Glaring stage lights blind me, blocking my view of the audience. I can't see them but there is no ignoring their presence. Their screams ring in my ears and throughout the venue, still hyper after two hours of non-stop dancing and singing. Their light sticks wave in rhythm with each other as they bounce up and down amongst themselves.

I wave at the mass of lights they've become, confetti raining from the ceiling to collect in our hair. Laughing, I brush it away, feeling my happiness reflect the crowd's energy. Tonight has definitely been memorable for all of us.

I wipe a hand across my face, pushing faded pink hair out of the way. Sweat coats my skin, dripping down my back. I'm sticky, but my pulse races. I'm too exhilarated to care.

My band members join me, just as sweaty and out of breath. Their bright eyes outshine the stage lights. One of my friends meets my eyes, his tired smile breath-taking. He winks.

We form a line, hands joined. Our galaxy lay before us, our happiness. Each lightstick is a star in our universe. We bow, hands starting to sweat against each other. It's so hot on stage, but none of us mind.

Together, we take our final bow, tear-streaked goodbyes and thank yous following us off stage.

Backstage is cool, a welcome relief after the warm lights and bodies filling the arena. And far quieter; only the distant chanting of the fans and the mumbles of the staff break the silence. My ears feel hollow without the constant screams.

The seven of us scatter, some of us heading towards the dressing rooms, others rushing to bathrooms. I head towards the former, one of the younger members catching up to me.

The man slings an arm across my shoulder, leaning into me to accommodate for his shorter height and slighter frame. His eyes crinkle with a smile, his face glowing. He bounces along, jostling into me, humming a tune under his breath.

I smile down at him, still buzzing from the stage, too. "Happy, Jae-ya?"

Jae unslings his arm, running a hand through his dark hair. He laughs a short, breathless sound. "Of course!"

He pokes me in the side, finding the ticklish spot below my rib. "Are you happy, Mingo-hyung?" His tone is light, but his eyes darken.

I push his hands away, a brow arching, forehead creasing in a "really?" look. "Babo-ya." Idiot, I call him, nothing but adoration behind the word.

He pokes me again, a mischievous smile spreading across his face. His dimples flash at the corner of his mouth. I can almost see the wheels turning in his mind.

I glare at him, muscles bunching in preparation. I'll sprint down this hallway crowded with staff if I have too. As long as this little brat doesn't tickle me again.

He just smiles back at me, his eyes daring me to do something about his behavior.

Mine narrow.

Jae lunges at me, a graceful hawk descending.

Just in time, our oldest steps between us, his eyes turning into little half-moons of amusement. At least he's entertained with our bickering.

I glower at Jae around our eldest's broad shoulders. This kid knows I hate being tickled, yet refuses to listen to his hyung.

He smiles innocently back at me. All signs of mischief are gone from his face.

My glare intensifies, shooting daggers at the younger boy.

Noticing my glower, our hyung's smile sharpens. With his hand on my friend's shoulder, he turns him away from me.

"Jae, shouldn't you go wash your makeup off?" Laughter layers the older boy's words. "You know before Mingo chases you back to the hotel for picking on him?"

My friend nods at our hyung, doing his best to look like an obedient youth. It's a practiced look he's used on his parents many times. It works on our hyung: his lips pulling into the charming smile of someone who's won an argument.

"We'll continue this later, Jaehyeon," I say, using his full name for an authoritative edge. Maybe this kid will listen to me then?

He bows deeply, first to our hyung, then to me. His movements slow, turning exaggerated when he faces me. "Of course, Minseon." His dimples show when he rises, his smile playful, full of disrespect, like the use of my name without honorifics. I may only be a year older than Jae, but I'm still his hyung.

Someone else distracts him before I can scold him, whatever I was going to say disappearing.

The maknae, our youngest, walks by, dark hair pulled into a bun. With an earbud already blaring in one ear, he's a familiar post-show sight. Noticing us, he waves before disappearing into a changing room.

Mischievousness resurfaces in Jae's eyes as he starts after the maknae. "Hey, Seojoon! Wait up!"

