The Morning After Anna

Good morning.

The sun lights up the room as I wake up. Sharing its pleasant warmth, a much needed one after a not-so-pleasant sleep. Cleaning the bed, and the room ever so slowly, I notice a letter buried beneath the mountain of laundry. It’s a fan’s. A kind and beautiful word of gratitude. 

Greetings, Anna-san! Your music helped me through dark times. I will forever be indebted to you. Thank you so much. <3

Likewise, I wish I could respond to it personally.

I put the letter back in, neatly, as if it was never opened in the first place. I should continue cleaning some other time, as nothing really changed even after all the effort.

So I open the door and walk up to the kitchen. It’s empty. The members aren’t awake yet. They probably shouldn’t. It’s been a long, long month for the group, they deserve a rest. I open up the fridge to find the leftovers from last night. Haha, we ate too much of it. Everyone would have their face swell up by the moment they’re awake. It’s a good thing today is a day off. They are more than deserving of a rest.

I close the fridge back up. That’s right, I shouldn’t have breakfast. I ate too much already, coffee would suffice. Oh, and a singular slice of bread will do, whole grain of course. I put it inside the toaster right as the espresso machine started. Nothing like a good cup of coffee to start the day. The coffee, and the toast, both smell particularly good today. I would even say, they smell the best they have ever smelled.

I finish the meal quite quickly, which is probably the wrong thing to do. This is everything I’m allowed to eat for the next 12 hours. I should savor it a bit more, but oh well, nothing’s new. I’m used to it. The coffee — black, the toast — burnt, these bitter darkness. I’m used to it.

I clean the dishes, quietly. I don’t mind doing it, but the remnants from last night are quite a lot. Might as well, what’s one more plate? Then the machines, just as quiet, just as begrudging. I really don’t want anybody to wake up. Not yet.

I headed down to the gym right after I changed into my workout attire. It’s early. It’s empty. Just right. 

The treadmill isn’t really hitting. It feels too light, too boring. A bright idea comes up my head, why not just go outside and jog?

And so I did.

The sun is nice today. Apart from the fact that it is still quite early in the morning, it never really felt too bright. Just right.

I’m heading into the park. There’s a flock of pigeons right in front of me. I run into them as fast as I can, perhaps too fast, since none of them really bothered to fly away. Then a cat, loafing on the park bench. Stopping now wouldn’t mess with my rhythm, right cat? So I stop right by it. Catching my breath, which feels quite weird, I’m not actually tired at all. Might be the cat, it’s pretty cute. I bow down to pat its head. The cat purrs as my hand lands on it. This should feel nice. Being caressed, loved. Then they open their eyes, only to flinch and run away. A heavy air fills my lungs, my hand is still floating right there in the air, patting nothing, wishing that it could touch any.

I continue running, it’s starting to feel more and more weird. There are people I pass by, time and time again, but none of them seem to acknowledge me. I know it’s not my place to think that I deserve such things. Recognition, adoration. Part of it could be me having zero make-up, does it make that much of a difference? I don’t know. But they, all of them, literally ran past me like I was never there. It sucks. 

But hey, isn’t that still way better than that feeling of having every pair of eyes from every corner of the world scrutinizing my life? It is. I’d say, it’s just right.

I scrap those melodramatic ways of thinking as fast as I can. It’s interfering my run. My life. An idol shouldn’t think about things anyway. We should just do it. Be it. Perfection is what we idols are. No matter how hard, daunting, and downright impossible it is.

Suddenly I miss my mom. I should call her. She’s normally making breakfast by now. I really miss her, it’s been so long. I miss the way the house smelled when she made me my favorite meal, oyakodon, for my breakfast. It’s been so long. I barely eat breakfast nowadays, let alone something as heavy as that. My dad. I still remember the way he looked at me when he said good bye before I entered this world of idols. The way he tried his best to look cool, nonchalant, when he knew damn well that me and mom knew that he was faking it out. Heh, it’s pretty funny, looking back. I wonder how he would react to seeing me now. I really do need to call them.

I don’t really know how much time I have spent running, the sun is pretty high already. The members are probably already awake now, I should go back as soon as I can. I left my phone behind. It was dead anyway, no use in bringing it with me on my run.

On the way back I’m only thinking about food. Not because I’m hungry, no. Speaking of, it’s also quite weird that I’m not hungry at all after all that running around. Which really does speak about how much we over-ate last night. Who could blame us? It was a nice meal after all. I’m actually thinking about what the members should have for breakfast. Granted, all of us are having our calories intake cut, but I don’t think any of them have hit their limit yet. Only I did.

I should cook them a nice serving of ramyeon. That’s all I can cook anyway.

I stop right by the door when I hear someone screaming. The voice comes from the inside. Unmistakably one of the members. Is it Gawon? Probably is. She wakes up early. I open the door as carefully as I can. The scream doesn’t stop.

Gawon is kneeling right in front of my room. The howling of my name breaks through her already failing throat. Water, no, tears, through her normally lovely cheeks. Her eyes are shot wide open, the pupils shrink as far as they can—hiding themselves away from the sight she’s seeing. I ran up to her as quickly as I could to hug her. I caress her head, trying to stop those diamond rivulets from falling away. She doesn’t budge. I try to wipe the wets away. Stabilizing her shaky shoulders, calming her down. It doesn’t work. 

Gawon, don’t you cry like this, Gawon, it looks ugly on you. Stop, please. What even is the reason for you to cry your heart out? So I try to find out, looking right into my room.

There, I see myself.

Ah. So that’s why.

Sorry.

I’m so sorry.

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