Letters On Our Skin || BangChan

24

Everything works out perfectly fine.
By the time the next Monday rolls around, the whole world of Stray Kids has been shook up by me.
Stay took is better than I had expected. I guess, Stray Kids know Stay a lot better than I thought they did.
My first YouTube video has gained over 125 thousand views in just three days. An incredible success, though I am still reluctant to read the comments. Most of them are good, but there are always a few people that simply can't stand my guts. My Instagram blew up after I posted the pictures of Stray Kids and me eating breakfast. I had captioned it "Brekkie with the besties", and had actually thought it was quite funny.
I still see it popping up on twitter and Instagram, even now, almost a week later.
Stay have been very busy discussing who I am, what I might intend, where I come from.
My favorite theory is that I have been implanted into the company by JYP Entertainment itself to be someone's girlfriend. Some Stay really think I am getting paid to stir up trouble and seduce their favorites.

But some people are actually really nice. My DMs are flooding with messages, people are constantly reacting to my stories, commenting and swiping. I don't think I ever spent as much time on Instagram as during the last few days.
Felix is blowing up my phone with every single edit he can find about me on stage, about my pictures, about fan theories. He's more into the whole thing than any other person. I think he thinks it's funny. Like it's some great adventure or a game and not literally my life.
But I'm not going to stop him.

Truth is, I am one hundred percent sure that I'd do almost anything if it meant I'd be able to openly be friends with the boys.
Over the past few weeks, they have grown so incredibly close to me, so incredibly intertwined with my life, I can't imagine a life without them. It's like I have known them for years and not just a little over a month.
So all this public surveillance is worth it.
Plus, most of the fans see me in a whole other light.
In their eyes I am glamorous and confident and sexy and beautiful and established and successful.
It feels good to know that is what people think of me. Selfishly, I do not want that feeling to stop. Ever. I could get drunk on it because the reality does not look like that at all.

I am tired. So tired.
I am dancing seven to eight hours a day, sometimes even more when I decide to go over the routines by myself after work. I work out every second day for one to two hours. I come up with new ideas for videos, which I have to prepare and plan. Sometimes communication with the team around Jung Wook takes up hours, because I need to consider every single possibility and how it could mirror back onto the company. And then I need to choreograph the dance videos I want to make, write a preposition, write a budget plan, make a story board for each video because I can't keep up with my own ideas.
I am so worn out, I sometimes sit in the shower  with my eyes closed and consider to just sleep in there. I lost five pounds of weight ever since I started working for JYP Entertainment, my cheeks are hallow, my skin is grey and pale instead of flush and rosy. I forget to eat, or I don't have the time to, unless Binna or the boys are with me. They take good care of me, but I can't do the same for myself.
My mind is on autopilot most of the time, while  my body is a machine about to overheat.

On Tuesday, I decide to stay behind while the others dancers and Chi close the dance practice.
Chi taught us a new choreography today, and I could not concentrate on it at all. She allowed me to film it once so I could try and catch up on my own. It's not a difficult choreography, I've danced pieces that were a lot harder, but it is rooted in precision.
And precision is the last thing my body can muster right now.
I've been going over the same twelve counts for the past forty minutes, when my body finally gives in.
I slip and fall onto my back, my head hitting the floor with a noise that makes me believe I might have shattered my bones. Everything spins, all the air leaves my lungs, and I suddenly feel nauseous, so I don't even realize that someone rushes over to me and bends over my body.

I recognize him by his voice first.
"Are you okay?" Chan cups my head gently. "Ollie, can you hear me? Are you hurt?"
I grab one of his hands and his face appears above mine. His eyes are filled with worry, his eyebrows are furrowed. I want to raise my hand to smooth them over, but I can't.
I gasp for air.
Finally, I say, "Everything hurts. I fell."
Chan nods, but the worried look doesn't leave his eyes.
"I know," he says, "I was watching you. Did you not see me? I was in the studio working and ran into Chi. She told me you stayed behind to practice more."
I close my eyes and rub my face. Maybe I have a concussion.
"I have to get this routine done," I whisper, "It's for the anniversary showcase."
"That's in four or five weeks, you have time to learn that."

Tears well up in my eyes and Chan sits down next to me. I can feel him staring at me, but I don't return his look.
A soft sob escapes my lips, when I whisper, "No, I don't. I don't have time to do anything except work."
Chan doesn't respond immediately. It's like he's waiting for me to continue speaking.
And suddenly everything bursts out of me like a waterfall. I tell him that I barely sleep or eat or do anything besides dance and work. I tell him about my weight loss, about the aches in my body.
"This was all I've ever dreamed of and now that I finally made it, it feels like a nightmare. I am completely overwhelmed and I don't know what to do. I don't want to lose my job, I don't want to stop making videos. I need more time, though."
Tears have spilled over and roll down the sides of my face until they run into my hair. I rub at my face. I hate crying. But even more so, I hate crying in front of others.

Chan was silent for a long time. When I look at him, he asks, "Do you want me to do something about that? You know I could help you. But I don't want to undermine you, so I'm asking you."
"I know you could help me," I answer, "But this is something that I have to clean up myself. Everything is just so new to me, that I need a bit more time to get used to always being busy. I'm not going to quit, but I might have to learn to take it easier."
"So how can I help you?"
I pat the floor beside me with my open hand.
"Can you lay with me for a minute?"

Chan lays down flat on his back beside me. We stare up at the ceiling, neither of us saying anything. After a while, Chan reaches out his hand and curls his fingers around mine. In the palm of my hand, he writes a few letters.

U WILL BE OK

I turn my head to face him and he smiles at me, his eyes warm and full of encouragement.
His fingers move over my hand again.

I PROMISE