money that you need to get through college and more.”

“That is understood.”

“Very well then. Yashi Mogami... You are now hereby the clothing designer for DBSK and Super Junior. Congratulations. Expect to work hard.”

“Don't worry... I will...”

And thus. Began the beginning of my long journey. How I got here and what I lived for for a year. This, is my story.

Chapter 2: Si Mian Chu Ge (Attacked From All Sides)

“What kind of bullshit design is this?!”

“....”

“WELL?! Why don't you answer us?!”

Yunho, the leader of the group and obviously the most obnoxious one of the lot of them. Five freakin' thirty in the morning and I get this call from him in my apartment, that was my current lodging thanks to SM Entertainment, and I get this lovely love note from the leader of one of the groups. Isn't that a lovely thought to wake up to?

“... Sir... if you could tell me what's wrong with it.”

“What's wrong?! What's WRONG?! For the love of all things holy, you expect our group to WEAR these god forsaken pieces of s**t?! You want us to look like fools don't you?! You want us to go out there in front of billions of our fans and you want us to go and make fools out of ourselves for wearing these pieces of crap don't you?!”

“Sir... I assure you...”

“You will assure me NOTHING. We have a concert in a week and I want every single one of these costumes remade so that they are functional.”

“Sir... have you even tried the costumes on? If you did---”

“I don't need to try something on that I KNOW will make me look like a fool...”

“Yunho... you're overreacting..”
Another voice on their side of the line. A person perhaps with a sense of reason that will snap this guy out of his fury. Seriously, I thought God gifted people with reasoning for a purpose.... guess this guy just got the short end of the reasoning gift...

“Listen... I have no idea who the Hell you are... and why the hell you're even here... I will tell you this... You're not welcome here... someone like you will never make it... you're too young and all you're really after is one of us cause you're a hopeless romantic and couldn't get a boyfriend in high school so you're trying to get one here! Well I'll tell you this much, we WILL crush your spirit you pathetic little excuse for a designer...”

Wow... NOW who's overreacting? Seriously, what a bunch of hypocrites.

Oh well, nothing I can do now eh?

I got myself into this, I'm the only one who can dig myself out of this hole.

“... Sir... I do believe that this is not the time for insults...”

“SHUT UP.”

“I beg your pardon sir!”

“Just shut the hell up you whore! Now if I remember correctly, we've got a concert that we need to get to in a WEEK and I expect that we have better outfits than the ones that you have given us.” The voice hissed on his side of the line.

From the sound of it, it was Jaejoong, the pretty boy of the group. Who knew the guy could be such a b*****d? From what my fangirl friends, he was supposed to be a soft spoken nice guy. Eh, guess it's all a facade in the end... Celebrity status can do that to you.

What a bunch of spoiled bastards they are.

“I don't care what you do, or how you do it. Just get it done. Understood?!”

“... Yes sir..”

Silence and the beep of disconnection.

What a lovely way to start my day.

Well now, this is a lovely predicament that I had gotten myself into. First off, how is it that my designs could be horrid? I'm a genius! A brilliant genius! There is no way that they could hate it. They were simplistic, elegant and perfectly maneuverable in! My designs are flawless! Absolutely flawless! How dare they believe that I could have botched up! I spent hours upon hours on those outfits. Second of all, how dare they think that they could go and call me those names?!

Am I not human as they are?

Do I not have eyes?

Do I not have hands?

Why... is it that I am attacked so? Is it because of my origin?

Is it of my sex?

Whatever it is... it bodes not well.

Well, tis another day of work and another day of listening to complaints like this. Up and outta... time to go, up up! Come now lazy body! To the shower! Shower! Make up! Make yourself the pretty little slut that people will think you are! Come now! Come come! Deceit is the only thing you have going for you! Come! Let them think you are meek and stupid! Let them think you are nothing! Let them think! When you KNOW you are better! Come come! Now, time for some drab garb! Yes, just like that... just like that... and now... to go and face the world in a subdued state.

I look like a stupid doll.

