Milo:
Sheâs really cute.
That was the first thought that crossed my mind as she slipped back into her seat. Sheâd come out of the bathroom looking slightly less disheveled, her hoodie still on but her hair now smoothed down, and the smudged mascara mostly wiped away. Even with everything sheâd been through, there was something undeniably endearing about her. Maybe it was those big hazel eyes, wide and expressive, that seemed to hold a mix of emotions she hadnât quite figured out how to hide. Or maybe it was her dark hair, now a little tamed but still hinting at the chaos sheâd been through.
Her features were striking in a soft, understated wayâa cute button nose and full lips that looked like they were made for smiling, even though she hadnât done much of that since she sat down. There was something about her that drew me in, something that made me want to know her story, even if it was just to understand why sheâd ended up on this flight, looking like she was running from the world.
As she settled back into her seat, I couldnât help but feel a little more relaxed myself. The truth was, I wasnât exactly calm either. This flight was just another step back into a world that I had barely gotten used to before I was thrown into the chaos of it all.
ADRIIFTâthe group that had become both my family and my entire life over the past few years. We were six guys, each of us different in our own way, yet somehow, when we came together, everything just clicked. Dak-ho Soo, our leader and the oldest, had this undeniable way of commanding the room, both with his voice and his presence. He didnât have to try; he just owned it. Yoo-jin Choiâwho we just called Yooâ the main dancer, moved like his body didnât know what bones were, but beyond his incredible talent, he had this way of making everyone feel like they were part of something bigger, like our success was all of us together, not just individuals.
Kwan Il had the looksâtall, sharp-jawed, and effortlessly handsomeâbut he was far more than just a pretty face. His voice was smooth, rich, the kind that could either soothe you into a trance or shatter your heart, depending on the song. And then there was Jae-sung, our rapper. He brought the edge, the grit, and the attitude that balanced us out. His fierce energy on stage was electrifying, giving us the rough contrast we needed to round out our sound.
And of course, there was Daiki Sakaiâour Japanese idol, the maknae. He could out-dance anyone without breaking a sweat, making even the most complex choreography look like childâs play. His visuals were something else entirely, thoughâthose striking eyes, his perfect, boyish charm. He was the one that made heads turn, the reason fansâ eyes were glued to us whenever we hit the stage. Without a doubt, Daiki was the secret weapon that set ADRIIFT apart in an industry crowded with talent.
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Then, there was meâMilo Lee. The American sub-vocalist, rapper, and dancer. I wasnât the leader, I wasnât the main anything, but Iâd carved out my place in ADRIIFT. My low, deep voice stood out, a contrast to the higher notes of the others. Years of taekwondo had made me more flexible than most, and that added something extra to my performances. I wasnât the flashiest, but I was solid, dependableâthe guy you could count on to deliver when it mattered.
Four years into this journey, weâd seen success, more than most groups dream of. But with success came pressureâan ever-present weight on our shoulders. Every comeback felt like we were standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting to see if weâd soar or plummet. The music industry wasnât kind, and no matter how hard we worked, there was always that lingering fear of falling behind.
I loved it, thoughâthe energy, the performances, the bond weâd formed. But it wasnât always easy. The company had been strict, especially in the early days. No dating, no distractions. It wasnât like I was desperate for a relationship, but after three years of being told who I could and couldnât be with, it was hard not to think about what I was missing.
Dak-ho and Yoo, the oldest, had started to push the boundaries, sneaking around to see their girlfriends. It caused some tension, especially when they werenât where they needed to be because of it. I got it, though. They were older, they wanted more than just the group, and sometimes I wondered if that would be me in a couple of years. But for now, I was contentâmostly.
I hadnât really had the chance to think about anyone outside the group. There were no distractions, no time for anything other than the music and the grind. But sitting here, next to Orla, I started to wonder if maybe it was time to think about more. There was something about her that drew me in, something that made me want to know her story, even if it was just to understand why sheâd ended up on this flight, looking like she was running from the world.
The plane hit a bit of turbulence, and I shifted in my seat, wincing as my knee twinged. The injury was still bothering me, but it was getting better. Iâd pushed through worse. I had to be readyâour sixth comeback album was in the works, and we couldnât afford any setbacks. The company was expecting us to come back stronger than ever, and I wasnât going to be the reason we didnât deliver.
But as I glanced over at Orla, I couldnât shake the feeling that maybe there was more to life than just the next performance, the next album. This unexpected encounter made me realize that there was a world beyond ADRIIFT, beyond the stage lights and the screaming fans.
I didnât know why she was the one who sparked these thoughts, but I knew I needed to learn more about herâbefore the plane landed and we never crossed paths again.