ACT 3:
WHEN I WAS WASHING
THE BLOOD OFF MY HANDS
Jeongguk has always been under a spotlight.
As his wife, Lalisa knows this, of course she does. She's seen the way how the light bounces off his skin whenever he's on stage. It embraces him into the comfort of its glow, and in return, he delivers an electrifying performance that leaves the goosebumps in it wake. To Jeongguk, the stage is his home. She understands it, or at least she tries to.
It's difficult to empathize with the raging applauses and defeaning screams. Having an idol as a husband is not all secret escapades and stolen kisses. There's no thrill in hiding in filthy alleys to avoid obsessive fans nor catching your breath as you try to outrun the paparazzi. It's just... you force yourself to live with it. There's no other choice.
You just stand behind their backs and watch as they take over the world piece by piece.
Lalisa herself has always been obscured by a shadow.
While Jeongguk basks in the light, she hides from it. If Jeongguk's voice echoes throughout stadiums, hers gets drowned out by the whooping cheers. When Jeongguk smiles and grins in front of the unending cameras, she's in their apartment, bundling herself in layers of blankets with only her cats to comfort her.
She's always been the first person to get pushed back into the crowd when Jeongguk is seen in public, but she's also the last person he goes home to after a long, long tour. As much as she wants Jeongguk all to herself, his growing flames of fame doesn't let her. It's consuming him, bit by bit, nearly devouring his entirety as more events and more shows pile up in his schedule, as more fansigns and photo shoots narrow the chances of them being together.
It's like being married to an old recorder, almost; always the same I love you, I'll be back, I have rehearsal, don't wait up for me, see you soon over and over again. It's a dynamic she's gotten used to for the past years, only because she has no other option. While he gives all that he could to the stage, she sacrifices everything that she has just for him.
Sometimes, though, she wonders if she's a fool.
* * *
The end of an era, that's what Jeongguk told her yesterday night before his tour officially ended. She'd laughed then, about to retort a comment when she heard snores from right beside her, and that's when she knew the conversation was already over right before it started.
She's used to it.
Hotel Cicero is a brand new hotel that stands proud and tall in the midst of Gangnam-gu. Jeongguk had requested for it to be specifically the place where the celebration for the success of his tour will be held, in an en suite that his company had reserved especially for him, Lalisa, and his manager. The celebration is only for the three of them, though, because her husband wanted it to be private and spend it with the most important people in his life.
"Can you believe it," Jeongguk is saying, "we went to 12 countries. Twelve." Lalisa watches as he takes a swig of his Armand de Brignac. "Soon, we'll be going to the rest of the world."
Namjoon, his manager, chuckles from beside him. "Of course you are, Gguk. You're already on high demand, there's a big possibility that by the next tour, you'll land a concert in Europe as well." Lalisa doesn't miss the fondness in his eyes as he talks to the younger man.
"Woah, we've come this far, didn't we?" Her husband marvels, eyes widening by a fraction. It's incredible if you think about it; he only used to be a nugu singer, occasionally picked on by cocky senior artists, but he had a dream. He had passion. After one of his original songs became a unexpected hit, he became one of the nation's favourite solo artists in a matter of minutes.
"Slow down on your alcohol, darling. You'll be exhausted by the end of the night," she reminds him when he downs another flute.
He simply chuckles at this, and Namjoon does, too. "Don't worry about it, babe. You'll be there to take care of me anyway."
"Yeah, right." It sounds like a joke, but she knows he's not lying. She's always been by his side, no matter what.
Namjoon picks up the conversation yet again, discussing future plans for Jeongguk's tour in the next year. Lalisa doesn't participate--she never does, because she doesn't go with her husband as much as his manager does. She doesn't leave the country unless when she goes back to Thailand or when she deems it important, so she just keeps her mouth shut the entire time.
It's become a habit now.
For a while, as she leans back by the fluffy cushioned seat, she observes her husband. Jeongguk has outgrown his soft boyish features, which are now replaced by sharp lines and angled edges. The shyness that he sported when Lalisa first met him has dissipated and bloomed into this confidence that just oozes from him.
Sometimes, she wonders if she even knows him anymore.
The remnants of the boy she fell in love with are still there, from the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, or the way he fluffs up his hair whenever he's feeling jittery. A lot of things changed in him, though and sometimes... just sometimes, Lalisa wonders if he's still the same 17 year old boy that she met in Busan, the one who's filled with dreams and ambitions.
Although change is beautiful, change can also be terrifying.
She's been quiet for almost half an hour now, and Namjoon and Jeongguk doesn't seem to notice.
She just takes it upon herself to leave. "I'll go get more ice," she announces to no one in particular, seeing as the two were still engrossed in their conversation about the tourist destinations in Australia.
And then she belatedly realizes that luck is funny, because when she tries to access room service, the telephone wouldn't function. With a sigh, she heads off outside to the elevator and to the hotel restaurant below, just to get that bucket of ice that her husband and his manager might need.
* * *
She returns several minutes later, much to her pleasure. Hotel service usually takes more than half an hour, and she's glad that for once, everything is going smoothly.
But then--
Lalisa holds the bucket of ice on the another, and twists the door knob to their room open. She quietly walks inside and closes the door with her foot, padding back towards the en suite living room with exhaustion creeping into her bones.
Just when a greeting almost slips her mouth, she sees it. Or, more like she sees them.
Her husband and his manager--their bodies flushed together with nothing between them at all, positioned perfectly atop the couch she was sitting on moments ago.
Something breaks inside her.
The lewd sounds that Jeongguk and Namjoon were making sends a rush of adraneline to her body that she only stands there, her mind going blank and her ears being filled with what she identifies as white noise.
Jeongguk releases a loud, breathy moan, and she loses it.
Rage slowly overtakes her veins and in an instant, Lalisa sees red.
* * *
It seems like all her senses come back to her when she's furiously rubbing her hands together in the hotel bathroom sink half an hour later, a new maroon stain present in her fingertips and in her wedding band.
She tries to wash them off using the hotel's complimentary soap but it doesn't seem to work. The stain remains. Frowning, Lalisa looks up to check herself in the mirror, only to see specks of blood all over her face.
"Shit," she curses, but not in panic. Shit because she's done it, shit because she's successful.
From the mirror, she catches a glimpse of her husband and his lover. Or at least, what used to be her husband and his lover--with their naked bodies lain atop each other, blood red in colour and almost glowing underneath the chandelier.
And slowly, she smiles to herself.
Jeongguk has always been under a spotlight--even in death.