The Flowers He Gave Me |Kim Namjoon|

10. rap monster

– rap monster –

ALL ARTISTS ARE HUNGRY for fame. They crave the applause.

And Namjoon gets it all.

Years ago, I swore to myself I'd never lay eyes on Kim Namjoon ever again. It certainly is impossible, I must say. Not a day have I been able to get through without seeing him on screens or posters plastered on the walls of buildings. The man's everywhere. He's a star.

Now the leader of the worldwide-known boyband known as BTS, it's hard not to know what they are and who they are. He put his fantastic voice to use and began rapping. People know him; they shout his name in the streets. His voice has been perfectioned by specialists and years of constant practice. He's everyone's fallen angel.

But I know exactly what Namjoon's capable of. I know how he got the name 'Rap Monster'. I know everything. He got that title by using my time of mourning to get out there, on a stage that wasn't his.

And by doing that, he's at the top of the music world. He has it all because of that knife in my back, an open wound still.

I, myself, was brought into a strange world, too–a new, unfolded version of me. Fortunately, I knew the language, though I wasn't prepared for the countless social interactions.

The United States of America was something. I came there, unsure of anything in my life. I'm still right here, and I'm finding myself part by part. That's what the roughness of my old life did to me. It shattered me in bits. But I'm lucky enough to have time to heal.

Ever since my departure, I haven't touched an instrument. My guitar hidden in its case underneath my bed, the wounds on my fingers are fading away. Thanks to the joy it once brought me and the countless good memories, it stays in my possession. It stays close, and so it shall forever.

This new part of the world showed me an entire new existence. It gave me possibilities and still does every passing day. But I'm still me, and that means I keep myself hidden in a corner, away from people when I can avoid such interactions.

Mom and I reunited with our lost family–her mother and brother, for example. She's smiling. She's happy. Knowing she finally has a steady income, my pride for her grows every time see her.

Today's an exception.

My mother leans forward, eying my outfit the best she can. She scans every inch, and I roll my eyes. "Don't tell me I'm showing too much skin. Fanny wears close to nothing when she goes out."

"To parties," she empathises sharply. "The family's coming for dinner at our house. It's not like she's supposed to get drunk tonight."

I take in her outfit. A pretty, long dark blue dress is adorning her waistline. She's even taken a long time to get her make-up decently done. Mom's shining. If my father saw her now, he'd regret every word he ever shouted at her, I'm sure.

"I bet she's already going to be waisted when she arrives at our doorstep."

That's not even a lie. Fanny's one in a million–not in a good manner, too. She's my uncle's daughter–exactly my age. The girl's crazy in all aspects. Every time we meet, she feels as if she needs to show me her love for BTS. She could ramble about the seven boys for hours, if I let her.

Which I don't. Her fangirling for them is one of the reasons we two don't get along at all. She thinks she knows how they got their fame. She thinks she knows them through and through. But only I here know what happened before they debuted. No one knows but me–not even my mother. It's a secret, one only Namjoon and I know of on our earth.