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you didn't mean to do it. nope. that was very much pushed back at the far end of your mind, but with promotion season, everything is thrown and crashed onto you—starting from music show appearances and wins, tv and radio guestings, photoshoot ads, fansign events and all those whatnot, it leaves your mind hazy and mushy, exhausted physically and mentally, making you crave for comfort that only your bed at home can provide.
It's been a long day, two weeks of it to be exact, and you're literally dragging your feet towards your apartment, and unlocking the door requires all of the energy you have left, if there is any left.
when you successfully get in, you collapse on the couch, after making sure you've locked your door that is. Your gucci bag that could save a broke college student is thrown haphazardly around the room, and you don't even care the least, you don't have the energy to.
okay, so idol life may be the worst that's happened to you, but it did you good too. this was your dream, ever since you were young. you've always wanted to become a famous artist like the idols you've grown up watching, Girl's Generation and CNBlue—you wanted to be like them. So, when you got street casted back home in Japan, there was no hesitation on your part to fly immediately to Korea to start your journey in becoming an idol. Though it took you a good five years before debuting, at least you are where you are now. Not just that, but you're number one. everywhere.
That doesn't mean you don't get tired, though. Because you do, and you are. Your eyes burn at the realization of how incredibly exhausted you are to the core, and you let a few tears slide free. All you just want is to come home, but that's also absurd you think, because you are already at home, however you also can't help that maybe, just maybe, all you need is someone to come home to.
That leads you to this—curled on the floor beside your bed, knees hugging your chest, while you clutch your phone to ear tightly, on high alert waiting for that ringing tone to stop, hoping desperately that the call gets picked up—calling your ex.
It isn't part of your to-do list, and ever since you two have broken up, you never called her considering the amount of times you got drunk and had the urge to drunk text and call her, but you never did. Not once. So, despite this being absolutely pathetic, you give yourself this one, maybe you owe it to yourself is what you keep saying. You intended to switch your phone to silent, and avoid messages and calls, but your hands have a mind of their own, and you're too tired to even scold yourself for tapping the contact, too tired to even recognize that it could be a bad idea.
The phone keeps ringing, you ignore the fact that it's around two in the morning right now and that maybe, possibly, your number has been deleted by said ex. And you know for a fact, you remember from when you were still dating, that she does not answer to unregistered numbers, but you don't hang up anyway (because you're hoping that she has your number memorized).
You're about to surrender when the other line picks up and everything just stops.
she picked up.
"Hello?" it sounds groggy and laced with sleep, and you slap yourself because you woke her up, and really it's almost 2:30 in the morning and what kind of normal person won't be asleep at this time of the day?
Not you, you're not normal.
You realized you've left her on call for a while now, "Mina, I know it's you."
And shit, man. She knows it's you. You think it's only because she hasn't deleted your number or she has it memorized. This relieves you because it excuses the fact that you still have her number from all these years.
"Uh, hi" you manage to say in your small voice. You try to hide the smile that is etching to spread on your lips, and try to mask the exasperation and yearning in your voice. You hope it's successful.
"Hi?" she says on the other line. You hear movement on the other end. "It's past midnight, Mina. You gotta give me more than a 'hi'"
The tone isn't demanding or accusing. It's just plain, a stark contrast to all those encouraging and sweet tones she's used on you at times like this back then, and you don't know how to feel about that.
You breathe in, deep. You owe her this after waking her up.
"I'm sorry, I woke you up," you say, and you mean it. "I wasn't expecting you to pick up, honestly."
"I wasn't expecting you to call."
Okay, that hurt you but you don't get to complain because you deserve that attack, whether or not she intended to attack you, because it's the 100% truth.
You think to yourself that you should have expected nothing warm or welcoming or patient or understanding. Not after what you put her through.
You don't speak for a while, you can't find the words to say.
"Is everything okay, Mina?"
You notice the tears running down your face, and you make sure not to sob while on the call.
Everything has summed up. Exhaustion from the idol life, and leaving the love of your life has finally dawned on you both at once for the first time. You can't handle it, it's too much.
But you swallow the lump in your throat, hoping that your voice doesn't give off that you've been crying for hours and recently.
"It's been tough," you come up with something that isn't exactly a lie nor a truth, either. "But I've been managing."
"That's good to hear."
You smile your gratitude, a habit you buried for a long time. The showbiz world especially the profile ones will never understand this action, you learned.
"I also watched your latest music video, it looked amazing."