After running a hand through his bangs, he sashays away. Despite having sang and danced all night, Jae somehow still has enough energy to tease us. The poor maknae has no idea what monster is sidling up to him, his self-satisfied smirk larger than the doorway.

I kinda feel bad for the kid but make no move to help him.

Our hyung shakes his head, his eyes cast upward. "I'll see you later, Mingo-ya."

With a nod in my direction, he follows Jae into the changing room, attempting to save the youngest from some merciless teasing.

I hear their bickering as I pass by the open doorway, heading into a different changing room.

Normally, I'd gladly join, flirting with Seojoon till his little ears turn red. The three of us, despite our age differences, are always teasing each other, our bickering filling the hours between schedules.

Tonight, I let them have their peace. I'll see them at the hotel, but someone else demands my attention first. Someone I've been missing too much lately.

I sing softly, one of our many songs pouring out as I enter the other changing room. Thankfully, it's empty.

I change, carefully hanging the expensive stage costume on a rack. A staff member will be by later to pack them properly. It's just another essential for the next tour stop, another thing that needs to be done. We've already done this routine at least a hundred times this month.

I sit in front of a mirror, glad to have an empty room for once. With a wet wipe, I begin to clean off my makeup. Slowly, the perfected look of Mingo fades into the uneven skin tone and freckles of Park Minseon.

My face feels refreshed once the makeup comes off. The high of the stage fades; relief and tiredness mingling together.

I rest my head on the table, pink bangs blocking my view. What I can see of the room is tinged pink, but it's just dark enough that I can find peace. With a yawn, I'm ready to sleep forever.

My eyelids droop, and I begin to doze off. I'm almost there when the door opens.

It seems naptime will have to wait.

The door clicks shut. Footsteps cross the room toward me, relaxed and confident.

Click. Clack.

I half expect Jae and Seojoon, teamed up once again to attack me. The younger boys love to tease any and all of the members, but they had a special affinity for me. Though, I would've done the same to them had the roles been reversed.

Sighing, I close my eyes. My shoulders tense, waiting for whatever these boys have planned. Might as well get it over with.

Neither says anything. There's only the sound of shoes moving across the tiles.

I don't lift my head, waiting for them to make the first move. Maybe it'll disarm them enough to leave me alone? I groan internally, fighting the urge to fidget.

Instead of an attack, strong arms circle my chest, wrapping me in a gentle hug. The stranger rests his head atop mine as if he has a hundred times before. His breath stirs a few strands of my hair.

"Mingo the Mango, what's wrong?" The silly pet name exposes the intruder. Not Jae or Seojoon, or any other member. Only one person could think of a name so ridiculous.

I sit up, groaning. "I wish you wouldn't call me that."

His head slips off mine, forcing him to stand up, but his arms remain around me.

I turn in the chair to face him, already feeling my mood lift.

Soft brown eyes meet mine, a little freckle standing bold underneath his left eye, more freckles smattering across his cheeks. Those eyes smile, disappearing into small crescents.

I turn into his hug, rising to stand beside him. He's tall, just an inch or two taller than me. I rest my head on his shoulder, the black fabric of his staff shirt scratchy against my cheek.

"I missed you, Hyeonju. This tour's been too long."

He doesn't say anything, just holds me against him. But I feel his chest swell with silent laughter, his shoulders shaking.

An evil plan forms in my head, one of revenge and retribution.

I turn my head towards him, eyeing the little scar above his ear. The splotchy skin causes an indention in his hairline he hates, but one I find charming.

I poke it with my finger.

A startled laugh sounds as he pulls away, a hand covering the offending area. His other hand runs through my hair, pushing the pink strands away from my face.

"We're gonna need to redye this soon."

This time, I pull away. I shove my shoulder into him, pushing Hyeonju back a few steps. Startled, he lets me, falling back a bit.

My arms cross over my chest, imitating a pout. My lips turn into a comical frown.

"Ya! Did you come in here just to insult me?"

