he doesn't like | ijb + ksg

one

"Here are all the things you need to know about him." The older female said, handing me a black coloured notebook.

I politely accepted it and said my thanks. Reaching out to touch the foreign leather cover, I bowed to greet her once again before she left professionally. I stood alone in the long hallway of JYP Entertainment. Slowly flipping the hardcover open, I was greeted with pages and pages full of neat handwriting, noting down his habits, do's and don'ts.

Being a stylist for one of Korea's top-rising R&B artiste, JB, would be very, very hard.

I spent the next three hours on my bed flipping through the numerous pages of minutes. All these trivial details, all these knowledge of someone had to be at the tip of my fingertips.

"He doesn't like bright coloured clothing... doesn't like it when people speak to him when he's on his earphones... doesn't like it when staff screw up..." I mumbled as I continued down the list.

All these 'doesn't likes', just then what does he like?

His strict and orderly lifestyle reminded me of a prince. Well technically he was, with so many people pampering and taking care of him. Though he was a 'prince with a temper', I remembered someone telling me. People had to quit because of him, which kind of intimidated me a little but I knew my pride was more than that.

Nonetheless, I was excited to work as a stylist. It had always been my dream, all those days sketching mannequins and outfits of my imagination. Working behind the scenes in a fashion and entertainment industry, working with such a popular singer...

"He doesn't like to wear more than three rings on one hand... would prefer his hair waxed over gel..."

Before I knew it, my eyelids had already succumbed to temptation. The notebook laid lifelessly beside me.

---

I looked at the time on my watch: 5:47 A.M.

Stumbling to the performance venue with stacks of hangers and clothes on my hands, I followed the staff to the waiting room. I was barely awake, and so was everyone else, occasionally yawning as I walked with the heels of my boots clicking, the only sound made in the hallway.

We entered the waiting room with the label 'Artiste JB' pasted on the door. Heaving a deep breath, I entered a place which I could practically call home that day due to the long hours spent. Nonetheless, I was motivated to do well on my first day.

I spotted him sitting tiredly in front of the dressing table. A cup of starbucks placed before him, he had his eyes closed, bed hair evident with his earphones plugged in. His head swayed from time to time as he tried to keep himself awake.

"He hasn't slept since the comeback." I heard a female staff whisper to the employee beside her. I took note of their gaze towards him. They were swooned, typical fangirls who were lucky that they could work with him.

I threw another glance at him, noting the extremely deep eye bags under his eyes. I gazed at the pair in front of me again. They were speaking while hiding behind their mouths, a tinge of obvious shyness in them.

I scoffed, going back to my duties. I arranged his stage outfits on a portable clothes rack, making sure that every piece of cloth was free of creases. He doesn't like it when his outfit shows even a slightest hint of ignorance.

I was left with nothing to do when the waiting room got frenzied. Multiple make-up artists piled in, carrying countless professional cosmetic organisers with them. The hairstylist put his hair up in a quiff, waxed, I had to make sure. A faint nude was tapped on his lips. He was dressed in a white mandarin collar, paired with a black blazer.