"Yeah?" This time you abandon all efforts to sound smiley or excited.
She asks you about the recent comeback, and you tell her how you dislike the new hair stylists they hired after the previous one left because they're always so rough when touching your hair. You tell her how you personally handpicked all the outfits you're going to wear in music shows, how you only chose to appear on select variety shows because you're avoiding men who have no regards with their words towards women, you never liked guesting on a show that was dominated by male hosts. You also tell her about debuting in the west in about three months, and she's the first person to know. Not even your best friend nor your family know about it. You tell her how excited and nervous you are at the same time, you make sure not to exclude the fact that you're excited about meeting Taylor Swift, and that you might perform on the same show as her. Not with, though. You tell her all this, like you weren't just crying out of exhaustion earlier.
"I say you're doing good, Mina."
And honestly, you are. Statistically speaking, you are doing good. Every comeback outsells the previous one, you are the most in-demand K-Pop celebrity of your time, brand deals are waiting to be signed, lead roles in movies and tv shows, the general public loves you, your fans are the sweetest people ever, and you're fortunate to have a very supportive and caring management team.
By definition, you are god's favorite. But not quite.
"I'm proud of you, I mean that."
You believe her when she says that because that's just very her . You know she means good by people, and she definitely cares about the people very close to her. You witnessed her kindness firsthand, have been at the receiving end of it a lot of times back then, and even now. You just know she means it, even if she doesn't say it.
"Thank you."
In two words, you hope that everything you have always wanted to tell her all these years are also conveyed but you also know it isn't enough. You also know that she deserves more than that, and not you.
You're also about to ask her about what she's been doing when you hear an alarm. Reflexively, you check your alarm clock just above your bedside table, but the ringing wasn't yours.
"Sorry, that was my alarm. I got to get ready for work now."
Oh, right.
Because not everyone lives the way you do, and more unfortunately, you don't get to live a life like theirs.
Eventually, the good things end, you know this, experienced it before as well. But it just feels like you were only given ten minutes when in fact it was a whole three hours.
You've been greedy, and the universe says that it's enough.
"Thank you for picking up, Momo." You tell her, you also add, even if you didn't have to , but you decide on going against that. So you apologize for waking her up instead.
"It's fine. I'm glad to have heard from you."
You both say goodbye, and when she hangs up, you smile foolishly, the widest you have ever done, as if you've won a grammy.
You're lacking sleep, and you have a schedule at seven later, but you feel like you've been re-energized for two months.
You still get a nap for a whole hour and half though.
From the outside looking in, one can really say that you are god's favorite, complete with data and arguments to prove so. That can be true, but you know without a doubt, you are the only one who is living your own life. So, you may be god's favorite, but still not quite.
You think you're running out of luck on your career, because in three years since debuting, variety show writers, producers and hosts decided to conspire together and blindside you and your PR team about your dating life, however non-existent it is.
You're filming a variety show right now, on what you previously thought was a safe show for you, and when one of the hosts asks about your dating in the past, you mentally panic and immediately dart your gaze to your managers who are also hiding their panicking in the back.
Of course, everyone in your team is panicking. This was a rule—not to talk about your dating life on air. It was a condition your management pulled on entertainment companies that requested for your presence. You never had a problem with it, you think it's for the best to stay private about your personal life, and also because there's really no one to talk about unless….
"We heard from a credible source that you dated a while back," your hands start to tremble as one of your sunbaes, whom you don't really care enough to remember the name, begin to speak. You quickly source your mind for memories of dating— BamBam. The list doesn't go on, because you've only dated one, but your company, JYP himself and BamBam have reassured that there's nothing to be worried about if it's brought up. Truth is, there isn't anything to talk about. You can just say it was doomed from the get, but you both decided to just remain as friends.
Yes, that's it. You could always go with that. BamBam has always gone with that as seen on-air.
But of course that's not what this is about.
"...before you debuted, and you dated a girl." Oh, lord. All of a sudden you feel light in the head, and a lump forms on your throat.
Not this. Not this. Not this .
You're not embarrassed by the fact that you like girls, even fell in love with one, no. Quite the opposite actually. You're proud of it and if given the chance, you'd tell the whole world about it. Just not now, and not this. Because Momo isn't for the world to pry on. You already know you hurt that amazing girl in the past, and you're determined not to do it in the future again, but this is not not hurting Momo—it's endangering her private life and threatening her anonymity.
You can't put Momo through that. Never.
