A Thin Layer of Ice

last words of a shooting star

It was funny how the world worked. Humans who hid behind the screen of their phones were the true ones given the power to judge. In one moment, they could love their favorite celebrities, and in the next, they could hate them. Even if they didn't know who this person was, or what went behind the scenes, none of that mattered. The gossip and rumors that spread like wildfire was enough for them to make assumptions.

They liked it when there were scandals. Instead of focusing on how much of a failure they were, they could hate on others. Their insecurities were one to share. They lapped the news up like hungry dogs, waiting to pounce on crumbs that could feed into their sad, pitiful lives. The internet took over them, while they tweet and text their friends about it, even to those who didn't know who the victim was. It cycled throughout the course of society, from mothers to kids to teenagers and alike. It would continue on for a period of time, before they grow bored of it and discard it. Then it would restart; they'd find someone new to vulture on.

Wook was glued to his phone, reading the articles written about him from the other night. Bangs fell across his forehead as he leaned forward on his car seat. The black leather beneath squeaked uncomfortably, sticking to his skin. Windows were shaded in the black SUV, covering him from the public eye or any nosy paparazzi. It also blocked any ounce of sunlight, bringing a cold atmosphere to the vehicle.

His heart lurched at the sight of the pictures taken of him on stage. Some of them were taken when he was still conscious, singing and dancing to the song. Others were of him on the floor of the stage, knocked out and looking feverish, red in the face and sweating. In the last few were pictures where Spring Rain stopped their concert entirely, surrounding him and carrying him off the stage. He could only imagine the reactions from the audience and his group members. It made him shudder to think of it.

Backlash was aimed at both Wook and his company. He received it mainly from the fans that were there that night, for his situation had ruined the entire concert. Scrolling through the comments, he could see hundreds and hundreds of demands for refunds. On the other hand, other fans were furious at his company, furious for his treatment in terms of wellbeing; he appreciated that they were defending him, but at the same time, he knew this would only stir up trouble with his manager and the team. Honestly, it would be preferable if this died down as soon as possible, so he could just get back to his responsibilities.

Seonu Wook couldn't do shit, even when he gets paid millions of dollars to smile and look pretty.

Not the perfect idol he thought he was anymore, huh. Got ahead of himself.

Wook's company is taking advantage of him! We should boycott.

I need a new bias... Wook doesn't look that good anymore. Did you see how icky he looked when he fainted?

If he was that weak, why become an idol in the first place?

Poor guy, he needs a break. They obviously use him like a slave.

Seasonal Entertainment sucks ass. Besides, Wook never gets enough lines to sing anyway.

Tossing his phone to the side, he sighed in frustration and leaned his head against the glass pane. Nothing was going as planned. It was spinning out of his control, the story getting more twisted up the farther it unfurled.

He turned to his driver, sir Geum, a middle aged man hired by his company to drive him wherever was needed. Dressed in a dark suit with his graying hairs slicked back, he looked like the generic type of bodyguards. The man even wore sunglasses in the car, his grip on the steering wheel strangely tense.

"Have you seen Seol Hi-Ah lately at all?" he asked the usually silent driver. Seol Hi-Ah was a woman in her thirties -- also the person he called a manager. Known for her strict and traditional manner, it was a terrifying thing to ever cross her.