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mygloviesme · 7 months

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cool about it. || myg

no. 1: tell myself one day i'll forget about it

predebut/debut!yoongi x female idol

summary: kanako is an established idol with a growing career and a secret relationship with a producer from her label, haneul. when she’s asked to work with yoongi and rm to create a track for her, she gains unexpected feelings for a certain upcoming rapper. with her increasing fame, her controlling boyfriend, a set of six boys who seem to have grown an attachment to her, and a new boy who’d give her the world, how will she figure out a way to balance it all?

(definitely inspired by boygenius)

word count: 2.9k

genre: ANGST, friends(?) to lovers, slow burn

overall warnings: toxic relationship (not w/myg), verbal abuse, mentions of alcohol, heated making out

notes: this is my first body of work ive ever posted on tumblr. as you can see from the warnings, it’s pretty heavy and that theme will linger for a while. i wrote this while recovering from an abusive relationship i was trying to heal from and never intended to publish it but i feel I’m in a better place to continue it. I hope you guys like it. not a rough draft but definitely feels like it lmao.

inspo song: cool about it by boygenius

JANUARY 17TH, 2012, 5:12 PM.

The air was thin, dry, and coated with frost. The tip of my nose kissed with a small blush from the biting cold, I attempted to warm it up by pressing my palm to it. Of course it’s no use, as the weather doesn’t spare anyone. I bring both hands to my coat pockets and walk towards the building doors, one street lamp after another. There’s a slight flurry today but I try to romanticize it rather than hate it like I usually do. I’m the stereotypical person who gets hit with S.A.D every year as the daylight gets shorter by month and windows get frostier by day. I bring my hand up to the door handle, opening it swiftly to get inside the heated structure.

It’s mid evening so I still have work to do. I head towards the studio where I’m expected, and of course, late. Bang PD had told me I would be working with some trainees/idols-to-be. I signed both of them on as producers, but I think by next year I’ll be rounding them up for a group.

The man had a tendency to be cryptic, so whatever he knew about this supposed new K-pop group he was forming, I had no idea. I take a deep breath before opening the door to the studio. I never liked meeting new people and first impressions were something I had an unusual amount of anxiety for. I plant a smile on my face and twist the knob, seeing three bodies sitting casually on individual chairs, turning around.

“Ah, Kanako,” Bang PD stands up, and I bow quickly. I haven’t yet met the eyes of the two boys sitting on the other chairs, and I wait for an introduction.

“This is Kanako, you two. Kanako, this is Suga and RM.” He says, and my head follows where he points his fingers. They smile sheepishly, obviously as anxious as I was which made me feel slightly better. We bow as a group quickly and I let out a small huhaha that’s meant to be a laugh but it sounds more like a sigh. Bang PD’s hand floats over my back, leading me to the chair behind the boys. The distance is sort of awkward.

We all take a seat and Bang PD clears his throat, shuffling with some papers.

“So, this is going to be a slight trial run. We’re in the midst of your new album,” PD-nim faces me, “And I thought it might be good to have some new minds create a track for you. We had a song brainstorming, Kanako.” He says and passes me the paper with lyrics on it. The song title is Full Moon.

I read the lyrics and they’re more sensual than I expected. I assumed that’s what was happening with this album as I expressed I wanted to steer away from the whole ‘girl next door’ facade I had going on. I had already been named South Korea’s little sister, so the implications and expectations people had of me was something I felt rubbing off on myself. I couldn’t let myself fall into that, I knew that much.

As I get done reading the lyrics I nod, “This is great. You got a beat for me?” I say confidently.

Suga, which I assume that’s his stage name, turns around and presses a few keys before clicking on a track. The beat is almost mystical, like a foggy night. There’s a guitar that flutters throughout the song and I find myself humming the lyrics, trying to place them where I think they belong.

RM smiles as he hears me, “That’s how we were thinking it’d go too.” I reply with a grin and we all bob our heads as I sing. There’s a few blanks that I couldn’t figure out, but I love the overall feeling the song is.

“We thought of putting a rap verse in,” Suga says. “Of course.” I reply, since every K-pop song seems to have a rap verse.

“We thought the rapper should be female, just to fit the sensuality of it.” Bang PD says and I let out a small laugh. Sensuality. That seems to be all it is, most of the time. I’ll explain later.

My lips part slightly to release a small sigh, and I fiddle with my fingers, moving up to itch the back of my neck. “How about you, Suga?” I ask. The boy turns around in his spinny chair, his posture curved. “Uh,” He looks to Bang PD, “I don’t see why not.” PD-nim nods slowly, almost thinking to himself.

“That…could work.” he mumbles and gestures towards me. “Why don’t you go inside there and we’ll see how it all works out.” And I nod, heading into the recording room.