But let them think that, I only need to do this for a year. Pretend that I am one of them, or so my contract says, pretend that I am a full blood Korean (when in truth I am a proud Chinese-American), to pretend that I know nothing of them (when in truth I have done all the research I can on these men to avoid any mishaps and political arguments), to pretend that I am nothing but a stupid, stupid person who came to work for the sake of money (when in truth, that is half right, I may have no money, but I know I am a brilliant play write and authoress at that, damn them bastards and their constricting conditions). I must live a lie for a year, and pretend to be nothing but a stupid doll.

What I would give to at least give up the make up part at this point.

What I would give if I could be blessed at least with the money to live with.

What I would give for someone else to be in my position.

Pissed is an understatement to my feelings at that point, but bear with it I must and stomp away towards the studio to fix the outfits I have to. All for the sake of some green pieces of paper known as “USD” to those of us from the states. Or 'won' or something like that for those who are from Korea. Dammit... I knew I should have paid attention to those lessons.

Oh well there isn't too much I should have needed to do to fix the outfits... all they should need are couple of stitches here and there, some hemming in some bits and pieces at the most... I shouldn't need to spend that much time on them.

Or at least, that's what I thought.

Until I saw the carnage that was the studio.

Oh God, revenge my death! Oh earth which blood drink'st revenge my death! What kind of cruel soul could have done this?!

There, all five outfits lay, tattered, torn, ripped, mutilated. No wonder the boys thought they were pieces of crap... they weren't worth too much more than that at this point. But why, why of all things, my work? Why not sabotage the boys? Aren't they the ones that the anti-fans are after? Or... perhaps... it's me...

“Maybe... it's just me that they're after...”

Yes... that's all it is... that's all that I can think of, why else would they do this to clothing of all things?

All those hours spent here the past two weeks...

All those days spent pricking my finger,

All those tedious moments where I wished I could pick up a pencil to write.

Everything that I had worked for tirelessly without the help of anyone else for they were busy with the creation of the 'big anniversary concert' of their seventh year together as a band. Funny, even their youngest member is older than me by two years... and yet... and yet, they act as if they were still in grade school with the way they are so spoiled. The way they are so blessed and given everything they want, it makes you wonder... if they even care about what happens to the clothes in the end of their concerts.

I wonder... if they ever shed a tear over something that happened that didn't directly affect them....

I wonder... if they have icicles for hearts...

I wonder... if they could ever understand the way they were before, before they became famous....

I wonder........

“Now do you see why we could never wear pieces of crap like that?”

That voice. That dreaded voice of a superior. The horrid dripping voice of someone who wishes me nothing but despair and death. Okay, maybe that's overstepping it a bit, but no doubt theses guys hate me.

“Sir Yunho... I assure you that this was not what I had intended for your band's clothes to look like at all... Someone must have slipped in... in the middle of the night... and vandalized ---”

“I don't want to hear any of bullshit excuses. I want results. If the new outfits aren't done by the end of this week. We will have you fired.”

He did not just cut me off... talk about rude. Then again, who ever thought of teaching these guys manners? They're celebrities after all.

“Yes sir...”

“Heh, if someone came in and vandalized the place, how come nothing else was touched?”

“I-I don't know Sir Changmin...”

Leave it to the youngest one to have the sharpest eyes and point out the obvious, the people who came in here obviously targeted me for some odd reason. Probably because they want me to go home... if only they knew my predicament... if only they knew. I'd be happy to leave this hellhole, if it weren't for my tight money problem.

Accursed me and having almost no skills outside the art world.

“You don't know because you did a crappy job, that's why.”

“Yes sir Jaejoong...”

“You better do a damned well job by the time the concert rolls around or you're out of here.”

“Yes sir..”

“Ah, time for us to leave. Have a good day Miss. Yashi.”

“I will.”

Bullshit, they just wanted to ridicule me.