One look at my pouty face, and his shoulders shake with more laughter. Bent double, he stares at me through his hair. Mischief shines in his eyes, the same Jae's had earlier.

"You know I did, Mingo the Mango." His tone is a dare. He straightens, a smirk adorning his handsome face. He lifts one of his eyebrows, crossing his arms to mimic me.

I roll my eyes, dropping my arms. What an idiot. With a scoff, I say, "You're lucky I love you, stupid."

"I know."

He winks, lowering his arms as well. His smile fades as he seems to remember where we are again.

He straightens his name tag, finally all business, scanning my abandoned clothes. Hyeonju walks past me to the clothes rack. His eyes are already distant, lost in preparations for the rest of the tour.

I grab his arm, gripping a fistful of his shirt to pull him into me. Shock flashes through his eyes, but they're no longer distant. His smirk reappears, brilliant like a stage light.

Hyeonju leans down, eyes drifting closed. One of his hands finds its way into the hair at my nape, playfully twirling it between his fingers.

Pleasant chills prickle my skin.

With little hesitation, I kiss him, feeling my tiredness melt away. Our lips meld together. Though it's only a short peck, my heart warms; heat flooding down to my toes.

The world suspends, everything slowing down. There's only us in this empty room, no titles or obligations. No one bothers us.

Outside, staff shout, preparing either for travel or to shut the place down for the night. Their hurried footsteps feel so distant, not in the corridor, but on the other side of the building. For once, I'm not a superstar, just a boy being held by his boyfriend.

In the silence, there's a small click. The door opens, the noise from the hallway crowding in.

The air turns cold, goosebumps rising along my arms. For a moment, I dare not move, hoping it was some other door I heard.

Reality sets in too quickly. We jerk apart, hair wild, lips flushed, but it's already too late. The damage is done.

My head spins, a bitter taste entering my mouth. I feel the world titling, collapsing, but I stay upright.

In the doorway is my leader, his dark eyes shocked, mouth hanging open.

We stare at each other, my mouth drying the longer it lasts.

He recovers first, his eyes darkening, shuttering away his emotions. Tension pulls his shoulders taunt as he steps into the room. I've only seen him this serious once before when we thought we'd disband.

That was 3 years ago. Back then, I'd hoped to never see him like this again, the look of withdrawal as he'd taken all of our complaints. The way his face shuttered, sealing away any emotions.

It's back, staring at me, dark, steady, like an obsidian wall. My heart pounds.

Hajun fumbles for the lock behind him, the only tell that he's anything but unshakeable.

It finally clicks home, sending chills through me. A pit opens in my stomach, swallowing everything but anxiety. My limbs shake.

What judgments wait behind that unreadable gaze?

Hajun approaches us. His strides are long, eating up the distance. His eyes remain unreadable, steady as they watch us. His hands still betray him, though, shaking as he stuffs them into his pockets.

I step between my leader, my friend, and Hyeonju. Both I trust, both I would risk everything for, but do both hold my future?

Mouth parched, I try to get my tongue working correctly. Should I trust my leader, as I have with everything else in my life?

Scenarios race through my mind, but my mouth works faster.

"Hyung, it's not what you think." I lower my head, submitting to his harsh stare. His gaze is like concrete, unyielding.

"Don't lie to me, Park Minseon. It's exactly what I think it is." Despite his steely exterior, his voice wavers, shivers of pain coursing through the words.

I glance at him, his expression hurt more than anything now. His hands, now clasped in front of him, shake still. It's hard to tell if the shivers are from disgust or sorrow. His nails tear at the delicate skin of his knuckles. They rip at the scars littering his skin, tales of our stressful debut years. Being our leader had cost him, and I could see it in every curved scar.

Hajun doesn't deserve to be lied to. Not after all these years of struggling together. He refuses to take my lies anyway.

Standing up, I approach the distraught boy. He lets me, dark eyes burning into my face. I can feel Hyeonju watching me as well. They stare, watching me break, silent as a bomb.

"Hyung, stop."

I take Hajun's hands in mine, pulling them apart. Fresh half-moons dot his knuckles, the indents bold against the scarred skin-a layer of skin clots beneath his nails.

