For gdgdbaby! -- And I Know What's in My Heart (Lee Hi, PG-13)
Title: --and I know what’s in my heart
Recipient: gdgdbaby
Group(s)/Artist(s): Lee Hayi
Rating: pg13~
Warnings:
Summary: hayi before and with yg; 2842w (ft. cameos by as many yg fam member as I could possibly squeeze into this; title from destiny’s child’s “my time has come”)
Note(s): this really does boldly go nowhere and for that I very much apologise ;___; not sure if my take on top-hayi is satisfactory but I DID TRY. merry happy, everyone~*~
She’s three months into ten when her sister first invites her into the wonders of her record collection, a big smile plastered on her face and her eyebrows raised in amusement when Hayi gives out a little squeal at the sight of the dusty cardboard shoebox.
“Play these,” unnie says, “and if you really listen to them, you will see your entire future.”
Lying down on unnie’s lap, eyes closed tight and her brows furrowed, Hayi clutches to the oversized headphones and puts all her will into listening, the heavy bass of the song sending shivers down her arms, making her bob her head along without realising.
And it is not the kind of music she was taught by her piano teachers to appreciate, and admittedly she doesn’t quite understand what exactly half the lyrics really mean, but when a raspy voice starts spitting quick-fire words into her ears, rapping like he was born with music flowing inside his mouth, just waiting for the right moment to get out-when she is well into the third CD and can already hum along with half the melodies, Hayi kind of, really kind of thinks they are on to something there.
Seonsaeng-nim actually tears up when the results of her high school registration comes out and seeing the proud smile on her teacher’s lips is all it takes for Hayi to start hopping around the room, screaming Daebak!!! and singing as fast as she can all the songs she knows that talk about happiness, one chorus tripping on the other-and it is all so loud it would probably sound to an outsider like she had found a million won inside her purse.
She comes to a halt halfway through a very teary and very out of tune rendition of Queen’s We Are The Champions, turning to stare at seonsaeng-nim and asking, fear curling around her throat and making her voice terribly small, “Did I really get in?”
And her teacher nods, smiles broadly and just nods, laughing a bit like Hayi’s questioning this is the most ridiculous thing-but it doesn’t quite sink in until she gets home and tells her parents, her mother’s bone-crushing hug and her father’s kiss on her forehead and unnie’s shrieks of joy over the phone all breaking the ice of doubt in her heart.
When Hayi lies down later that night, humming to life so passionately she could probably make K.Will himself sob, she can still smell her mother’s perfume on her hair. She may not have a record in hand now to tell her what the stars have in store for her, but she thinks she can see a tiny bit into her future anyway.
“Aigo, I think I have dolls that are taller than you.”
This is how Hayi meets Park Jimin, who is all wide gestures and fast commentary on everything, absolutely everything-polite and dedicated Park Jimin, who hugs her mum every three minutes and who genuinely, really, really likes Hayi’s oversized bright-coloured sweaters, who hooks her arm on Hayi’s and feels like she has always been around.
“I don’t know which one of you is a bad influence on the other,” Jimin’s mum says, all fond exasperation, as always.
After they teach half the backstage staff how to dance to Single Ladies, Hayi is kind of inclined to agree.
Jimin calls her very early one morning to inform Hayi that her sources have told her that Top-oppa, the T.O.P., Hayi, is coming down to Star and is probably going to coach one of them. The conversation quickly turns to other subjects, like who Jimin’s sources claim one of the members of Infinite are dating-and Hayi doesn’t even want to know where Jimin gets this kind of information, but she is pretty sure that whoever thought that bringing Top-oppa, the T.O.P., from BIG BANG!!! around to coach them would be a good idea is very likely trying to murder her.
The feeling comes back when Top-oppa does, indeed, show up-a very amused smile on his face while he looks around at all the girls’ and all the oppas’ stunned faces and after he introduces himself to Hayi, dimpling and bowing at her, then asking her on national television why he is her ideal type, Hayi puts half her strength into loathing herself for ever letting that spill out, thanks so much, Nayoon, and the other half into trying not to scream something ridiculous at Top-oppa, something like, I cried when I first heard Oh Mom or How can you not be someone’s ideal type, OPPA, PLEASE.
