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❝ ᴡʜʏ sᴏ ❞
Standing in front of Yoongi's company building had Seowoo gulping in fear, but she knows she couldn't express her emotions . After all, she had been the one who suggested they agree to the collaboration.
"Well this is nerve wracking," Yoomi laughs, failing at her attempt to lighten the mood. She awkwardly nods, slipping on a charcoal mask and adjusting her baseball cap. She pulls her hair forward to cover her ears and the vertical halves of her eyes, taking in a deep breath before making a move first. Closely following behind are her manager and Seowoo, who's dressed up as her personal stylist.
"You two go ahead," Jimin nudges the females towards Yoongi's office, combing his hair back like he does all the time, "I'll go make my usual rounds to make sure no unwanted people enter the company."
They leave without sparing him another glance.
Seowoo approaches the receptionist with a warm smile on her face, "hi, we're here to see Suga."
"Name?" The receptionist asks, eyeing her up and down, unsure why a famous rapper would meet up with a 'nobody'.
The backstage singer gulps, sensing the receptionist's judgment towards her and pulls Yoomi forward, "Lee Yoomi." The idol flaunts a crooked grin, pulling her mask aside so the receptionist could confirm her identity.
"Woah," the receptionist breathes out, "you're much more beautiful in real life."
"Ah, thank you," Yoomi coos out in response, genuinely shy and flustered.
"Please, follow me."
Seowoo follows suit with her hand in Yoomi's but she's stopped by the receptionist, who says, "you can't go up, you'll have to wait here." A frown forms of the girl's face as she mentally curses the receptionist.
"No, she has to come with me," Yoomi defends, tugging at her fingers to pull her along.
"Uh, sure," the receptionist reluctantly lets out, throwing her arms in the air.
The walk up to Yoongi's studio had probably been the worst part of the day. They could hear all sorts of malicious whispers directed at Seowoo, which merely deteriorated her already weak mental capacity.
"Why would an idol like Lee Yoomi want to be seen with someone like... Her?"
"I hope she gets run over by a car so no one has to see her ugly face."
"I'd say the same about your personality," Jimin scowls as he walks past, flashing a menacing glare that could make legs turn into mush, "you're ugly, boo."
The girl would roll her eyes in annoyance if it hadn't been for the fact that a gorgeous angel is saying that right in her face — it would be a sin to not look him in the eye.
•••
"...Suga-nim?"
"Please, call me Yoongi."
"Ah, Yoongi..." Yoomi awkwardly laughs, "okay."
Yoongi leans back in his seat, "look- I'm a straightforward guy. I'll just say what I have in mind and we'll carry on with our collab."
"You're...?" He raises an eyebrow, pointing at Seowoo with his index finger.
"Seowoo," the girl exclaims, "Kim Seowoo."
"Hm, nice name."
The rapper turns to the door of his studio, locking it to ensure the two singers (figurative and literal) feel comfortable in the tiny, enclosed space. With his back facing the girls and his front meeting the doors of his studio, "I want in on the truth."
Seowoo's eyebrows are furrowed, "why?"
"If what I think is going on is correct, then it's because I want to justify those who the people call 'less appropriate'."
"And what do you think is correct?" Yoomi asks, unbothered and calmly picking at her manicured nails.
"Although I'm not sure why, I do know one thing — you lip sync to our dear Seowoo's pretty voice," Yoongi chimes, now striding around his small yet spacious studio. He laughs, "judging by your silence and forced lack of reaction, I assume I'm right."
"Now, how did this happen?"
•••
"Seowoo? Are you studying?"
The nineteen year old jumps off the bed, hurriedly pulling off her headphones and adjusting herself in the comforts (not really) of her chair that day before her study table. She drags a thick book onto the table, not knowing what subject it belongs to, and flips it to the 126th page because it had been found to be the least questionable number to trick her mother with.
"Yes!" She replies, running the tip of a highlighter over what seems to be an important line.
Her mother opens the door, "is everything okay?"
Seowoo hums, nodding as she actually begins to grow intrigued by the topic she has the page flipped to. The page is a mess of bright pink and yellow, doodles scattered all over the corners meaning she had gone through the page before, possibly in class or during a similar situation.
"How's Biology?" Her mother asks and Seowoo goes blank for awhile until she realises the book on her table is a Biology textbook.
"Ah," the young adult breathes out, "fine."
"That's nice. You know, your dad and I have been talking about you, about your future."
There she goes again.
"We want you to be a doctor," her mother says in a hopeful tone. "Just imagine how proud your relatives will be when you become the first ever doctor in our family!" She adds in attempt to influence her daughter.
"Mom..." Seowoo huffs, "I don't want to be a doctor, no matter how much you and dad want me to."
Furious, her mother bites back, "then what do you want to be, huh? You're always so taken aback when we ask you, it's only right for us as parents to assume you have no idea and decide your future on your behalf."
"We talked to your teachers, asked them what you're good at, what you're lacking in, and concluded that you want to be a doctor because you excel in all your subjects, specifically math and science."
"A singer!" Seowoo blurts out, then curls into a ball and inaudibly whispers out "I want to be a singer."
