Something There

The Stage Manager's words swirled in my mind as I tried to grasp their full

meaning.

Suddenly my producer gently tapped my shoulder.

"Joon-Ho, simply go through these curtains when I give you the signal."

'Joon-Ho,' a name I hadn't heard in a while.

I nodded and stepped aside as the production assistant demonstrated one final time, pulling the heavy red

velvet curtains aside as the stage manager announced my stage name:

'Luminex.'

Luminex, the name that rolled off the tongues of millions of K-pop fans, and

now it would extend to the entire world. Our team would be the face of every

New York billboard, gracing magazine covers, cereal boxes, Instagram feeds,

and Facebook reels. This was the moment we had been working toward all

our lives.

Velocity, dressed in a studded belt, asymmetrical leather coat, graphic tee,

and tight-fitting pants, approached me and brought me back to the present.

The makeup stylists are here, Lume. We should get you ready backstage."

My co-star was always well-prepared for show business, standing in the wings

before every performance, focusing on his technique and building up his

adrenaline.

"We know our cues," I replied with a smile, hoping this time he would follow

them when we were called on stage.

Velocity was like a tornado, a force sometimes beyond our control. As his K-pop co-star Star Dust and I often had to keep an eye on him. Within our performances, he was always the energy that the audience mirrored. He kept both of us afloat when the gruelling workouts, stunts, and endless tour nights left us exhausted and less optimistic.

"That's epic! I'm going to get ready, so you should go ahead. But don't worry,

I'll wait for your nod before I jump onto The Tonight Show stage and shock

Jimmy and all of America with my eclectic moves."

Rolling my eyes, I evaded a playful punch in the arm from him with a simple twirl.

"Hey, Lume," I halted on the metal stairwell above the emergency exit door as

I made my way to the backstage dressing room.

"I did notice that you seemed distracted earlier. Have you been thinking about

her again?" I despised how something so ordinary as walking towards the

stairs could be interrupted by intrusive thoughts, and this was one of them.

'Her' the reference to my mother and her call brought me back to my Korean

name once more. I shifted my weight on the stairwell and rubbed my sweaty

palm against the cool stair rail.

"No, I was just thinking about the after-parties we'll have once the tour starts,"

I replied, trying to maintain a steady tone despite the wavering in my voice.

"I've never had an American burger or listened to an American DJ. The

moment we walk through those curtains tonight, our lives will change."

Velocity's concerned expression seemed to vanish as he took the bait of my

diversion.

"Oh, I know! Just imagine the people we can hang out with and the sights we

can explore when the producer is busy," he said, revealing his wild side.

The weight of the moment lifted, and with a slight grin, I nodded as Velocity

returned to his routine of checking off details and practising dance moves for

our first major world platform show. One of the things I love most about K-pop

is the freedom to explore and experiment with various creative elements.

From crafting unique melodies to choreographing dynamic dance routines, I

relish in the process of bringing my artistic vision to life. The stage has always

been the pulse of my heartbeat, connecting me to a world of opportunities,

meaning, popularity, fame, and energy.

From a very young age, my father wanted me to pursue the family career of

becoming a doctor. For generations, my family had proudly served in the

medical field, and our home in Seoul was adorned with photos, awards, and

degrees symbolising our honourable lineage. Even my very first birthday gift

was a stethoscope, a not-so-subtle reminder of the path my father had

envisioned for me.

The expectations had weighed heavily on me, and my father's constant

reminders of the noble profession became an incessant drumbeat in my ears.

But one fateful day, as I had made my way home from school, a group of

friends dressed casually and walked together, disappearing into a glowing

lounge called Harmony House. The lounge had always been there, but its

contents had always remained a mystery to me. Intrigued, I followed them

down a dimly lit alley, hiding my school bag behind a dumpster before stepping

through the highlighted purple door into the unknown.

As if guided by an invisible thread, I found myself in a cosy room with a

circular booth, a microphone, and drinks on the table as I slipped in beside my

schoolmates. My friends chatted away, oblivious to my presence. When the

music started and the lyrics appeared on the screen, something magical

happened. My heart skipped beats, and a surge of excitement and anticipation

coursed through me.

";Here, take it," my friend said, passing me the microphone, and encouraging

me to give it a try.

I felt like a fish out of water, but with their support, I opened my mouth, and to

my surprise, a passion I never knew existed poured out. It was as if I had

written the lyrics myself, and my friends watched in awe.

From that moment, karaoke became my secret escape, my disguise for

attending tutoring classes nearby so my parents would never suspect a thing.

Little did I know that my friends would share my written songs and recordings

online, catching the attention of a K-pop producer who paired me with

Stardust and Velocity to form Luminex, the K-pop sensation of the future.

Now, in the buzzing dressing room, makeup artists and assistants hurried

around, grabbing colourful eye shadows, foundations, and hair products. Each

of our looks took hours to perfect, especially Stardust, whose stage image

required meticulous attention to detail. He sat in front of his mirror, capturing

TikTok videos to update his followers about our preparations for the most

significant night of our lives.