He ends up coaching her and she will never be anything even close to a half decent rapper, is not close to being even a singer yet, but there is something in the way that Top-oppa stands, the way he entrances the audience without seeming to be even trying, that Hayi files in for later-and that, probably more than his cheekbones or the lyrics he weaves in a blink for her to sing, that’s what he ends up teaching her, no matter whether he intended to or not.
She loses. Or comes second-which, in the end, is practically the same for everyone who is watching.
And it is not an of course type of thing, or a maybe destiny had something else in mind for you, like Jimin texts her later that day when the rush of the after-parties and the discussion of their prizes has calmed down and both of them are too tired to continue dodging the subject with gossip. It’s a You’ll be Lee Hi type of thing, like the story where the girl gets her name stolen to go home and a dragon bleeds words into her lungs.
She cries a bit into the tea one of the production oppas hands her backstage, gets her nose all red and her eyes young and earns a sigh from the makeup unnie for it.
Jimin’s mum hugs her tight and Hayi closes her eyes and tells herself, this is not losing, this is not a she had such a bright future ahead of her type of thing. This is not old stern relatives staring at her from across the dinner table with their old stern looks of disapproval; this is not where is that potential I heard about?
This is memorising Sway until she had branded herself into its notes, put a touch of spice to the delicate expanses of its melodic spine.
This is not Lee Hayi, second place on K-Pop Star, this isn’t a long ago I was something type of thing.
This is a Welcome to YG type of thing.
They tell her that she has got natural charisma, that she draws people effortlessly into being entranced in her performance, in the wide staccato of her voice.
Hayi found out very early on that the people who call it effortless are very often the same people who have never tried to make the effort themselves.
Even so, she smiles and nods, smiles until it is nothing but a clench of teeth, smiles and says thank you, not insincerely but warily-because she hasn’t got this far without learning a thing or two about the way people pitch their voices, about the way sarangaeyo and victory can mean a hundred different things in just a turn of the lips.
The first thing her grandmother ever taught her about life was that it was all half-performance: that she had to look very hard to see the truth in the spaces in between. Hayi’s grandmother was probably the smallest woman in the family, her bright golden bracelets taking half her arms whenever she went out to see the theatre. Hayi’s grandmother was small, but Hayi can only ever remember that if she thinks really hard about it. The woman she knew always seemed to fill any room she walked into with light-bigger than life, they said she was, always giving a show wherever she went.
It is true that there are times when she wakes up and kind of misses her old hair a bit, the way the deep brown was almost copper under the midday light, the way it matched her mum’s to the very last shade.
But when the stage lights catch her just right, when it is her and the microphone and a song, then there is nothing else missing.
She doesn’t get the Family thing until she crosses paths with Seungri-oppa and Chaerin-unnie by chance in one of the many bright white corridors of the main building. Hayi has half her mind on the song they’d be rehearsing later, the other half occupied with worrying over the scolding that would come from manager-oppa once he found out she had arrived all by herself, but then there is someone saying, “Hayi-sshi! So nice to meet you!” and Chaerin-unnie is bowing down to hug her tight, and she hasn’t even had time to process that she is hugging CL and Jimin will murder her, oh my god when Seungri-oppa offers her his hand, a very serious expression on his face, and his voice more polite than those of her professors when he says,
“Lee Hayi-sshi, welcome to YG Entertainment.”
She doesn’t have time to say Oppa, we have been introduced already because right after he finishes speaking, Chaerin-unnie is dragging him down the corridor with her, shouting a, I’m sorry for him, Hayi-sshi! over her shoulder and whispering something to him in English that sounds a lot like good work scaring her, dumbass to Hayi’s ears.
She has some trouble schooling her smile when she finally finds manager-oppa and his exhausted facepalming-but she pays it no mind.
All of Epik High shake hands with her at once when they first meet and, listening to them from outside the booth, Hayi thinks they look like one fascinating and ever-changing organism, or maybe like a four-headed hydra, something terrifyingly powerful but with a core of goodness to it, too.
“So I hear you are going to be working with Choice on your record, huh,” Tukutz-oppa tells her in between takes for the It’s Cold cover. He waggles his eyebrows at an amused Tablo-oppa standing beside him, who cuts in with a,
“Early, young padawan, learn you must that Choice 37 does not in normal human speech levels communicate.”
“He only drops beats,” Tukutz-oppa says.
“Heavy beats,” Tablo-oppa completes.
And Hayi laughs and laughs and doesn’t think she could be any more lucky than this, really.
