End of Beginning
characters kang sunhye (misun), mark lee, manager seolhee, mentions of jaemin/other staff
words 5.1k
warnings sexualization of a minor (by the public), mentions of hate & death threats
2017
“I’m so tired, Mark,” the words are practically being slurred out of Misun’s mouth that he can hardly understand her. Her room is dark, not even her night light is on because she whined that it was hurting her eyes. Mark even unplugged her alarm clock so it wouldn’t light up with the numbers. She’s laying on her side in her bed, facing the wall. Mark is on his back next to her, laying on top of the black duvet that she is hidden under. She didn’t ask him to come in here, he just did without a word.
It seemed to be a reoccurring thing— Mark would notice that something was off and would come sit with her when she was finally alone. It didn’t matter if she holed herself up in a practice room or locked herself in her room. She didn’t know how he could tell, and she didn’t know if she wanted to know, either.
“I know,” he says quietly, staring up at nothing in particular. His hands are behind his head, foot repeatedly moving side to side. He has been moving non stop for two days straight, having schedules for both NCT Dream and NCT 127. She didn’t know how he was still functioning and not falling asleep on himself. Thirteen-year-old Misun would be silently gushing over how mentally strong he is, and well, sixteen-year-old Misun wasn’t too shy to sing Mark praises now.
“We should petition for a day off,” she continues to mutter into her pillow, the only other noise being her box fan on the other side of the room. “I vote for just sleeping.”
“That’d be nice,” he responds, but Misun doesn’t like the way he sounds. It’s choked out, like he’s about to cry, but Misun doesn’t know what to do when people cry. She blames it on her mother never comforting her when she cried, so she never learned what to say. Her heart clenches in her chest, though, aching at the thought of Mark being upset. She doesn’t look over her shoulder, but she freezes. Her hand curls into a fist of her blanket, pulling it further over her shoulder. Should she comfort him? Grab his hand?
“Mark,” she says again, and he hums in response. She hesitates for a long minute, picking up the courage to ask before asking, “Do you ever wish you weren’t an idol?”
The room shifts with the question, and she suddenly regrets asking the question. It’s too much, too deep— what if he thought wrongly about her? That she was regretting debuting? She liked her members, they’ve been her friends for years and she couldn’t imagine not being by their side and them at hers— but she hated the way people treated her. She’s about to take it back, maybe tell him to forget it, when he finally speaks.
“Yeah,” he whispers. “Sometimes I do.” Her mouth dries, the answer surprising her. “I used to feel guilty about it,” he continues, voice low. “Like . . . how could I complain? This is what I worked hard for— all those sleepless nights before monthly evaluations. I made it. It’s what people dream about. But some nights, I close my eyes and wonder what it’d feel like to disappear.”
Misun flips over, meeting Mark’s eyes in the darkness. Her heart pounds in her chest, mind running with all sorts of thoughts, “Disappear?” she echoes quietly.
He can see the slight sheen over her eyes, even in the darkness. “Not permanently,” he says quickly. “Just . . . . go somewhere where it’s not possible for anyone to recognize me. Still be Mark, just not NCT’s Mark Lee, you know?”
A sick sense of relief fills her body. She doesn’t wish this feeling on Mark, Mark of everyone, because he doesn’t deserve it. She wanted an answer, to know if she made the right choice— to know if she wasn’t alone in this. She was beginning to dislike being in the eye of the public, beginning to dislike the-so-called fans that called her every name under the sun. She hated the obsessive fans who followed her around— whether they claimed to support her or not. She hated having to get up early, even if she couldn’t work past ten at night because of the law. If Mark, of all people, believed the same as her… Mark, who always wanted to be an idol, who does the most out of all of them only a year in his debut. He was overworked, overwhelmed all the time, but he never showed it— never got angry at the members for things out of their control, never became so depressed all he did was sink into the couch and never move. He wasn’t like her mother, who disappointed Misun more times than she could count. He was always there, and never failed to support her. He had every right to be tired.
Misun realizes she hasn’t responded yet and quietly says, “Yeah. I know.”