And thus with those lovely words of consolation about my dearest masterpieces that are now, literally in pieces. Their once gorgeous visage now torn, ripped, slashed at, defaced, destroyed, and some even half burnt. The cruelty of some people make me wonder, if it is the primal instinct of protecting the image or the reputation of the company. I suppose whoever wanted to sabotage me meant to break my spirit.

And break it they did.

This would be the time where anyone would break down and cry. Who wouldn't want to? Hours upon hours of work amounted to this, a pile of something that cannot even be salvaged. And yet, I cannot find it within myself to cry.

For I have not another tear to shed.

I cannot, for this is what I had brought unto myself. And this is what I must carry for the sake of going back, and seeing my dearest friends' smiles once again.

Besides, sorry is an enemy, and it would usurp upon my watery eyes and make them blind with tributary tears; then, which way shall I find dear Revenge's dwelling?

Yes, revenge, this I vow to these cocky men who have nothing better to do other than to tease and prod at one who has only done design for the sake of a hobby. Revenge, yes, how sweet that word rolls off the tongue as I begun to fix the clothing of display.

Revenge, the word itself bodes so many evil thoughts, but I will strike and I will show them how brilliant I am else... else... I shall never come to peace with myself. No, I will not, not until all these taunts and mischievous deeds have been returned.

Yes... this is my vow.

Dear sweet revenge, do you hear me?

This is my vow, and it has been made.

Oh sweet revenge, how I come to thee I will embrace you in my embrace by and by.

This is where my challenge truly begins, the battle between the ones who wish to break and the will to stay strong and live through this.

Dear God... please, will you hear my plea even though I have never really believe in you before?

I want to be a stronger person than before. Not just the friend who would be there and carry all the burdens, but the person who can stand alone and do it alone. The person who doesn't need support, I want to be the person who can make things right again.

Right the way they were before we were cursed with this problem.

Please, grant me this wish...

Please... I don't want to die of loneliness here.

I can't.

I have too much to do.

And fixing these clothes are the first things on my list.

Knock knock knock.

Dear god no... don't tell me... the other band I'm supposed to look after is pissed off at something too. Dammit... why me of all people?

Why?

Chapter 3: Ge Qian (Stranded)

Knock, Knock, Knock.....

“Dear god... the Devil hath come to take my soul.” I murmur as I open the door to the underworld itself. “Who is it?”

“I take it as you met your charges?”

Oh, manager, this can only bode unwell.

“Yes, I have.” Was all I could mutter to the older man who was in charge of my whole life for the next twelve months. Well actually eleven and a half months. The first two weeks of my life had been wasted away in the creation of the pile of rags that I see before me.

“Well that's good, you should know, that their apartment is right above yours, and your other charges are your next door neighbors.”

“Well, that's a lovely thought. Is there anything else I need to know?”

How much more do these guys want to torture me? Do they not have enough? Do they not have what they want already? Is it not enough that you want me to suffer by doing everything I have all over again? Is it not enough that I am stranded here in the middle of a country that I have never been to? Is it not enough that I have to deal with these immature excuses for professionals?

Is it not?

What more do you want upon me?

“Yes, here's the consolation prize for surviving two weeks here.” The manager said handing me a package that was quite heavy before leaving the room with his usual pompous gait and his nose stuck up slightly in the air as if he was better than the lot of us who are in the back stage.

The package contained something I didn't think I'd get to see for quite a while. Something that I had itched to see and use for the longest time since I got here.

A laptop.

“Oh dear higher beings above... if I have ever said I hate you... please forgive me...”

Finally, a chance for communication! A way to keep in touch! Oh great lords above, laugh at me, ridicule me, do whatever! I have my way to live!

But first thing's first, I gotta finish these outfits first. They aren't going to do too much if they just lay there like a bunch of turds.

But starting all over would take too long, what to do... what to do. Come now, use that brilliant mind of yours! Black, brown, and a bit of silver... Cut out the black and burn the brown... Okay... now what... Silver... accents, good. Okay now what?

Man... this is like staring at a blank piece of paper when I start writing. Ideas all over the place and everything's in place, but the question is, how to put it all together.

