Lesson 2 - How to be a hater (not)

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CHAPTER 2

< Lesson 2 - How to be a hater (not) >


A piece of advice to anyone planning a public confession that will certainly end in instant disaster: always, and I repeat, always escape the scene of crime.

But I'm a hypocrite and my entire being freezes as I feel a multitude of gazes turn towards me. The whispers follow a nanosecond later. My heart beats against my ribs like a feral animal screaming to get out and I kick off my urge to physically hold it back. Xuejun couldn't have seen me, could he?

The timing is brilliant and the opening music for Purple Skyes' new song starts, cutting through the tension in the air. My eyes don't leave as Xuejun's eyes leave the common direction from where my 'I hate them' shot them down. He is taller than I last saw him and his jaw is more set. Gone were the golden freckles and the awkward hair that did not have a comfortable way to fall over his eyes. I ignore the judgemental whispers and occasional elbow jabs from the girls beside me as I watch the performance, forced to stand one among the mob.

The floor beneath me feels like molten lava with every passing second, burning me alive. Here I am, breaking every rule I had built for myself over the span of two years and now, I'm a supposed hater who infiltrated the ranks of fans to throw insults from the front row. Thankfully, Do Hyun isn't as dumb as I treat him and he is decent enough not to join with the uniform fanchants as I get butchered by my thoughts and the gazes. Somehow, I hold my legs back from sprinting out of the room, creating more attention to myself.

The song sounds nice but nothing goes inside my ears or head, and I'm just vacuum swallowing Xuejun and all his differences and similarities. My heart doesn't stop hammering when the performance ends nor when the boys melt into formation to give their speech.

"Hello, we are Purple Skyes. Nice to meet you!" They say in a grand chorus, thumping a hand to their chest. The words and introductions that roll by next are almost mute to me. Please don't see me, please don't see me, I chant as I shrink, wrapping myself with the shadows until I bump into someone. The girl from my left jabs her elbow into my rib in response. "Back off, freak," she snarls. Yeah, nice to meet you too, stranger.

It's time for Xuejun to do the honours and he grips his mic, a gentle smile lighting up his features. I don't expect it but the intensity of finally seeing him hits me with full force, unkindly, and if not for being sandwiched by people, I would've stumbled back. My eyes run over his face, his body— his everything in a fervour, drinking up every last detail like I'm a parched man in the Sahara. It is embarrassing but embarrassment is in humans' DNA. There's no way out.

"Hello, I'm Jun!" There's this drawl to his voice and it is like unadulterated honey. Just like I remember. He runs a look across the stands, probably trying to make eye contact with his fans but his action pushes me down a downward spiral of fear and I duck in reflex. What if he truly sees me?

"Hyung?" This time, Do Hyun's fanboy mist had finally dematerialised into worry. "Are you okay?"

Screaming I'm not would not help the situation any better so I just shake my head. The mic passed from Xuejun to Chin Hae and then to Dae Jung. They're all boys I know, boys I trained with. I was even friends with some before the sand castle I had built got washed away in the waves of PBS' capitalists who probably figured I wasn't a good investment.

As soon as Xuejun and the rest of Purple Skyes disappear behind the stage, I take off. "Hyung, I'm so sorry," Do Hyun mumbles beside me.

I want to throw a tantrum, tell him it's all his fault that I was forced to come see someone I wasn't ready to see yet while being called a freak by some woman who was keen on bruising my ribs. But I'm older than him — his supposed 'hyung' in a society where the age hierarchy did not encourage those at the top to flare up at those at the bottom — so I bite the inside of my cheek and shake my head. Plus I'm almost eighteen. Sadly, I need to act the age.

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