The Idea

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The elevator opens on a high floor of the HYBE building and two men walk into the lift. One of them, in tracksuit and high tops, pushes the button for a higher floor, and the other, in dark mask and dark bucket hat, stands at the back of the elevator looking at the floor as if he's hiding, though no one is in the lift. He stuffs his hands into his LV jacket pockets and leans against the back wall. The man in front turns to him.

"If you want me to listen to one of the songs for your solo I'll be free in an hour after I finish some paperwork," he offers. The younger man shrugs his shoulders as he considers but doesn't reply. "I'm sure it's already a good song, you've been working on it for weeks," he continues. The younger man shakes his head offering his only response. "You know, you don't have to finish the song before the tour," he suggests. The bucket hat drops, as he considers the comment and the weight of the truth behind it.

The elevator alerts as it stops and opens, allowing four new people to get on. They crowd into the front and the two men step toward the back corner. It takes no time for the alert to sound again and the elevator stops allowing on a man with a little girl of maybe seven years old. She stands holding his hand, and looking up at the floor indicator as it flashes with each passing level.

"Your office is high Appa," the young girl says just as the elevator stops again. A young woman steps on and all people in the lift step in farther, closing the space between them and making the men in the back corner feel cramped. The man in the bucket hat lifts the hat a little and looks around wondering if anyone on this elevator has recognized him.

"I like your pink hair," the little girl's voice calls out. It makes him look up at the owner of the baby pink colored hair standing in front of the doors. He can just make out the soft curve of her cheek as she looks down at the girl.

"Thanks. I like your braids. Did your Eomma do them for you?" she asks. Everyone on the elevator is quietly listening in to the conversation.

"Yes, Eomma told me when I grow up I could have different hair if I want, just like yours," she beams proudly. "Are you an idol?"

The man in the hat lifts his head again, watching her turn her face down to the child, and he wonders if he's seen her before.

"No, I'm an actress," she explains.

"Oh! Have I seen you in anything?" The little girl's question makes the other adults in the car clear their throats, embarrassed, but the young woman chuckles.

"Not yet! But I'm here for an audition so maybe one day," she offers in a kind voice. The elevator stops again, and as the doors open, the young woman with the pink hair steps off.

"I'm sure you will pass your audition, you are so pretty." The girl calls to her. She turns around to face the child and in that instant, the man at the back of the elevator can see her face for the first time. He stares at her pink flowing locks, and her large bright eyes as they seem to smile at the child.

"Thank you, I'm sure I will do well now!" She raises a fist and the man realizes the little girl is mirroring her movements.

"Hwaiting!" She cheers for her.

The woman bows a thank you and just as the doors begin to shut, her eyes lift, to meet the dark eyes of the man in the back of the elevator regarding her curiously, the man obviously hiding from the other people. In a silent spark that ignites a flame between them, she arches her eyebrow as though she's noticed something about him. He feels a slight panic, a momentary rush of blood, a thrill. He bites his lip under his mask to stem the smile rising to his face as the doors shut, closing on their moment.

Each floor releases more and more passengers until he sees the little girl walk off hand in hand with her father, almost skipping. He smiles as he looks around the now empty car as his friend steps off.

"I'm serious Yoongi, text me if you want me to hear the song." He steps back, watching the bucket hat raise to regard him. Yoongi smiles from behind the mask.

"I will hyung, but I think I'm going to take a break and work on something else for a bit. I'll be in my office." The man nods to him and raises his hand to wave as he turns to walk down the hallway.

The elevator doors shut, and Yoongi sighs a deep breath, releasing the tension of being in the crowded space. He smiles as the doors open on the higher floor, where his office and studio are. No one is in his space, he's not asked anyone to join him today, and he intended to just see what he could do to finish this track, but now he thinks he might want to distract himself from the struggle of songwriting, for a little while.

He punches in the code to his outer office, not the studio room, and he sees that everything is how he left it two days ago, when he was last here to work on this track. It's true he had been working on this one track for weeks and had hit a wall, a sort of mental block that prevented him from feeling it was complete, it was ready to be released. The pressure of his upcoming tour with his group BTS was looming large on his mind and perhaps it's what made him feel so desperate to get it done.

Being away from the studio for months at a time was difficult. He could work on music in his spare time on the road, he could even record from his hotel room, but it wasn't the same. He couldn't take the breaks he needed and walk around, get fresh air, grab a drink. When he was on tour, he lived in hotel room after hotel room, seeing no one, and having no distractions, but no comfort of home either. It was different for him now that the other members all took time to go out with local friends or sometimes had friends come join them. They always had someone else to be with, and they weren't always trying to write songs so maybe they didn't feel the same pressure he put on himself.

He sits at the desk across from his studio and leans far back in the chair, letting the hat drop off his head on the floor behind him. His longer hair tickles his ears and he runs his hand through it as he stretches back in the chair. He thinks he'll need to get his hair cut before the tour. The stylists may already have this in his schedule. He uses his feet to swivel his body in the chair as he thinks about hairstyles. He's had pink hair before. You have to bleach it out until it's white, strip all the color from the hair and then add the tint. It was not a short process, and it left his hair brittle and damaged, not like her hair. Her hair looked silky smooth, and shiny. It was a nice shade. It complemented her dark eyes and her heavy lashes.

What is HYBE doing casting actors right now? He wonders sitting up at the desk and pulling out the binder with his tour itinerary in it. They always send a hard copy for review before finalizing it and sending to their phones and to all their staff. He flips though the pages to see the names of cities; London, Paris, Milan, Madrid...hotel names in each city sound familiar. The arena names seem to be the one thing that changes, usually when a different company buys the property. He always thinks he's going somewhere new to perform and realizes when they get there that it's the same stadium with a new name. He supposes they can't get any bigger than they are right now. The only thing more to achieve after selling out a 60,000 seat stadium is to sell out multiple nights in the same stadium, which they already do.

Does HYBE have a television division? Or do they make films? He wonders again, distracting himself. He thinks for a moment before he pulls out his phone. He dials the number of a staffer he knows in the video division. He worked on their Run BTS shows for years.

"PDnim, it's Min Yoongi, do you have anything to do with casting at HYBE?" He listens as the man on the phone responds. "But, if auditions were going on right now, in the building, would you be able to find out what they are for?" He nods at the phone as the man answers. "I think I'd like to see that process. Can you find out if they will let me sit in on the auditions?" He listens closely, frowning a little as he's unsure if the man understands exactly what he wants. He's not entirely sure he knows how to explain what he wants. "I want to go watch the auditions that are taking place in the building right now," he outlines it very clearly in a more direct tone. "Good, sure. Send someone to get me, I'm in the studio." He hangs up the phone and looks down at the itinerary in front of him on the table. He flips the cover closed and puts his hand down over it, almost making sure it's shut. He smiles as a glimmer of an idea comes to him, and, then he pulls down a notepad and begins writing quickly, in large print;

"The Arrangement"

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