Wait.

Blank.

White.

That's it!

Black and white... It's genius! That's right, I'm back and I will have my revenge. You can't break me. No, no way you can. I will come back and you will shudder at my brilliance.

Yes... we'll use white denim... and accent it with silver and black ribbons... use what we have now. Indeed, that's what we'll do. Screw the vampires that drink blood. Y'all will just have to deal with MY version of vampires. That's right, the vamppies that eat SOULS. Those pretty ones that you never see, the kind that suck the soul out of people, the very essence of life. Screw blood, that's for losers.

Losers like you guys.

Y'all don't deserve the honor of being such beautiful creatures of the dark.

Even if that IS what you do.

Suck the soul of anyone that you meet.

Congratulations, DBSK...

You have earned my undying hatred.

Stranded and alone I may be... but think little pathetic pieces of meat... think. We are the ones who make you who you are. We, the designers, the stylists, the coordinators, we are the ones who make you the famous people. Without us, you are just pieces of talent, locked up in little tiny towns.

Funny if you think about it no?

The thin silver needle and the fine black thread is all that I need for comfort right now. I need no one, I need nothing but my work. And when it is all done.

Revenge and victory will be mine.

All mine.

And you shall cower at my feet as the pathetic little slaves that you are.

I will work for you. Only because I have to.

But expect no more from me... other than perfection and the personality of a rock.

Indeed.

I will let you think you have won...

I will....

But now that I have a dear little invention known as the lap top.

My life is complete.

I no longer have to deal with the lot of you and your sickening attitudes, I can escape and find my way once again to my paradise known as... writing.

Yes, life is so completely well.

The bands of deep midnight black against the stark white stand out so well, just like how bruises stand out against pale skin. Just as verbal wounds to the heart hurt more than any physical wound.

Hours, I need hours... Screw time, I hate how seconds tick away, how they become minutes and the minutes create the hours that melt away when I work.

Ah.

Nighttime already?

No...

Not possible.

I only finished one outfit!

And it's still not perfect yet.

Damn.

I suppose all I can do now is protect this will my very being, yeah, take it home with me. I can't have anything bad happen again to these pieces of fabric. It'll cost more than a job, it'll cost my future and anything dealing with it.

My dear dead mother...

Now I see why you wanted me out of the art world.

Well too bad.

I still love it, even if it is a b***h to deal with....

Because.

This is my passion. And you can't do anything to stop me.

Even if your guilt lays heavy on my heart.

All I can do, is move forward.

Forward, to the horizon that looms ever closer.

Home. Funny I would call this place even that. It's so cold, so uninviting. How I long for the self painted walls of our old little townhouse. How I long for the cozy decorations of the place I know the best. But home this place is... I have no where else to go.

At least I have the comfort of the Internet. At least I have that.

Hmm... maybe I should actually log onto my CyWorld and angst out to the world. Leigh'll check that place out for sure... And if not, then my angst will be out there and not bottled up.

Which is always a bad thing...

Ooh, I should write in Korean and make the people who are reading that think life is all happy and good... and then I should write horrible nasty things in English! Genius Yashi! Genius!

July 20th, XXXX

KOREAN:
Well, I have to say, life here is quite interesting. The people here are attractive, for the most part, and the lively personalities never seem to have an end. I'm booked and swamped with so much work! So much to do and so little time to do it! Oh my, oh my!

Ha ha, I sound like such a dork, but really! I'm having so much fun living here! The language is hard to learn... but I think I'll get the hang of it soon.

I hope to meet lots of friends here!

Oh... Let's see... I think I'm going to go and put up some of my poetry here! Yeah! I like to write a lot! So I'll put the stuff that I write here!

ENGLISH:

BULLSHIT. That's all I have to say to this place. It's a hellhole of Assholes all over the place. One moment I have finished something that's amazing and something I pride myself in, the next moment, it's sabotaged to the point where it's no longer recognizable to the human brain.