You hear the hosts ask further about this, but your eyes dart to your managers at the back, silently pleading for help. The voices become faint and all you could hear is Not this. Not this. Not this. And it's the last thing you see at the forefront of your mind before everything turns black.
When you wake up, everything is fuzzy and your head aches. You do a quick scan of the room that further hurts your head, you do notice though that you're in a hospital room. The smell of isopropyl and plain white walls give it away. However, you don't remember how or why you're there.
Your body feels heavy, but you try to sit up, not without groaning while doing so. When you're steady, you realize you have company.
Jeongyeon is uncomfortably asleep on the couch, you notice her furrowed eyebrows.
You've known Jeongyeon for as long as you remember. She's your best friend's girlfriend—fiancée as of recent. Speaking of your best friend–
"Nayeon will arrive tomorrow early morning, if that's what you're wondering." You jump at the sudden voice sounding the quiet room.
Jeongyeon sits up, rubbing sleep off her eyes.
"How long have I been here?"
"Less than 24 hours." Your mouth forms an 'o', "You passed out during filming, remember?"
You try hard to recall memories, but you only remember sitting down with the hosts before the cameras rolled. Nothing anymore after that.
"I take it you don't." Jeongyeon stands up to sit on the chair next to your bed, "I wasn't there, but from what the manager-unnie said, you bumped your head when you collapsed." She points at the medium-size bandage on the crown of your head.
Jeongyeon continues to speak, "they called Nayeon as soon as an ambulance arrived, so she sent me here and took the first flight she could book."
Nayeon, you remember, was in Germany for a very important business that you don't really understand. Guilt rips its way throughout your body because you know Nayeon doesn't like getting disturbed especially during important events relating to her work.
"Where are the managers?" you ask, voice a little croaky.
"They left as soon as I arrived. It's not really as early as you think." Your eyes immediately dart at the wall clock across the room that reads 2:43AM in an angrily bold red lighting.
"How are you feeling?" Jeongyeon asks. "I don't feel dizzy anymore, and I don't feel like I'm going to throw up, too."
"Did the hosts say something to trigger your panic attack?" Panic attack? Was that what it was? She has to talk to her managers if that's the case. "I think so, my memory of the filming is still a little hazy, but I remember what I had for lunch before that." This earns a small laugh from the older girl.
You remember how you met Jeongyeon. You were in your senior year in high school and she's trying to make it through her freshman year in college. Nayeon introduces you both to each other and that's when your group of three became The Double Dating Pals as per Nayeon because she finally doesn't have to third-wheel anymore. Jeongyeon, as headstrong as Nayeon was, was more rational. They were two polar opposites which caused a lot of them fighting even at the smallest of things, but they made it work—now, they're going to get married soon.
"Thanks, Jeong for being here. I think I would have panicked as soon as I woke up," you sincerely confess, but Jeongyeon shrugs off the gratitude. "It's no problem, Mina. I got worried, too. But you should get some rest before Nayeon arrives because she will interrogate the life out of you."
You both laugh at that because it is a fact.
Preparations for your next comeback are stirring. In the meantime, you are working on your third full-length album and to say that you're excited is an understatement.
This time your management has given you sole control of your album's direction, from song writing to song production, to other talented producers and genius songwriters to collaborate
Your good friend Jihoon, or how the whole world knows by Woozi, has accepted your request to co-produce the whole album and you're ecstatic. He's a prodigy, a vocal boss, he's known for self-producing his own group's songs ever since they debuted and you knew right from the start that he's the kind of person you want to work with. Due to conflicting schedules however, you never really had a chance to until now.
On your way to the studio, you drop by the small sushi restaurant that you love ever since you were in high school. You decided to bring lunch, and buy one for Woozi as well.
It's a good day, you feel it. Good weather, not too hot, not too cold as well. The kind of weather that would make you get out of bed to take walks outside. It's such good weather, not even hiding your face behind a face mask and under a hat could make it otherwise, and besides even Woozi is out today, and that says a lot.
You order, hand the cashier your payment and wait by the bar. The restaurant isn't crowded as of the moment, seeing as it's still school hours and lunch time won't be in two hours, but there's a good amount of customers already.
This sushi restaurant means a lot to you. You would frequent this place every after class during high school, and on the weekends you made sure to drop by three times since its opening just to see a certain part-time worker handling the cashier. This place only has good memories and you never want to taint it.
But when a certain movement at the corner of your eye catches your attention, and you turn to look at it, your whole world stops, and you feel the air being sucked out of you.
