Page 22 of Wish Upon a K-Star

I did use to call Minseok Oppa.

In fact, it was something I secretly relished, the moment we were close enough that I could call him that. It made my heart flutter every time he’d turn in response. It meant he recognized our close relationship too.

Hyejun made fun of me sometimes. Miming the word and pretending like he was air-kissing someone. But I didn’t care what he thought. My crush on Minseok-oppa was too strong to be swayed. And Hyejun wasn’t in our company. So, he couldn’t deter me from engineering moments for me to run into Minseok “coincidentally” in the halls (when really I’d waited, leaning against the wall outside his practice room until he took a break to go to the convenience store for a snack).

I’d ask to tag along. A tentative “Can I come too, Oppa?” and he’d send me that friendly smile that creased the tops of his cheeks and say, “Of course, Hyeri-ya. Oppa will buy you a drink.” And my heart would take off in flutters as I hurried after him.

But a stronger memory blocks out any of the warmth from those naive moments.

Minseok’s harsh voice telling me, “Stop calling me Oppa! You want someone to hear and misunderstand? I don’t have time to deal with this right now. I have to focus on the group, not your immature crush.”

The words were cruel. But I know now that they were necessary. Though they worked to shatter my sensitive heart at the time, I’m better for it.

It helped me along the path of learning the realities of what our lives were about to become. That no matter how we might want normal lives with normal crushes and relationships, as celebrities, we belong to our fans. Nothing we have is just ours anymore, not even our own hearts.