"We have a performance coming up," Beomgyu says.

I shift from my spot on my bed, where I'm lying down to read our pop culture textbook. "Huh?"

"A performance," Beomgyu says. "It's called the Seoul Summer Bash. It's going to be held in a studio in Gangnam."

"Sounds really cool," I say. Again, I'm in awe that I'm sharing a room with an idol and performer—someone admired by millions around the world.

"Do you want to come?" Beomgyu says. "You'll be able to come backstage too."

"When is it?" I say.

"Well," Beomgyu leans his head back in his reading chair. He looks so normal in a white t-shirt and jeans, but I'd be stupid to think that he couldn't change into an outfit of a world-class singer. "It's on Friday night. I'm going to be practicing with the members throughout the nights of this whole week. I probably won't be getting much sleep."

"Can I come to the practices too?" I ask, risking the question.

Beomgyu smiles. "Of course! But it's a lot of repetition. Lots of Yeonjun telling us what angles to fix and stuff. Of course, I know you'll love to see that." Beomgyu spares me a wink.

I blush—wondering why I admitted yesterday to Yeonjun being my first bias. "I'll be glad to come. I've always been curious about how you guys practice."

"We'll go to the company building in maybe an hour or two," he says. "You can finish up your studying."

Of course, because of everything Beomgyu shared, studying is the last thing on my mind. I skim through today's reading with nothing sticking in my memory. I go through my Korean vocabulary words with the only two words hovering in my vision being TXT's practice. The hour passes without much progress from me, but I do succeed in totally filling up my reservoir of excitement.

"Jayden Jayden Jayden!" Yeonjun calls out as I enter TXT's ride, which is a nondescript black van that pulls up at the side of the university.

The other members give me similar warm welcomes. I sit next to Beomgyu in the middle seats, while the others stuff themselves into the back. "Don't mind us," Beomgyu says. "But we usually use this time to sleep. It gives us energy since we'll be staying up all night to dance."

"No problem," I say.

Soon, I'm staring at a sleeping Beomgyu. His head occasionally bonks into the glass window beside him, but he gives no indication of awakening any time soon. Rather, he seems lost to a peaceful dream world. I wonder what he dreams about—whether it be performances in front of large crowds or grueling days as an idol trainee. No matter, it's cool to be so near to him, experiencing such an intimate moment. I know I'll never get an opportunity like this, to study TXT so closely, for at least another lifetime.

Eventually, we pull up to the BigHit building, where the members of TXT are rudely awakened by their manager—who's in the passenger seat—calling their names one by one. TXT slowly regains consciousness and exits the van in a single file.

I follow them through the building, which is characterized by huge white panels as walls, high ceilings, glass orb lights, and multiple sources of greenery. There are potted plants around every corner, along with floor-to-ceiling mirrors and expansive windows that are at least the length of my body.

"We're heading to the dance studio," Beomgyu informs me, as we fit inside the elevator—all five TXT members, their manager, and me.

My body fills with adrenaline as we walk into the corridor of the higher floor. So this is it. I'll be able to witness TXT working in a room that's famous globally, seen by millions from their dance practice videos. I'm becoming that lucky fan in fan fictions across the net, the boy that would probably be envied by teenagers across the world.

I sit after saying hello to the dance instructor, who immediately gives TXT the signal to start stretching.

From there, I witness pure genius. Yeonjun is a master at fixing positioning mistakes and timing errors. He corrects his members gently and makes sure they are synchronized to the core. As they start by performing "Blue Orangeade," they must stop at least a hundred times to go over small details, from an inch of measurement from a left foot to a hand gesture that is raised slightly too high.

Beomgyu is particularly focused. He stares at himself in the mirror, his only goal being to match the movements of his other members. I remember reading that he was the last to join TXT, so he spent a lot of time trying to catch up to the others. He cried while the others went home to sleep. Right now, there's no indication that he's behind. He moves with his members in a masterful way. They create beautiful pictures and stun with strong body movements.

