north star (knj)

chapter one

I know you're dying to meet me
But I can just tell you this
Baby, as soon as you meet me
You'll wish that you never did

Alone - Halsey

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LYRA

JANURARY 2020

The backstage of GRAMMYs was a rush.

Tucked away from the public eye behind a dozen screens, stagehands ran back and forth, passing props to one another and relaying directions. Performers warmed up vocals for their set while presenters rehearsed their scripts. Stage directors and event officials stood in shadowy corners muttering into their headsets. By either a stroke of dumb luck or sheer talent – or maybe both – I was here.

And I was performing on stage next.

The GRAMMYs had given me six and half minutes on stage, a blessing for an artist with only one full studio album. My agent Mikka and I had strategically orchestrated my performance to flow from the refrain of my ballad, "I, Alone" to the high note in "Upcoming", an energetic pop-dance number. The last three minutes and sixteen seconds of my set would be dedicated to the "Midnight Escapades", which was nominated for Song of the Year.

"Midnight Escapades" was about a night of very little sleep, and that's exactly what I planned to give everyone - I was going to make this a night to remember.

Mikka's low, flat voice cut into my headset. "You're on in two minutes."

Even though I had warmed up my vocals ten minutes ago, I hummed a few scales. Between runs, my father's voice said, "I can dance all I want and wear the flashiest clothes in the world, but it's my voice and music that speak to the crowd. I always warm up, Comet."

I gripped the shooting star necklace that rested just below my collarbone. Sure, it was my name on the five GRAMMY nominations I had managed to grab, but my father was the reason behind it all. His memory lived on through my work. I wouldn't rest until the Perry name went down as a legacy in the music industry.

"Has anyone seen BTS?" A stagehand screamed, jostling into me. "They're supposed to be on deck!"

My fingers clammed up around the necklace. No. In the frenzy of prepping for my set, I had forgotten about the K-Pop group who was slotted to perform after me.

"One minute," Mikka warned, but her voice was faint over the rush of blood in my ears.

I watched the stagehand push through backstage and heard him curse as he ran into a group of impeccably styled men squabbling over something. He corralled them to the opposite side of backstage and began to line them up for their performance. My hum broke in pitch as I spotted the silver-haired man at the front of their formation.

Of course, Kim Namjoon would be here. Even though I had known BTS was going to be at the GRAMMYs, some naïve part of me hoped he wouldn't be here. It had been five months since we had seen each other, and I was in no rush to break the streak.

A weight settled in my stomach as Namjoon's eyes flashed toward me. I watched his lips part, his hand reach up as if to gesture towards me –

No.

Namjoon doesn't get to be a part of this moment. This was my time to show the world – and my father – that I deserved every record broken in the last year, every nomination, every talk show appearance. An international K-Pop idol was not about to ruin this for me.