Fanfiction [MASHIKYU]

2 - 4

Mashiho

As we hold the ending pose for our final promotion stage for this comeback, the world resets. This era is ending, and now it's time for us to make a new future. One that's successful and sparkling and bright and colourful and not dull and grey and confused like this present.

As the director yells "cut!" we break into sighs of relief and smiles and hugs, and I feel an overwhelming rush of love for everyone here. For everyone who's smiling despite our struggles.

"Done!" Hyunsuk says excitedly from next to me, and wraps me up into a sweaty hug. "Well done, Shiho."

"Well done to you too," I say, letting the relief wash over me that the weekly performances and intense practice will ease now.

Over Hyunsuk's shoulder, I see Junkyu's lying down on the floor. I break away and go over to him, kicking his leg lightly with my foot. He looks up at me and grins, but his eyes don't.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"Nothing, just dying as usual," he says unconvincingly and jumps up.

He pinches my cheek then hurries along to follow the few members that have already left the stage. I wonder if he's still feeling insecure about his dance skills.

I wanted to have choreography in our song together because I think it would add a lot, but I don't want to suggest it because I know Junkyu will probably go along with it no matter what he wants to do, and then I'm scared it'll just make him stressed and feel bad about himself— even though I know he's totally capable, he doesn't seem to think so.

"Shiho! Earth to Shiho!" Jihoon appears in front of me, snapping his fingers obnoxiously.

I shove his hand away. "You look happy," I say in light of his beaming face.

"Why wouldn't I be?" He drapes his arm around my shoulders and leads me off the stage. "We don't have to keep performing a flopped song every week anymore. It's so demoralising."

"And now we can work on new and better stuff!" I add.

"Oh yeah, about that. Hyunsuk and I have been talking to the staff about what to do for our title track, and we're thinking of going with a cute concept, since those generally do pretty well. So we're thinking of, like, utilising you."

My stomach swirls. "Define what you mean by 'utilising'."

"Just like having you in the centre lots and stuff. More lines. The main focus. Just trying to make people cry with how adorable you are. How would you feel about that?"

The stomach swirl transforms into a faint buzzing throughout my whole body. It stretches out to my fingers and toes until I'm alive with electricity. The thought of being the front and centre scares me but... maybe that would be kind of amazing...

I don't get a chance to respond before we walk into the green room (we were the last ones off stage) into a chorus of whoops and cheers as the members jump around celebrating the end and the beginning.

~

That night, I'm sitting on my bed with a notebook and pen, and coming to the realisation that I have absolutely no idea how to write lyrics.

I don't know why I told Junkyu I would do this. Did I really expect myself to suddenly know how to write songs when I've never been able to before? I should've just said we could work on it together. But I didn't want him to think I couldn't do anything myself. Although... that would've been accurate.

Love songs. Love songs. Love songs. I think of the love songs I know... I think of the fast beating hearts and butterflies and sunsets and sparks they speak of... and I've got nothing. Maybe that's part of the problem; not only have I never written lyrics before, I've also never been in love before or had anything that resembled a relationship, and here I am trying to write a song about it.

Forget about love, I've never so much as had a crush before. Sometimes this freaks me out and I wonder if there's something wrong with me. Sometimes I wonder if I have liked people before and just don't know how to recognise it. Most of the time I don't think about it at all. It used to bother me more when I was at school, and all the boys I was friends with would be gushing about girls and desperately wanting girlfriends. I never felt that. I knew when girls were conventionally attractive but I never wanted to... I don't know... do anything about it. In later high school I was flirted with a lot and sometimes I flirted back, but just because I figured that's what was expected, not because I wanted it to go anywhere or felt romantically or sexually attracted to any of them. When Asahi came out to me as bisexual, I briefly wondered if maybe I liked boys instead. But it's not that I'd felt attracted to boys and not girls, I've never felt attracted to anyone. I've thought about being asexual. But then again, maybe I was too young before and these days I just don't meet many people.

So I try to not think about it because all it does is make me confused. I have more important things to focus on. Except that the more important things I have to focus on include writing lyrics about love which is blatantly confronting me with the fact that I have no feelings to write down.

"How's it going, Asahi?" I throw my notebook aside and hop out of bed, walking over to where Asahi is sitting at his desk with headphones on, working on his and Jaehyuk's song.

His eyebrows are furrowed together and his lips are pursed as he frustratedly removes his headphones. "Bad. This is so bad."

"Bet it's not. Do you want me to listen to it?"

He unplugs some cords so that he can play the demo out loud for me. It sounds like a completed song already. Everything about it is great, from the synth to the beat to the lyrics to the vocals. Listening to it makes me feel warm and floaty. But then it finishes and Asahi hastily plugs in the things he took out, still scowling, breaking the small trance I had gone into.

"Asahi, that was literally amazing," I tell him truthfully.

"No it's not."

I pat him on the head lovingly, but he jerks away, irritated. "What's up with you? Usually you have a pretty good idea of when your songs are objectively good."

He just stays scowling.

"Is it because of Jaehyuk?"

His face changes just the tiniest bit so that I know I'm right.

"You really shouldn't worry about what he'll think. You could give him utter trash and he would still think it's the greatest piece of music ever made, he loves you so much."

Asahi firmly presses his lips together, as if he's forcing himself not to smile, and I shake my head, patting his head again to irritate him. Instead of replying to anything I said, he just puts his headphones back on and keeps working, but his features are more relaxed now.

Now it's my turn to scowl at that sad little notebook and pen sitting on my bed, waiting for me to write. Before going back to it (not that there's anything to really continue), I pull back the curtain a smidge and look out the window, silently but politely asking the stars if maybe, just maybe, I could feel something strong enough to write about.