Blossom

male reader x lesserafim Sakura

Tags: smut, angst, idolxmanager, struggles, car sex, squirting

10k words

Part of Wings, were made to fly

Who said hard work ever amounted to anything?

The day seems so gloomy. Like God himself decided to take all the grey in his colour palette and splash it into the sky. And there’s this small girl, a person who feels so out of place, lifeblood seeping out of a wound that just won’t close.

And you’re watching.

You always have been. Miyawaki Sakura, your model of hard work and unending effort, looking so ruined, so defeated, so broken. A look that hurts you, that puts this pressure under your eyes, this welling up of something that can’t go.

It’s not her fault, you try to reason. These people are evil. Breaking her down for all her flaws rather than seeing how far she’s come. You’ve watched her grow so much, from being just another pretty girl to a pretty girl that can dance, that can learn, that knows how to stand on stage and brave the storms.

But hard work couldn’t prevent this.

The space around her seems so empty. The way she’s seated there, resting her back on a chair against the white wall of the dressing room, legs crossed with the illusion of calmness. But her eyes give it all away. Those eyes that have always been her most startling feature, the eyes that widen in wonder and joy, that have always been shining even in dark void.

Now they’re wide for all the wrong reasons. Her Achilles heel, betraying her pain and sadness and saying: no, she’s not bulletproof, no, she’s not fearless.

And it should be okay.

And it’s not like she’s alone. Yunjin’s standing there, eyes welled up with tears, cursing all the people online who don’t know any better. Chaewon, who’s known her the longest, by her side, arms on her shoulder and telling her that it’s all exaggerated, that she’s not what everyone else is saying she is, trying her best to be the leader she’s supposed to be.

But everything’s rebounding off Sakura’s body uselessly. Nothing’s sticking, going deeper than the surface, sinking in, so it’s just her sinking, deeper under the weight of it all.

You watch it all.

Eventually she manages to muster up enough breath to shake her members away, lying that she’s fine, that they should be getting ready to leave, wipes her reddened eyes and fallen tears and wills herself to ignore the pain.

Ignore. She doesn’t get rid of the knives in her gut.

When things get calmer, when the girls get swept back up in the present and the need to pack up, for a few moments it really is just you and Sakura in that waiting room, your gaze still very attentively watching her every moment, the thoughts running through her head at every second.

You want to say something. Anything, as long as it matters.

You take a few silent steps over, absentmindedly reaching for one of the bottled waters lying on the makeup table.

“Sakura,” you say, drawing her attention, letting her peek her head out of her self-depreciating bubble for just a moment.

“It’s okay,” you start, then wince at how ad nauseam it is. You offer her the bottle of water while you figure out a sentence with more substance.

“Words are just words. People will do malicious things. Just ignore them and continue to improve,” you say as she weakly accepts the bottle.

“There are plenty of people still supporting and believing in you. We know you’ll come back stronger.”

And Sakura nods slowly, pretending like she’s heard what you’ve said. You want to tell her that you’re one of the people rooting hard for her.

“Thanks, manager-nim,” Sakura says politely, that rehearsed reply you’ve heard a million times before.

Yeah, it didn’t work. And you feel foolish for trying. You shake your head, trying to clear it.

“I’ll wait for you outside,” you excuse yourself, leaving her, but not for good.

You’ll try again another day. Until it works. Till she’s okay again.

Sakura watches you leave emptily, grateful that at least you could tell she wanted to be left alone. She’s sick of hearing all the words that pretend to do something, to mean anything.

She reaches for the cap of the water bottle, preparing to twist it open. But something startles her, and for a moment she’s distracted. Looks down at the bottle in her hands.

The cap’s seal has already been broken.

_

“We need to address Sakura’s vocals.”

Your ears perk up at this sentence from your boss. That name has been practically taboo the past few days.

He shifts awkwardly in his seat at the end of the round table. He’s some higher-up that oversees your team of managers. It’s ironic, because he likely doesn’t know shit.

“The company is suggesting additional vocal lessons for her. Every day. In the evening.”

You tap the meeting room desk gently. You expected as much.

“We’ll need a manager to drive her back from the company to the dorm and ensure her safety. Which means I need a volunteer.”

The group of managers around you shift slightly in their seats. No one likes extra work.

“Unfortunately, that does mean you’ll have to stay back later than everyone else, and of course it won’t be clocked as extra hours.”

Deal-breaker. Everyone seems repulsed by the idea. You can’t blame them. They have their own lives to lead.

“Anyone?” Your boss asks, already expecting a poor response.

You don’t even hesitate.

“I’ll do it,” you raise your hand from the end of the table. Your boss seems surprised.

“Excellent.”

Maybe so. Let’s see if you can really find a way to help her like you want to.

_