[mature] She didn't know who she was texting.
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Jae is a twenty-one year old Korean-American university student whose life is just ordinary. Struggling through the confines of cultural differences between her lifestyle and ethnicity, Jae finds her...
The setting in the room is vibrant in contrast to my anxious mind.
The hairstylists and make-up artists are all happily beginning to pack away some tools as the monitor projects the concert's audio for background noise.
I'm scared to blink in fear of missing out on anything on the screen; My impatience is clear as I consciously realize my foot is tapping again. I'm just nervous— like always.
When I look around the room, it seems as though no one knows— or just isn't showing that they know— about Jungkook's condition. It pains me that he is hiding it from his staff.
He even tried to hide it from me. I sigh heavily, and look back at the screen. My boyfriend is too selfish in being so selfless. In his attempt to make no one worry about him, he is making me worry even more.
The smile on all the staff's face at the sound of the cheers erupting throughout the arena is humbling to see. They are so proud. I am so proud.
And then it begins. This is their first public stage since promotion for their comeback. The familiar melody of Fake Love fills the arena and the monitor pans out to the line of them. I'm mesmerized and my eyes cannot leave the screen.
I try not to think too much about Jungkook's worrying presence before he went on stage. It's inevitable that he will stay on that stage, so I will have to comply silently from my small chair and be happy for him.
"Love you so bad, love you so bad."
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I'm squealing on the inside. From my position backstage, his voice echoes beautifully as if he is performing for an empty venue. It doesn't last long, though. The screams erupt as if he lifted his shirt— which he didn't. I don't think his outfit could permit him to.
A few minutes go by. I am so engrossed in the screen that I almost don't notice my phone ringing. I dig into my pockets in search for where I placed it, only to almost miss the call. It's my mother.
"Mom?" I answer.
"JaeJe," she responds, "You are worrying me."
"What?" I furrow my eyebrows.
I glance around at the staff near me and decide that I'm being incredibly rude by talking during their concentration. I am quick to get up from my seat and walk to the empty side.
"Do you have control over what your foolish college friends are saying about you?"
"How did you even know about that?" I am quick to be defensive.
