Chapter Text
A lot of people asked Bobby what it was like to manage the idol group Huntrix and the truth was, he never really knew what to tell them.
How did one put into words the experience of getting a front row seat to the story of Rumi, Mira, and Zoey? Three girls from different walks of life, coming together to form an idol unit that shook the world. Shining stars of this decade, lifting the industry to heights never before seen and were now on the cusp of cementing their status as legends. The tale was born for the cinema, in his clearly unbiased opinion.
His best attempt had been to describe it as existing in the orbit of a constellation careening through the sky at runaway speed, with rainbow colors flashing on and off.
The reporter interviewing him said that sounded like it could put someone in an epileptic fit. Cue everybody in the studio audience laughing as Bobby refused to comment. Huntrix fans lapped it up. Fellow agents seethed with the desire to be in his place. The girls gushed that it was the sweetest thing anyone has ever said about them.
Him? He had that interview framed on the wall of his highrise condo hallway, right next to the calendar with every day booked out for the next six months and the shelf full of alarm clocks that, unlike his phone, he actually had to get up from the bed to silence. Plus his faux pet rock (which was similar to a real pet rock but easier to take care of).
Because, no, the interviewer wasn't wrong. Receiving news that the agency's private jet had crash-landed in protected woodlands and started a fire would have given most people in this business not named Bobby a seizure. For him, that weighed in as just another Tuesday, with Wednesday not so much a chaser as it was a double-shot of the same.
Bobby wouldn't trade it for the world.
It also explained why he was lying in his bed at—he checked his watch—12:18AM, still in the clothes he wore for work, thumbs twiddling over the belly earned after months of rigorous weekly aerobics classes. He should be asleep if he wanted to maintain the four-hours beauty rest regimen that gave his skin its luster (or rather, maintained what luster it had left), and he even had a routine down pat. In Seoul, whose soul never rests, drawing the blinds over his floor-to-ceiling window was a matter of course to cover the city lights, and it cast the room into a soothing pitch darkness. He also had his bedtime 'all-natural nature relaxation song' on, with the phone on the nightstand set to silence. All the little stuff that helps, he already put into place.
Yet, sleep eluded him. Midnight thoughts tended to spring on a person when they least expect it. The occasion called for contemplation.
His job included handling problems, and another problem has come up. Not for him, for the girls.
See, a talent agent was many things, a showman among them. After all, he had to sell dreams. To the masses, to the executives in boardrooms who needed someone to convince them that music wasn't about the money, to the starry-eyed kids showing up to auditions that didn't make the cut this time but just come back next month and it could be your big break, and so many more people that he met each and every day.
A talent agent was a liar. Bobby was a liar. Masterclass, accept no substitute. And because of that, he could tell when the girls were lying to him.
Sometimes. Occasionally. Not the little lies. Nor the big lies. Despite everything he said, the act of telling lies was a whole different ballgame from detecting them.
The middling ones, though, he saw through with pinpoint accuracy, yes sir. They didn't hide those as well.
So, after the fan event ended, Bobby walked away with one undeniable truth: the girls hated the Saja Boys.
…Well, two out of three did. Rumi and that Jinu fellow were playing footsies~
Ahem. In any case, the point stood. That fan event, for reasons he could not at the current moment fathom, felt rotten. Rumi was obviously off her game even though she was the one to offer a joint table to the Saja Boys, Zoey held her pen in a grip intended for shanking someone (don't ask him how he knew that), and Mira stared at Abby's throat like she was about to rip it out!
When she wasn't ogling his abs. That boy has got it going on.
But back to the matter at hand.
How? Why? The girls were never the type to be shy of healthy competition. They welcome it, even. Entire idol groups got their start with a little beef played up between them and Huntrix, and they partied it up together afterward. They weren't afraid.
Except for the Saja Boys, who set their teeth on edge. To the extent that the girls have begun spiraling, small cracks forming in their normal routines.
Bobby rubbed at his tired eyes. The room felt stifling, and his head burned like it was on fire. Wallowing in his thoughts usually did that. The best cure, he often found, would be to turn that energy into action.
…Should he say something? But they already told him that everything was fine. He trusted them on that. He did!
"Look at you. Terrified to rock the boat."
Was he? No, no. This was him giving them room. The three of them were independent adults capable of solving their personal issues. His job as their agent was to deal with the thousand other things in their career to ease that process, let them focus.
"I can see your lies, Bobby. You put on a good face, but you can never fool yourself, not really. It's all in here."
Bobby sighed.
Nope. Nopenopenope.
Midnight thoughts were one thing, totally fine and normal, but whenever the midnight voices came around that was the signal for this man to get himself some comfort food. At least it hasn't gotten to the midnight buzzing stage. (Those mostly happened on occasions where he pulled back-to-back all-nighters.)
Bobby swung off the bed and grabbed his phone, then padded over to his kitchen. He turned on the lights. The fridge opened with a clatter, bottles of juices and milk clinking together, and he ducked his head to peer into its depths.
