But the others were still there, some items crossed out only to be rewritten.
Daesang
Billboard Chart
Tokyo Dome
World Tour
Grammy
“They all sound like good dreams,” Lia told him, touching the tip of the paper like it was a precious, fragile thing, and she supposed it was, to him.
“Bomseok hated this list. Called it my Dream Big List.” He smiled wanly. It was hard to hide the hurt in his eyes, and Lia couldn’t resist the urge to take his hand, to brush her thumb over the back of his palm. “I think he stopped believing in it, in the end. And to be honest, I still don’t know if it’s doable for us as we are now. Other groups have achieved it. Maybe it isn’t for us.”
“It’s his loss to stop believing in you,” Lia insisted. “I know he was my bias wrecker, but how could he not believe in you? If I had my way?—”
“Again?” Cal was joking to relieve the tension, but Lia was determined not to let this slide. She had things to say, okay.
“Bastos ka.” She rolled her eyes. She tapped the side of the paper. “This list shows me that this band is everything to you. You’ve carried it with you for ten years, at least. And me, as a fan, I want all of this for you, too.”
“Tell me,” he said, and there was a fondness in his gaze that warmed her cheeks. “If you had your way. What would you do?”
She didn’t have to guess. Liaknewher eyes sparkled. It was like someone calling her up to the podium to talk about how to create a spreadsheet, an engaging deck, or “is anyone here an older sister?” This was how you activated her.
“You should be a band,” Lia began, and the words were ones she always felt like she had with her, but never had a reason to say out loud, until now. “Not a KPop band, a band. Labellingallthe music that comes out of Korea as ‘K-Pop’ feels entirely limiting. The fact that US Award shows feel the need to make KPop a separate category is ridiculous to me. It’s like the bookstores lumpingalllocally published books under a ‘Filipinana’ section.”
“They do?”
“A different crisis.” She shook her head. “But I think CoBOLT should be a band. People should know you for your performances, for your live shows. You guys shine the best in live performances, when you’re doing that leg thing over your guitar?—”
“That’s where the fanfic girls got it, didn’t they.”
“Or when you and Siwan turn to play your instruments facing Soobin because you don’t want him to feel lonely. You can reach new audiences on TinyDesk or Vocal Kill. Radio One Live, too!Japan has that Take One series now, too. You guys would be amazing on that.”
“You really think we could be on TinyDesk?”
“I think you would bephenomenalon Tiny Desk.” Lia gasped. “Imagine your little screamy thing from ‘Coffee Baby’ in a small setup? You would shake the walls. You would get Soobin closer, too, in a performance setting, and Siwan, of course, just dazzling. I’m sure there are local TV equivalents of these too, doesn’t Seo Minji have one?”
“Her super successful live radio show, yes.” Cal smiled, nodding. “What else?”
“Then you guys would fill the time between those tapings with festival performances. University fairs, Fuji Rock, Summer Crush in LU? It would mean alotof touring, but it’s a great way to get a new, younger audience. Then who knows? Another Asia tour? US? You weirdly have a lot of Brazilian fans too, you should play a few shows there.”
“You can see us doing all of that?” Cal asked her. “Still?”
“Ano ka ba.” She scoffed. “Yes.”
She couldn’t read the look on his face when he blinked at her. She hoped it was all good things, but at the moment, it made her squirm and want to look away. There was an intensity there that she wasn’t quite ready for. Was he getting ready to tell her why she was wrong?
“God, that all sounds amazing,” he said instead. And now it was Lia’s turn to be surprised. “I would love to do it that way. But we can’t do it without a company,” Cal pointed out. “And most companies scoff at their artists having ideas about both management and music production. We were lucky we have what we have with BINJ.”
“Maybe ten years ago,” Lia said. Because she’d been looking this up, obviously, catching herself upin an industry she’d walked away from. “But isn’t Damask encouraging that fromtheir artists now? KST famously write their own music, ask things of their companies all the time.”
“Yeah, they do.” Cal’s laugh was bitter, like Lia had just asked if he still liked pie, except his current diet didn’t allow it. Einspanner coffee, yes, pie no, apparently. He crossed his arms and leaned back on his seat, and Lia knew she was going to have to stop pushing him on this. She did. But she didn’t want the conversation to end here. She wouldn’t let it. “We’re nowhere near KST, though.”
“You’re nearer than most groups,” Lia reminded him. “Also Damask doesn’t have a rock band on their roster or their other labels yet. Isn’t Seo Minji signed with them?”
“Yes, but I’m not going to call her and say ‘Minji-yah, BINJ is kicking us out and my band’s on the verge of breaking up, can I maybe get a meeting?’’”