Bunch of envious bitches who probably want my job or something....

Well I will tell them this much.

I am much harder to snap than they think.

And I am here to stay.

Hmm... since this is only my first entry... don't expect it to be so dismal, I just wanted to get that all off my chest. Now that that's all over with, anyone who reads this can expect more prose and poetry from me.

I AM a playwrite and authoress, I pride myself in that. But first and foremost, I am a horrible friend. So Leigh, if you are reading this...

I'm sorry.

I promise to come back as soon as possible, and then we can write together as we always have.

Love, Yashi Mogami.

/end entry.

There... that feels much better. I can sleep happy now... speaking of sleep, I should get some... I get the feeling that tomorrow will be a busy days.

With eighteen lords to look after... I have the hunch that the work that needs to be done will be hindered by something...

Dear God... even if I haven't loved you a whole lot before... please... let me live through this trial...

I have too much to say to the world to die here.

Way too much to say.

it's really good...^^*

Chapter 4: William Castle (Wei Lian Gu Bao)
Another day, another trial, another outfit. The hours melt when one has fun does it not? Much like how time drips off when concentration is high and the atmosphere tense. It has been a while since I've been able to work like this. Away from all distractions in my little corner. The shuffling of cloth and the soft sound of the sewing machine humming is so comforting.

The minutes tick past me as if they do not exist, the sway and the flow of time never ceases as the minutes melt away to hours and hours to more hours, and those hours into shifts, those shifts into days and so on and so forth. Until the days pass away themselves and a week has gone by. Through my eyes in a blink of an eye it seemed.

Then again, did I even sleep this week at all?

I think I did... probably three hours worth somewhere in between Wednesday and Friday.

The damned outfits are finally done.

Concert's soon, gotta work my a** off if I'm gonna keep this damned job.

Not that I really want it.

But hey, the paycheck's nice. And I need that.

Damn you money and your corrupting ways in life.

Concert day:

Dear lord...

I have never seen such chaos.

Screaming, yelling, pulling hair.

God forbid anyone light a match in hair and makeup...

There's enough hairspray to give someone cancer and cause an explosion from anything near the boiling point temperature.

It's like a fight gone on crack or something. And all for the sake of five little pretty boys and their little dreams of stardom coming true and then all their loving and adoring fans screaming at them. When in truth, they don't remember, nor do they WANT to remember any one of them.

All THEY'RE after is the money.

Poor, poor screaming, screeching fans, it's so sad that they'll never see you, never really care how much you love them, never even know your name.

Sure, they'll read your fan mail, they'll be nice and go to a select school

But seriously, get real.

They don't care.

All they want is to feel love, to feel supported, and to feel as if they're on top of the world.

The sad thing is.

They are.

“DAMMIT! YASHI! GET YOUR a** OVER HER ALREADY!”

The way the shout carried itself, it could only be the whiny, lazy little b*****d that the world knows as “Micky Yoochun”. Little b*****d can't even seem to put on a shirt right.

“Yes Sir...”

Purposefully I drag my feet, to seem as if I'm too tired or something, (the worst part of it was that I was quite exhausted from their demands, but hey, what do they know?) before I get there. “Is there anything I can do to help you?”

“Yeah! Why the hell did you make something this good when you're pressured and when you've got all the time in the world you come up with something that looks like it came out of the crapchute!”

“.. Sir, I must say... I had made something better than what you had been greeted with earlier this week. However, the clothing was ruined by some unknown source. But that is beside the point. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No. Now stand aside while we have to go and work our butts off.”

Damn. Are all men like this? Completely conceited, cocky, arrogant, bastards that have no feeling and are narcissistic beyond all belief? Cause if they are, I might just not try to associate myself with them unless I have too.

Too bad, I have to right now.

Damn.

“Ladies and Gentlemen! Thank you for your wait! We now present to you! Dong Bang Shi Ki!”

The screaming could be heard all the way from where we stand, and we're in the basement. Heh, funny how 'love' works. Too bad it's never real.

Too bad it doesn't last.