They ask her what she would like her blog to be called, what name she would choose that better represents what she is-and Hayi thinks of Bom-unnie’s sky-high stilettos, of her mother’s morning slippers and of her sister’s worned-out Chucks. She thinks of Chaerin-unnie’s confident strut, and that makes her think of herself for some reason-catching the red-eye only to perform one song, exposed in all white and with her nerves in shatters but never tripping on a single note, getting a promise from kind, funny Tablo-oppa that he would repay her in good lyrics for her trouble.
“I’d like them all to learn how to walk with their own feet,” she says, and the words come out of her mouth with a weight she didn’t predict. And it might be true that it probably sounds like a teenage platitude to all the oppas around the conference table, but this is truth and this is what music has taught her.
She does end up meeting with Top-oppa again, despite her trying as hard as she can not to-except this time they have taught her he can be Seunghyun-oppa, too, and he looks amused at her nervousness when she bows and mumbles a thank you after he compliments her singing on Epik High’s album, says he really liked her first single.
They teach her that inside the fam he is Seunghyun-oppa, silly and not always on top of everything, and she cannot help but goggle at Daesung-oppa when he says that, stares at them interacting like she can’t believe her own eyes.
Hayi blames the Gayo high on why it takes her long to realise Bom-unnie sneaking up on her, smiling at winking at her like she knows what everyone is up to in that room.
“You’ve got a nice voice,” she says, and Hayi doesn’t even have the time to feel relieved for not being scolded, struck speechless by the soft smile being flashed at her. “Do unnie a favour,” she continues, voice dropping an octave and taking the tilt of a very old maid aunt, “Don’t ever let them tell you what to do with it.”
And there is no response Hayi can possibly formulate to that, and even if she could, there is no time-when she finds her speech again Bom-unnie has already got up and is taking Hayi by the arm to where the rest of 2NE1 are standing. She says something about YG fam girl power pics! and is met with a collective chorus of Oh yeah! by the other three.
They call Hayi “dongsaeng” and tell her they loved what she drew for the Scarecrow cover and she blushes under her makeup and smiles wide and easy when Chaerin-oppa later explains to her the dangers of trusting stupid hoodie and hat wearing producers to do their job. Dara-unnie whispers into her ear that wine and driving are the only good things that come with old age, my child and from somewhere in the middle of the party Minji-ah shouts “It feels good not to be the maknae anymore!” and is met with applause.
She texts her sister when she gets home: im glad I am where I am right now and even when unnie texts back a you and yr bed are far too close for mum’s good omo who will help poor old lady now~ Hayi thinks she understands what she means.
2134: “PARTYING HARD WITH 2NE1 RN U JELLY~~~~”
2135: “GEOJITMAL
UNNIE YOU SIT ON A THRONE OF LIES
a throne of leather skirts and pretty boots
but mostly lies!!!!!pix or it didnt happennnnnnnnnnnnnn”
2136: “!!! im not taking pictures JIMIN
we are at the STUDIO
you are too creepy for some1 so small omoooo :O”
2136: “im taller than you shut up
then again so is everybody else keke:D”
2137: “>____< im signing off on you now
.............so i can go talk with DARA-UNNIIIIIIIIE^^”
2138: “see if i lend you my destinys child DELUXES now see if i do
who will be the jz to ur beyonce now hayi
U r my heartbreaker”
2343: “were you even born when that came out”
2350: “SHUT UP, SUNGMO¬¬¬¬”
2351: “u___________u****”
0205: “i just said goodnight to a seungri-oppa cardboard cutout
or maybe it was the actual him
hm”
0207: “AIIIGO TTTT IT’S TWO IN THE MORNING GO TO SLEEP TT”
0210: “but i was going to tell you abt the recording~ but ja ja it IS late so i GUESS id better go//”
0211: “......................................
get on skype
u sadist disguised as tiny elf person”
0212: “omoooo unnie u so sweet ;D
will b there in a sec just let me talk the boots outta my feet D:”
0213: ”lol good luck with that”
She survives debut, survives getting snide criticism thrown at her from the internet and everywhere in between. She survives and texts Jimin weekly about how Jiyong-oppa’s hair looks, receives a hundred complaining and exhilarated texts back about how JYPM is actual purgatory on earth I know this sounds blasphemous but omo unnie I only forgive them because of all the preeteh.
