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How to Survive Fangirls

Summary:

I stare at the form below me. The small figure is cloaked in black, but is soaking in maroon, making it appear to be deep brown. I lift my hands to my face in the dim light, trying to keep steady. They shine in the limited light, glowing red from the blood of the girl. I clench my hands, fingernails digging into my palms. I can hear my heart pulsing through my veins, blood pumping on overdrive. My head starts to hurt and I close my eyes, trying to process everything that happened.

Notes:

This was supposed to be for school and I had to write it almost all in one day. I did not intend this to be kpop, but oh well. Also, I need as much feedback as possible to improve my writing, so please comment if you want. This chapter/part ends okay, but if I continue this, it probably won't so be warned. Also the dystopia I set up practically is unrelated.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter Text

I stare at the form below me. The small figure is cloaked in black, but is soaking in maroon, making it appear to be deep brown. The folds in the cloth are stiff, but still beautiful, like ripples in a lake. I lift my hands to my face in the dim light, trying to keep steady. They shine in the limited light, glowing red from the blood of the girl. I can feel bile rising in my throat, but I swallow it back down. I clench my hands, fingernails digging into my palms. I can hear my heart pulsing through my veins, blood pumping on overdrive. My head starts to hurt and I close my eyes, trying to process everything that happened.
✢ ✢ ✢ ✢ ✢ ✢
I walked towards the camera, putting on a fake smirk. I mouthed the words to the song the was playing, before moving to the background and dancing with the other six in the group. We were what people called idols, although I would say we were glorified singing-dancing-rapping martyrs.
“Alright, that’s a wrap,” the manager said from behind the cameras. The group collapsed to the ground, exhausted from hours of practicing the same dance over and over.
“Ahh… Why is the choreography so hard?” I complained, rolling my head back.
“Not my fault,” Hobi said, even though he was the one who made the choreography. He was a much better dancer than I was, which wasn’t saying much, but this was our hardest choreography yet. I was a singer, not a dancer, yet all of us were held to the same high standard of dancing.
The group I was in was called BTS, or Bangtan Sonyeondan, and we were new, so we didn’t have much support, but in this world of idol-eat-idol, it didn’t really matter that much. Idols who were popular got to stay and grow, becoming more rich and more popular day by day, while idols who were not popular enough had to compete on game shows to survive. And by ‘survive’ I meant literally not die. The games happened once every year after all of the award shows that year. Any idol group who has gone two years without getting a music award has go on a game show for New Years. One of the groups or idols would survive the popularity tests and trials, while the others would die for entertainment. The public would get to vote for whoever they wanted to survive, slowly narrowing down the numbers, until only one group or idol remained. Last year the winner was Shinhwa, and everyone started covering their songs.
We went back to the dorms after eating, each one of us exhausted. I fell into my bed, falling asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, although I noticed that Suga, my roommate, was not in his bed. He sometimes stayed up late, probably to write their next song, but usually after a long day of dance practicing, he would just go to sleep immediately.
I never stressed much over the prospect of not becoming popular enough. We were pretty new and we had our own dedicated fanbase, which was decently large for a rookie group. People of our age rarely were put into the popularity contests, although it wasn’t unheard of. Groups also could cheat the system by disbanding before the two year time limit went over, or going on tours, because the government let groups finish tours before they would go into games, which sometimes meant that they had an extra year. It was a pretty fair system, and it gave the people what they wanted, so I couldn’t complain.
The next morning, I woke up earlier than the others and found Suga passed out on his bed, his computer beside him. I quietly left to room, yawning as I went into the kitchen to make coffee. I got breakfast and checked the time. 6:54. Almost time for someone else to wake up. I started getting breakfast ready, as I was the best cook, and the oldest. A couple of minutes later, Jimin walked in, bleary-eyed and stumbling a bit.
“Morning,” I say to him before going back to making breakfast.
“Hmm,” He mumbled. I handed him a cup of coffee, which he gratefully took and started sipping on. While he was attempting to wake up, Jungkook wandered in, slightly more bleary-eyed, and no less exhausted from the previous night. He usually wasn’t one of the first to wake up, so this was a bit unusual for him. Idols’ schedules were very tiring and rigorous, even if they were only 16 or 17. I was 23, and I wasn’t an idol at that time, so I have no experience with that pressure at such a young age, but it was pretty much always exhausting. The only thing that made up for it was the fans. The fans were what kept me alive. Literally. I kept making jokes about, but the fans get over their favorite idols dying quite often, so it honestly wasn’t that big of a deal. It’s not like I was afraid of it otherwise I wouldn’t go into this kind of business.