You know everytime that you visit this place that there is a big chance you'll see her in the flesh.
In three—counting to four—years since you both called it quits, you have been waiting for the moment you'll see each other and exchange hello's and how are you's, you've been waiting for that, but not this: the one where you see your ex, apparently still the love of your life and still very much in love with, getting cozy with sunshine-personified—blonde hair, bright smile and all—girl that isn't you but very much deserves Momo's company.
You swear under your breath that the general public is wrong, because you know god resents you, and even if it's a little bit, it stabs you square on the chest. You're not god's favorite.
The server calls your name, and you realize you've been staring for so long and you also realize that the server had used a loud voice to call your name, that means the whole restaurant heard it, which also means—
"Mina?"
You curse under your breath, then face the familiar voice that belonged to the person you have been silently yearning for.
You slightly tug your face mask down to greet her, "hi, Momo."
"Long time, no see," she says and you have never been so confused in your whole life. Momo feels chirpy and the energy radiates so much. "It's good to finally see you, I mean."
You smile, hopefully it doesn't look as pained as you feel. "Been a while."
When you accept your order, you cast a glance at Momo's table where her friend has been watching you two with a look that you can definitely say is not jealous nor bothered. She's just looking at your interaction.
Momo notices, speaks up, "oh, that's Sana. Let me introduce you to her."
"That won't be nece–" before you could finish though, Sana is already walking up to where you both are standing, and automatically a pleasant smile from her graces you.
"Hi," you stare at the hand she's reached out for you to shake, "oh, hi, I'm Mina."
"I know who you are, I'm a huge fan." Sana says enthusiastically, as you shake hands, "Momo never told me she's friends with a very famous celebrity."
Friends?
Your eyes dart to Momo in question and she immediately avoids eye contact.
After exchanging pleasantries and shortly catching up, you're the one that excuses to leave. It hasn't been long but you know how Woozi gets with late comers, he'll probably make you make up for it by paying for dinner (he never really makes you do it, he only says it for show).
Momo suggests walking you out of the restaurant. She's mentioned they're waiting for their two friends to arrive yet.
"Sana is–" you start, but Momo cuts you off. "Can be a little too much, I'm sorry if it made you uncomfortable."
You get startled by her sudden apology, then shake your head. "I was going to say she's very nice."
Momo nods, and smiles, "she is. She's amazing."
There's something in Momo's eyes that you see, but you look away before you could even recognize it.
You can't go there, not yet.
But you see Sana from the window, and you already know how happy she makes Momo be, because you feel it.
You want to ask Momo so bad about it but there's fear that's holding you back, and you know why it does.
You're about to go when Momo catches your wrist, when she has your attention, she still doesn't let go.
"I've been wanting to say this ever since you called, I just never really had the courage to do so." Your brain starts to go haywire, because you've been out for too long, and you still have studio sessions with Woozi and you're already late, and the whole vicinity is going to recognize you behind your face mask and hat disguise but hey Momo wants to talk, everyone and everything will wait.
"I had a really rough time when you left. I found it hard to focus every single day." This isn't news to you. Nayeon and Jeongyeon still remained close with her when you were busy entertaining the world, and Nayeon would update you about Momo every single day, then it transitioned to only mentioning about her when you asked until it stopped all in all. There were times when you were itching to ask about Momo, but Nayeon and Jeongyeon gave off energy that made you think otherwise. But now, hearing it from Momo herself, stung, hurts a thousand times more.
"I hated you for a while, but only for a little while because I loved you more." You're grateful that Momo has her eyes on anywhere that's not you, because you can feel the back of your eyes burning. "But it came to the point where I was just exhausted, Mina. I waited for you to call me, message me, or just any sign at all. Because I did the same and none of it was returned. I guess I just got tired of waiting for someone who was living her dreams from when she was a kid, someone who wasn't coming back to me."
The last part twisted your guts roughly, you want to cut her off and tell her about the nights you parked outside her college dorm and outside of the bookstore where she worked part-time, just waiting for a sign for you to come out of your car and walk up to her, but you don't tell her. Because you know this isn't about you anymore, nor the both of you. It's only her now—and maybe someone else.
