euphoria | knj √

4: go go.

"Dollar dollar, squandering it all in one day. Run, run, man I spend it like some party. Dollar dollar, till the sun shines through this mouse hole, till the sun comes up."

0:00  |───────── 3:56

|◁ II ▷|

The next two days were like Rein had gone to hell and back. Ms. Cho hired a stylist who had gone to work immediately after the conversation (thirty minutes later, to be exact) and left Rein feeling like a used dishrag afterward. 

The woman made her try on at least ten different outfits, of which none fit Rein's personal style and choice. When she wanted jeans, the stylist wanted a skirt. When she wanted a sweater, the stylist wanted a blouse. And when she wanted sneakers, the stylist wanted 6-inch pumps.

It's not a fucking dinner party for crying out loud, Rein wanted to say at one point. She didn't want to be too picky, and she was very grateful for all that this hired woman had done, but she had to draw the line somewhere, didn't she? Was there a line to be drawn, anyway? She wasn't too sure. 

Finally, they both came to an agreement about the clothes: a jumpsuit with electric blue sneakers. Mobile, yet chic. Rein could live with that. She felt it important that her music was represented through her clothes, something that would scream electro-pop at everyone that happened to glance at her.

But this was fine, too, she supposed.

After the stylist left the room, Rein immediately began to write and refine lyrics, though she struggled more than she had intended. Everything she wrote in Korean sounded forced, strained. Her English lyrics were fine in her opinion, but her dissatisfaction with the other ones put her in a foul mood. They all sounded so... Cheesy. 

Alas, BTS was afflicted with the "why won't you love me back" phase, but this was too much for the singer, even keeping that in mind. She cringed when she thought of a full-grown man whining into a mic with her lyrics about his inability to get the girl he wanted. She didn't even bother to make it rhyme in the end.

Rein set her computer down and groaned in frustration. She felt inadequate. Barren of good ideas and imagination. Shitty. Every other negative adjective she could think of. Bighit would just have to make do with what she had because there was no way she was going into that sheet to edit what she had in this state of mind.

Closing her computer for the last time, she breathed a sigh of relief. Everything was done.

Rein looked around the room in mild fondness. Clothes were strewn about, bedsheets wrinkled, pages filled with notes and random scribbles. There was an odd familiarity with this surrounding that she took a strange comfort in. It looked like her old room back in Austin. 

Sunlight streamed in from the right side of the room, drowning her in light every morning. Her walls weren't a puke-green color back home, but instead had an aquatic mural covering the four walls. An ocean as lively as electricity and just as colorful, the sun lowering to sleep under the mountains, casting dusted rose and lavender across the horizon. She couldn't remember a time when she didn't wake up to see that sun.

And when she got sick of the brilliant yellow that filled her room every morning and the looping routine of her daily life, she would escape to her cottage west in Colorado, a place of total isolation and quiet.

The woods surrounding her were ink-black, closed off from the outside world. It was a complete 180 from her Austin house. There was no internet, but she liked that better than she wanted to admit. There was a direct view of the snow-covered hills from the window. The scent of pine wafted from the forest to the steps of her door, tickling the child within her to put on her boots and play outside. The only sounds came from the trudge of footsteps and birds calling for each other.