When he speaks again, his voice is soft, nearing broken. "How could you? Here? Of all places?" Tears well in his eyes, leaking down his face. They leave streaks in his makeup.

Hands still in mine, I hang my head. Hair curtains my face, blocking my eyes. "I'm sorry, Hyung."

"Don't say that. You're only sorry you got caught."

He's not wrong. But hearing him say it hurts worse than being slapped.

Hajun jerks his hands out of mine. They graze my nose, the edge of his nail stinging. Tears blur my vision, the need to cry aching in my throat. I keep my head low, hoping my hair covers my eyes. They can't see this. I'm the mood maker of the group, in charge of lifting the others' attitudes. My tears are only for myself.

"Then what?" I mutter, "am I just a sinner to you?" Tears drip off the tip of my nose now.

Someone gasps, and I hear the shuffle of shoes approaching.

Gentle hands cup my chin, lifting my head. My leader stands before me, eyes like shards of broken glass. They soften when they see my tear-streaked cheeks.

"Minseon, no. Never."

I wipe a hand across my face, catching tears along my fingers. Jerking my face out of his hand, I pull myself into a bow. My nose throbs with my heart, the need to cry building behind my eyes again. Shame creeps along me, despite him denying my sin.

"Please punish me, Hyung," I say, broken and resigned. "Please pardon my crime."

Shoes scrape across the tiles, stopping before me. They're shiny and new, the pants above them comfortable, baggy, but expensive. Nothing like the jeans Hyeonju wears with his uniform.

Hajun rests a hand atop my head like a king to a supplicant. He doesn't move, and neither do I.

"Minseon, I won't punish you, but I can't pardon you either." My leader's voice filters through my hair.

Moving his hand, he holds it out to me. New nail marks litter his skin. I take it, trying to ignore those marks -overlook the fact that I put them there.

He pulls me up, quickly letting go. The man stands awkwardly, but anger simmers behind his eyes.

"I thought I could trust you, but you've been sneaking behind my back." He stares at me, letting each word sink in. His fingers flex, twitching as if he wishes to hit me or tear at himself.

I open my mouth to protest, to plead my case, but he waves away my words. Hurt lines his face, eyes set with resolve, jaw locked.

"I'm your leader, and you couldn't trust me with this? Instead, you lied to me." Shaking his head, he runs a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. He blows the air out through his nose.

Hajun gestures to the slightly taller Hyeonju, his movements angry and distressed. "How many times were you going for ramyeon or practicing when you were really with him?" His eyes burn into my face, sharpening into a glare. I avoid them, but I can still feel their weight.

In our seven years together, he's never been this angry with me. Countless times I've seen him angry defending us, with managers, with senior groups. Every injustice our group's faced, he'd fought. He'd always been hard to ignite, preferring peaceful discord over fighting. Still, his anger was always there at the right moments.

Now, all that fiery rage is solely directed at me. How do I handle this?

I start to say something but stutter over my words. Tears of self-hate well in my eyes, burning up my throat. A rock of guilt settles in my stomach,

A hand lands on my shoulder, fingers digging in, dragging me from my thoughts.

"You've broken my trust, Minseon, but it doesn't mean I hate you."

I meet his eyes, fighting back the tears. I want to tear at my skin the way he does, but I know it'll do nothing for us.

My leader's eyes soften, the anger fleeing. "I'm still your friend, Min."

I bow my head slightly, apologetically. Sincerity melts into my words. "I'll earn back your trust, Jun." My hand reaches for his, squeezing his fingers. He squeezes back.

"I'm sure you will."

Hyeonju steps forward, his hand landing on my other shoulder. His eyes are distraught when he says, "So you won't tell, then?"

"Of course not, but-"

"But we can't keep hiding this. I know."

My eyes widen, heart kicking into a race. Dread chills my skin. "We can't, Hyeonju." I feel more tears welling up, imagining my company's reaction.