"So, I decided to pick myself up and move on. Because life was moving on too and so were you." Wrong. She got that wrong. You want to scream that she's wrong, just like the general public's perception of you. You want to tell her that you never moved on; that the thought of her was your saving grace amidst screams, cheers and jeers at you; that in every face, you never fail to see her; that she's in every song that you write; that your music videos are abundant with symbolizations that leads to her; that she is your home. "I was doing fine, to be honest. Nayeon and Jeongyeon didn't make me feel like I was a ticking time bomb, they weren't walking on eggshells either. But then you called."
Oh, god. Mina wishes for the ground to open up and swallow her whole, and now would be the perfect time to do so.
"I thought I was doomed, like I had to restart once again because I couldn't stop thinking about you." Momo continues on, still not looking at you, "But surprisingly, it wasn't like that at all. Because while I couldn't stop thinking about you, I remembered where I am, and I finally started to imagine my future. You aren't in my present and I couldn't see you in my future, and to be honest, it felt so much better. I was still breathing."
You try to let this all sink in, you try to remember how you could feel Momo's liberation as she opens up to you, because you know you're going to need this for future references.
"Don't get me wrong, I loved you really and I still love you now. I don't think I'll ever stop loving you, Mina. But we are where we are because of our choices and for once something right happened out of my decisions." This time, Momo meets your eyes and you could feel it all hit you at once from every direction, on every weak spot, but you don't move to defend yourself from it.
You have to give Momo this, because she deserves to be happy. And you swore once that you'll do absolutely anything to help her achieve that. This is it, this is your role—absorbing the pain of Momo's liberation from her awful past that you took part in. "This isn't about me and Sana wanting to try it out. It's just me telling you that you did not ruin me enough for the next person. Although, you still did, I believe it purposefully just prepared me for this one."
You were expecting her to mention that, but it doesn't mean you were prepared for the gut-churning pain it brought.
"This is me letting go, Mina. Because you deserve to cut ties from your past to finally embrace your present without yearning for something that won't be there."
You know she's done, because the look in her eyes are waiting for you to speak.
You want to tell her that you're proud of her for doing this; that you're sorry for all the pain you brought on her; that you still love her and that you will never stop loving her; that this is the best decision for the both of you but you never had the courage to do so because one, you're a coward; two, there's selfish part of you that's wishing, desperately hoping that in the end of all this, you'll meet somewhere down the road and decide to try again; and three, you just still love her.
But you recognize this is more than love, and love alone isn't enough to salvage what's left behind.
Maybe you need more time to learn to better yourself. Maybe when god sees you trying, they'll fully reward you of being god's favorite and nothing else comes after that.
Your insides scream that you understand, instead:
"I have to go."
Momo smiles. You see a hint of disappointment in it, and you're sorry once again.
But you're going to try. You have to.
Momo lets go (of your hand that she's been holding onto).
30 minutes have passed when you arrive at the studio, and you're sure Woozi was going to talk your ears off about punctuality but something stops him as soon as he sees you. Maybe it's the sushi, you're not really sure. As he sets up the food that you brought, you're already scribbling down on the notepad where you write your songs. By the time that Woozi finishes his lunch, you have written two songs that exhausted you. You give it to Woozi to start working on it.
You hear a small "hmm" from him, but decide not to dwell on it. You're hungry and the event from earlier contributed to this.
"You know, I never really dated anyone before debuting and certainly, not right after." Woozi swivels so that he's facing you. "But I can say there aren't complicated ways to let go, Mina. You just do."
You push down your chewed food by drinking water, and then all of a sudden you're crying. Woozi has gotten up from his seat to wrap you in his embrace and you clutch his shirt because you feel like breaking into pieces and falling apart.
"It's going to be okay," You hear him say, and you believe him because ever since you became friends, even with the fact that Woozi is an only child, you have always looked up to him as your older brother though he tries to hide affection by being so stoic and shunning. But you know, without a doubt, that you can run to him.
When you have calmed down, the two of you start on recording masterpieces.
(Not without the obligatory banter, though.
"Your tears stained my balenciaga, you need to pay for dinner."
"Or I can just buy you the new balenciaga collection they released lately."
"Sounds like a good idea, but samgyeopsal sounds better.)
Concert rehearsal.
You finally kicked off your second world tour starting in Seoul and it's the last show in Korea before your flying off to the U.S for the North American leg of the tour, and for your U.S debut as well.
You're given a 20-minute break to catch your breath but you spend it on going through blockings and choreography with your choreographer.
You're sort of a perfectionist. Sort of, because you get tired of trying to make things go your way when it's not even supposed to in the first place.
Your tour manager approaches you with the set-list. She tells you to make changes if you want to, and that they added a special segment in your show where you get to play any song of your choice on your own, but you still need their approval on what you've picked.