“Morning Kookie,” I smiled as I finished making eggs. I handed him a cup of orange juice. He was too young to have coffee in my opinion, although he was 18, so he could drink alcohol, but I was too stubborn to admit he wasn’t a little baby anymore. I didn’t even know him until he was around 15 or so, so I guess I couldn’t talk.
After another twenty minutes, the rest of the group entered the room, excluding Namjoon. Namjoon, the leader, was still snoring in his dorm. He should be more responsible and get up on time, but we had gotten used to it. I set breakfast on our small table, not bothering to wait for Namjoon. He stumbled in after I put the bacon out and Hobi started loudly exclaiming how delicious it was.
“Ahh… Jin hyung… leave some for me,” he said weakly. He sat down and hoarded the rest of the bacon and eggs on his plate. He frantically was eating them, as if he was afraid that someone would take them out of his mouth. I had at one point, but that was years ago.
We finished breakfast and went to the studio to record our new song. It was a very emotional song, and yet again, I had only a small part. The managers liked to keep me as the visual, the prettiest one. I could sing, but there was always someone better than me. Jungkook could sing, rap, and dance, and he was five years younger than me. The others at least had more than just one talent. Namjoon could rap, and he could also speak English fluently, and he produced a lot of our songs. Suga wrote a lot of our songs, he could rap, and he used to play basketball. Hobi could rap and dance wonderfully. Jimin could sing, dance, and he had abs that were ten times better than mine. Taehyung could sing, act, and… well, he was just as attractive as me in some cases. I wasn’t particularly talented, even in my field; I was just attractive and a good cook.
“I kkamen eodum sogeseo neoneun ireohge biccnanikka,” I sung softly. My voice was stable but not unique. I listened to the music, waiting for my next line. “Geu soneul naemireojwo save me save me. I need your love before I fall, fall.” I didn’t get any more lines until near the end of the song, and it was just a repeat of what I had sung earlier. I only had to record the lines twice because I had very few, but on the bright side, I didn’t have nearly as much work as Jungkook.
I quickly finished in the recording booth and waited outside for Taehyung so that we could go eat before the rest of the members. We had the least lines in this song, along with the rappers, but they produced the songs, so they always stayed late, although he always took a longer time to record because he liked to experiment with the pitch and make jokes when he messed up. He still finished fairly quickly, so I only had to wait for a little while. I wanted more lines, but the amount of lines each of us got was based on our popularity, which generally means that Hobi, Namjoon, and I got the least, depending on where we were.
“Jin hyung, I’m done,” Taehyung called, smiling at me, while ripping me out of my trance. We were the first two to record, so we had agreed to meet to get food and film something on the V app.
“Let’s go to that Barbeque place,” I suggested, getting up from the couch where I was slouched.
“Sure,” he responded. We walked to the barbeque place that was near the studio and ate a small meal while recording. I challenged Taehyung to an eating contest for Eat Jin and we filmed it. We talked about random stuff and answered random questions from fans, but that only lasted for about an hour. I got a text from Namjoon that said everyone was done recording and would be heading back to the dorm to eat dinner. We probably should have told them that we were going out for dinner before them, but I wouldn’t mind eating some more.
“We should probably head back to the dorm,” I said standing up. We paid the bill and got into the van that one of the staff was driving. Our dorm was not far at all from the studio and restaurant, so we arrived within minutes. The rest of Bangtan was already attempting to make dinner. They were failing miserably, of course, without my help. Jungkook was attempting to prevent Namjoon from cutting himself or anyone else, while Jimin and Suga were squinting at the instructions on a cup of ramyeon. Hobi was filling a pot with water, which was the least he could do.
“We’re back!” V announced, spreading his arms widely as we walked through the door. I was lingering in the frame of the door, before seeing Namjoon pick up a knife and try to cut leeks with the back side of it. I rushed to take it away before he sliced through his finger. Again. Jungkook was turning the stove on, but the room was way too crowded and he kept getting bumped.
“Why don’t Jungkook and I cook?” I offered, shooing the rest of them out of the kitchen. Hobi finished filling the pot with water and frowned at me.
“I don’t know how you can cook more than a pot of water and ramyeon.” He shook his head and went to his dorm with the rest of the members. Somehow, they couldn’t manage to make ramyeon and whatever else they were attempting to concoct.
