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twiceblackvelvet · 4 years

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Dreams

pt. i. pt.ii. pt.iii. pt.iv.

April 15th, 2022. 13:42 AM. Los Angeles.

California sunshine, there’s nothing like it. Sure, it all beams down from the same star no matter where you are in the world. But there’s something different about the atmosphere. People don’t care here if you’re parading around in a cropped shirt that shows off more skin than you’d usually be comfortable with. They are too wrapped up in their own socially driven lives to bother you in passing unless they recognize you. Then it’s time to whip out the phone to selfie mode in hopes it gains them a few extra likes than usual. Wendy doesn’t mind, it’s only happened twice, but she’s accepted it as part of the package.

When people say Los Angeles is the city of dreams, they mean it. That’s mainly why she finds herself strolling down the busy street with boutique clothing stores galore and people riding around on skateboards, enjoying their lives however they wish to do so. The freedom to explore your dreams in the place that either makes you or breaks you being all too tempting. But, Wendy is determined to be one of the few souls that soar and reach the goal they set out to achieve when they arrived here, rather than let the city suck her dry and toss her aside as it has done to many others.

It’s been eight months since she packed up her things and moved here. Many of her friends back in Korea told her she’d regret it or that she’d be better off staying and never trying to break into the music scene in the US, but Wendy has always been a free spirit, unable to follow what could be the safe path and instead aiming for what she truly wants. That’s how she ended up in Red Velvet. She could have stayed in Canada all of those years ago, become a doctor or a lawyer, but she knew it wouldn’t have fulfilled her.

Singing just comes naturally. Without music, she’d be a shell of a person and definitely not in the position she finds herself in today.

After working non-stop for what feels like forever, sleeping in the studio rather than her fancy apartment she paid more for than she’d like to admit, and refusing to acknowledge the outside world, today is the day. Today, the world has been invited to listen to her first full album. Some last-minute changes to cater to Yeri suddenly backing out of appearing as a song-writer and producer were a little stressful to deal with, but luckily her team eventually agreed to remove the song. Though, if you ask them, being subjected to the torture of a grumpy Wendy who they’d grown used to being bright and fun is something no one should have to deal with, ever.

Before every release with Red Velvet, all the girls would have their own individual ways of preparing for it and calming their nerves. However, being alone now means Wendy can no longer practice hers, which was to focus on everyone else to distract herself from her own thoughts. Thus, the impromptu walk through the blistering streets and people watching is the only thing that feels appropriate. It also stops her from worrying about no one buying it and her hard work going to waste.

She misses four faces specifically whilst wandering.

“Oh my god, Wendy?” A shrill voice yells from behind her but before she’s even turned a full 180 degrees, arms are around her neck and wrapping her up into a crushing hug. “It is you, it’s been so long!”

Had it been anyone else or had she been unable to recognize the voice, it’s very possible that the random strangers passing by would have been instructed to call the police immediately. Thankfully, it’s not someone trying to attack her, well, unless you count affection as an attack, Wendy doesn’t.

“Tiffany, hey! It’s been forever.” She chokes out, arms still around her throat, making it difficult to speak.

No one bats an eyelid at the two girls admiring each other mere inches away from each other, though it feels like someone should be there to capture the moment, at least for fans to gush about. Wendy takes a moment to look at Tiffany. Her skin appears to be glowing more than the last time she’d caught up with her. She looks healthy… happy. It’s a breath of fresh air to see someone from her world here alongside her and not seemingly a broken shell of a person.

“You look amazing, wow! What are you doing here?” Tiffany asks, her voice still far too loud for a conversation in the middle of a busy street, not that Wendy minds.

“I live here now.” She replies bluntly, though, her conscious reminds her for a split second that even though neither of them is in Korea anymore, Tiffany is still a senior to her. Her tone softens naturally before continuing. “I came here after… well, you know.”

Tiffany nods in understanding, though her eyes show sadness for a split second. There’s no need for either of them to discuss the split of her group, Tiffany herself understands what it’s like to be apart from the very people you spent a huge portion of your life alongside.

“So, what are you up to?” The lack of words between them both makes Wendy blurt out, also, so Tiffany can stop looking at her so pitifully. “I’m on my way to grab a coffee if you want to join me? Catch-up?”