He shifts, turning his head toward her, even though there’s only a few inches between them, “Do . . . do you feel like that?”
Misun’s breath hitches, caught slightly off guard, eyes darting away from him. Mark had given her the truth, so why shouldn’t she? She was just afraid his reaction would still be bad. “Yeah,” she admits in a whisper, like someone is listening outside the door, “I’m tired. I just . . . I love being with you guys and performing, but everyone else’s reactions to me . . .” Her bottom lip trembles, no matter how much she tries to hide it. “I hate that it’s this way. I hate that I’m bringing negative attention to us. I wish people liked me.”
Mark’s expression softens, his eyes never leaving her face even as hers turn away to hide from him. The way her voice trembles—how raw and small she sounds—it twists something in his chest.
He doesn’t want to leave her in silence for too long, so he quickly replies, “I do.”
Misun blinks, confused, “You do what?”
“I like you,” he clarifies, voice steady but sending Misun’s pulse skyrocketing, “There’s so many people who like you, Sunny. The people that actually know you like you yet the ones that don’t are the ones who don’t. I think that says something more about them than it does you.”
Misun blinks again, “Oh. Thanks.”
Mark can’t help but crack a smile, “You’re welcome.” His smile then slightly fades, “You know . . . Sunny, I really wish I could help with the hate. I—After knowing you so many years, I’ve grown protective over you, like you’re the sister I’ve never had. I wish I could protect you.”
She’s no longer looking at him, blinking rapidly at the ceiling. Is this what their conversation has come to? Ruining her childhood dreams? Not like she didn’t already know that, but still. With her brows furrowed, she contemplates what to say next, “You do protect me, though.” She glances at him for a split second, noting how his brows raise in confusion, “Do you think I don’t see how you always put me in the middle of the group when we’re out in public? So no one can touch me or push me like they did?”
“I didn’t know you noticed that,” Mark whispers, brows furrowing as he thinks back. “I tried to be subtle about it . . . I know you don’t like us worrying about you, especially ‘making a big deal’ about it, like I knew you’d say. I just wanted to keep you safe.”
“Some things are necessary,” she shrugs, not denying any of his words. She wasn’t used to people paying enough attention to her to worry about her, and to the rest of her members, and even the older members in 127, her being the only girl and one of the youngest was enough to worry them. If all of them were in the same room, there were always at least three pairs of eyes on her at all times. It was annoying at first, but as time went on and more things happened, she understood why they did it. It made her feel as safe as she could, knowing that there were also bodyguards, but she also knew that they couldn’t be around all the time.
“I hate that they are,” Mark says, and she turns her head to look over at him. She swears the distance between them has somehow shrunk. Did she move or did he? Their faces were close—close enough she could even see the moles on his eyelid and bottom lip, count his eyelashes if she dared to. She doesn’t. He continues, blissfully unaware of her internal conflict, “I know you think you have to be quiet whenever we’re in public or doing variety shows, but you don’t have to tone yourself down for anyone. Don’t let anyone try to tell you that, even the company.”
Misun frowns, “But the company said my role is to—”
“You’re not happy pretending to be someone you’re not,” he says, effectively silencing her. “You’re more than enough as you are. I like who you are.”
Her lips part slightly, but no words come. They’re staring at each other, still not moving, before she swallows, “I wish I knew who I was. I’ve spent so long. . . trying to be what everyone wanted me to be all at once. My mother . . .” She hesitates, before continuing, “Her. SM, the perfect princess. I don’t feel like I have control of my life anymore.” Her brows furrow, “I don’t think I ever did.”
Mark doesn’t speak right away, he just watches her. The softness in his eyes makes her chest tighten. She’s said too much. She shouldn’t have brought up her mother. She shouldn’t have opened that door when there’s so many things she’s failed to explain in the past. Failed to explain why her mother was never around and when she promised to, she still bailed. Failed to explain why she never talked about her. It’s been nearly four years since most of them have met her, and they still don’t really know anything. She can’t blame them if they’re angry— she’s supposed to trust them, and she does, but how do you explain that your mother— who was once an idol— is an addict that only manipulates and lies? That she’s the one person Misun is supposed to trust the most in the world, but she can’t.