“Thanks, Jin hyung,” Jungkook sighed as started to work on chopping the leeks that Namjoon was destroying. We talked about assorted topics like the weather and fans while we were cooking. After another twenty minutes, everything was done and Taehyung and Namjoon were hanging over our shoulders.
We ate and didn’t really do much after dinner, thankful for the break we got from long hours of practicing and recording. We had finished recording ‘Save Me’, and had finished the MV for ‘Fire”, but we had to do a whole bunch of practice for live performances, and photoshoots still. The schedules were always exhaustive, but they were getting more and more repetitive.
The next day went about in the same way: we would start recording and practicing, then maybe do an interview or a show or a fanmeeting, and then we would go back to the dorm after eating or to eat, depending on how late it was. The routine was starting to be ingrained in me, so I was barely paying attention throughout the days. I worked hard, did the stuff we were supposed to do, and eventually, another month passed.
I was the special MC for Inkigayo along with Namjoon, and we had just finished with the show, where BTS had won yet another award for ‘Fire’. Outside the building where Inkigayo was filmed, a bunch of fans waited for us. We all smiled and waved as we walked to the bus that would be driving us back to the dorms. A couple of fans were screaming obscene things at Jungkook, so I walked closer to him and put an arm around him, in an attempt to protect him. We eventually made it back to the dorms in one piece, and quickly fell asleep.
The next day, we started packing to go to Norway and Sweden. We would finally get a much needed break from our schedules. When we got to the airport, it was mostly empty. Our fans had no idea that we would be going on a vacation, so we wouldn’t have to deal with the stress of being followed. The flight went smoothly and we arrived in Norway, with the exception of Taehyung, who was still in Korea to film his drama. We slowly filed out of the plane, and made our way to the hotel we were staying at, courtesy of Jungkook.
We took pictures in Norway, and toured around a bit, before we left a couple of days after Taehyung arrived. Some fans had spotted us, and apparently one of them saw Jungkook and Taehyung when he first arrived, which seemed unlikely, but it was attracting more and more people to us. We left for Sweden pretty quickly, so we didn’t really have the full experience, but we did get to see quite a bit of the Norwegian scenery. We got into the cars that we had rented, and spent two hours goofing off. When we finally arrived at wherever we were supposed to be, we got out of the car. It was slightly warmer in Sweden than it had been in Norway, so I shed my heavy coat and put on a still thick, but less waterproof sweatshirt.
“Aish, my back hurts,” I stretched as I exited the car and grabbed my bags. Jimin, and Hobi stretched as they got out of the car, while the others were just opening the door. Namjoon, Kookie, Taehyung, and Suga were all in various states of slightly cramped, but excited.
“Finally, we’re here!” Namjoon shouted triumphantly. “Where is ‘here’, exactly, Kookie?”
“It’s a hotel. On the edge of Stockholm,” Jungkook answered. He had helped put together the vacation, so he knew more about it than everyone else.
We made our way into the lobby and checked in, with some help from Namjoon and our manager. None of our English skills could compare to Namjoon’s, even in Sweden. Not that a country could change his skills.
It was still around 3pm or so, so we decided to go out shopping. We shopped for about an hour before some fans spotted us. A couple tried to sneak a peek at Namjoon while he was changing, but most of us didn’t notice that. They kept following us to different stores, and eventually we had a small mob behind us, some of whom weren’t even our fans. Everyone was starting to get annoyed, so Suga turned around.
“Please stop this,” Suga said in accented English. Some of the fans started laughing at him, but none of them stopped following us. We split up at one point, Jungkook and I going one direction, Namjoon and Hobi going one, and Taehyung, Jimin, and Suga going another. Some of the fans went each way, but we were able to get out of their sight for a while. I hadn’t realized it, but my heart was beating quicker than it should, and I was a little out of breath from speed walking and being overly cautious.
“Ahh, they’re gone, right?” Kookie asked. We were each carrying a couple bags, and were inside a random shop.
“I think so,” I responded, glancing around at the shop. There were around four rows of different colored button up shirts, two rows of slacks, jeans, and sweats, and twelve rows of hats and shoes. “Woah, that’s a lot of sparkles.”
Jungkook turned around and stood up. I checked my phone periodically as we shopped. It was relaxing, especially compared to being chased down the street by rabid fans. The fans seemed to be rabid hyenas, especially in western countries, but none of them had trailed us that much. I finally got a message from Namjoon and Suga that said they had lost the mobs and were heading back to the hotel.
