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Feels. Too many of them. Most days, standing in a crowd for four hours sounds like an extreme form of torture, but not today. Today I’ll see X-O in person. I’ve dreamt of this for years, and the time has finally come.
My Instagram is open to Chansol’s latest picture, his dyed hair an unnatural red color that somehow makes him even hotter. He’s wearing a striped shirt, leather jacket, and dark jeans. These are the same clothes I’d see him wearing when he landed here in Houston, my hometown. That thought alone keeps me on my feet.
I’ve left him a comment like I always do. Can’t wait to see you, it says. While other fans are leaving comments about how much they love him, I’m always trying to write as if he were actually my friend and not a celebrity.
My username isn’t anything exciting, either. @TalithaXO—my name and my favorite Kpop group.
My roommate and best friend, Samantha, took my profile picture. In it, I’m sitting in a field of bluebells, sunshine on my face. My short brown hair curled well that day, and I’m wearing my favorite round-framed glasses. It’s one of my absolute favorite memories. One where I’m not just living day to day, but really living.
Sometimes I wonder if Chansol ever reads my comments, but the likelihood is low. Today, however, I get to see him for real.
What if Chansol glances my way? Even the thought of eye contact has my heart rate up. He’s going to be here soon.
Of course, that’s only if the girl in front of me lets me look around her. Seriously, I didn’t know they made phones that big, and she’s holding it up like the apocalypse will occur if she misses filming a single second.
I’ll forgive her since she’s a fangirl. It’s what fangirls do.
“Talitha,” Samantha complains, rubbing her belly. “I’m starting to get hungry.”
Bless her heart, she’s come out with me when she’s not even a Kpop fan. She claims her Vietnamese heritage is the thing that’s holding her back from committing to Kpop. She thinks most of the men look too feminine for her. It’s a major pet peeve of mine, but since I love her, I let it go.
“It should be soon, I prom—”
A huge cheer blasts from the multitude, cutting off my words. My bias is here. The thought shivers through my bones until it can no longer be contained. I join in the screams, jumping up and down so I can see.
I’m submerged in the river of people, pushed along the current as everyone tries to get closer to the barrier. Curse my shortness. Most of the throng towers over my shabby five-foot-four-inch self. This can’t happen. I have to see Chansol in person, at least once.
Because I’m willing to do whatever it takes, I use the advantage of my smallness to squeeze through places others can’t. While the taller people are crowding forward by trying to step on each other, I duck down, snaking through all available holes until I’m front and center.
“Chansol!” I scream. I can’t help it―he’s here. I can’t see him, but I know he’s in the room and I want him to know I’m here, too. Doesn’t matter if he’ll never really see me. Knowing that he’s heard my voice is enough.
Let’s face it, Chansol is the bias that trumps every other bias in the history of ultimate biases. I’ve tried to branch out, to feel the same things I feel when I follow other groups, but no one makes me feel like Chansol does.
Six boys are heading down the walkway in sunglasses and hats, surrounded by a circle of bodyguards. I stop breathing.
Usually, I’m not that crazy of a fangirl. I mean, I’ve had my moments where I’ve squealed in front of a computer screen or gushed to my online friends, but it’s nothing like this. The energy pounds, pushing into my soul until I feel like I’ll go crazy if I don’t let it out.
“Chansol!” I shout again.
Here they come, here they come, heretheyfreakingcome! I’m bouncing on my tiptoes to get a better view.
I can almost see Chansol’s face. Those are his lanky legs, his long torso, and his―
“Kay!” Someone behind me shouts, ripping at my hair and pulling me away from the front.
My glasses slide crooked on my face, blurring my vision. I can’t get them back on fast enough. In a flash, the boys are gone. Out the door, to their waiting cars.
No.
I missed them.
I didn’t get to see Chansol’s face.
My one hope in life is left ruined, thanks to another fangirl. Seriously, I’ve been living for this moment. I don’t hate my work, but sometimes it feels like that’s all I am. I’d like to be a woman, too.
I’m frozen, my hand still reaching out, hoping they’ll come back. I waited almost five hours in a mass of bodies, and this is all I get?
The crowd thins around me, excited girls going home to get ready for the concert tomorrow. A concert I’m sadly going to miss.
I tried to save up the funds, but my car broke down right before tickets went on sale. Since I need a car to work, and a job to live, I had to hand over the cash to the mechanic instead of my bias.
The tickets sold out before I could get more money. Which is why it sucks to be an adult.
When I turned eighteen, I was so excited to move out and have a career. I applied for culinary school the second I could, moving into an apartment with Samantha. Now I wish I was still at home, saving my money. Maybe then I could do things like go to X-O concerts.
I’ll have to take solace in the fact that my bias is in the same city as me. Or at least that’s what I tell myself. Even if it’s not good enough.
Maybe after the concert I’ll wait for the boys to come out of the stadium. I can’t give up when I know they’re so near.
I might have a better chance of spotting him then, anyway. As long as I can convince Samantha to come with me again. I don’t trust my driving skills that late at night.
“There you are,” Samantha says, putting a hand on my shoulder and flipping me around. “You just abandoned me in the crowd of crazies.”
“Sam,” I say, my voice cracking. She may be my best friend and my roommate, but she doesn’t understand my love for Kpop. There’s no way she’s feeling my pain.
She tugs at me again. “Let’s get out of here. I feel like I’m going to get trampled.”
“Not yet,” I say. I want to sit and stare at the place where Chansol’s feet walked a second before. Even if I didn’t get to see him. “The traffic’s going to be bad getting out of here, anyway.”
It’s true, and it leaves me a good reason to stay and wallow in my disappointment.
“I knew we should’ve taken a bus,” Sam says, “but that’s probably packed too. I can’t believe this many people came out to see some weird Asian boy band.”
I spin on her, the fangirl claws ready to come out. “Don’t say stuff like that. Especially here. Or else you will get trampled.”
Sam crosses her arms, popping a hip. “Yeah, I noticed they were a little nuts. That one girl totally knocked you over when they were walking by.”
I know all too well, but I don’t want to think about it.
“By the way,” Sam says, “who was that tall one in the middle? He had a cute goofy smile on his face.”
No. She cannot steal my bias. I had him first. Not cool.
“If you ever decide to actually listen to their music, I’ll tell you.”
Sam nudges me, a weird smirk on her face. I get the sense she’s hiding something from me, but if she’d been listening to Kpop, I’d know it.
“Oh come on,” Sam says. “You know I’ve heard all their songs.”
I scoff. “When?”
“Every single day,” she says, poking me in the shoulder, “when you’re blasting it in your room.”
I whack her hand away. “Ha-ha. Very funny.” I’m not rolling my eyes, but it takes a considerable amount of self-restraint.
If only she knew just how much that missed moment has hurt me.
#fangirlproblem1