JANUARY 17TH, 2012, 8:52 PM. It’s been nearly four hours we’ve been in the studio, and I lay back in my chair as Yoongi finishes his verse. “I think that one was it.” he says through the mic. Everyone looks towards me, “What do you think, Kanako? Was that it?” PD-nim asks, as if I was the one demanding we be here for nearly four hours. Yoongi, whose name I learned by RM and his casual calling of him, was the one assuring us we needed to do one take after the other. But for some reason, he only asked me to do very little takes when it came to my verses.

“Y-Yes, that was great. I think it’s good to call it a night.” I say, and RM gives the go to Yoongi which has him entering back into the studio. There is a subtle curiosity I get when looking at Yoongi, his mysterious and quiet demeanor made me want to know more. Is that too soon to think? I shouldn’t even have those thoughts.

His rapping was undeniably good and it made me want to hear it over and over again. And over and over and over and over. Fuck.

Everyone picks up their things and I reach for my coat until Yoongi grabs it for me.

“Oh, thank you.” I smile and our fingertips graze each others as he passes my coat to me, causing a small hiccup in my stomach. We all bow to each other goodbye and I head out to my dorm, seeing the two boys heading into the other direction where the trainees' dorms were. I feel a sense of excitement, hoping I get to work with them again. With him again.

I hear a voice behind me that makes me jump, “Hi honey.” the voice says. I turn around to see another producer, except this one was my boyfriend. I look around quickly to make sure the boys and Bang PD were out of sight before swinging my arms around him. I snuggle my face in his neck, trying to keep my balance since I’m on my tip-toes. I can smell his Calvin Klein cologne that’s been stuck on him since I’ve known him. It’s almost his natural scent at this point.

I’ve been dating Haneul for nine months, all months being an absolute secret. He was the one who urged me to keep us a secret, and I obeyed. I wanted him, needed him, to the point I’d do anything for him. As long as I was his I would do anything. Most days I would only think of him, how can I please him, how can I make him happy? How could I change myself to be the girl of his-

“I heard you were recording with Yoongi and Namjoon today.” He says, his embrace loosening. His body morphs back from leaning down to hug me, to standing straight up. He towers over me, looking me in the eyes. I can already sense what he’s feeling. He’s not controlling, he’s just worried. (I know what it looks like.)

I look down to my shoes, “Yes but it was just working. Nothing weird.” I whisper. His hand trails to my chin, lifting it softly. “Are you lying?” He asks. (He’s not usually like this, he’s just protective.)

“No, Haneul. I promise. I only want you.” I say as I meet his eyes nervously. I feel his fingers let go of my chin and he smiles. “I love hearing you say that.” He says. I attempt to laugh to break the tension but it doesn’t help. Sometimes he makes my stomach drop in a way I can’t explain, in a way where if I really thought about it, I’m sure it’d make me feel horrible. (What else is he going to think when you’re alone in a room with three men, it’s not his fault. It’s yours. Why did you wear this skirt today? Why did you thank Yoongi for giving you your coat? Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.)

Haneul reaches down to peck my cheek, trailing kisses down my jaw and neck. My eyesight gets cloudy and I manage to forget about that pit in my stomach. It’s just us. Just him and me, forever. And he wants me right now. That’s all I need. For someone to want me like I want him. His lips graze my collarbone before sucking for a moment and letting go. “Just wanted to remind you.” He teases, and I smile. (This is good. I deserve this.)

My hand travels to my collarbone where the slight pinkness of a hickey lies, “Hopefully this doesn’t get any worse.” I joke. His eyes darken, “Maybe it’ll give those boys a reminder that you’re mine.” He says. (He still thinks something happened. He was in a bad relationship before me, he just needs to heal. I promise.)

“I should go. Someone might see.” I say before snaking my hand to caress his. He interlocks our fingers and gives me a soft smile. He slowly moves his fingers up to my face once again, this time planting his lips on mine. It’s aggressive, heated, making me inch a little backwards so I’ve almost met the wall. He’s always like this. Gripping my hair so he can control the way my head moves, moving so quickly I can barely keep up. He loves control. He feeds off of it. I know he likes that he towers over me, that he can lift me up or bring me down whenever he’d like.

In more ways than one.

NOVEMBER 12th, 2011, 8:23.

My birthday is slowly coming to an end. I have friends and a few people from the company who came to celebrate my birthday with me and we all sit at the restaurant, picking at the crumbs left while bursting with laughter. Everyone is of age to drink but I’ve settled happily with a fizzy sprite, attempting to enjoy the company of others.

The whole time we’ve been at this restaurant I’ve been glancing at my phone, checking the time and texting Haneul when he’d come. Although we’re a secret, people only assume we’re just good friends. You and Haneul work great together. Was Haneul the producer behind that amazing song? Oh Kanako, you both are a dream team! They all say. But even with how good of a friend, boyfriend, whatever it is, he has yet to show up to my eighteenth birthday party. He told me he’d come, he told me had a gift for me, he told me he’d be here with me.

