[Yejun’s point of view]

“Yejun, you’re behind!”

“Yejun, do it again!”

“Yejun, more power in that turn!”

“Yejun!”

“Yejun!”

Minwoo’s booming voice echoed in my head all day after practice. I heard he had already served his two-year stint in the Korean military. Well, it was obvious some of those methods reflected in his coaching. Holy crap. I almost wanted to go back to ballet boot camp. Almost.

I belly flopped onto the couch with a big sigh. I was exhausted. My hair was still wet from the extra long shower I took when I got back. It was Thursday, so there was one more day of practice before the weekend. Not like we had time off though. Saturday and Sunday were usually busy with various activities.

Tae stood next to me holding a hairdryer. I opened one eye to look at him.

“Want me to dry your hair? You’ll get a cold if you sleep like that.”

I nodded. I was too tired to do it myself. He sat next to me and patted the floor between his legs. He wanted me to go there. Once I was situated, he massaged my scalp with the hot air. I automatically groaned at how good it felt.

“Minwoo-nim really has it out for you,” he commented. “I think it’s not fair, since you’re doing better than Young-soo.”

“Hey!”

A pillow came flying at Tae’s head. He dodged it. The fluffy sack landed behind the sofa.

“That choreo is freaking hard! Especially with those handcuffs,” Young-soo protested. “There are some parts I think I’ll struggle to dance and rap at the same time.”

“Do you want me to make a complaint to management about his treatment towards you?” Tae asked me, concerned.

“I’m fine. I think he’s harder on me since I have the most dance experience here. Minwoo just wants me to be a good example for you guys.”

My statement was technically true. I did have the most training in our group. While some of SATURN’s members didn’t start dancing until they were recruited to be idols, I had been doing it competitively since I was three years old. My earliest memory was my mother being a dramatic dance mom at competitions. In other words, she’d argue with other parents about the rules and shit. And the glitter. So much glitter on my skin that I swear I still have sparkles stuck in hidden crevices.

Was I a vampire character from a tween novel?

“Hmm... I suppose. Just remember you don’t have to deal with him alone. If you’re struggling, we struggle too,” Tae said before shutting off the dryer. “Done.”

I looked up so I could see his face. The back of my head rested against his knees. My eyes drooped.

“Thanks.”

He gave me a small smile as he said, “Please get some sleep. You’re getting dark circles under your eyes again. Are you still having problems falling asleep?”

“Always. You know how I am with insomnia.”

“If you need to see a specialist, please let ‘Mr. Manager’ know.”

The name Minwoo kept barking out stuck with us. It was funny, so we gained the habit of calling Gyeon “Mr. Manager” as well.

“Mhm,” I hummed.

Tae was worried about me and the others. Being the leader was the hardest position. There were burdens I could not fathom. It was almost like a parental role. If one of us was having a difficult time, it reflected on him. Tae tried his best to make sure we got the help we needed. That forced him to be a very intuitive person.

Minwoo’s choreography was taxing, both mentally and physically. Although we had fun learning “Bondage” because it was a new genre for us, the packed schedule was heavy on our shoulders. We were waking up at 3:00 A.M. more often lately to begin the day. What’s more, Minwoo gave me the hardest part.

Unlike the other members who would pass their handcuffs to one of our background dancers towards the end of the song, I had to smoothly place them in my back pocket without dropping them. I would reapply the restraints during the final counts when SATURN surrounded me and held my wrists up.

It’s not like I blamed Minwoo. I knew he was doing it out of spite, but I deserved it. After all, I stooped as low as I ever had when I threatened him. Threatened! Minwoo was my sunbae. My disrespectfulness surprised even me. It was way out of character. I was the quiet one who always followed orders.

I should have said how he changed my life that night. I’ll never forget the moment when I saw him giving everything he had on the table during that boring black-tie reception. I was sent to the event on behalf of Triple-X like an ambassador since the CEO was on vacation in Jeju island, and the other executives made excuses not to go. Thus, they ordered an overworked idol, who already had enough on his plate, to go in their place.

From the start, I wished a savior would take me out of there. Then that savior came.

When the lights dimmed, I was captivated. The people around him watched the insane dancers with unease. It gave me a thrill. I was used to my fans reacting to my performances so differently.

As the unknown man danced his heart out, I could feel what he was feeling. Free. Free to do what he wanted on his own terms. Not constantly being examined under a microscope by the world. I’ve felt the weight of trying to appease everyone in my life by following the path laid out for me since birth like straight stepping stones.

When I ran after the mysterious person who gave me an awakening, I wanted to step off that path and make my own. I wanted to be free too.

