Page 33 of Wish Upon a K-Star

D ebut was everything they’d warned Minseok about and nothing like he’d hoped it would be, regardless of the overwhelming probabilities.

Minseok had been raised by two very logical parents. His father a businessman, his mother a former lawyer. He’d known the statistics for kids with dreams of debuting as idols. But he also knew none of those kids were Moon Minseok.

He’d known Bright Star was a brand-new company. That so far, they’d only represented a few established soloists, models, and actors. That WDB was their first idol group.

He’d known that they’d have fewer connections due to being such a new and unknown company with a new unknown group.

But still, naively, perhaps foolishly, Minseok had believed the group’s talent and determination would shine through.

But it was hard to shine on no sleep and constant rejection.

Their debut showcase had been underwhelming. The venue practically empty. The boys had gone out on the streets to hand out free tickets and promote the group. They’d even filmed it as content to release on social. But the public reaction had been so dismissive and unenthusiastic that the company had decided to abandon that idea.

And even today, their first time on a music show was over a month after releasing their mini album. And, though the younger members were excited and optimistic, Minseok had heard Hanbin talking on the phone about how they’d been a last-minute replacement for a group that canceled due to a missed flight from their concert in China.

WDB hadn’t been given a real dressing room like the more senior groups. Which, Minseok told himself, was normal for a rookie group. But they also hadn’t even been given their own cubicle space in the large area divided by temporary privacy screens. They had to share their small section with an aging trot singer.

Minseok came back from buying drinks at the vending machine to see Robbie and Jaehyung standing outside the cubicle, hands folded, heads lowered.

As he approached, Minseok saw one of the trot singer’s managers smack Jaehyung on the back of the head with a rolled-up paper.

That made Minseok see red. Jaehyung was the politest of all of them.

“Hey!” Minseok rushed forward. “What’s going on?”

“Hyeong,” Jaehyung sobbed—there were clearly tears in his eyes.

“Jaehyung-ah, what happened?”

“These two stole from us,” the manager said, shaking the rolled-up paper at them.

“I’m sorry,” Robbie muttered. “We didn’t know it was just for you.”

“It’s not our fault that your no-name company can’t afford to buy you food,” the manager said, pointing at a half-eaten sandwich on the ground.

“We’re sorry,” Minseok said, also lowering his head. He knew he should take responsibility as the hyeong. “We will order a replacement.”

The manager sneered. “Can your broke-ass company even afford it? If its own sorry excuses for singers are stealing food, that’s pretty pathetic, no?”

“I said we’ll replace it,” Minseok said through gritted teeth.

The manager shook his head. “Just forget it. We don’t want some shitty convenience-store sandwich.” He sneered at Robbie and Jaehyung. “If this is the kind of trash your company thinks can pass for idols, then it’ll go under in a month.” He turned to leave, gesturing at the smushed sandwich. “And clean this up before we come back.”

Minseok wanted to yell at him that this wasn’t their job. He wanted to tell that guy he had nothing to be cocky about. His own singer was a has-been in this industry. But Minseok knew he couldn’t because the has-been trot singer had still sold more records than WDB. And he was senior. Seniority wasn’t something Minseok could ignore.

He turned back to Jaehyung and Robbie and saw the dark circles under their reddened eyes. “Why don’t you two go wash your faces? I’ll clean this up.”

“Yeah, okay.” Robbie looked and sounded pissed as he stalked away. Minseok would normally warn him to drop the attitude, but he didn’t have the energy for an argument.

“Sorry, Hyeong,” Jaehyung muttered before hurrying after Robbie.

Minseok turned back to the crushed sandwich. Mayonaise was smeared across the floor. He closed his eyes, letting his head fall forward in defeat and frustration. Then he picked up some paper towels, kneeling to clean the mess. He hoped he could erase any trace of the incident before Hanbin and the others came back. He really didn’t want to explain this embarrassment to anyone.

At the sound of crumpling tissue paper, he froze before turning to see Shin Hyeri standing behind him, eyes wide. She gripped a bouquet of flowers tightly in her arms.

