A Star is Born
Our Slice of Perfection by Stultas
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I have always loved idols. 

Even from the time when I could barely walk, I have vivid memories of my parents taking me to witness my first underground idol contest.

The way the stars effortlessly navigated the stage, moving as if they were born to it, never failed to astound me. Their rhythmic sways seemed choreographed to perfection, with the audience swaying along as if they had rehearsed the entire performance beforehand. From that moment, I knew I wanted to be one of those idols, to shine like a star.

You might have thought it would be simple from there: take some dance lessons, find an instructor, eventually attend an idol school, and make it big. However, my dreams seemed almost out of reach, for I failed at the simplest of tests that most idols must pass to even be considered. I was not hideous, but I was ugly enough that the mere mention of becoming an idol to my peers would elicit laughter.

It came as no surprise that, although I could never rival the fame of the more popular girl groups, as a guy, I still would have had a shot at making it big, though it would be a far more tumultuous journey to win over fans if I had been born with even a decent genetic lottery, however, it seemed fate was not on my side.

Despite the other options still being within reach, such as vocal, dance, and performance lessons with the aid of a private tutor, I found myself too disheartened to continue. Instead, I chose to linger on the sidelines. Performance after performance, concert after concert, regardless of my health, financial situation, or personal struggles, I made it my unwavering mission to attend as many idol events as humanly possible.

I delved deep into their world, immersing myself in every aspect. I devoured entire discographies, dissected documentaries featuring each member, and eagerly participated in idol group handshake meetings and Q&A sessions to celebrate their achievements. Neglecting my health, I allowed myself to gain weight. After moving out, I abandoned work entirely, relying solely on the boundless generosity of my affluent partner to sustain my relentless pursuit of supporting my favourite idols.

My obsession with idols consumed me, becoming my source of pride, my joy, and my very reason for existence. As long as they graced the stage with their presence, I pledged unwavering loyalty. They were not just idols; they were my angels, my everything.

My very own little slices of perfection.

Even now when I found myself lost in the cacophony of screaming fans and pulsating lights, I stood amidst the crowd, my hands fervently launching glow sticks into the air like offerings to divine beings. The euphoric melodies of our celestial idols echoed through the venue, weaving a hypnotic spell around us all.

But it was more than just music; it was an obsession that coursed through my veins like wildfire. Every beat, every lyric, every dance move ignited a fervour within me that bordered on madness. I found myself teetering on the edge of sanity, completely enthralled by the presence of these otherworldly figures.

Their mere presence was intoxicating, a drug that I couldn't resist. I was entranced, unable to tear my eyes away from their mesmerizing performances. With each sway of their hips and every note that escaped their lips, I felt myself spiralling deeper into the abyss of my obsession.

And so, I surrendered myself to the madness, allowing it to consume me entirely. For in the world of idols, there was no room for reason or restraint—only unbridled passion and unwavering devotion.

 

"In the tapestry of time,

we'll leave our mark,

A symphony of love that lights up the dark.

Through every trial,

every storm we weather,

Together we'll shine on, forever and ever.

 

We're the eternal starlight,

shining through the night,

A beacon of hope,

our love burning bright.

With every step we take,

we'll illuminate the way,

Forever in your hearts,

we'll stay.

 

We're the eternal starlight,

shining through the night,

Guiding you home,

our love burning bright.

In the depths of your soul,

we'll always remain,

Eternal stars,

forever we'll reign."

 

As the enchanting melody faded into the ether, I found myself emerging from the trance of my feverish swaying, my heart pounding with excitement. With determined steps, I navigated through the throng of devoted fans, heading straight toward the section I knew like the back of my hand.

For those who demonstrated unwavering loyalty, there existed a coveted opportunity: the chance to exchange a few words with the idols, perhaps even shake their hands. Though the designated section had yet to open its gates, my countless visits had instilled in me a sense of familiarity that bordered on entitlement. Surely, the idols would graciously make an exception for their number one fan.

Over the years, I have spared no expense in demonstrating my devotion. Every merchandise sale, every album release, every figurine acquisition—I had eagerly seized them all. And while these particular girls weren't my absolute favourite idols, the planet-themed motif they adorned held a special place in my heart, evoking a tender fondness for their undeniable cuteness.

However, as I crossed the threshold into the currently vacant room, a peculiar sensation gripped me—a whisper of anticipation rippling through the air, signalling the imminent arrival of the idols. It was a moment charged with electric anticipation, a prelude to the euphoria that would soon engulf us all.

As time trickled by, the euphoric whispers that had enveloped the room just moments before began to morph into something altogether darker and more sinister. It wasn't long before the once-sweet melodies of admiration turned into venomous tongues laced with contempt. And it was with a sinking heart that I realized the target of their scorn was none other than their devoted fans.