He knows how hard it’s been for me to celebrate my birthday ever since my mothers death, how lonely and debilitating this day could be. How ever since recently I’ve refused to even talk about my birthday. Up until her death, I’d only spend it with her. She’d bake me the same German chocolate cake, give me the same kiss on the cheek, the same hug after I had blown out the candles. It was only ever us in our own little bubble.

But now it’s been bursted. I’m reminded why I never do it. Even sitting at a table full of my friends they still feel like strangers. Nothing can compare to her. I though Haneul being here would make it easier, but he still hasn-

“Kanako! I’m here!” A voice says from across the room. My cheeks flush and my eyes widen. He wobbles over to our table, clutching a bottle in his hand. The hand that should be carrying my gift. Everyone at the table quiets and the silence is deafening. No one knows why he’s acting this way, why he made it such an announcement that he’s arrived. That he’s my boyfriend.

But I know one thing for sure, he’s fucking drunk.

I sit up and clasp my hands together, “Okay everyone, I think it’s time to wrap up. I have rehearsal tomorrow.” I say quickly. Everyone's a little dumbfounded before muttering to themselves, awkwardly picking up their things. Some give me a quick hug and a happy birthday, others simply wave and exit the restaurant. This is so embarrassing.

Haneul watches as all the guests leave. I refuse to make eye contact with him, fiddling with my wallet to place a good size of cash to pay for the dinner. He grabs my wrist, “Baby don’t do that, let me pay. It’s the least I can d-do.” He slurs, and the strong scent of alcohol lingers on his lips. And the perfume I'm choosing to ignore. I jerk my wrist away and look at him with venom in my words.

“Don’t even touch me.”

“Kanako…”

“Where were you?” I ask simply.

He straightens his posture, his eyes glistening with something I’ve never seen before. “Don’t make me feel more like shit than I already do.” He says and hangs his head.

“I’m not trying to.” I respond, placing my hand on top of his. He pulls it away, “No, you’re trying to make me feel fucking guilty. You always do.” He says and I shake my head in confusion and shock. “Haneul, you missed my birthday party. How is this my fault?” I scoff. He lifts his finger to point at me, his eyes hazy and his mouth ready to hurt, ready to see me crumble.

“You always make me feel like a shitty boyfriend! If you don’t like it then don’t fucking be with me, alright?” He spits. How can he say this? I part my lips, ready to speak, but he’s quick to shut me up.

“This is me Kanako,” His face gets closer to me, his breath caressing my face. His voice is almost a whimper, a plea. Like a child. “Who the fuck are you?” He breathes. I inch my face away from him in disbelief.

I feel tears well in my eyes and scoot beside the table to escape him. “Yeah Kanako, leave! Go fuck some other guy.” He yells from our table and I hang my head in an attempt to hide my face. Anyone could recognize me, any worker could tell the tabloids what happened tonight. My twenty-three year old boyfriend yelled at me. Kanako, in a rocky relationship with her producer, leaves the restaurant in tears. I can see the headlines now. They flash in my head and I breathe heavily and push the doors to meet with the chilly autumn air.

I speed walk away, not wanting Haneul to catch up with me, to make this any worse. I feel a burning shame in my chest, a heated embarrassment arises in my stomach ready to release itself in the form of chunky liquid. Instead I hide in an alleyway, falling to my knees and covering my mouth to muffle my sobs. This is the worst I’ve felt ever since my mother died. This feeling, this is so much bigger than me. It hurts my heart, it pains my stomach and all I want to do is to evaporate.

I don’t have a single thought besides to hide my cries. Besides replaying the moment in my head over again, still smelling the soju on his lips and that fucking perfume. It has to be the end of us, right? This has to be my final straw. I can’t handle this any longer. The public shaming, the drunk insults, the control. My sobs sound loud and sharp, like a cat who’s been cornered. I hide my face in my palms, hearing footsteps beside me.

A single finger gently caresses my hand, and I uncover my eyes. “Haneul..please..” I choke out, unable to catch my breath. He crouches in front of me before taking me in his arms, my hands float on his back, knowing if I touch him, it’s me inviting him back.

“I’m sorry, I-I’ll change. I promise, Kanako.” He says. My hands float there for a little while longer, my head buried in the nape of his neck, my cries much quieter and defeated this time.

But, I touch him. I hug him back. I hold his cold, yet warm body in my hands.

And I stay, for the apology.

JANUARY 12TH, 2012, 9:15PM

We stay like this for a little, him devouring my mouth and his hand with a fistful of my hair. He moans into my lips and uses his other hand to press me into the wall. His tongue demands entrance and I let him, but my mind is still scared we’ll get caught. Haneul seems to mind much less than I do.

His hand that was previously in my hair travels to my chest, torso, and then my skirt.

“N-No, not here.” I breathe. My eyes plead with him, but he has sin in his eyes. A part of me likes that he’s so eager to touch me, but another part…

“O-Oh, sorry!” A voice from the hall is heard. Haneul moves his hands away from me and we part our bodies, looking over to see who it was.

I see a familiar figure walking briskly, his back facing towards us.

Yoongi?