“Oppa,” she said in a sad voice.

Minseok stood quickly. His hand clenched involuntarily, squeezing mayo from the smushed sandwich he held. It dripped out of the crumpled paper towel back onto the stained spot on the floor. “Hyeri-ya, what are you doing here?”

She didn’t reply at first, nervously chewing her lip, her eyes looking pointedly anywhere but at the sandwich in his hand. “Oh, uh, I, uh, I wanted to surprise you.” She held out the flowers with a small smile. “Congratulations on your music show debut, Oppa.”

Minseok felt the fire of embarrassment race through him. It was becoming clear to him that WDB wasn’t the huge hit he’d dreamed of as a trainee. But to be treated as trash the way they were had been a shock. And he didn’t want anyone to witness that. Least of all Hyeri.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said coldly, and her smile faltered a bit.

“Oh, well, I thought I could keep you company if you’re done with rehearsal?”

It made Minseok sigh.

He wasn’t obtuse; he’d known for a while that Hyeri had a little crush on him. He’d thought it sweet at first. She was smart and fun. And she had a great sense of humor, definitely a plus in Minseok’s book.

If they were two normal teens, he might have even asked her out on a date. But they’d both been given the chance to reach for something so much bigger. And he couldn’t put those dreams at risk, not right now.

He’d always thought that with time Hyeri would catch on to the reality of things. After all, she was a trainee too. She knew the rules. She understood what was at stake.

He realized now that perhaps the crush was a little bigger than he’d given it credit for. He really should have taken care of this sooner.

“You should go back to your dorm,” Minseok said. “You probably have training today, right? Did you even get permission to leave this early?”

“No one knows I left. And my vocal lessons are in the afternoon today.” She held out the flowers again with a smile. “It’s sweet of you to worry about me, Oppa.”

She wasn’t getting it. Maybe he was being too subtle. Or maybe she was being too stubborn.

“Hyeri-ya,” he said. “You should stop having a crush on me now.”

Her face fell, panic filling her eyes before she lowered them. She heaved a sigh. “How long have you known?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “But I think you should stop now. There’s no space in our lives for something like that.”

“I promise I won’t bother you with it.”

She sounded so sad as she begged for permission to keep liking him. It made Minseok feel a hot, uncomfortable twinge of guilt. But he steeled himself against the urge to comfort her. It was better to cut off her feelings completely in one fell swoop than to drag it out unnecessarily.

“Just stop, okay? I’m trying to start my career. It’s an important time and I can’t have anything distracting me or getting in the way of that.”

A flash of defiance ran across Hyeri’s face, surprising him a bit. “I’m not a kid or a random fan. I know what’s at stake here.”

Minseok forced his lips into a derisive sneer. “You’re not acting like it.”

“But, Oppa—”

“Stop calling me Oppa!” Minseok snapped. He was starting to feel actual annoyance. Why couldn’t she get the hint and let this go? Why was she forcing him to play the role of the bad guy? He felt like he was always putting out one fire after the next and he was exhausted. “You want someone to hear and misunderstand? Don’t you see how difficult things are for us? I don’t have time to deal with this right now. I have to focus on the group, not your immature crush.”

“It’s not immature,” Hyeri whispered.

Minseok sighed. “Nothing we do is private anymore, Hyeri. All of our actions are watched and dissected. And the smallest thing could make or break a rookie’s career. You should learn that now before you debut.”

“Why is everything just about debuting? There are more things than that!”

Minseok’s face hardened. “Maybe to you, but it’s the only reason I’m here and the reason your parents sent you halfway across the world. You should have more respect for them and stop messing around. Stop being so selfish and leave. Now, before someone sees you.”

He turned back to the mess on the ground just as something smacked into the wall beside him. Crushed flowers rained at his feet and he turned to see Hyeri storming away.

Minseok told himself he did what he had to do. This was for the best for both of them. She’d hate him for a few days, but then she’d get over it.