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Chapter 12 : Corrupt

There was a point in my life, not too terribly long ago, that my manager was murdered.

Hyeseong and I walked into her house that afternoon, to find her a bloody mass of brutally stabbed flesh.

Oh god, the vomit. I was sick for days after that. Every time I pictured her corpse like that, in pieces. In pieces.

You see, you always hear about things like that happening to unsuspecting victims and you feel sorry for them but you're cruel. You brush it off, not even thinking about the people that discovered the body like that, naked and torn apart.

You don't think about those that cared about that. My manager was murdered. She was mutilated and then tossed in the ground by people that used to bully her at work, and they're fucking adults. Maybe it should've been one of them.

I remember thinking like that the day after the funeral when they all returned to business as usual without a tear shed; without a word said.

Maybe it would've been better if one of those people got violated like Somin did.

I have to shake that type of thought away because I'm terrified of it.

If I could easily let a feeling like that, then I'm no better than the sick bastard that committed the crime.

This, by chance, incident has completely changed me, and not for the better.

I hate everything. Anything that I enjoyed the day of this is soiled; tainted by that gruesome memory.

I regret every decision that I made that led up to that moment.

"Babe, you alright?" He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me towards him, letting himself bury himself in my neck to inhale my hair.

I don't answer. He's gotten used to my stoic exterior and how I can seem like I'm contemplating suicide. I am.

We talked about this, quite a few times now that I'm recounting them. It's not a big deal for me anymore when I feel like jumping off of something that will be fatal.

"Don't think yourself into a bad mood." He whines. I love this about him. I've been dating Jimin for four years. "It's our anniversary." He brushes his hand through his blonde locks, a bad habit that I've picked up on and come to love.

"Yes, and we can't even spend it outside."

I'm a rookie idol currently. My debut date was exactly nineteen days ago and when I say the press is after me I fucking mean it. I had to push the debut date back for a third time last year due to... certain circumstances of meeting the boys Jimin debuted with.

They've been driving me insane everyday to this point where I don't even feel like it was worth it, the literal hell I went through for this fame.

"Who says we can't?" I answer his question by pulling the curtains back slightly. He looks down several stories to see Dispatch Korea waiting for us, cameras aimed at the front door to the building.

I flop onto the bed next to him and whine a bit, feeling better and craving his attention.

"Seriously, Yerin. They don't own you. If I want to take my girlfriend out on our anniversary, then fuck them. Get dressed," He kisses my lips briefly before walking into his side of our shared walk-in closet.

Jimin is as successful as it gets. I don't think there's another level for him to accomplish at this point with his group that I've been watching for the entirety of his career.

ADL (A Dangerous Lover) has been interviewed, and invited and loved by everyone. Their 'stalker of love' theme is a hit.

"I'm not joking, Yerin." He calls with a slight edge in his voice. "Or do I have to punish you?" Then it's not a game anymore, because not only is this closet full of clothes but it's full of Jimin's dominant toys.

Looking at him you'd never peg him for a freak but that's the deceptive point in him. He's confusing and it was like walking a labyrinth blindfolded to get to know him.

I get up and do as he says, turning the corner and into the basically full sized room designated just for our over-priced clothing.

I don't expect to find my boyfriend in the closet stark naked and holding a belt but that's exactly where I find him. "I told you I meant business."

I think he recalls the circumstances (it's an anniversary and I'm upset) because he puts away the belt and starts shifting through he racks upon racks of designer garments.

I let him dress me like a Barbie because the last thing I want to do is fight with him with Dispatch waiting for us.

I worked through too much to get to this point in my career. Depression after the death of Somin, the episodes of panic I'd suffer through when he reentered my life but Min Sangwoo has proved to be no threat and has become quite a close friend to me once again. All of the members in Jimin's band are easy to get along with. Kim Woosung is chill. You'd forget he's there until he speaks up and his stage presence is lackluster but it works out because their theme is dark and dangerous.

Ja Haneul, the maknae, is sweet to me. He's got an innocent bunny aura that clings to him relentlessly. He doesn't cause trouble with anyone. Five men sharing a home can be hard to navigate but he doesn't add to the stress.

Kang Yoonhyun, the eldest is quiet too but when it comes to me, he can be cold. Jimin is the only member with a girlfriend and something in him seems afraid that I'll cause trouble for them if I were to break up with him. No matter how many times I remind Yoonhyun that I'd never hurt them, he huffs and doesn't let himself get close to me. I tiptoe around him because I can understand his need to steer clear of scandals.