“I know the real you,” he whispers. “I know the little girl—“ she rolls her eyes at that, and he smiles slightly, “—I met that picked on me so much I thought she hated me. I know the girl that caught me up on everything I missed when I wasn’t in Korea, who helped me with the choreos even when it was getting past midnight. I know the girl that feels everything too much, that even when she claimed to hate someone, she comforted him after she was the one who almost died.”
“I didn’t almost die,” she sighs, cutting him off, “I just had a panic attack.”
“I’m not finished,” Mark raises his brows. “I know the girl that remembers everyone’s favorites when she doesn’t even remember to feed herself sometimes. I know the girl that makes sure Chenle and Jisung are safe, because she feels like they’re her responsibility. I know the girl that barely let anyone shake her hand let alone hand her anything the first couple of months of training, but now leans into any touch.”
Misun’s frozen, not looking at him anymore. Her grip on the blanket is tight, and he can see the way her chest rises unevenly, like she’s holding back tears.
“You’re not your mom,” he says, and it’s soft and reassuring, “You’re not what SM wants you to be. And that’s OK. You’re you. The only reason we can keep it together on bad days.”
She laughs weakly, “That’s a little dramatic.”
“I’m not joking,” he replies seriously. “You think we don’t see how you check in on everyone before you let yourself fall apart? Alone, where no one can see you?”
“I’m not trying to be dramatic,” she says quickly, heart pounding at the sudden new information. She didn’t know he knew, there was a reason she was trying to hide it all from them.
“You’re not,” he shakes his head slowly. He doesn’t say anything for a moment before saying, “I don’t want you to deal with this alone anymore.”
She stares at him, speechless as her eyes sting. She clears her throat, throat still feeling like it’s tightening, but she still doesn’t know how to respond. How do you respond to something like that?
When Mark sees that she’s not going to respond, he continues, “You think you have to handle everything by yourself. Like, like if you let someone in and they help you, it means you’re failing. But you’re not. You’re not failing, Sunhye. Needing help doesn’t make you any less of an idol than the rest of us.” He pauses, making sure she’s looking him in the eyes now, “I need help sometimes, too, you know?”
She frowns, not liking the idea of him feeling helpless, “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?” When he shakes his head, her frown deepens. “What? When?” She eyes him, “You never come to me.”
He smiles slightly, but there’s nothing really amusing about the conversation, “Neither do you.” When she doesn’t say anything, he continues, “I don’t come to you because I don’t want to burden you—” her mouth drops open in shock, quickly going to tell him that he’s not a burden, but he stops her, “Hold on, I’m not done. You already have enough on your plate, I can see that. I didn’t want to make it worse by having you worry about me, too.”
Misun stares at him incredulously, before huffing, “You’re not a burden, Mark. Gosh, I can’t believe you’d really say that,” she scoffs at him, shaking her head. “Where’d you get that dumb idea in your head?”
Mark tilts his head, “Probably from spending too much time with you. My thoughts started to reflect yours.”
Misun sighs, glancing away from him, “Maybe we are more alike than we think.”
He smiles softly, nodding slowly, “Yeah.” He continues staring at her, making her side-eye him, wanting him to stop, but he doesn’t.
“Stop,” she mutters, “I don’t like that.”
“Like what?”
She doesn’t exactly want to tell him it aloud, so she deflects, “You know. Do as I say, not as I do,” she stares at him blankly, “I’m clearly not a good example to follow.”
“Then how about we make a promise?” He suggests, and when she gestures for him to go on, he does. “I won’t hide anything from you, and you won’t hide anything from me. We go to each other when we need help. We’re a team, we lean on each other.”
Her heart feels warm at his words, biting down on her bottom lip. She’s glad it’s dark in her room. It’s not lost on her that this entire time, they’ve still been mostly talking about her and he hasn’t said anything about himself, but she drops it. For now. She nods once, tension leaving her shoulders with an exhale, “OK.”
