Page 59 of Wish Upon a K-Star

“So, you’re still making me pay for something stupid I said four years ago?”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” I insist. He’s making me sound so petty. But he’s the one who goes out of his way to mess with me all the time. Not the other way around.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’d just debuted and I was so focused on that. I didn’t want anything to screw it up. You just happened to be a convenient target to take my stress out on because you were always popping up like my shadow.”

His shadow? I don’t even have words to express the offense I feel in this moment. I want to tell him he’s not forgiven. To tell him where he can shove his late, half-assed apology. But whatever response I was going to give is lost as the elevator dings and Jaehyung and Jun step out.

“Hey, Hyeong,” Jaehyung calls out. “Do you want to order ssambap for lunch?” Then he notices me. “Oh, hey, Noona.”

“Do you two have a shoot today?” Jun asks.

“I think she’s moving in, Hyeong,” Jaehyung says, taking in my luggage. “The company just bought the apartment across from ours.”

I nod. Jaehyung has always been very perceptive. “Just here temporarily.”

Minseok looks annoyed at the disruption to our conversation. But I’m grateful; I don’t want to talk about the past anymore.

“Do you need help?” Jun asks.

“I’m good, just have one bag.” I quickly type in my code before they can ask more questions. “See you around,” I chirp, avoiding Minseok’s eyes as I escape into the safety of my new apartment.

Debut 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.”

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