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Kim Taehyung - considered to be the idol of idols in the k-pop industry, the epitome of perfection, the object of envy for many, and the role model for every idol in the Korean music scene. He was the face of k-pop, the soulf...
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╔═━━▒ ۞ ▒━━═╗ REFLECTION ╚═━━▒ ۞ ▒━━═╝
Taehyung
“Yeah, it’s ready, and I’ll see you at seven-thirty,” concluding the call with Hong-Cheol, I toss my phone aside.
I lie down on the couch and massage my temples with my fingers, allowing my eyes to close for a short while. A few seconds pass by in complete silence, after which I grab my phone and check the time, only to see that it’s almost 6 pm.
Yi-Seo told me earlier that she would be done with her work in the library by 7 pm, and then she would meet me for dinner. But dinner at my home would mean nothing more than ramen or probably something ordered from a restaurant, so I might as well have dinner with her at a restaurant. I have to go out anyway because I’d be meeting Hong-Cheol at seven-thirty.
Rising from the couch, I head to my bedroom to pick out a change of clothes and take a shower before stepping out of my home. I can’t remember the last time I showered. Was it two days ago? Or four? And I feel like I’ve been living in this shirt forever. Pinching the fabric of the shirt with my fingers, I dip my neck and sniff the shirt, and the odor that emanates from it is not just repulsive but downright disgusting.
I’ve been smelling like a rotten smoked chicken, and the worst part is that I’ve grown too numb to even sense it. Shaking my head in disbelief at my pathetic appearance, I open my wardrobe and pick out a white, cotton button-up shirt that used to be my favorite, and a pair of black trousers that I haven’t worn in a long time.
Not a second is wasted in tossing all the clothes that I’m wearing into the washing machine, and I turn it on before walking into the bathroom. I take a moment to look at my reflection in the mirror, and the man that is looking back at me isn’t someone I know. I don’t hate him, I don’t like him, but he’s just some stranger to me. He’s an aging drunkard who is an outcast in society. He is not the Kim Taehyung that I loved to look at—the famous young idol who had an unmatched charisma and an impeccable sense of fashion.
His fashion can be fixed, to an extent.
His hair? Terrible.
I take a closer look, raising my eyebrows and weaving my fingers through my hair to see how aging is taking its toll on me by spreading its grey roots all over my scalp.
Is this how I’ve been looking these days?
Unbelievable!
Scratching the stubble on my chin and upper lip, I take a moment to mourn my appearance because I’ve just made up my mind to shave the stubble and look cleaner and better groomed. Grabbing a fresh razor from the vanity rack, I layer the lower half of my face with a generous coating of shaving foam and shave off every last adamant hair follicle.