Mark holds out his pinky and she rolls her eyes, but is smiling as she links hers around his. He glances over at her, “You don’t have to pretend with me, OK?” It’s so simple, not even a big confession or anything, but it means a lot more to her than he realizes.
She stares at him with parted lips, before nodding again, whispering again, “OK.”
They both settle into a quiet stillness again. And this time, when Misun closes her eyes, it’s not out of exhaustion, but relief.
With the end of We Young promotions, Misun was back to being left to her own devices. Jaemin was staying at his mom’s apartment for a couple of weeks, and would be back a couple days after their schedules ended. Mark and Haechan were attending a NCT 127 schedule while the others were either asleep in their beds or holed up in their rooms. Misun wished that was what she was doing right now.
When she woke up this morning, she had a text message from her manager, Seolhee. It was to inform her that the management team wanted to talk to her as soon as possible. Her heart sank to her stomach the moment she finished reading, inhaling shakily. She could only imagine what they wanted to say to her.
Maybe it was the usual— “You have to keep up with the boys, Misun, or else this won’t work.” or “You have to prove your way, just like everyone else.” or “Not everyone will like you, so you have to learn to deal with it.” when she had the audacity to complain about the hate she was getting online and how the company wouldn’t do anything about it. But the words being said about her wasn’t just dislike— it was full on hatred.
She could take criticism— she’d been taking it her entire life from her own mother, she could handle it from faceless nobodies on the Internet. What she couldn’t take was the insults of her appearance, calling her all sorts of degrading names, making up rumors about how she got into the group, and whatever else they're saying about her that she hasn’t seen yet.
When she first debuted, she couldn’t go a night without crying herself to sleep. It got to the point where the members had to take her phone away themselves, because any chance she got, she was searching her name up. Now, it was a little better, she had learned to try her best to ignore it, but sometimes it was hard when they were also saying it right to her face, too.
When they did that, mostly it was older women and even a few men, it made her so angry she wanted to snap back, but she thought it would make it worse. It’d just paint her in an even worse light, and bring more negative attention to the group. She’d make it worse than it already was, and then they’d really have to kick her out.
Misun’s sitting stiffly on the edge of the black leather couch, twiddling with her fingers to ignore the urge to bite at them from nervousness. In front of her was Seolhee, Yewon, Wonseo, and a couple of others from Center Four publicity team that she remembers from media training classes. It made her feel on edge. The moment she stepped in the room, she knew what was going to happen.
“. . . So we’re thinking it might be best for you to go on a short break,” Seolhee says, not looking her in the eyes, even as Misun’s eyes burn through her. “Just a hiatus for the time being. It’s nothing permanent, NCT Dream probably won’t even have a comeback yet by the time you’re back. It’s just . . . with everything going on—social media, the comments, and just— everything, we want to give you some space. Time to breathe, focus on your health.”
“I don’t need space,” she speaks up, but her voice is very faint and flat. “I’m fine.”
“It’s non-negotiable,” Wonseo says firmly, arms crossed with his eyes calmly trained on her. “It’s just for a little while until it all dies down. We’ll put out a statement that it’s for personal reasons.”
Misun doesn’t like the look in his eyes when she finally looks away from Seolhee. They were daring her to snap back, to give him any further reason to pull her out of the group even more. Wonseo has made it clear from the very start that he wasn’t fond of the idea of her being in the group.
She glances around the room. Seolhee is still avoiding her eyes, and Yewon hasn’t once looked her way since she entered the room. Everyone else looked like robots, like this was just the one thing they needed to get done before going out for lunch— like they hadn’t just shattered her world. No one was on her side here. She could be in a room full of people, and still feel so alone.
Her eyes are glassy as she slowly nods, looking at nothing in particular. “Did— did someone say something?” She asks before she can stop herself, voice barely above a whisper now. She’s afraid if she was any louder, her voice would break.
There is a pause, and no one speaks for a second. It’s only a second or two, but it’s enough of a pause to plant the seed of doubt.