As I settled into my own seat beside him, I couldn't help but notice a reminder

message from my mother: Missed call from Yoon. It sparked a mix of

emotions within me—resentment, anger, and frustration. My father had

disowned me when he found out about my music career, and my mother had

remained silent throughout the ordeal, her disappointment palpable.

Setting my phone face-down, I shook my head, determined to push those

memories aside and focus on the glamorous world in front of me.

"Lume...Lume," Stardust called out, his porcelain face adorned with soft, natural

makeup accentuating his luminous skin. His hair was intricately braided with

floral accents and subtle hints of glitter. Holding his iPhone 14 in his right

hand, he posed, showcasing his chiffon blouse, sequined pants, and jewel-

studded boots.

“Will you say hello to my adoring fans?” It was hard to say no to that

endearing but slightly demanding face.

"Of course, Star," I replied, rolling my eyes playfully, tossing him a grin before

he leaned in closer, causing one of the assistant makeup artists to sigh

apprehensively.

"Hey, fans," I said, adopting my stage name voice, "we'll see you tonight on

the world stage. Tune in and always stay cute." The video ended, and the

likes poured in, leaving Stardust squealing with delight before the makeup

artists resumed their work.

Stardust was the epitome of perfection on stage, radiating charisma and

capturing the audience's attention with every performance. His flawless looks

accompanied by his stunning complexion brought charm to his singing and his

stage presence was always magnified by something that shimmered,

glistened, and glowed. Before every performance, his online audience was

tuning in to his warm-ups, makeup styles and just anything and everything

him.

When we first met Stardust was definitely not where he was now. From

humble beginnings, he had worked the hardest of the group to get to where he

is today. He sang from a young age and when he moved to Seoul he trained

ruthlessly day and night to reach the highest quality of stardom. One thing

though that he has always carried with him is his love for his family.

He is always sending money home and speaking with them on video chats

nearly every day. His mother and father always speak highly of him, and he is

always holding a bright smile when they have talked together. Family, there it

was, a word I despised.

StarDust was also the glue to our band, he kept things warm and loving and

there has never been an ounce of competition or disdain. He keeps Velocity

humbled and encourages me to embrace who I am. But there is one thing I do

not need from him or Velocity for that matter; family. It seems to be such a

fickle thing, full of so many challenges and obstacles, when I have all that I

need here on the stage.

There is nothing I won’t take charge of, no challenge I cannot overcome, and I

do not need anyone’s support or advice or anything, family is not necessary in

my role. When I walk onto the stage, I own a commanding presence over my

fans. I am not afraid to push boundaries with the spark of velocity behind me

and show a moment of glimmer with Stardust, I am dedicated and I have

worked every day to walk away from what was and embrace who I am today.

What my audience sees in me is an auditory feast blending a harmony of

talents that I weave together through my stage presence and voice; so family

was not needed.

“Oh no, baby don’t do that to Mr Lume,”

A startled sound broke my superior internal voice, and I captured a glimpse of

myself sitting up in my chair as if I had been screaming these commands to a

real audience. A moon-faced woman with pale white skin, chestnut brown hair

and large blue eyes was adjusting my make-up and pulling stickers of

cupcakes and unicorns from tonight’s outfit.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Lume. Are you all right? Please excuse my little girl," a blond-

haired little girl with a simple green dress sat in the chair opposite me, her

eyes gleamed over the top as she swivelled it slightly.

"I just had to bring her along because we didn't have anyone to babysit

tonight, and I had to work," her mother explained, and I quickly removed the

stickers.

"That's okay," I managed to say in English which was still a work in progress.

"I can start your makeup now, sir. My name is Wendy, by the way, and

welcome to America," she introduced herself.

"Thank you," I nodded with a small smile.

"Are you a superstar?" the little girl asked, breaking the silence.

"Baby, you have to leave Mr. Lume alone. He doesn't want to answer your

questions; he is busy," Wendy scolded her gently.

But curiosity pulled me in, and I turned to face the little girl in the green dress.

"I am a big superstar. What is your name?" I asked with a lopsided smile.

"My name is Lucy," she replied, standing on the chair with her soft curls

bouncing.

"And would you like to be a superstar, Lucy?" I inquired.

Lucy's expression turned into a frown as she thought about the question. It

made me reflect on my own journey and the desire I had when I discovered

my talent for singing. The smile had never left my face as I realized it was the

one thing I wanted to do with my life.

"I would," Lucy answered with an even bigger smile.

Her mother, Wendy, paused at her daughter's response, mirroring a similar

expression as she thought about it.

"You can be whatever you want to be, Lucy," I interjected before Wendy could

reply. It surprised her, but Lucy simply squealed in excitement.

As Wendy continued with my makeup, I focused on preparing myself for the

biggest moment of my life. Stardust commented on how amazing I looked as

we entered the stairwell before the show.