My name, spoken in hushed tones among the girls, shattered the illusion of adoration. The air grew thick with disdain as their voices dripped with mockery and disdain.

"Did you catch that overweight guy in the hideous pink shirt? He was practically drooling over me," spat the idol known for her high-pitched voice, aptly nicknamed Pluto. Her words, punctuated by squeals of laughter from her companions, cut through the air like daggers.

"Give me a break, Pluto. That slob wouldn't know good taste if it smacked him in the face. Besides, he was probably too busy ogling your nonexistent ass, to drool over your appearance," retorted Jupiter, the tension between the largest and smallest members of the group palpable in her voice.

The exchange left a bitter taste in my mouth, tarnishing the idolized image I had held dear. In that moment, the illusion of perfection shattered, revealing the ugly truth beneath the surface. And as the feud between the idols continued to unfold before me, I couldn't help but feel a pang of disillusionment gnawing at my soul. However, rather than quelling the tension, the argument only seemed to stoke the flames of discord among the individual idols. Behind the closed door, a tempest of emotions erupted, escalating into a full-blown confrontation that reverberated through the room like thunder.

As the nine girls sauntered into the room, their expressions twisted into expressions of disgust upon seeing me—a sweaty, unkempt creature who bore more resemblance to a swine than a man.

"I-I'm sorry for intruding. I think I mistook this as the bathroom," I stammered, my voice trembling with embarrassment as I hastily retreated. It was painfully obvious that I had overheard their previous conversation, judging by the dread that clouded their features.

As I fled the scene, their frantic cries for a man named Jim echoed behind me. Confused by the mention of a name that wasn't mine, I pushed past the throng of bodies blocking the exit and gratefully embraced the cool night air awaiting me outside.

With midnight's cloak shrouding the streets, I hurried homeward, eager to process the unsettling events that had unfolded. Yet, my journey was abruptly interrupted when I sensed a looming presence trailing behind me—a menacing figure.

The menacing figure emerged from the shadows, cloaked in an imposing aura that seemed to swallow the surrounding light. Clad in an all-black bouncer suit, every inch of fabric seemed to exude an air of intimidation.

The suit itself was a testament to his formidable presence, tailored to perfection with sleek lines and reinforced padding, hinting at the strength concealed within. The material, matte black and unforgiving, absorbed any hint of illumination, casting the figure into an ominous silhouette against the dimly lit backdrop.

Embellished with subtle details that spoke volumes of authority, the suit boasted sturdy zippers, buckles, and straps strategically placed across its surface, suggesting a readiness for action at a moment's notice. The emblem of the establishment—a fierce insignia emblazoned in dark embroidery upon the chest—served as a warning to would-be troublemakers of the consequences that awaited those who dared to defy his authority.

From head to toe, the figure was shrouded in an air of mystery and menace, his presence commanding respect and instilling fear in equal measure. With every step, the ominous figure prowled the shadows like a silent sentinel, a formidable force to be reckoned with in the realm of the night.

Seeking refuge in a nearby alley as a shortcut, I turned to confront my pursuer, only to be met with a brutal introduction—a forceful blow to my face from his clenched fist.

Without warning, the figure lunged forward with lightning speed, its massive fist connecting with bone-jarring force. The sickening crunch of impact reverberated through the alley as I was thrown to the ground, the force of the blow sending shockwaves rippling through my body.

But the assault did not end there. Like a relentless force of nature, the figure descended upon me, raining down a barrage of blows with unbridled fury. Each punch landed with savage precision, each kicks a brutal testament to the depths of their rage.

My cries of pain were swallowed by the darkness, drowned out by the cacophony of violence that enveloped me. Blood spattered the pavement in crimson arcs, staining the ground like a macabre painting of suffering.

With every strike, the figure seemed to revel in my agony, feeding off the terror that radiated from my trembling form. It was a primal dance of dominance, a brutal display of power and control that left no doubt as to the figure's ruthless nature.

As the onslaught of violence began to slow down, I lay there, battered and broken, my world reduced to a haze of pain and despair. In that moment, I was nothing more than a plaything for my tormentor, a mere pawn in a game of violence and cruelty.

The next words to escape the man's mouth only added to my confusion. "Did you record their conversation?" His voice boomed as he towered over my bruised body on the ground. An eerie silence hung between us before a kick met my stomach, leaving me gasping for air as he continued his interrogation.

"I swear, if you record anything you'll be risking us a lot of money from virgins like you!" His threats echoed in the alley, but through tear-filled eyes, all I could manage was a sob.