The little screen that shows us what is going on outside during the concert glows with fireworks and explosions as the boys make their entrance. Their entrance filled with smoke, fog and Halloween-esque music plays.

And there they are, the bastards that had made my past few weeks a living hell.

Those bastards... that I can't seem to take my eyes off of.

So beautiful their form, the grace that they carry themselves with, the simple movement itself is poetic, almost sad it seems.

And there they are, looking like princes in the clothes that I had spent hours upon hours creating, dancing, singing, sweating, doing the thing that they love the most.

It's heartbreaking.

How beautiful they are, how gorgeous they look in those outfits that would look ridiculous on anyone else. How perfect they seem in the clothes that I had toiled and nearly killed my hands on from dangerous sewing machine incidents and stray pins and needles.

How they get all that fame, all that love.

And we, we the ones in the back, the ones who worked so hard to make them so beautiful...

We are the ones who get nothing.

It hurts... doesn't it?

Yes, yes it does.

You hate them don't you?

Kinda hard not to hate them for what they've done...

And yet...

And yet?

I can't help but admire them... For their ability to go in front of so many people, against those who might even hate them and do whatever they want.

Because they love it...

Tell me... what it feels like...

It feels like having every feeling that you had as a human being ripped apart into shreds, to have your heart break and then mend itself... only to still have large gaps an pieces missing.

It's like when you live for someone so extremely dear that you would willing sacrifice your whole life, your whole future for them.

Only to have them turn their back at you.

And not want you.

It feels like that.

The feeling of being unwanted.

The feeling of rejection, of being unloved.

That is the feeling.

Tell me... what will you do about that?
Nothing.

Nothing can be done.

Music continues to play in the background as the concert continues, and I, lost in thought. The hours tick by and soon, there is nothing left, it's ended, it's done, finished, over with and there is nothing left but to clean up after them.

Thank God that's not our job.

“Come on! Onto the party!” one of the co-workers shouted and grabbed my wrist, dragging me out of the stuffy room filled with sweaty clothes and make-up in disarray and towards the limo in which I was near unceremoniously thrown.

“What party?”

No one told me about any party. Then again, leave it to the people who hate me to tell me anything in the first place.

The car ride was filled with idiotic banter and chit-chat about nonsensical things that I would rather not hear. From a conversation about what kind of 'hawt chick' would be at the party to the conversation about the latest fashion trends and what colors suited the men best. Things that would do nothing good save for rot the brain of thinking cells.

The restaurant itself was filled with pompous pricks and their finely dressed pet birds commonly known as a 'date'. Dimly lit and filled with booming music, the party that I had been dragged with was escorted by a scantily clad waitress to a back room where there wouldn't be any disturbance from the fans that might be in the room.

Wow, celebrity status also means special treatment.

Almost forgot that factoid.

“And what can I get you guys to drink?” The waitress asked sweetly, the name tag on her finely endowed breast stating that her name was 'SungYo Kim'. The girl twirled her pen with a practiced finger as the men (and the few women scantily spread out along the table) mulled over the thought of what their poison of the night would be. Calls of “Vodka!” “Soju!” “Whiskey!” “Margarita!” Obviously no one was going to be feeling good tomorrow morning... And then, it came to me, my turn to order.

“Uh... Fruit punch?”

Silence. What? Is there a problem with wanting simple juice.

“Nah! You don't want that!” Yunho exclaimed loudly, slapping my back. “She'll have a Strawberry Alexander!”

Oh, that son of a b***h did NOT just touch me like a friend. He will PAY when I get back to that. And what the HELL did he just order?! Whatever, I'll have my revenge, eventually, one day... and they'll be sorry.

Ooh.. lookit the pretty drinks that everyone ordered. Ooh, look, there's mine. Well, that's a lovely shade of pink-orange-red whatever-the-hell-this-is-supposed-to-be. This cannot be good for my liver, or anyone else's liver.

Oh well, I suppose one sip wouldn't hurt anyone now would it?