She sings, belts out a game over in stuttered English for what feels like a million times-and this isn’t quite real, not yet, but she’s getting there.
Recipient: gdgdbaby
Group(s)/Artist(s): Lee Hayi
Rating: pg13~
Warnings:
Summary: hayi before and with yg; 2842w (ft. cameos by as many yg fam member as I could possibly squeeze into this; title from destiny’s child’s “my time has come”)
Note(s): this really does boldly go nowhere and for that I very much apologise ;___; not sure if my take on top-hayi is satisfactory but I DID TRY. merry happy, everyone~*~
She’s three months into ten when her sister first invites her into the wonders of her record collection, a big smile plastered on her face and her eyebrows raised in amusement when Hayi gives out a little squeal at the sight of the dusty cardboard shoebox.
“Play these,” unnie says, “and if you really listen to them, you will see your entire future.”
Lying down on unnie’s lap, eyes closed tight and her brows furrowed, Hayi clutches to the oversized headphones and puts all her will into listening, the heavy bass of the song sending shivers down her arms, making her bob her head along without realising.
And it is not the kind of music she was taught by her piano teachers to appreciate, and admittedly she doesn’t quite understand what exactly half the lyrics really mean, but when a raspy voice starts spitting quick-fire words into her ears, rapping like he was born with music flowing inside his mouth, just waiting for the right moment to get out-when she is well into the third CD and can already hum along with half the melodies, Hayi kind of, really kind of thinks they are on to something there.
Seonsaeng-nim actually tears up when the results of her high school registration comes out and seeing the proud smile on her teacher’s lips is all it takes for Hayi to start hopping around the room, screaming Daebak!!! and singing as fast as she can all the songs she knows that talk about happiness, one chorus tripping on the other-and it is all so loud it would probably sound to an outsider like she had found a million won inside her purse.
She comes to a halt halfway through a very teary and very out of tune rendition of Queen’s We Are The Champions, turning to stare at seonsaeng-nim and asking, fear curling around her throat and making her voice terribly small, “Did I really get in?”
And her teacher nods, smiles broadly and just nods, laughing a bit like Hayi’s questioning this is the most ridiculous thing-but it doesn’t quite sink in until she gets home and tells her parents, her mother’s bone-crushing hug and her father’s kiss on her forehead and unnie’s shrieks of joy over the phone all breaking the ice of doubt in her heart.
When Hayi lies down later that night, humming to life so passionately she could probably make K.Will himself sob, she can still smell her mother’s perfume on her hair. She may not have a record in hand now to tell her what the stars have in store for her, but she thinks she can see a tiny bit into her future anyway.
“Aigo, I think I have dolls that are taller than you.”
This is how Hayi meets Park Jimin, who is all wide gestures and fast commentary on everything, absolutely everything-polite and dedicated Park Jimin, who hugs her mum every three minutes and who genuinely, really, really likes Hayi’s oversized bright-coloured sweaters, who hooks her arm on Hayi’s and feels like she has always been around.
“I don’t know which one of you is a bad influence on the other,” Jimin’s mum says, all fond exasperation, as always.
After they teach half the backstage staff how to dance to Single Ladies, Hayi is kind of inclined to agree.
Jimin calls her very early one morning to inform Hayi that her sources have told her that Top-oppa, the T.O.P., Hayi, is coming down to Star and is probably going to coach one of them. The conversation quickly turns to other subjects, like who Jimin’s sources claim one of the members of Infinite are dating-and Hayi doesn’t even want to know where Jimin gets this kind of information, but she is pretty sure that whoever thought that bringing Top-oppa, the T.O.P., from BIG BANG!!! around to coach them would be a good idea is very likely trying to murder her.
The feeling comes back when Top-oppa does, indeed, show up-a very amused smile on his face while he looks around at all the girls’ and all the oppas’ stunned faces and after he introduces himself to Hayi, dimpling and bowing at her, then asking her on national television why he is her ideal type, Hayi puts half her strength into loathing herself for ever letting that spill out, thanks so much, Nayoon, and the other half into trying not to scream something ridiculous at Top-oppa, something like, I cried when I first heard Oh Mom or How can you not be someone’s ideal type, OPPA, PLEASE.
He ends up coaching her and she will never be anything even close to a half decent rapper, is not close to being even a singer yet, but there is something in the way that Top-oppa stands, the way he entrances the audience without seeming to be even trying, that Hayi files in for later-and that, probably more than his cheekbones or the lyrics he weaves in a blink for her to sing, that’s what he ends up teaching her, no matter whether he intended to or not.