"I-I didn't record anything! I just arrived early and left," I managed to choke out. The man's gaze bore into mine, searching for any hint of a lie, but all he found were the remnants of bruises that would soon blossom into black eyes. With a wolfish laughter, he moved away from me to light up a cigarette.

"Damn, seems like those bitches were overreacting after all. What a waste of time," he muttered, staring up at the sky with a contemplative air.

Taking advantage of the momentary respite, I pushed myself up against the nearest wall, trying to regain some strength in my trembling knees. Gathering my courage, I decided to confront him. "A-Are you, Jim?"

"I guess you overheard that during your little potty break, Porky?" His raspy reply hinted at a newfound willingness to engage in conversation after the beating he'd administered.

"What did you mean by recording their conversation?" I pressed further, determined to unravel the mystery behind his questions.

"It makes sense for you to question that after the thrashing I gave you," he sighed, a weariness evident in his tone. "In this industry, those idols you pigs throw your money at need to maintain a squeaky-clean image. So, as long as there are eyes on them, they have to keep up the performance of being beacons of purity, so little porkies like you keep emptying your wallets at the chance at sneaky into their skirts."

"Hey! I don't support them, to sleep them!" I retorted, my voice rising with indignation as I met his glare with one of my own. But for once in this encounter, I refused to back down.

"Then why, Mr. Porky, do you empty your pockets so easily the moment they so much as smile at you? Though the girls may not recognize you, I do. You're a frequent regular not just for these girls, but for others too," he countered, his words cutting through my defences.

At his question, I found myself momentarily speechless, forced to confront the truth behind my unwavering adoration for these idols—a truth that even I struggled to fully comprehend.

"I've always loved idols. Since I was a kid, it's been my dream to become one. But due to my appearance and also my delayed start in lessons, coupled with the fact that male idols tend to be less popular than female ones,  I thought it would just be easier for me to just fade into the background and—" However, before I could finish my thought, the man interrupted.

"Jesus kid, stop with the excuse and spit an actual answer out, what's stopping you?" His interruption caught me off guard, leaving me with nothing but a confused expression. He rolled his eyes and muttered something about the youth of today, dropping his cigarette to fix his gaze on me. "Even if you're ugly and have two left feet, why the hell can't you be an idol? If little gremlins like Pluto and Jupiter can do it, foul-mouthed as they are, what's holding you back?"

I attempted to form a rebuttal, but all that stumbled out sounded more like childish excuses than reasoned arguments. "But idols are supposed to be perfect," I weakly protested. The man's confusion was evident this time.

"Kid, trust me when I say none of those idols you see on stage are perfect. Every single one of them has their messed-up baggage. But it's precisely because of that baggage that they become idols in the first place. Being on stage is their liberation. Despite the hardships, they choose to embrace their imperfections and show the world they can make it. So tell me, how does something as trivial as your appearance or lack of dance lessons stop you from performing at your local club or even showcasing your talent online?"

As his words sank in, I couldn't help but realize that the only thing holding me back from pursuing my idol dreams was myself. Despite my parents' encouragement, I pushed them away. Despite my peers' ridicule, I allowed their words to linger, dismissing the inspiration from idols as mere theatrics. In the end, it was my self-doubt that kept me down, and the realization was revolutionary.

Tears streamed down my face as I stared at the man, my hands trembling as I attempted to embrace him, only to be pushed away. "Hey, kid, back off. I hardly know you!" he grumbled, but his earlier words had ignited a fire within me that refused to be extinguished.

"Thank you, Jim!" I shouted with a mixture of gratitude and newfound determination, my voice echoing through the deserted alleyways and bouncing off the quiet streets. Each step I took propelled me closer to my home, yet it also carried me further along the path of my destiny. The night air seemed to crackle with anticipation as if sensing the profound shift taking place within me.

In the solitude of the night, with only the stars as my silent witnesses, I found myself emboldened by the realization that I held the power to shape my future. With each stride, I embraced the freedom of choice, leaving behind the constraints of doubt and hesitation that had once held me back.

"I have always loved idols," I proclaimed, the words resonating with unwavering conviction, "and from now on, I'm going to be one—"

But fate, it seemed, had other plans in store for me. As I stood on the cusp of transformation, a sudden and inexplicable phenomenon unfolded in the heavens above. A radiant beam of light, ethereal and mesmerizing, pierced through the darkness with a divine intensity that left me momentarily spellbound until it struck me down.

Struck by a lightning bolt on an eerily tranquil night, it appeared as though the dawn of my new journey had been abruptly halted. Yet, despite the ominous turn of events, it became clear that fate had more in store for me than mere thwarted aspirations.

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