It was fate when I discovered that the same guy was our choreographer Minwoo. That was how I got the idea to use his identity to get what I wanted. Diabolical, I know. I did feel sorry, but if I didn’t do something to change my destiny, I was worried I’d fall off those perfect stones and drown in the river below.

I yawned, signaling I was turning in for the evening and then said, “All right, guys. Last day before the weekend.”

“Weekend, yes, but we have that magazine photoshoot and talk show appearance tomorrow,” Young-soo groaned.

“Good night,” the others replied.

I went to my room. Just as I snuggled under my covers, my phone vibrated on the nightstand. I huffed when I saw the caller ID. It was my parents calling from the States. Though I was tired and wanted to pass out, I knew they’d keep calling me until I picked up. Their record was eleven missed calls. They were relentless like that, so I accepted the video call before it went to voicemail.

“Hello,” I greeted in English.

My father was born in the U.S. after his parents immigrated there from Korea. He could speak fluent Korean too, which helped me become bilingual. Naming me “Yejun” was to commemorate our family history. Although every new teacher and acquaintance I met in North America always butchered the pronunciation.

“How’s your progress with the choreography?” Dad asked.

Not even gonna ask how your son is doing? Cool.

“It’s good,” I replied bluntly.

“Don’t forget your manners. ‘It’s good,’ and?”

“It’s good, sir. We are almost done learning. Next week, we’ll focus on the smaller details. After that, our instructor will teach us the next song.”

“That’s nice to hear. I was worried since that style isn’t you. You’re more of a delicate dancer.”

It irritated me whenever he told me what I was and wasn’t.

“It’s fun. That’s all that matters.”

Dad ignored my statement and asked, “Do you know when SATURN’s tour begins? You know we will want to go to the North American leg of it to see your improvement.”

“Um, I think the company is still working out the kinks. We haven’t even taken the teaser photos yet, let alone the meeting to discuss details. It’ll be a while.”

Mom finally joined the conversation by interjecting, “Continue to be your best, okay? I know it’s late there. Get some shut-eye. We’ll call you this weekend after our dinner at the Ritz-Carlton.”

Unlike Dad, she didn’t speak much Korean. Her grandparents immigrated to California and she wasn’t close with them, so she wasn’t exposed to the language often.

They bickered far from the speaker, probably thinking I couldn’t hear them.

“Linda, there’s more we need to discuss.”

“No, Robert. You know he can’t sleep well. Let him go so he can try.”

“You mean that insomnia crap? It’s all in his head. I can sleep just fine, so why can’t h—?”

I had enough so blurted out, “Night. Talk to you later, sir.”

I ended the call without hearing their goodbyes. I knew the next time we chatted, I was sure to get an earful from Dad about my behavior. It was ironic because my nanny basically raised me, not my workaholic parents, so did they even deserve to have a say?

They provided a roof—a wealthy roof—over my head and gave me the finest of things. Dad is the owner of numerous fast-food chains in southern Florida. Mom always wanted a dancer in the family, so they placed me in the most expensive dance academy in the Sunshine State. There were instances when I wanted to try other styles, but they were adamant about ballet.

“You should aim to be a professional dancer or an instructor at well-known schools like Juilliard. You should focus on your craft,” Dad would tell me.

“You should do this. You should do that. You should. You have to. You must!”

When a Triple-X Entertainment recruiter contacted me after finding my ballet video reels I was doing for fun online, my parents jumped at the chance to make me audition. I succeeded in one try. After all, an ex-idol was sure to be successful even after the group disbanded.

At the tender age of fourteen, I was shipped off to Korea with a pretty bow. I spent the last of my minor teenage years there with trainers and SATURN’s future trainees.

Suddenly, making reels wasn’t fun anymore, but I enjoyed being an idol. I really did. Our fandom was named MOONS because Saturn had the most moons in the Milky Way. They were my rock. But I was tired.

I grabbed my bottle of anxiety medication from my nightstand and popped a pill in my mouth. Over time, I developed insomnia from stress. I was prescribed the pills in high school. Did it begin in middle school when the competitions became more fierce and drama-filled? I couldn’t recall.

Lately, one dose wouldn’t do much anymore. I wondered if I was building a resistance to the brand. It happened every few years, so I figured I should request a stronger dose the following week.

Better take more for good measure.

I took two additional pills thinking they would help me sleep for four hours. I felt the medicine take effect. My eyelids closed. Before I succumbed to the darkness, I felt eager. In less than a day, I would experience what Minwoo felt when he let go of his problems, the world, and himself.

Hopefully, I can express myself the way I want to.