She loses. Or comes second-which, in the end, is practically the same for everyone who is watching.
And it is not an of course type of thing, or a maybe destiny had something else in mind for you, like Jimin texts her later that day when the rush of the after-parties and the discussion of their prizes has calmed down and both of them are too tired to continue dodging the subject with gossip. It’s a You’ll be Lee Hi type of thing, like the story where the girl gets her name stolen to go home and a dragon bleeds words into her lungs.
She cries a bit into the tea one of the production oppas hands her backstage, gets her nose all red and her eyes young and earns a sigh from the makeup unnie for it.
Jimin’s mum hugs her tight and Hayi closes her eyes and tells herself, this is not losing, this is not a she had such a bright future ahead of her type of thing. This is not old stern relatives staring at her from across the dinner table with their old stern looks of disapproval; this is not where is that potential I heard about?
This is memorising Sway until she had branded herself into its notes, put a touch of spice to the delicate expanses of its melodic spine.
This is not Lee Hayi, second place on K-Pop Star, this isn’t a long ago I was something type of thing.
This is a Welcome to YG type of thing.
They tell her that she has got natural charisma, that she draws people effortlessly into being entranced in her performance, in the wide staccato of her voice.
Hayi found out very early on that the people who call it effortless are very often the same people who have never tried to make the effort themselves.
Even so, she smiles and nods, smiles until it is nothing but a clench of teeth, smiles and says thank you, not insincerely but warily-because she hasn’t got this far without learning a thing or two about the way people pitch their voices, about the way sarangaeyo and victory can mean a hundred different things in just a turn of the lips.
The first thing her grandmother ever taught her about life was that it was all half-performance: that she had to look very hard to see the truth in the spaces in between. Hayi’s grandmother was probably the smallest woman in the family, her bright golden bracelets taking half her arms whenever she went out to see the theatre. Hayi’s grandmother was small, but Hayi can only ever remember that if she thinks really hard about it. The woman she knew always seemed to fill any room she walked into with light-bigger than life, they said she was, always giving a show wherever she went.
It is true that there are times when she wakes up and kind of misses her old hair a bit, the way the deep brown was almost copper under the midday light, the way it matched her mum’s to the very last shade.
But when the stage lights catch her just right, when it is her and the microphone and a song, then there is nothing else missing.
She doesn’t get the Family thing until she crosses paths with Seungri-oppa and Chaerin-unnie by chance in one of the many bright white corridors of the main building. Hayi has half her mind on the song they’d be rehearsing later, the other half occupied with worrying over the scolding that would come from manager-oppa once he found out she had arrived all by herself, but then there is someone saying, “Hayi-sshi! So nice to meet you!” and Chaerin-unnie is bowing down to hug her tight, and she hasn’t even had time to process that she is hugging CL and Jimin will murder her, oh my god when Seungri-oppa offers her his hand, a very serious expression on his face, and his voice more polite than those of her professors when he says,
“Lee Hayi-sshi, welcome to YG Entertainment.”
She doesn’t have time to say Oppa, we have been introduced already because right after he finishes speaking, Chaerin-unnie is dragging him down the corridor with her, shouting a, I’m sorry for him, Hayi-sshi! over her shoulder and whispering something to him in English that sounds a lot like good work scaring her, dumbass to Hayi’s ears.
She has some trouble schooling her smile when she finally finds manager-oppa and his exhausted facepalming-but she pays it no mind.
All of Epik High shake hands with her at once when they first meet and, listening to them from outside the booth, Hayi thinks they look like one fascinating and ever-changing organism, or maybe like a four-headed hydra, something terrifyingly powerful but with a core of goodness to it, too.
“So I hear you are going to be working with Choice on your record, huh,” Tukutz-oppa tells her in between takes for the It’s Cold cover. He waggles his eyebrows at an amused Tablo-oppa standing beside him, who cuts in with a,
“Early, young padawan, learn you must that Choice 37 does not in normal human speech levels communicate.”
“He only drops beats,” Tukutz-oppa says.
“Heavy beats,” Tablo-oppa completes.
And Hayi laughs and laughs and doesn’t think she could be any more lucky than this, really.