"We are on very soon. Are you ready for this?" Stardust asked.

" As ready as I'll ever be," I replied.

"But Velocity had better know his cues this time. He really messed up last time

in Seoul," Stardust said with a frown and I nodded, recalling the previous performance and its very out of timing entrance.

"Well, you know Velocity. He is a force to be reckoned with," I said as we

climbed the stairs.

Suddenly, I remembered my leather coat and leaving Stardust to join Velocity in position, I rushed back to get it. As I turned to leave, I overheard Lucy's voice coming from the store room near the makeup chairs, and something in her words caught my attention.

"Mamma, can I really learn to sing and be a big superstar like Mr Lume and

Mr. Star?" Lucy asked with enthusiasm and a hint of innocence.

I wanted to intervene, to assure Lucy that her dreams were possible and

shield her from any potential disappointment. But before I could act, Wendy,

her mother, responded and froze me in my tracks.

"Lucy, my dear one, what kind of mother would I be if I didn't let you pursue

your dreams? But remember that even when you have it all, there is something at home waiting to love and support you," Wendy said, her words

resonating with me.

Memories of my own mother flooded my mind, and I recalled the recent phone

call.

"Joon, hello, how are you sweetheart... I wanted to let you know your father

has passed... We miss you here, your grandmother and I. We have been

watching your tour, and we are so proud of you. The burial is next week... he

was proud of you in the end, Joon, he wanted you to know that."

The weight of my mother's words finally hit me, and I ran back up the stairs, trying to push aside the overwhelming thoughts that Wendy's mother had triggered within me.

I had to focus now, I had a performance to do, my fans to entertain. This was what I wanted, right? To be here with Stardust and Velocity, to live my dream of singing. The family had always felt foreign to me.

The day I left, my father didn't even look at me, and I had never looked back.

But now, as I reached the red curtain, a sense of emptiness lingered within

me. My phone buzzed, reminding me of the text message I had received

earlier. Family—I had pushed it away, thinking it meant nothing. But now, in

this crucial moment, I began to question if there was something missing from

my life all along.

There was a tug on my arm, pulling me back to reality. Stardust and Velocity

were looking at me with concerned eyes, calling me back from the depths of

my thoughts.

"Joon, we are here for you," Stardust said, gripping my arm firmly his gold nails catching the back stage lights.

"We support whatever decision you need to make," added Velocity.

I looked at them warily.

“Sokdo, Byeolmeonji,” their real names poured out of me like water from a

dam. Warmth began to rise within me as I began to see them behind the

glimmer and shine we were so used to wearing.

Though I had always kept them at a distance, my co-stars knew about my

strained relationship with my mother, and how I had distanced myself from her. But

now, something was shifting within me.

"It's the text message, isn't it?" Sokdo questioned, referring once again to the message I had received yesterday from my mother. The heavy weight of her illness had finally hit me; a reality I had been hiding from all day.

"We understand, Joon. She's not well and she's your mother; she is important," Byeolmeonji said confirming my thoughts.

Important. My mother. She had always reached out, even when I ignored her

attempts. The stage had become my home, my refuge, but I could not deny the

yearning for something more.

Suddenly, I felt the pain of something sharp in my clenched hand. I let go of

my tightly gripped leather coat and unfolded what I had been holding—my

totem, a symbol of strength and connection. Sokdo and Byeolmeonji

recognised it immediately.

"You always hold onto that before a performance," Sokdo remarked with a smile.

"Was that the gift your mother gave you before you left home?" Byeolmeonji

asked rhetorically.

He was right. It was, and its smooth jade edges and intricate design reminded

me of the times she had held my hand, helped me with my homework, and

bought me ice cream when my father had warned us against wasting money.

I smiled, a smile my co-stars knew so well. Reality had dawned on me. I had

questioned the significance of my success, thinking it meant nothing. But the

truth was, without someone to share it with, it did feel empty. I returned the

good luck charm to my coat pocket and patted it slightly.

"Are you ready, Luminex?" the stage manager interrupted, breaking our

moment together.

I looked at the questioning eyes of my co-stars and nodded, determination in

my eyes; their faces brightened.

"Let's show America who we are," I said with a renewed sense of purpose.

The stage manager nodded, and we were ushered toward the curtain. As I

handed my phone to the producer, a message popped up. It was a reply from

my mother, waiting for me to reach out.

'I look forward to hearing from you, Joon,' the message read.

'Joon,' perhaps my name wasn't such a bad reminder after all.

I finally understood what I had been missing all these years—family. After the

performance, I would call my mother. It was time to, like Wendy had

suggested to her little girl, make sure to remember there is always something

to come home to, because there is always something there and I was realising that something was love.

Holding onto the fallen pieces of my memory that had begun to resurface, I

faced my future before me with a cute signature kiss to my fans as we entered the stage.

This was Luminex, and we were ready. I was ready to go!