Chapter Text
It was a slow day for HUNTR/X. They couldn’t really afford slow days anymore. Not with the current threat to their world, but it was one anyway. A day in which the girls moved around their penthouse slowly and little conversation lit up the rooms. The air in the house was tense and constricting. It followed each member around like a bad disease, waiting to catch each one of them out. The Saja Boys were taking a stronghold on the charts and the fans' hearts. They could feel the very foundations of their worlds crumbling before their eyes piece by piece. Note by note. As the people meant to protect the world, seeing it break was destroying their souls. They were trying to take back control fast, but it was hard playing catch-up to a group that had only existed for a fraction of the time they had. The three hunters all had work to do, and Zoey was dedicating the day to writing.
Zoey locked herself in her room. The light streaming in from her window was the only indication she had of the time of day. She’d banned herself from electronics and immersed herself in the world of pen and paper. Her pen danced between her fingers, begging to be put onto its stage and allowed to shine, but today it couldn’t. No matter how hard Zoey tried to come up with lyrics, it wasn’t working for her today. Her mind was constantly wandering to the Saja boys, the Honmoon, and her fans. Oozing black ink was covering her hands. It was the ink she couldn't manage to put on the page. It was teasing her. The smudges representing her own lack of words
She jumped up from her bed and ran to her stash of notebooks. Every lyric and every rhyme she had ever written rested between the pages of hundreds of books. Each represents tiny parts of her life. Every single boom was filled to the brim with her words. Words she ever so desperately needed now. She threw every notebook down onto her bed. By the time Zoey was done, there was barely any room for her, but she made it work. She sat surrounded by her works and songs with the hope they would ignite something within her, but it just wasn't coming. She sat flicking through hundreds of pages, praying for a line to stick out to her. To overtake the mess and memories of her brain and make it work again. Make her be able to create something beautiful. For the world and for her fans.
By the time Zoey had studied her own lines to death, she felt as if her eyes would explode in her skull. Her search had even gone back to her childhood days. The times she wrote while hidden away in quiet parts of the school, hoping nobody would see her or, even worse, see her pages of writings. Back then, she had viewed her writing as a curse and a drain of her effort and time. Her mind had swirled with constant lyrics always begging to be released. She'd gone through constant notebooks in her teenage years, and every time, she felt consistently ashamed of her work. It wasn't good, nor was it useful. Zoey had wished her passion could have been for her education or a sport, but instead, she had been stuck with music. Kids had openly mocked her for the time she spent writing. It was a weird person's hobby, and Zoey was the out-of-place girl. If being a freak was a checklist, she'd be 2/2. That's what everyone at high school had thought anyway.
As she looked through these notebooks now, she felt shame. Her stomach curled into tight, harsh knots that made her sick. Despite her fame and success for her songs, she was still failing. Her mind had stopped pumping out songs, and her hands were covered in ink she didn't use. Fame meant nothing if she had only gotten worse at her craft. A salty tear rolled down her cheek as she flipped through the pages. In a sudden moment the page she was on moved against her thumb and slightly cut it open. It was just a paper cut, but to Zoey, it was making a mockery of her. Her old words were cutting her up inside and out. At least she could write back then. Her eyes travelled to the empty page on her most recent notebook. It still sat open in the middle of her now cluttered bed. In the most important moment of her lift, she couldn't even conjure a word. A singular word for her page. Not even a note.
In a fit of rage, she threw her old book across the room. It landed with a crash against the wall, but the noise somehow comforted her agitated soul. Zoey's brain was thinking about everything in the world, but for some stupid reason, she couldn't think of a song. She sent the other notebooks next to her flying, and soon she was picking up every notebook she owned and hurling it across the room, hoping it would break something, just to satisfy the anger all built up under her skin. By the time everything had been thrown, her anger had been replaced by an emptiness in her body. There was nothing there but a strange feeling of coldness and a wish that she could be better.
