the idol suicides | txtzy

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Yuna huddled close to Lia while Beomgyu wrapped his arms around a very indignant HueningKai. The sky had the sun in it, but none of its warmth, leaving the dewy forest a rather chilly environment for the shoot. 

"I'm gonna have goosebumps if we do the concept photos now." Yuna whispered, rubbing her arms frantically. 

"We should start a fire." Beomgyu suggested.

"Why would we do that? Once the camera crew sets up, they'll start recording a behind the scenes of the shoot. We don't want to seem irresponsible, or like a bad influence." Ryujin vehemently shot the idea down, as if acting on survival instinct. 

Beomgyu gasped involuntarily. "Sorry... I just thought it'd make us seem funny."

Ryujin furrowed her brows, genuinely confused. "Huh? Why would it be funny?"

Beomgyu scratched the back of his head. "Our fans like to see us being chaotic."

Ryujin almost couldn't imagine the concept. "Well... it's different for girl groups. We can seem chaotic, but we're still expected to be mature."

Yuna bit her lip, nodding. The paradox of being a woman infected the female space in every profession. This one just came with headlines to help the public not forget their missteps.

The boys were silent. They looked at each other, twin thoughts forming in their minds; We've never had to think about it that way.

They were saved from having to respond when the director called for HueningKai, who all but ran to the designated shoot spot. Beomgyu made some hasty excuse about supporting his baby brother and then left.

Ryujin sighed, pulling a hand through her hair. "Thank god the cameras weren't on. We would've been called mean or bitches for that."

"I think we'll still get called those things." Yuna shrugged, but her chest still tightened with the possibility of Ryujin's thought. "Does you think this ever get easier?"

Her eyes were watering, a warning they would be red for her shoot. She couldn't bring herself to care. "Unnie, I'm tired."

Ryujin was quiet for a long time. "I think it gets easier. Those people don't know everything about us, no matter how hard some of them try. I think it gets easier when you get used to it."

"What if you never get used to it?"

"You have to."

All things considered the rest of the shoot went really well. The director had high praise for Yuna especially, and even with a suspicious heart she smiled and said thank you, then thanked the fans for the support that got her there. 

After the first hour Beomgyu and HueningKai stopped making themselves scarce and started talking with the girls again, though their earlier conversation replayed in the backs of their minds like some crappy background music. They concealed it behind the cold, hard layer of professionalism they practiced to perfection.

Then the camera crew went on lunch break, the red recording light flicked off, and suddenly the forest was a lot quieter. Less crowded. More intimate. The only staff members left were two bodyguards, and they tended to fade into the surroundings more often than not.

Yuna spoke first. "I'm sorry if we came across as rude earlier."

Beomgyu and HueningKai's heads snapped up in unison. "I should be the one apologizing, I wasn't thinking things through." Beomgyu insisted.

Ryujin scoffed. "Please, it was a good idea at a bad time."

If Beomgyu was a dog, his shameful ears would've perked up. "Really?"

Ryujin flushed. "Really."

"The camera crew's still going to be gone for an hour or so." HueningKai said with a smirk.

They got permission from the two bodyguards and scrounged around for dry kindle, dry grass. They found dry quartz by the river and stroked them together until they produced a smoking kindle. Beomgyu and HueningKai stood back and Yuna carefully wrapping the dry grass around it and Ryujin blew on it until it caught fire.

"We did it." they said, astounded by the flame that danced in front of them.

"It's beautiful." HueningKai whispered.

"NO!" Yuna screamed.

"No?" HueningKai asked, a bit stung.

Yuna shook her head, pointing at the smoke. Except it wasn't smoke, not exactly. It was a swirling mass of smoky tendrils, curling and twisting, gradually coalescing into a lump. A shape. It was the woman in her early to mid 20s, her mouth screaming, the air around her ringing.

Except they could actually make out a word this time.

RUN.