Hyeonju's eyes widen at my reaction. He glances down, struggling for words. Finally, he shrugs. The man pulls me into a hug, comforting me the only way he can. His hand rubs small circles on my back.

Hajun stands beside us, his nails picking at his skin again. He gives us a moment, though his shoulders tense. His eyes nervously watch the door.

Finally, the older boy breaks the silence, his hands balling into fists at his side.

"They'll fire you both." His words are soft, almost nonexistent. Yet they crash into us with the weight of a cinder block.

I stare at Hyeonju, that little freckle beneath his eye I love. His eyes are so dark but warmer than any fire. Every tiny crease and curl brings me joy. How could I ever give him up?

But his lovely face isn't filled with joy right now. It's frightened, the fear settling into every feature I adore, stealing them for itself.

His face says it all. He can't lose this job.

I face Hajun, my hand slipping into his. I'm weak and crumbling, but he grounds me. Hopefully, he feels the same.

"Hyung-nim, please don't do this," Hyeonju pleads, the words tearing from his heart. His hand shakes in mine.

I squeeze his fingers, trying to comfort him. It's a small gesture, but I hope it shows I'm here for him just as much as he is for me. I won't let them fire him.

"I'm not, but they will. We can't have this kind of publicity." Hajun's tone is unapologetic, almost cold, but his face creases with worry. "We have a dating ban for a reason."

"Is there nothing we can do, then?"

Hajun studies us for a moment, silence descending on the room. Indecision rests in his eyes, worry creasing the corners of them. A hand strays to his knuckles but quickly falls away again.

He runs a hand through his hair, sighs, and asks, "Is he your nam-chin then? This isn't just a fling?"

The word echoes through me. I study Hyeonju, brush a curl away from his face. Is this boy really my namja chingu, my boyfriend?

He studies me in return, eyes searching mine for something.

We'd never addressed each other as such, sticking to safer pet names like Mingo the Mango. But finally hearing him called my boyfriend clicks. All the sneaking and lies over the past few months, all the missed events and horrible secrets, everything felt worth it if I could keep this boy close to me-my nam-chin.

Such a simple word, one teenage girls all over the world say with ease. Did I dare to claim it?

Hyeonju's face says it all, his eyes sparkling. Worry lingers in the creases around his eyes, but he nods to Hajun. He brushes the hair back from my face, fingers playing with the loose strands. Adoration sweeps away the fear.

"Minseon? Do you agree?" Hajun prods, wanting confirmation from both of us. His gaze jumps between us.

"Yes."

My eyes linger on Hyeonju, tracing his face with every pass. His mess of curls has never looked so soft, his face never so stunning.

My leader claps, rubbing his palms together. The older man grins, his face transforming from one of worry into one of intelligent cunning. "I think I have an idea, but it may call for some favors."

"What kind of favors?" I ask incredulously.

"We'll need our company's help."

***

An afternoon sun glares into my eyes, momentarily blinding me before I flip sunglasses into place. Stylish dress shoes clicking against the pavement, I stroll through Seoul, engrossed in the music blaring through my headphones. The Gangnam district's shiny buildings tower over me, cars whizzing by like the flow of people on the sidewalk.

I'm happy wandering the streets of my city, finally home after a month of touring. Seoul's vibrant life greets me around every corner, but dread creeps in with every newsstand I pass.

With a face mask and a bucket hat pulled low, I quickly slide in and out of the crowd, heading towards a cafe. Its colorful sign blinks cheerfully at me.

I check my phone, making sure it's the right shop before pulling the door open. Inside is charming, a cute little coffee shop full of patrons. The atmosphere is light and modern, spots of pastel colors livening up the cold brick walls.

I order an iced coffee and bingsu, a shaved ice dessert topped with fruit. Food in hand, I head towards a corner table. It's already occupied, but I recognize the face and familiar slouch.

Hyeonju, his face lined with week-old stubble, freckles fighting to stay visible. He sips at his coffee as I sit. The man looks up from the news he's reading, flashing me a grin.

"You made it."

"Of course," I say with a laugh.

He sets down the magazine, running a hand through his dark hair. It's longer now than it was on tour, nearly touching the ends of his ears.