In moments like this, she had always looked towards the fans. Over the years, their love and support had kept her going. Sometimes, the constant performing and interviews drained her. It was then she needed the fans. A quick look at social media left her replenished and full of a newfound love. The fans were some of the most supportive people she had ever seen or sometimes had the pleasure of meeting. They uplifted her with their love of HUNTR/X's work and incredible devotion. She hadn't looked at social media much since the Saja Boys appeared. In all honesty, she was afraid to see anything about them on her feed. She knew the public adored them, and it hurt her to see them put their trust in a bunch of demons who only wanted to feast on their souls. It was like watching a child love a hobby you know other children will pick apart and bully. It hurts you deep inside. But tonight she needed the fans and the love they all held.
She unlocked her bedroom door and made a quick trip for her phone. As Zoey moved across the hardwood floor, she walked on the tips of her toes, numbing the sound of her feet. The cold moved up from the floor and wormed through her toes before moving up her legs, leaving her with a deep sense of the cold. She snatched the phone off the table; she left it before darting back to her home and shutting the door. Despite running through the home, she saw absolutely no sign of Rumi or Mira; they must be focused on something too. Zoey walked over to her bed before settling down and pulling her duvet over her body. The first thing that appeared when she opened her phone was countless tabs of social media pages. That probably was a bad reflection on her, but she truly couldn’t care at this moment. In a strange, toxic way, social media sometimes felt like the key to Zoey’s happiness. She felt as if nobody in her real life loved her the way they did online. Of course she has Rumi, her best friend, and Mira, who was the love of her life. But sometimes she doubted how much they could love her. She knew she could be annoying and too much, but the fans seemed to just ignore that. It tired her at times, then viewing her as perfect, but other times she wished nobody noticed her flaws. That was part of the reason she adored Mira so much (aside from the obvious of her being understanding, strong and decorated for what she loves) – it was because she saw Zoey as the whole person she was. Good and bad. And, logically, she knew that Mira loved her; she made it obvious, but that didn't stop the doubt inside her. Mira had seen her flaws. The dark creatures that lived under her skin, constricting her heart and making her a strange kind of wrong. The fans ignored that. They didn't view her as a whole person, and sometimes that's the only way Zoey wanted to be viewed.
Zoey immediately went to the main HUNTR/X page; looking at their own posts made her happy, and she knew that's where she’d find the most fans. Their pinned post was for their new song “Golden”. The memory of it ironically made her feel golden. The nostalgia of it caressed her in a loving, gentle way and made her feel simultaneously peaceful and proud of the group. Zoey clicked on the comment button expecting the love of her fans.
She felt an uncomfortable drop in her stomach. A fiery cold rushed through her veins, moving to her lungs and crushing them. Zoey felt her lungs splutter from their constriction and slowly deflate within the confinement of her ribs. Her finger froze on the phone, the heat of the device being the only remaining point of warmth in her body. Her now trembling body.
Kpopf@n23
LMAO, this song is so cringe and weirdly emotional compared to the Saja Boys.
Jkan555
This was the downfall of HUNTR/X, not Saja Boys.
SajaBoySTAN
This group only exists because of nepotism. I mean, come on, without Rumi’s status, they would have never made it. Like, look at their lyrics. IT’S TRASH.
Zoey ran a hand through her head. Her fingers looped into her black hair, tugging at each individual strand. They hate them; more specifically, they hate the lyrics. Her lyrics. Her heart and her soul. Her finger sprang to life suddenly. She scrolled through every comment searching for the support that once flooded them. A few comments stuck out to her.
KiraL03
Do you think they could actually try and write a good song?
SajaLover
OMG, THESE GIRLS ARE SO ANNOYING!!! Especially Zoey; like, nobody finds you cute.