"Ooooh, I know my trainer will want me to go for the grapefruit, but pass. Cucumber sandwich? Eh, pass." Bobby moved a few items aside, and gasped. "I still have the kale salaaaad!" He frowned. "Pass."
Bobby closed the fridge door, then opened the forbidden compartment. He peeked inside and winced, hissing through his teeth. There was no winning against this.
"Why do you tempt me so?" he said in defeat, retrieving the small cup of vanilla ice cream. It'd have to be his little secret.
"Naughty, naughty. They would be so disappointed when they find out."
Bobby sat down at the table, and peeled off the lid of the cup. As he happily scooped up ice cream with the tiny wooden spoon that came with the package, he mulled on the curious nature of comfort food. Ramyeon, chips, cucumber sandwiches, even the occasional boiled egg when he was in an especially odd mood, they encompass a wide range of cuisine that followed neither rhyme nor reason. Above them all, ice cream ruled supreme. Why was that? Salty, salty, salty, salty, and then this random sweet thing? How fascinating.
"Did you not know? Sin tastes sweet. Would you like to try?"
His eyes widened as the thought turned round and round in his mind, beguiling him with its possibilities. He peered into the cup and found it suddenly empty. His heart squeezed tight.
Of course. That was it. He couldn't deny it any longer.
"Oh yes, you understand now, don't you Bob—stop beelining for the food, you fat buffoon!"
Bobby froze in his tracks, his hand an inch from the next cup of ice cream—something other than vanilla this time, he had decided, thinking to indulge himself. Slowly, he closed the compartment and backed away. His back hit the edge of the table, and he leaned on it. One hand came up to wipe the sweat off his forehead.
"Wow." He placed a hand on his chest, and laughed nervously. "Never heard the voices give me good advice before… This must be a really bad episode." He raised his voice. "Alexa, book me an appointment with my usual therapist."
His phone chimed. "Understood, Bobby. You have Friday open at nine in the morning, would that work?"
"What the Me? Who was that?"
"Yes, that's fine. Thanks, Alexa~" said Bobby.
"Why can't I sense another soul here?"
He paused for a second, tapping his chin. This was a bad idea, a really bad idea, but since he had the phone at hand, the gears in his head refused to stay still. "Should probably… Alexa, add a reminder, I need to do another ramyeon run for the girls tomorrow. Squeeze it in between the 7PM meeting and the 7:45PM meeting so I don't have to dip into my break hours. Those are the only times I get to catch up on my shows and Seo-ah is close to confessing her feelings for Min-jun, I would bet the jacuzzi I use once in a blue moon on it. The corner convenience store should be close enough for me to swing that, I think." He looked down, and rubbed his round belly. "Gotta work off that ice cream to keep my figure."
"Understood, Bobby," was the familiar reply from the phone.
He then walked over to the calendar, and wrote down the same notes in the tiny bit of blank space left within the boxes for those days. It never hurts to have a second reminder.
By chance, an odd flicker of light reflected on the glass caused him to glance at the alarm clocks on the shelf. A sensation of deep anxiety and dread washed over him—
"Yes. Yeeees."
—because years of being woken up daily by twenty-seven different jingles, rings, and foghorn wails had left their mark on him, the response ingrained to the point of instinct.
"..."
"Now, what else? What else?"
"I see it in your head, Bobby, even if you try to distract yourself—"
"Shhh. Quiet, midnight voice, I almost had it. I'm thinking of a word, it's on the tip of my tongue. Ah- ah-"
"Oh for the love of… alright, let's see what this is. Audio technician."
"That's it!" Bobby exclaimed, snapping his fingers in realization. "Alexa, the recording studio, noon. It'd have to be a working lunch."
Best to have the room ready in case Zoey felt like testing out new lyrics.
"Haaaah…"
"Ahhhh," Bobby sighed in satisfaction. That was a good bit of productivity for the late hours.
Speaking of which. Bobby checked his watch.
"What time is it—" He let out a cry of dismay. "One in the morning already? My regimen!"
Hurriedly, he dropped the empty ice cream cup in the trash can, and washed his hands. A trip to the closet and he exchanged his work clothes for pajamas. He ran back into the bedroom, eyes on his phone and assuring himself it was okay all the while. Operating on two hours of sleep would play hell on him tomorrow, but an agent's job did not work around his own schedule or his health. This was normal.
On the last few steps, he dove for his bed. His face hit the pillow, and with a warm tummy to go with his usual exhaustion, sleepiness found no trouble taking hold. In the few seconds before he passed out, Bobby shook his shoulders and hummed the lyrics to Soda Pop under his breath. Then, he was out like a light.
Tomorrow will be a busy day.
…
…
"This is fine. He will bow as all others have. This can work, I just know it."
The room itself seemed to take a breath and consider the notion.
"…Right?"
Author's Notes: Man, for a moment it looked like this was going to be serious, huh?
Yeah, no, Gwi-Ma's the victim here. Poor guy… demon…sentient bonfire… thing.
What do you mean, Jinu is cooler than Bobby? That's impossible.