“No,” Seolhee said gently, and Misun hates the way she sounds. Like she actually cares about her. She squeezes her eyes shut, one lone tear escaping as she does. “We’re just concerned about you, Misun. This is for the best, OK?”
She wants to scream. She wants to cry. Is it the best for her or for them?
She doesn’t do any of that. She just nods silently and quickly wipes the tear away. “Is that it?”
She doesn’t see it, but Seolhee exchanges a nervous look with Yewon, before she says, “Yeah. I’ll drive you home, OK?”
Misun doesn’t say another word as she stands, bows faintly toward the general direction of the table, then walks out the door without looking back. She doesn’t stop walking until she reaches the restroom. The moment the door clicks shut behind her, she locks it, presses her back to the cold tile wall, and finally lets herself exhale a shaky and shallow breath.
Her ears and cheeks are hot, throat tightening and nose burning with the sudden onset of tears. Her hands come up to her head, pressing on her eyes harshly, “Stop crying,” she mutters through her tears, a sob ripping out of her chest.
She wasn’t stupid. They said it was for her, but it really wasn’t. It was the easy way out and the best choice for them. Instead of defending her in a statement, they just let it happen— let grown journalists write badly about a child. She hated thinking of herself as a child, but that’s simply what she was. How could anyone think of the vile things they thought and said about a child?
This couldn’t get any worse.
Misun was wrong. It definitely could.
“You’re a liar!” She seethes through angry and sad tears, vision blurry as she stomps throughout the dorm, back and forth from the living room where Seolhee was to her room. She doesn’t know where the members went, they were home before she left. There wasn’t a note or anything like there usually would be— did they already know? And they just wanted to miss her breakdown when she finally came home— only to get kicked out of her own fucking home? Or did one of the managers, probably Wonseo, bribe them out of the dorm with ice cream?
She keeps glancing at her phone every few minutes after packing some clothes in her suitcase. When she storms back to the living room, “I asked you ‘Is that it?’ and you told me yes! You didn’t tell me you were kicking me out the dorm, too!” She hates the loud, ugly sob that rips through her chest but she’s technically alone so she doesn’t care all that much.
“It was for the best—”
“Oh, God! Give me a break!” She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. She wipes more tears from her face but they keep falling, “There goes that again. For the best? Really?! That’s all you have to say to me?” She’s taken a demanding tone now, and she usually never would with authority figures but Seolhee was barely reacting.
“Unless you’d rather have reacted like this in front of the others,” she gestures to Misun, crossing her arms as she sits at the edge of the couch. “This isn’t permanent, Sunhye. It’s just temporary until everything is under control. People are making threats to you! Does that not scare you?”
“Then protect me!” Misun shouts incredulously, eyes wide as she stares at her. “Hire more bodyguards! Do your damn job! Move us to another dorm. That should’ve happened a long time ago when the first person found out where we lived!”
“I don’t have all the power in the world,” Seolhee sighs loudly, rubbing her temples. “What do you not understand about this is temporary?” Misun hates that word. Temporary. It feels like the word is actually taunting her. “Why are you being so childish about this now?”
“You’re making me leave my home,” Misun gasps out, shocked to hear her say that. Seolhee has always been the one closest to Misun, even being as far as being titled just Misun’s manager. “Have you had any consideration about where I’m supposed to go? I’ve lived in the dorms since I became a trainee.”
Seolhee rolls her eyes, shockening Misun even more, “What are you talking about? You have multiple choices: your mother—“ Misun blanches at that. Was this bitch crazy? “—your father, your brothers!”
Yeah, this bitch was crazy, she quickly decides.
“I’m not living with my mother,” she says firmly, “I’m pretty sure my dad is living with his current girlfriend of the month, so no thank you. And—” she laughs incredulously, “Jiho hates me! Jaesuk has more important things than me. You can’t just dump me on them.”
“It’s not dumping you on them, they’re your family,” Seolhee shakes her head. “You have the option of your grandparents, too.”
Misun’s jaw drops now, “They’re all the way in Texas! You’re really trying to get rid of me.”
“I thought they were moving back to Korea?” Seolhee ignores her words. “To be closer to you since you debuted?”