‘Jungkook-ah, we should head back.” I said, resting my hand on his shoulder. Jungkook had picked out a couple shirts for each of us, and a hat while we were waiting.
“Mm’kay,” Jungkook said and went to pay for the clothes. I handed him the money to pay for them, since he had paid for most of the travel. We started walking back to the hotel, as the sun was getting lower on the horizon and fans couldn’t follow them anymore.
“Jungkook oppa! Jin oppa!” I heard a voice behind us shout. I turned around and found two teenage girls sprinting towards us. I nudged Jungkook. “Run!”
We ran across the street to our hotel, not paying any attention to the cars speeding past. I heard someone honking behind me, but I kept running until I heard a crash. I turned around in the middle of the street to find three cars, smashed together, taking up the intersection, and no Jungkook. My saliva stuck in my throat as I ran back towards the cars. I dropped the bags that I was carrying, my legs shaking.
“Jungkook-ah! Jungkook! Jungkookie! Kookie! Jeon Jeongguk!” I yelled, searching around the cars. I saw a body lying on the other side of the cars. The drivers were getting out, slightly dazed, but unharmed. I vaulted over the cars, and found Jungkook lying there. His limbs were sprawled out on the asphalt, skin that was becoming more pale by the second in stark contrast of the black asphalt. He seemed to have a piece of metal ripping through the flesh on the side of his stomach. He had his eyes open, but blood was pooling around him. He was breathing too quickly and too heavily, wheezing and staring at me with glazed eyes.
“Kookie, it’s gonna be okay,” I murmured trying to comfort him as I knelt down beside him. “Call hospital!” I screamed into the air, my blood boiling. My English was bad, but at least that would get the message across. I could feel tears gather in my eyes, and a crowd was gathering as well. A couple people had their phones out, but no one seemed to be doing anything. I stayed by Jungkook’s side, trying to comfort him, but it wasn’t doing much. I was mumbling to myself. Apologizing for when I treated him like a baby, and got jealous of him, but he probably wouldn’t remember.
An ambulance finally arrived, and helped him onto a stretcher. By this point, I had called the rest of BTS, and they were rushing to the crime scene. I got more and more angry as I looked around. The two teenage girls who were chasing us were still standing by the side, looking horrified. I stood up and started to walk towards them. It was their fault. They hurt him. They were trying to kill him!
I knew that I was being irrational, but I couldn’t care less. I grabbed a rock and started running towards the girls. No one seemed to notice me, even as tears streamed down my face and I started screaming in Korean. Normally that would draw a lot of attention, but everyone was paying attention to the ambulance and the crash. The girls didn’t even notice me until I was within a couple of meters of them.
“It’s your fault.” I whispered. “IT’S YOUR FAULT!” I ran as fast as I could, chasing them like they chased us. They were going to get a taste of their own medicine. I followed them, until one split off into an alleyway. I followed her down it, backing her into a corner.
“Please! I’m sorry!” She was crying now, making her words even less understandable. I raised my fist and brought it down on her head. She fell to the ground, and I kept hitting her. She was silent and still now, but I didn’t care. Blood was pooling in the alleyway beneath her head, mixing with my tears. My breath kept hitching, and my sight was blurry, but I kept bashing at her head. I snapped out my trance as I felt blood seeping into my clothes. I quickly covered her body with my sweatshirt, but it didn’t do much to mask what had happened.
I stared at the form below me. The small figure was cloaked in black, but is soaked in maroon, making her appear to be deep brown. The folds in the cloth were stiff, but still beautiful, like ripples in a lake. I lifted my hands to my face in the dim light, trying to keep steady. They shone in the limited light, glowing red from the blood of the girl. I could feel bile rising in my throat, but I swallowed it back down. I clenched my hands, fingernails digging into my palms. I could hear my heart pulsing through my vecks, blood pumping on overdrive.
I am in a daze as I stumble out from the alleyway. My throat is dry, but my eyes and nose are wet from all of the crying. I feel someone come up behind me, but I don’t turn around. Someone puts something over my mouth, but I don’t resist. I sink to my knees and black out.
✢ ✢ ✢ ✢ ✢ ✢
When I wake up, I am in an unfamiliar, unnaturally white room. I look around, wondering how I have gotten here. The other members of BTS are here as well, in various states of consciousness. Jungkook is missing. I wonder why, but then I remember. The car crash. The fangirls. Her body. I try to cover my eyes and bend over as I feel tears start to appear, but I can’t. My arms are bound to my sides. I chant in my head, ‘I killed her. I killed her,” as I try to keep my tears in. Why doing so would help, I don’t know, but I attempt anyway.
