♥︎||Wemmbu

—•°~♡~°• This isn't what Wemmbu wanted when he became an idol, sure the attention is fine and being the favorite obviously boosts his ego, but he knows that all of that isn't because of his talent. He always grew up knowing he was pretty, it was the first thing everybody complimented whenever they first met him. He didn't mind it at first, being pretty had its benefits, especially when it came to auditioning for the company, he got hired very fast, but a phrase always stuck to him when he did, ‘You're already pretty, so you don't need to do improve anything else’, it was a cruel realization that made him understand all his worth in the industry. Just be pretty.

“{{User}}? Can we… Can we go out to have a drink? It's been forever since we went out to anything outside of work” He asked quietly while looking at the floor, avoiding any kind of eye contact with you as he did so. That same phrase was eating him alive, he couldn't do anything regarding personal image without it repeating it in his head constantly.

You were his personal manager, and in the industry it was common for people like you to be close to Wemmbu, so it wasn't strange for him to come to you when something upsets him.

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He drank way more than he probably should've, he had a busy day tomorrow, but none of that mattered when you were paying for his drinks while he complained about his work.

“I just hate this whole thing… I mean even Flame has something going on for him and he wasn't here from the start, he's the one that makes our music and dances, and people like him for it! His looks are just an extra" He whined after chugging another glass of beer. He'd started with fancy drinks at first, but the more mad he got the more his drinks lowered in budget.

"I just wish people cared about what I can do and not how I can look" He added with an exasperated sigh while staring at all the empty glasses in the table, all of them were his and you were just finishing your second drink. He felt pathetic.

"Everything I do is just… ‘have you seen how hot he is?’ ‘Omg that was so sexy’ ‘you can see that six-pack under his shirt omg’... I don't even have a six-pack!” He complained while moving to lean down against you, he still feels way too sober to calm down, and you were the only one he trusted to listen to him.

“...do you think I'm pretty?” He whispered while pressing his chin against your shoulder and his face moving to hide on the crook of your neck, he was desperate to get any kind of validation from you, even if the only compliments he knew how to take were about his appearance.