I adjusted my white T-shirt for the hundredth time, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles as I stepped into the grand venue.
The champagne-coloured pants felt snug, as if they were a disguise draped over my frame, a little too formal for my usual taste, but I had spent nearly half my monthly allowance on this outfit.
I had to look the part—at least, I had to try.
I sighed, running a hand through my already-messy hair.
"Why am I even here?"
I knew the answer, of course. April 8th, 2019—my best friend's birthday. Every year, she invited me. Every year, I came. And every year, I felt the same—like a background character in a world filled with main leads.
Jeon Sohee's birthday parties were always like this—extravagant, over-the-top, and absolutely terrifying for someone like me.
A booked-out resort, a world-renowned DJ blasting music, Michelin-starred chefs serving dishes that sound like spells from a wizarding book. Every year, her parents went above and beyond.
I don't belong here, but it's Sohee's birthday, and I could never say no to her.
I took a deep breath as I stepped into the grand hall, immediately felt like a nobody in this sea of people who are all somebody. Celebrities, heirs of business empires, young influencers who own luxury cars before they even get their licenses—Sohee's world. Not mine.
I may have attended these kinds of parties for years, but that feeling of being an outsider never really fades.
There was a time I thought I could be somebody too.
When I was ten, my dad bought me my first guitar, and for years, all I could dream about was becoming the best musician in the world. That dream shattered when my band broke up. The music, the dream, the purpose—it was all gone, and suddenly, it was over.
It wasn't just a split; it was a train wreck of egos and shattered friendships.
I couldn't bring myself to pick up music seriously again. I had lost my motivation, my inspiration—my reason to become somebody. I told myself I wasn't good enough, that I was an incompetent musician who couldn't even keep a band together.
Music used to be my escape, but now, even that feels pointless.
I sighed, shaking off the thoughts. Tonight wasn't about me. It was about Sohee.
Scanning the room, I spotted her near the bar, dressed in a striking red bodycon that somehow made her look even taller.
A smirk tugged at my lips. She hasn't seen me yet. Perfect!
I sneaked quietly behind her, preparing to surprise her. But just as I was about to strike, she spoke without even turning around.
"Kim Taeyang, you should know this stopped working five years ago."
"You could've at least pretended."
She spins around, grinning. "Where's the fun in that?"
I sighed dramatically and then smiled. "Happy birthday, Sohee!"
"That's the seventeenth time you've said that today."
"Well, it's your seventeenth birthday. Seemed fitting."
She rolls her eyes. "You never miss a chance to be extra, do you?"
"I'm just... thorough," I said, crossing my arms.
She laughed, nudging me playfully. "Glad you're here, though. It wouldn't be the same without you."
I found it hard to believe. How could someone like me make any real difference at such an extravagant party? Then again, maybe it's simply the bond of our friendship that mattered, I've known her for ten years.
Sohee is different. She's funny, outgoing, the kind of person everyone naturally gravitated toward.
*Why is she even friends with someone like me?*
Lost in thought, I barely noticed her studying me. "You okay?"
I forced a casual shrug. "Yeah… Yeah, of course."
Sohee didn't buy it. She never did. "It's about Jin-wook and Sung-hoon, isn't it?"
I let out a humorless laugh. "You already know it. They were a lost cause."
"Tae—"
"Jin-wook messed up, Sung-hoon overreacted, and somehow, I ended up losing both of them. The worst part? It had nothing to do with me, and yet I was the one who got hurt. They even made me choose between them. How could I pick between my best bros? And when I tried to fix things, they both shut me out."
She placed a reassuring hand on my arm. "If they really valued your friendship, they'll come back."
I shook my head. "No, it's over. My friends, my band, my music—my dream. All of it, gone."
She frowned. "Taeyang, you were doing great. Even if your band wasn't some global sensation, you had fans. People loved your voice. Your voice was the reason your band had any following at all! Even without the band, you can do well on your own."
I stared at her, stunned.
"Trust yourself for once," she said. "You have something special, but you keep doubting yourself."
Her words hit me like a chord I'd forgotten I could play—a reminder of the countless hours spent perfecting my vocals, of the passion that once burned so brightly within me. She wasn't wrong. People did like my singing.
"Thanks, Sohee." I say, sincerity softening my tone. "You're the most reliable person I know."
"You should trust yourself more," Sohee said, squeezing my arm. "When you make it big, don't forget to hire me as your assistant."
I scoffed. "Assistant? You'd take over my entire career."
She grinned. "Exactly."
I chuckled. "Deal."
We laughed, and for a moment, the weight on my shoulders felt a little lighter.
The familiar banter eased some of the tension I carried with me. Sohee had a way of making everything feel lighter, even in a place like this.
Then, out of nowhere, glancing towards the entrance, she muttered, "She hasn't arrived yet. What's taking her so long?"
I blinked. "Who?"
Before she could answer, a hush ripples through the crowd. Something about the way the entire room seemed to hold its breath made my stomach tighten.
The music stuttered for half a beat. Conversations faded. Heads turned, expressions shifting—some in recognition, others in awe.
And then, I saw her.
You may ask, who is she?
I didn't know, but from the way the air shifted, the way people parted to make way, I could tell—she's somebody.
Little did I know, this somebody was about to change something in me.