“Hey, Jin hyung,” A deep voice says softly from beside me. Namjoon. I close my eyes and let my shoulders shake, a few whimpers escaping from me.
“Jungkookie… Is he okay?” I ask.
“Uh… I don’t know, but he was at the hospital, the last time I saw him,” Namjoon responds. He sounds concerned, probably because his hyung is crying, and the maknae is missing, and possibly dead. He looks like he wants to hug me, but he is also in a straightjacket.
I continue crying until Suga groans, and asks what’s wrong. I try to stifle my tears, so I imagine our debut haircuts. That causes me to giggle, which probably is making me sound a bit insane. After another half an hour, someone opens a door, which I hadn’t seen, and a tall woman with a white lab coat walks in.
“I am Yong Sojeong, secretary to the head administrator of musical publicity,” the woman introduces. She looks to be in her 40s, with a stern face and black hair pulled into a bun. “I am here to talk to you about yesterday’s incident.” She has a monotone voice that is grating on my nerves.
Taehyung and Jimin look like they are going to cry at the mention of yesterday, and I certainly feel like it, but I try to suppress it.
“We are going to publically announce that Jungkook was hit by a car, along with a fan, but he survived, although the fan did not. All incriminating evidence of your involvement will be destroyed. To ensure than none of you talk about it, you will be having your memories altered.”
I sit silently though her explanation, sighing in relief when she says that Jungkook survived. I don’t pay attention to the rest of her explanation, until Namjoon exclaims, “What?”
“You will be having your memories altered, to ensure that none of you talk about incriminating evidence,” Yong Sojeong repeats, still monotone.
My heart skips a beat for a second, but then I think, it can’t be that bad. I remember quite clearly her blood on my hands, soaking through the knees of my jeans, and I shudder.
“Okay,” I say. Everyone turns to stare at me. I meet each of their eyes in turn. Taehyung is confused. Jimin is scared. Hobi is confused and scared. Suga is calculating, then understanding. Namjoon is scared, confused, then calculating and understanding. He somehow knew what had happened.
I stand up and walk towards the woman.
She smiles coldly at me and leads me out of the room. “I hope you follow your wise hyung’s actions,” She calls over her shoulder. I take a deep breath as she leads me through another pure white hallway to a pure white room.
“This is where the operation will be done. Please change behind here,” She says. The room is mostly empty, except for a cabinet and an operating table. She pulls a curtain from a corner so I can change into hospital clothes. I realize just then that we seem to be in Korea, but I have no idea how we could have got here. She unzips my straightjacket, revealing my bare flesh, and leaves me behind the curtain to change. I quickly strip and change into the hospital gown and sit down on the operating table.
The door opens and an older man with a piercing gaze enters the room.
“I am Doctor Kim,” He introduces. It seems a bit strange for these people who I will probably never meet again to introduce themselves, but it was polite. “Please lie down and relax.”
I follow his orders and lay down, closing my eyes. I attempt to steady my breathing, but it just becomes more erratic. I feel a mask being put on me, and my mind starts to become foggy. Chemicals fill my brain and I fade into unconsciousness.
✢ ✢ ✢ ✢ ✢ ✢
I wake up feeling a bit drowsy. My memory is a bit fuzzy, so the last thing I remember is running through the street, and then hearing a car crash. I struggle to sit up, my eyes barely open.
“Hey, hyung, don’t strain yourself,” I hear a voice say as a hand is put behind my back, supporting me. I stare at the voice’s source. Namjoon.
“What happened?” I ask with a raspy voice. I clear my throat and try again.
“Jungkook was in an accident and you passed out from exhaustion and shock,” Namjoon answers shortly. I can feel my memory come back to me. Jungkook lying on the ground. The ambulance. I don’t recall anything after that really, but I figure that’s alright as long as Jungkook is fine.
“Ah… Can I’ve a glass of water?” I ask. Namjoon smiles at me and hands me a glass. Everything is alright, I guess.
✢ ✢ ✢ ✢ ✢ ✢
A couple of weeks later, Jungkook is out of the hospital, but he isn’t allowed to dance or do anything too physical. Everything is nearly back to normal. Jungkook being in the hospital put some of our events on hold, but our fans are sending a lot of support. We keep winning awards for both ‘Fire’ and ‘Save Me’. Everything is perfect. Except I can feel something is missing.