C H O P P Y | kwon minsik

t w e n t y ; minsik

        Never in a million years would he have guessed that no one other than Jay fucking Park himself got a hold of one of his demos and decided to give him, a tall and brusque kid with no connections and nothing except for his talent and confidence and hunger for success, a chance. At first he thought it was scam: surely it couldn't be Jay Park's representative who reached out to him one morning in July, asking if he would be up for a meeting with the man, the myth, the legend himself. Only after one of his group mates from Yelows convinced him to put his pride to the side and take this opportunity did he decide to go. Minsik put on his best clothes and cologne, grabbed some copies of his other demos, said a quick prayer, and booked his way over with shaking hands and trembling knees. And true enough, there Jay Park stood, prim and handsome and looking every inch like the boss he was, more handsome and young then Minsik ever imagined. Minsik would have had a heart attack without a doubt, but the warm eyes and firm handshake Jay had reassured him. After a few hours of talking and discussing what Minsik wanted, Jay lay out the contract in front of him and there he was now; dressed in an Armani suit and wearing a Rolex Sky-Dweller, riding in a Lincoln to yet another business meeting. 

        Only this time, it was different. This time, it wasn't going to be in a room full of old men but a group of bright and respected artists like himself who wanted to be creative and show their true selves in an industry where artists were primped and dolled-up, molded into a certain shape, abused and neglected and used beyond exhaustion without their needs and requests heard and creativity pushed away from sight.  

        The dull throbbing ache behind his eyes from having a late night brought Minsik back to reality. He wiped at his eyes, cursing his friends internally for making him stay with them the entire party. Although he was a party person himself and never shied away from the free alcohol and the prospect of hooking a pretty girl to his arm to take to the hotel for the night, he just wasn't in the mood last night for any of it. He had been far from it actually, and the other guys couldn't understand why he was in such down spirits when there had been a good number of models and influencers asking for his phone number or hinting at having a good time. All he wanted to do was to knock back some Tylenol and just hit the bed to sleep away the migraine that had been splitting his brain apart for a good chunk of the day.

        He wasn't in a party mood until he met her, that is.

        Minsik couldn't call himself a saint, that would be a lie. Everybody knew that he had his fair share of partners and one-time things. Most of them had not been serious, just either a month or two long until they were both exhausted and bored with each other and wanted something else. Minsik didn't feel sad when a girl announced they wanted to break up; in fact, he was used to it by numb, and the words "I think we should spend time away" only brought a dull ache with them. He felt numb to the pain heartbreak caused and rather focused on the more important things in his life, such as when the next tour will be and when to release the new album. He did not have all the time in the world for pretty, shiny, temporary things in life anymore. But, my God, did he want her last night. 

        Minsik didn't even know who the girl was. For all he knew she could have lied during their entire conversation, either out of fear of having a potential stalker or because she was too polite to turn him down. But she wasn't either of those, that much he knew. Her words were sure and flowed smoothly, her eyes not flitting, and her stance confident as they stood side by side on the balcony. She knew what she was talking about and from what he felt, she was interested in who he was. Or at least intrigued to know more. Whatever it was, there was a reason why she didn't leave the balcony sooner. Minsik pictured her heart-shaped face in his mind, remembering the moonlight colored contacts she wore and how the dark colored dress complemented the softness of her skin. Her eyes were warm and trusting, putting him at ease instantly. It was odd really, that he felt unsure about being around a female for the first time: she didn't throw herself at him and there weren't any unwanted touches. It was as if she just wanted to smoke and talk, enjoy the moment and stare out into the glittering skyline that lay beneath them. She wasn't looking for a quick fuck or carrying the conversation back to his hotel room, preferably under the sheets. She was just...herself.