You're probably just going to play a b-side that's been released early in your career but is still loved by your fans. Your manager doesn't even worry.
You have an hour until your show starts, and this is usually spent eating snacks and vocal warm-ups. But for today, you had it in you to scroll through the internet. And not just that, you decided to open your pre-debut social media accounts. You're aware of the scolding you're going to get from your PR manager when she finds out but you don't seem to care as of the moment.
Once you have your twitter account opened, tons and tons of notifications come ringing in, and you think it would be best to put your phone on silent.
You carefully tread through your notifications. Friends from long ago tagging you in pictures they have of you, congratulating you on your successful debut, first music show win, first daesang, first full length album, successful album sales and records of other artists before you that you have surpassed.
They sent you lots of love in this account, but you never really shared to them your gratitude.
You remember this account being created during your sophomore year. It has kept your secrets and confessions, has even seen your transition from being single to being in a relationship. It once bared an icon of you and Momo but of course you had to change after the break up. You don't remember deleting the pictures you've tweeted of her, so your finger immediately presses the media page of your profile, only to come up with none. You figured it was your management's doing. You deflate a little.
Your timeline refreshes and it catches up on recent events. Only one photo catches your attention, though: it's of Momo and Sana with no regard for personal space and bright smiles plastered on their faces. The time stamp reads two days ago, and captioned with only a heart emoji.
You know what that means.
You log off your account, and start preparing for the show.
It's a good show so far. For a three-day show, the crowd is more hyped and excited, the screams only get louder and fanchants make it more fun. But when the adrenaline looses down in between songs, you see a picture of two women—you're not either one—happily together making its way at the forefront of your mind.
You're not mad, to be honest. What you're feeling is faintly foreign from pain or jealousy that you're used to. You don't have time to dwell on it because the next song starts.
You reached the part of the show where you get to do a special performance, the one your tour manager has talked to you about.
You're backstage, just finished changing outfits and now waiting for the VCR to finish to finally get back on stage.
You dread the waiting because you know what happens when you're idle. Now, however, your mind reels back to the time you cried in Woozi's arms at the studio. You remember what he said and you finally realize what he means.
Privileged with a platform to speak your thoughts, you walk back up on stage, with a guitar on one hand, and nerves on the other.
There's a mic stand at the center of the extended stage and a stool, just how it was planned.
As you near the center, you become more intoxicated in the screams, making you lose all rational thoughts but not enough to make you back out on what you plan to do.
"Okay," you speak into the mic and the crowd erupts once again. You realize there is literally no turning back now. "I think I'm about to say the most controversial statement in my entire career, and I probably won't hear the end of it especially from my management."
You know your managers are starting to feel uneasy but you continue anyway, "Two songs on the album are inspired by the same event that happened not too long ago."
"You see," you ponder on the words you're going to use. You want to finally let it all out, but that doesn't mean you have to be careless and reckless. That's double shit for you from your management. "I fell in love at one point in my life. It was the best thing ever. Although, it ended long before I could even truly understand its depth, then I debuted. But not too long ago, on the same day that I wrote this song, I bumped into that person. We talked, they were with a friend, which went on to be their significant other later on, and this person just basically dropped the bomb on me. Said all the pent up emotions they have been keeping to themselves ever since I left them, and I realized that it was their way of letting go."
You tweak the guitar a little bit, and strum a few chords to get the crowd the feel of the song, "So, I went into the studio and wrote this song. But a friend told me, after reading what I've written, that there are no complicated ways to let go. We just let them go. I understand that now, however, we only let go when we're ready."
"I've been in love with the same person for more than five years, but now I think I'm just hung up." You hear the crowd go Aww before erupting into cheers, "This song isn't included in the setlist, but I decided last minute to perform it for the first and last time, because it's time I let go too."
A mix of whining and cheers are heard all over the concert venue but you don't even care to think about what it means, so you just start to sing the song.
I got a girl crush
hate to admit it but
I get a heart a rush,
ain't slowing down
You sing the whole song conveyed with your message for Momo, hoping the wind carries it and reaches her.
You sing with your whole heart
Then you finally let go.
You don't get scolded by your managers when you return backstage. they even praised you for it. Hugs and encouragements were exchanged, and you feel lighter. Only this time did you truly agree, that maybe, you are god's favorite.
(When you spill orange juice on your favorite white shirt after the concert, you still think not quite.)