Though it was presented as a question and is a heat of the moment change of plans from what she was doing which was nothing, in particular, Wendy is grateful for this distraction that Tiffany has given her without knowing she has.

In the blink of an eye, Tiffany has linked their arms together and is dragging her halfway down the street to what she assures her is by far the best place for something way better than coffee.

When they arrive outside of an organic pop-up store that only serves vegan food and uses all non-dairy products, Wendy isn’t surprised. She’s read reviews about this kind of place lately, though she’s never ventured to any of them, deciding that the hype about buckwheat tea and the likes can’t be real. However, she’s been roped into this now and has no choice but to try something once they reach the counter.

“I’ve never been here before, what do you recommend?” She aims toward Tiffany, however, it gains the attention of the young woman stood near the till waiting patiently to take their order.

“The watermelon lemonade is popular, miss.” The girl whose nametag reads Olivia responds.

Her face is trying its best to put on a smile, though, Wendy summarizes quickly that Olivia does not have an accent that sounds like she’s from California originally, likely moved here to be an actress and just never received an opportunity to do so. Thus, she’s stuck putting on a different act, pretending to be enthusiastic about serving drinks to people that will “cleanse” them. To put politely.

“I guess I’ll go for that then.” Both Wendy and Tiffany offer her a smile before she darts off to prepare their drinks.

Tiffany tries to pay. Wendy won’t let her. They both try their best to be stubborn about it, however, Wendy somehow wins this round and thanks the heavens that Olivia is a lot better at her job than she expected as no sooner does she leave to make their order, she returns with two recyclable cups in tow. They sit outside and drink what Wendy reluctantly admits is a delicious watermelon lemonade whilst getting re-acquainted with one another.

Small talk is all that they engage in at first. Politely asking about each other’s families, if they’ve been up to anything special lately. Wendy doesn’t mention the album release, she’s not sure why. Tiffany tells her about how she will be on tour soon and how Wendy should come to one of her shows so they can sing together. Wendy agrees. The mood turns rather solemn when they reminisce on how young they both were when they first began their careers and everything they’ve been through in the music industry.

“Do you like it here?” Tiffany’s voice is soft and her face serious, something that Wendy is unsure she’s ever seen from her before.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s nothing like what I’m used to but that’s a good thing,” Wendy answers, surprised by her own honesty. “It’s nice to not feel judged and that it’s okay if I make a mistake. If I mess up something here, people don’t seem to mind so long as I’m willing to learn from it. It’s not like that… there.” Wendy wants to say home, but she’s not sure if she can call it home for either of them anymore.

“I know what you mean. There’s a lot more freedom out here.”

A comfortable silence falls between them, both pondering all the times they’d gotten on the bad side of people for whatever reason, big or small. Both being grateful that they still made it here, whilst some others are less fortunate.

Tiffany pulls out her phone to check the time, standing to place her cup in the recycling bin before turning back to Wendy, a lopsided smile on her face.

“Give me your number, I have somewhere I need to be but we should hang out again soon.”

Wendy obliges, it’d be nice to have a friend here. Someone who understands her. She finishes typing in her number and hands the device back to Tiffany who has pulled sunglasses with a huge frame out of thin air seemingly to place on her face.

“Hey, I know that things may seem a lot better here, and… they can be. But just keep your guard up. The music business is shady everywhere, it doesn’t matter where you are.” Tiffany gently rubs a hand down Wendy’s arm as she speaks. It's not as comforting as she probably believes it is. Whilst she doesn’t say whether she’s speaking from personal experience, Wendy assumes so and appreciates the advice.

"I will, thank you. Let's meet up soon!"

Tiffany turns on her heels to strut back down the street they walked down to get the juice that Wendy realizes now has made her nausea even worse. She watches her for a few steps before she turns back in place to holler in her booming voice that is way more fitting than the serious one just seconds ago.

“Congratulations on the album too.”

Wendy is stuck in place, jaw agape with confusion. Though she's happy that they didn't end up talking about it, she's slightly worried about how Tiffany knows about it without her mentioning it at all during their catch-up.

“How did y-” Wendy tries to ask but is cut off by an already leaving Tiffany who throws her a response over her shoulder.

“Check the charts, Seungwan.”

to be continued; here

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