Sangwoo is the only rapper in the group, just like he said he'd be when we first met. I'm proud of him and his way of doing things. When he says he wants something, he gets it without failure. That's an admirable trait. He an I do have our awkward moments and we don't get a lot of face time together but I'm fine with it. As long as we mutually agree to act like adults, regarding our drama, then it stays civil. We even watch our favorite shows together sometimes. It's like having my best friend back all over again.

My thoughts cease when I realize I'm thinking myself into a mood again.

"Where are we going?" I whisper like a mouse.

He chuckles sickly but doesn't make eye contact with me at all but more with his clothes.

"Wouldn't you like to know? I bet it's tearing you apart, knowing how crazy you get about things like this," He tests my patience with ease and he knows the only he can get away with bullshit like this. "Just don't dress formal. Casual as you can, princess. Take all the time you need."

He finds the simplest outfit he owns and takes my cheek, still naked, and kisses me softly before leaving the room. He closes the sliding door behind him, giving me privacy.

It's not even that difficult. Jimin likes to anticipate things. Things that don't even have value and I'm not surprised that he's doing it now.

He gets his hopes up, then turns to me expectantly to make him feel better when he's let down. This is something that I feel is more of a disorder but it's not like I know much about health. Ironic coming from a doctor wannabe. I roll my eyes at my own inner monologue.

I settle on a really boho look but it's still chic enough to be worn in the place that I live.

This was never the type of thing that I considered important but summer in Seoul is the most important. You only get caught in pajama pants and a hoodie before you learn that lesson.

I'm going to get my picture taken about a billion times out here today and it's hot, and I'm just out of the fucking mood.

"Ready?" He's dressed himself in casual cutoff jeans and a stripped shirt. A straw fedora rests over his currently white blond hair. When ADL's promotions end they'll be able to dye their hair back to their natural colors or to whatever they want.

I can't help but let my thoughts wander to the one who's hair is currently a deep jet black; blacker than night, with blood red tips. The way I've been crammed into his life but the fact that we have barely spoken a full conversation about our predebut life to each other irritates me like nothing else. I consider him my friend still to this day. I've known him for six years.

Although we don't speak honestly as often as I'd like us to, he's still there when I actually need him to be.

Right before our debut when I needed to fit in some extra dance practice. Jimin found an excuse to not be there, Sangwoo didn't and gladly helped me out.

Last year when Jimin and I got into a fight that lasted about a month (over our nonexistent sex life) Sangwoo let me cry into his chest and rant and scream as much as I wanted before I realized that it was a stupid reason to fight with Jimin.

Things are always a little edgy with our relationship but it's unspoken. Honestly it pains me sometimes.

He grabs my hand with a little smile, small but his eyes still disappear.

"Don't be afraid of them. Remember what I said, Yerin? They don't control you. They don't control us."

I understand exactly what he's saying, but it's not true.

Not for me it isn't.

•| intermission |•

Don't assume things are going well, if they haven't been for awhile now. You're nothing but destined to wear a mask all of your life. Don't shed a tear now. You wanted this.

You're not allowed to regret it.

•| intermission |•

The sun is beating down on me like I owe it money. Seoul is hell at the moment but it's to be expected. It's that time of the year.

"You want to stop for something to drink?" Jimin beams and looks at me through his dark-framed sunglasses.

His chubby cheeks and blonde hair remind me of how much I absolutely adore this boy. Sometimes I can barely remember that he's a grown ass man, because he seems so child-like all the time. "Sure,"

Then there's me. Ever since the Somin incident I haven't been at my typical personality. I've become noticeably cold and indirect.

Words I would use to describe my past self would be things generic shit like timid and bubbly.

They do not suit me now (unless I'm acting, therefore getting paid to act like that) but my actual persona fits better with absolutely and completely beaten by fate. I'm more sullen and it's not necessarily me doing it intentionally. Everything happens according to fate.

I've talked (cried) to Jimin about this countless times and he seems to understand me well enough.

There are few actual problems in our relationship, besides our personal bullshit.

It's what we hear about our relationship every time we leave the house together.

Why are they together? They don't suit each other at all.

Sweet Moon Jimin doesn't fit well with that evil bitch.

She never smiles but he always is. I think Oppa would fit so much better with a different female idol.

Then they smile at me. They're so damn fake. Everyone is so fake. It's like an instant replay in my fucking head! Everyone's got a god damn opinion!

That's another point in which the thoughts came back. The thoughts of how much easier it would be if I made them feel the pain that they make me feel.

It doesn't seem like something I would normally think. These are thoughts that have clearly been provoked by someone on the outskirts of my life.

I wish more than anything that I could figure out who.

There's a sudden warmth on my hand (it's his) and it snaps me out of my thoughts. "Baby girl, you okay?" He asks concerned. He knows my answer but he still asks anyway.

I'm never okay.

"Yep," I smile.

But no one is faker than I am.

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