Goodbye My Delusion | TXT Beomgyu

18

"We have a performance coming up," Beomgyu says.

I shift from my spot on my bed, where I'm lying down to read our pop culture textbook. "Huh?"

"A performance," Beomgyu says. "It's called the Seoul Summer Bash. It's going to be held in a studio in Gangnam."

"Sounds really cool," I say. Again, I'm in awe that I'm sharing a room with an idol and performer—someone admired by millions around the world.

"Do you want to come?" Beomgyu says. "You'll be able to come backstage too."

"When is it?" I say.

"Well," Beomgyu leans his head back in his reading chair. He looks so normal in a white t-shirt and jeans, but I'd be stupid to think that he couldn't change into an outfit of a world-class singer. "It's on Friday night. I'm going to be practicing with the members throughout the nights of this whole week. I probably won't be getting much sleep."

"Can I come to the practices too?" I ask, risking the question.

Beomgyu smiles. "Of course! But it's a lot of repetition. Lots of Yeonjun telling us what angles to fix and stuff. Of course, I know you'll love to see that." Beomgyu spares me a wink.

I blush—wondering why I admitted yesterday to Yeonjun being my first bias. "I'll be glad to come. I've always been curious about how you guys practice."

"We'll go to the company building in maybe an hour or two," he says. "You can finish up your studying."

Of course, because of everything Beomgyu shared, studying is the last thing on my mind. I skim through today's reading with nothing sticking in my memory. I go through my Korean vocabulary words with the only two words hovering in my vision being TXT's practice. The hour passes without much progress from me, but I do succeed in totally filling up my reservoir of excitement.

"Jayden Jayden Jayden!" Yeonjun calls out as I enter TXT's ride, which is a nondescript black van that pulls up at the side of the university.

The other members give me similar warm welcomes. I sit next to Beomgyu in the middle seats, while the others stuff themselves into the back. "Don't mind us," Beomgyu says. "But we usually use this time to sleep. It gives us energy since we'll be staying up all night to dance."

"No problem," I say.

Soon, I'm staring at a sleeping Beomgyu. His head occasionally bonks into the glass window beside him, but he gives no indication of awakening any time soon. Rather, he seems lost to a peaceful dream world. I wonder what he dreams about—whether it be performances in front of large crowds or grueling days as an idol trainee. No matter, it's cool to be so near to him, experiencing such an intimate moment. I know I'll never get an opportunity like this, to study TXT so closely, for at least another lifetime.

Eventually, we pull up to the BigHit building, where the members of TXT are rudely awakened by their manager—who's in the passenger seat—calling their names one by one. TXT slowly regains consciousness and exits the van in a single file.

I follow them through the building, which is characterized by huge white panels as walls, high ceilings, glass orb lights, and multiple sources of greenery. There are potted plants around every corner, along with floor-to-ceiling mirrors and expansive windows that are at least the length of my body.

"We're heading to the dance studio," Beomgyu informs me, as we fit inside the elevator—all five TXT members, their manager, and me.

My body fills with adrenaline as we walk into the corridor of the higher floor. So this is it. I'll be able to witness TXT working in a room that's famous globally, seen by millions from their dance practice videos. I'm becoming that lucky fan in fan fictions across the net, the boy that would probably be envied by teenagers across the world.