Hey, this stuff is pretty good... despite being horrible for me. Whatever, I can indulge myself can't I?

“So, tell me... What did you think of the concert?” One of the members asked suddenly. I look up from my drink, nearly choking from the cold liquid hitting the back of my throat at a fast rate that could not be safe for anyone under the age of twenty-five, to see it was Junsu who had asked the question.

“It... was alright, I don't think it could have gone worse or better. It was a perfect concert, just like how the lot of y'all are perfect.” Was the reply that I gave the older man.

“Oh? Us? Perfect? Trust me... we're far from that.” Yunho said with a laugh lounging comfortably in on the booth that the lot of us were sitting in. “I dropped out of school, so did Jaejoong, and I used to smoke. Isn't that a lovely thought for a singer?”

“But it doesn't matter now does it?”

“Oh? How so?”

Crap, am I getting in a fight? Well, a couple of stiff drinks like the ones before me can do that to someone, maybe I can just pass it off as being drunk and then I can be my good old sarcastic self for a while.

“Hey, yo, waiter, one more of these things for me alright?” I asked the passing waiter before going back to the question at hand. “What do you mean 'how so?'?” I snorted, mocking him bluntly. “It doesn't matter how flawed you are, your fans will love you no matter what. And you'll get the love, the fame, the money that goes with it. You'll get almost everything handed to you on a silver platter. All you have to worry about is keeping your current voice in top shape, not dying, and doing whatever people tell you to. Isn't that the best life anyone can ever have...”

“Ouch... burned...” Changmin chuckled from his seat, sipping the drink in his hand. “But from what we've heard, you're not too much better off from us, after all, you're working for us. And we're the ones who will tell you if you're going to be fired or not. We're the ones who can and most probably will, make your life a living hell.”

“Well, isn't that a lovely thought? I think I'll do that. I need this job more than you think. And I've got someone waiting... for me to come back. I've got too much to do than to think that just because I'm living through hell now, that I can't go to heaven later.”

“Deep words for someone four years junior.”

“Well, what did you take me for? An uneducated twit?”

A few more sips. Man, liquor's good when you get somethin' good.

“You give off the air of one.”

“Well I'll tell you this, I ain't and I will tell you this, I'm more brilliant than all of y'all combined probably. I will have my revenge against y'all for making me suffer. Trust me... one day.. y'all will cower from my brilliance.”

“Oh? And how will you do that?”

“Easy, without us, you're nothing but a bunch of pretty boys who can sing a couple of notes. Without a good design, your fans will hate you, and we'll humiliate you too.”

A bark of laughter from the boys.

“Someone's drunk.”

“I am not!”

“Oh yes, you're totally drunk. But if you insist that you're not, why don't you answer this question?”

“Yeah, whatever. Whaddya want?”

“If you hate us so much... Then why are you here? And seriously, with your accent, it's obvious that you're not from here, despite what your resume says. So why don't you tell us? Hm?”

It was then when all the memories of everything happy started to resurface, the memories of everything that I had to throw away for the sake of this job. And the most of all, the memories of the few true friends that I had.

But they were gone.

And I'm still here, stuck in this hellhole.

It was then, when the floodgates were let loose.

And I cried, as I never had in years.
For the loss of something so dear never really hurt so much until someone pokes at the festering wound.

For the pain of those last words hurt more than any wound.

They won't stop, the tears, the sadness, the sorrow of having to say those words to the friend that meant so much to me, the overwhelming thought of never getting out. The fear won't stop. The fear of never finding anything but hate in the world.

I don't remember much else of that night.

I remember the sobbing, the crying.

I remember a comforting hand somewhere...

Somewhere...

From a place that may have sympathy on my poor, pathetic soul.

Thank you.

Whoever you are.

And then, the world was black.

Thank you for the PM!

Wow so many things happening @_@

Please update soon!
I wanna know what happens ^__^

thank you soo much
this is amazing and keep up the awesome work
you are so creative 3nodding

that was an awesome chapter update soon^^