When he finally meets my gaze after an hour or so, I flash him a big thumbs up. He gives me a smile through his sweat, while he sinks to his knees and pants in exhaustion.

I want to stumble over and give him a big hug, telling him that he's doing a great job. Instead, the dance instructor shouts for them to give "Cat & Dog" one more run. I feel the struggle of their dance through the air, the vibrations that they're giving off as tired yet determined performers.

"Good job guys!" I shout out, gaining courage by watching them put their all into their craft.

Beomgyu and the others head off to the corner of the room to get water.

"Excuse me. You're going to have to leave."

I look up to meet the eyes of the boys' manager. "What?"

"We have a policy at BigHit that visitors are only allowed to stay a maximum of one hour," he says. "Anything over that is a violation."

Beomgyu comes to my side immediately. "He's my friend," he says. "He should be able to stay."

"Friend or not," the manager says. "He has to head out. He'll be able to wait for you outside the company building. Or in the cafe on the bottom floor."

Beomgyu puffs out his chest, readying for a fight. "It'll be at least a few hours until we're done here!"

The manager sighs, but I jump in before things get ugly. "It's okay, Beomgyu. I'll wait on the first floor."

"Are you sure?" Beomgyu asks. He's wiping the sweat off his face, looking over his shoulder to the instructor who is calling them back to the center of the room.

"I'll be fine," I say. "Go kill it in here. I'll see you soon."

I walk outside before I can cause any more drama. On the first floor, I order an iced Americano and wait in one of the corner seats. I admire the vast space of the BigHit building, letting my thoughts drift through the possibilities of the next few weeks. I can't believe I'm invited to a TXT performance. It was one of my dreams to attend their concert during my stay in Korea.

"Isn't that him?" I hear the whispers of two girls beside me.

They're both sipping strawberry smoothies, casting me glances off to their side. I can feel the heat of their gazes like sunshine on my skin. "That's definitely him," the other girl says.

They take out their smartphones, immediately snapping pictures. I don't have the courage to ask them what they're up to, why I'm noticed in a BigHit cafe instead of TXT, BTS, or other trainees.

One of the girls gets up. She has strawberry blonde hair, and her accent reminds me of someone from LA. "You're the boy rooming with Beomgyu, aren't you."

I nod, immediately turning numb from the attention. Now, everyone in the cafe is staring at me. Some have their phones out, snapping pictures like the girls were doing. I have a feeling that everything I'll say will be recorded.

I have to tread carefully. "That's me," I say.

The girl gives me a wicked smile. "You're a lucky person. Just to let you know, his real fans know what you're up to. Don't think you can manipulate him into becoming your friend just because you're roommates."

From across the cafe, her friend begins to snicker. "You tell him, Naomi."

My cheeks burn from embarrassment. "I'm not manipulating him to do anything."

"Just giving you a warning," Naomi says. "There are people online talking about you in chat rooms. There are true Beomgyu supporters who are already growing a strong hate for you, Jayden."

The fact that she knows my name sends shivers all the way down to my tailbone. The ache there, which was healing since the fall on the mud obstacle course, comes back to me in one wave of pain. "No. I'm a Beomgyu fan like everyone else. I love TXT with my whole heart."

"You only applied to Hankuk because you knew TXT would be there," Naomi says. She twists her face in disgust. "That's a special type of obsession."

"That's not true!" I say. But already, the damage is done. My heart twists knowing that there are people out there who are seeing me as Beomgyu's downfall. "I didn't know anything about that until after I arrived."

"I know a liar when I see one," Naomi says. "Joyce, did you record everything?"

"Yup," says her friend from across the cafe. The whole place is now murmuring about the scene they caused. I feel a dozen pairs of eyes glued to my skin, heating me up from the inside out. "It'll be out on Twitter by the end of the week."

Naomi and Joyce leave with their designer bags hanging over their shoulders. I want to get up, to chase after them and deny all of their accusations.

Instead, I'm a coward. I stay seated and breathe deeply, imagining that all the pain they inflicted will just eventually go away.