I take a bite of my bingsu, letting the shaved ice melt on my tongue. Hyeonju watches me eat, an amused smile taking over his face.

Halfway through my dessert, he slides the magazine towards me. His finger points out a specific article on the page he's flipped open to.

My picture graces the page, a headshot from a year ago. A girl is pictured beside me, a screenshot from some drama.

The headline is bold, hysterical even, as it blurts out the astounding news.

"Park Minseon has a girlfriend?!"

I laugh, nearly spitting a sip of coffee into Hyeonju's face.

He grins at me, clearly as pleased with the headline as I am. "That leader of yours sure knows how to work magic, doesn't he?"

I can't believe he actually did it.

"You could say that, yeah."

I wipe my mouth, taking another drink of coffee. My eyes scan the article but not genuinely reading it. The words blur together, becoming jumbled symbols.

"Breaking news! Since early May, Park Min-seon, better known as Mingo of .02rain, has been rumored to be dating actress Seo Yunjoo. These rumors were unfounded until recently, but Monday afternoon, .02rain's company released a statement confirming the rumor. Fans and netizens alike are shocked, considering the company's strict no-dating policy."

Hyeonju laughs, bringing my attention back to him. He leans across the table like he's going to brush the hair from my face, something he's done at least a thousand times since our relationship started. I tense, immensely aware of the crowded cafe we're in.

Instead, he flicks me in the forehead.

I jerk back, a blush threatening to consume my face. "What was that for?" I blurt.

His eyes twinkle as he leans forward again, resting his head in his hands. "Oh, nothing. Your face is just so easy to read."

He cocks his head to the side, leaning closer to whisper. "Maybe you should try looking more distraught over your 'confirmed' relationship, yeah?"

Before I can say anything, he steals my spoon and swipes a bite of bingsu. Hyeonju hums a low noise of appreciation. "That's good!"

"And mine!" I knock his hand away from my dish, stealing the spoon back.

I lower my eyes to the article again, shocked that our stunt actually worked. "I'm just surprised, that's all. I didn't think Hajun-hyung would be able to do it."

"Right?" Hyeonju says flippantly before dropping his tone into a serious one. "But seriously, it was brilliant of him. No one suspects anything." His eyes dance around the coffee shop, finding no one interested in a pair of boys having coffee.

Hide one relationship with another. Simple enough.

He turns back to me, resting his head in his hands again. His eyes are curious flint, dark and brittle.

It has to hurt seeing me with someone else, even if it's fake. Jealousy never does play with logic.

I flip the page of the magazine, finding a picture of me and the girl, Yunjoo. My arm's around her shoulder as we stroll through a park. Our faces are lit with laughter.

I think back to meeting her in that park, how my manager drove me and dropped me off in a well-populated area.

"The more eyes that see you together, the better this will work." He'd said before ushering me out of the car. He'd driven off, and I'd waved like he was a friend, not my boss.

After that, I'd stood awkwardly on the sidewalk, waiting for her manager to drop her off.

The photographers had come then, swarming in like vultures. As planned, we'd rushed to find some privacy. There was a hotel we'd ducked into, a place with a room already booked.

We'd spent the night, wanting to be seen together as much as possible. The whispers had built.

For months, we'd lingered in windows too long, held hands, and drove around the block countless times. Our days turned into endless coffee shop runs and movie dates-anything to leave crumbs of us dating.

And it had worked. The mice had come nibbling, eager to believe anything. Hajun's plan had worked perfectly.

Hide one relationship with another.

Hyeonju taps on the table, bringing me back to the present. He's amused, a smile curling at his lips. His serious mood has evaporated like his coffee.

I blink. "What?"

He playfully rolls his eyes. "I asked about her? Why'd she get involved?"

I drop my eyes to her face again, studying her soft, round features. Her smile is charming, adorable even. Her eyes had softened with adoration when she gazed at me.

She's a great actress, but I can't find a reason for her involvement. A story I'll never have an answer to.

"I don't know, but I'm glad she did."