𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐃

SEVEN.

PAST

Lonely.

That was how the (h/c)-haired boy felt.

Work hard, his grandmother had constantly told him, then your parents will be proud. He had faithfully done that for ages; bringing back stellar results, hoping, just hoping, that one day he would receive a pat on the head, a warm hug, or even a kiss on the cheek. Words of affirmation would be a cherry on top.

It never happened.

Six year old Y/n say dolefully on the stairs, watching the planes above.

"Do you think mommy and daddy are up there?" He inquired.

He knew they flew planes.

A lot.

"They're in the States," His grandmother would reply, tone laced with pity. "I told you..they'll come.."

"But they haven't!" Y/n pouted, swinging his legs, "why? I got a hundred for my last test. My teacher says I did a good job."

"Yes, you did.."

"But they won't come. It's not good enough."

Sometimes he had dreamt up laters in his head:

Dear Y/n,

We're coming back. We want to be a part of your life again. We want to share in your joys and support you through your challenges (we are your parents, of course!) We understand if it takes time for you to forgive us, but we hope that one day, we can rebuild what was lost. You are our dear son—our only one. We love you.

A pipe dream. His grandmother would listen to his dreams, wipe away his tears; pull him towards the kitchen. In the kitchen, there would be a warm plate, filled to the brim with his favorite: kimchi fried rice.

It was enough to make his pain go away, even if it was just a little bit. And as he took each bite, he could almost pretend that the loneliness wasn't there, that he was surrounded by the warmth of a family that saw him, cherished him, and was proud of him. But the illusion was fragile, and the moment would pass, leaving him with the ache once more. Y/n would be reminded that loneliness was still very much crippling him. Loneliness was a constant factor in his life.

Y/n didn't know when he stopped caring—why he even cared.

—

PRESENT

"What the hell," Those were the words that left Y/n's mouth—who cared about his language? He wasn't an idol anymore, fuck them—"they didn't even ask me!" He cried out in indignation.

The only thing that was remotely good was the onslaught of positive comments.

「 You can tell our boys really like him! They look so happy 」

「 Get you a guy who cares as much as their manager does.. 」

Y/n stopped at a particular comment.

「 Is it just me, or does he look familiar? At least, his back does. 」

— What nonsense. Did you dream, or what?

—He is the guy of my dreams..

— I think you are confusing something.

...Huh.

There were bound to be people to recognise him, after all. He was a finalist. But to this extent...

I was evil-edited on the show. This time, are they angel-editing me?