They ask her what she would like her blog to be called, what name she would choose that better represents what she is-and Hayi thinks of Bom-unnie’s sky-high stilettos, of her mother’s morning slippers and of her sister’s worned-out Chucks. She thinks of Chaerin-unnie’s confident strut, and that makes her think of herself for some reason-catching the red-eye only to perform one song, exposed in all white and with her nerves in shatters but never tripping on a single note, getting a promise from kind, funny Tablo-oppa that he would repay her in good lyrics for her trouble.
“I’d like them all to learn how to walk with their own feet,” she says, and the words come out of her mouth with a weight she didn’t predict. And it might be true that it probably sounds like a teenage platitude to all the oppas around the conference table, but this is truth and this is what music has taught her.
She does end up meeting with Top-oppa again, despite her trying as hard as she can not to-except this time they have taught her he can be Seunghyun-oppa, too, and he looks amused at her nervousness when she bows and mumbles a thank you after he compliments her singing on Epik High’s album, says he really liked her first single.
They teach her that inside the fam he is Seunghyun-oppa, silly and not always on top of everything, and she cannot help but goggle at Daesung-oppa when he says that, stares at them interacting like she can’t believe her own eyes.
Hayi blames the Gayo high on why it takes her long to realise Bom-unnie sneaking up on her, smiling at winking at her like she knows what everyone is up to in that room.
“You’ve got a nice voice,” she says, and Hayi doesn’t even have the time to feel relieved for not being scolded, struck speechless by the soft smile being flashed at her. “Do unnie a favour,” she continues, voice dropping an octave and taking the tilt of a very old maid aunt, “Don’t ever let them tell you what to do with it.”
And there is no response Hayi can possibly formulate to that, and even if she could, there is no time-when she finds her speech again Bom-unnie has already got up and is taking Hayi by the arm to where the rest of 2NE1 are standing. She says something about YG fam girl power pics! and is met with a collective chorus of Oh yeah! by the other three.
They call Hayi “dongsaeng” and tell her they loved what she drew for the Scarecrow cover and she blushes under her makeup and smiles wide and easy when Chaerin-oppa later explains to her the dangers of trusting stupid hoodie and hat wearing producers to do their job. Dara-unnie whispers into her ear that wine and driving are the only good things that come with old age, my child and from somewhere in the middle of the party Minji-ah shouts “It feels good not to be the maknae anymore!” and is met with applause.
She texts her sister when she gets home: im glad I am where I am right now and even when unnie texts back a you and yr bed are far too close for mum’s good omo who will help poor old lady now~ Hayi thinks she understands what she means.
2134: “PARTYING HARD WITH 2NE1 RN U JELLY~~~~”
2135: “GEOJITMAL
UNNIE YOU SIT ON A THRONE OF LIES
a throne of leather skirts and pretty boots
but mostly lies!!!!!pix or it didnt happennnnnnnnnnnnnn”
2136: “!!! im not taking pictures JIMIN
we are at the STUDIO
you are too creepy for some1 so small omoooo :O”
2136: “im taller than you shut up
then again so is everybody else keke:D”
2137: “>____< im signing off on you now
.............so i can go talk with DARA-UNNIIIIIIIIE^^”
2138: “see if i lend you my destinys child DELUXES now see if i do
who will be the jz to ur beyonce now hayi
U r my heartbreaker”
2343: “were you even born when that came out”
2350: “SHUT UP, SUNGMO¬¬¬¬”
2351: “u___________u****”
0205: “i just said goodnight to a seungri-oppa cardboard cutout
or maybe it was the actual him
hm”
0207: “AIIIGO TTTT IT’S TWO IN THE MORNING GO TO SLEEP TT”
0210: “but i was going to tell you abt the recording~ but ja ja it IS late so i GUESS id better go//”
0211: “......................................
get on skype
u sadist disguised as tiny elf person”
0212: “omoooo unnie u so sweet ;D
will b there in a sec just let me talk the boots outta my feet D:”
0213: ”lol good luck with that”
She survives debut, survives getting snide criticism thrown at her from the internet and everywhere in between. She survives and texts Jimin weekly about how Jiyong-oppa’s hair looks, receives a hundred complaining and exhilarated texts back about how JYPM is actual purgatory on earth I know this sounds blasphemous but omo unnie I only forgive them because of all the preeteh.
She sings, belts out a game over in stuttered English for what feels like a million times-and this isn’t quite real, not yet, but she’s getting there.