MC92182
At least everybody in Saja Boys is fully Korean…
Zoey felt the sting of the comments in her eyes first. It felt like sharp nails boring into the sockets, bursting her eyeballs as they went. The nails kept going through her skull slowly and painfully. They bore into her brain, pulling it apart. She could feel it becoming raw and painful; Zoey felt as if she could hear the squelching as her brain broke in two. A breath broke through her lungs. The newfound oxygen allowed her to think.
To think.
Zoey didn’t want to think.
She didn’t want to think about how she never had a place. Not a place in which her lyrics meant anything. Not a place in which she was just enough, not too Not a place where she was Korean enough for the industry she loved. Music was her life, and for a long while she thought music was her place. Her lyrics may have never been enough for her, but they were real and had no requirements for her. People could grow tired of her, and evidently they have. But these fans, they were a part of the music; they were the reason she survived in an industry where the American in her was shunned. But they too had had enough. Her lyrics were stale, and his identity was starting to crack through the persona created for her by the public eye. Zoey had lost her talent. She was unsure if she ever had one, but the fans had realised it was gone or never there. Zoey may never know.
She wondered when she stopped being enough or too much. There must have been a point when she started to get worse, to irritate her audience. Zoey was only left with regret. The thought that she could have done better. Or, even worse, delay the realisation that she was too different. She’d let the mask slip during the most important moment of her life, just when the Honmoon needed her. Needed a strong song to let it thrive. Zoey realised that song would not come from her anymore. Not when she had already failed. Her mind drifted to the people she had let down. Rumi, who had worked so hard for all her life for the Honmoon. Celine had put her trust in Zoey and Mira. Mira, the love of her life, her rock and somebody who trusted her. Zoey was a letdown.
She gently placed her phone onto her bed; it greatly contrasted the turmoil inside her. She got up from her bed, moving slowly, her own thoughts slowing her down. Zoey walked over to the pile of thrown notebooks in the corner of her room. They lay messily on the floor, and usually that would ignite something akin to sadness in her. She usually looked at her notebooks with a sense of pride even if it wasn’t her best work. But now she was looking at it with shame. It needed to go. Zoey was no longer a lyricist.
She had a lighter in her bedside cabinet. It was a gift she got after HUNTR/X released their first big single. Every girl got a matching one; it was a cute thing. It had a matching heart design, but it was labelled with her own name. It made her happy once. She removed it from its safe space and walked towards her metal bin. She grabbed it before sitting next to the pile of notebooks. She stared at them for a while before deciding she just had to get this over with. It was time to change.
She grabbed the notebook closest to her first. Zoey recognised the cover; it was one from her late teenage years, maybe one or two years before entering the industry. She dropped it into the bin. It hit against the metal with a painful clank. Zoey was moving without any thought behind her actions anymore. She pressed her thumb against the lighter and watched it spark. The flame came out strong. It was a pretty orange, the kind of orange that reminded you of a sunrise. She tore a chunk of paper off of another notebook and held it to the flame. It only took a second to light; the second was agony for her, but she pretended not to notice. All her work was going to die in a blaze. She dropped the flaming paper onto the notebook.
She stared at the bin as her lyrics burnt. Zoey could do nothing but stare anymore. Her hands moved when they needed to, but apart from that, she was unsure if she was even present in this world anymore.
Drop
Another notebook was given to the flame. And another, and another, and another. The bin was starting to fill with ash. Zoey was going to have to empty it out soon. The smoke was taking over the room, filling it with an overbearing presence. It represented a loss, the loss of a love for her craft; maybe it wasn’t a loss of love; maybe it was a loss of her love for her work. All Zoey could tell was that she was losing love. The smoke wormed its way into her lungs. It swirled around them, clutching at them, choking her out. Zoey welcomed it.
A knock pounded at Zoey's door. It shook her, breaking the endless cycle of the burning.
“ZOEY!” Mira shouted.
Mira
“ZOEY, WHY IS YOUR ROOM SMOKING?”
The pounding continued at her door. The handle turned as Mira realised the door wasn’t locked.
“I’m coming in.” Mira’s voice was firm yet scared.
The door swung open.