No. They specifically said it was for political reasons— not exactly in those words, but much more vulgar.
“I doubt they want to take care of a teenager,” Misun exclaims, sighing and storming back off to her room.
Seolhee follows this time, still talking, “They’re your family, and I’m sure they’ll be glad to be with you again.”
“Why are you doing this to me?” Misun shakes her head swiftly, going into her room straight to her bed. Her suitcase lays open on the bed, with some clothes packed into it. Some toiletries have been taken from her restroom and put in a medium-sized backpack.
Looking at her bed makes her think of a couple of days ago when Mark was lying next to her, and they both promised to let each other in. She didn’t have to carry this by herself. She glances down at her phone, looking for any texts from her members. None. She ignores Seolhee talking behind her and thinks about texting Mark, letting him know what was going on. But… what if he already knew? Maybe they told him first since he was the leader.
Or maybe he already knew because he was the one that brought it up to them in the first place. Her chest aches at the thought. She had told him in full confidence that he wouldn’t tell anyone— she didn’t even bother to ask and make sure because she was so sure that it was wordlessly stated.
“It’s only temporary—”
All Misun’s been hearing is temporary, temporary. Temporary hiatus, temporary unit. Everything she knows is temporary. Why was that word cursing her?
“Stop saying that!” She shouts, turning around suddenly and making Seolhee stop pacing in surprise. “Temp-temporary! If it’s temporary, then why are you making me move out? Jaemin got the choice to stay! This feels like it’s permanent!”
“It’s to give you space,” Seolhee stresses, eyes wide at all the shouting from the usually meek and quiet girl. She didn’t meet Misun until they were preparing for debut, she didn’t know the trainee before the idol. “To give everyone space, Sunhye! Stop shouting and let’s talk about this, maturely.”
But she didn’t care, she figured if they were already trying to push her out, she had the right to say what she had to say. She wasn’t afraid of them. Not like she was afraid of having to go back to living with her mother.
She scoffs, “To give everyone space? What the hell do they need space for?! I’m the one getting death threats. I’m the one being accused of sleeping my way into the group!” The words taste bitter in her mouth, having to force the words out.
It’s the first time she’s mentioned it out loud. The accusation was the worst thing Misun has ever heard about herself— it was humiliating and cruel. She remembers being inconsolable when she saw the first article about it. It was enough that people were talking about it online, but the fact that there were articles being written about it? Making the rumors more public— putting her more in the spotlight for the public’s scrutiny.
There’s a stunned look on Seolhee’s face, jaw slack, eyes blinking like she’s trying to process what she just heard.
“Did you think I didn’t know?” Her voice breaks, and she can feel the tears starting all over again. She hates crying. She really fucking hates crying. “There were articles about it. I’m sure even the members know about it. There’s no way you didn’t.”
Seolhee doesn’t speak for a long moment, but when she does, Misun’s crying softly with her chest heaving and breath caught in her throat. Why does she never win? “Those are just rumors,” Seolhee is speaking slowly and carefully, like she’s reciting something from memory. “Cruel, baseless rumors that no one here believes, Misun.”
“Then why does it feel like they do?” Misun cuts her off, voice sharp and raw with pain. “If no one believes them, why am I the one being punished?”
Seolhee stays silent.
Misun scoffs through her tears, sniffling harshly as she turns her back to her. She can’t even look at her anymore. “Don’t bother answering. I already know— It’s easier to blame the girl, right? You’re just going to prove them all right that I wasn’t ready to debut, that I couldn’t keep up with a group of boys.” She shakes her head to herself, vision blurry even as she adds more of her clothes in her suitcase.
Her head bows slightly, squeezing her eyes shut as she wills the tears to slow down. After a moment, she sniffles again and speaks, but doesn’t turn to look at Seolhee, “Can you leave me alone? I’ll be done in a few minutes.”
Seolhee doesn’t answer, only shutting the door behind her. Once she’s gone, Misun slumps on her bed and brings a pillow to her face before screaming into it.
Just the very thing she feared— she was turning out like her mother.
