paradise lost.

turn the lights off please; i’ll be in the darkness. you can lie, you did nothing wrong.

[andxnte]

just dropping a quick little note and apology that i’m going on hiatus again! unfortunately it’s been a rough winter for many different irl reasons and i need a little time and space to screw my head back on correctly. but i’m hoping to come back reenergized in a couple weeks!

[andxnte]

this room is too big.

cw: references to depression, disordered eating

it's a little too empty for a soloist on his own, the walls usually filled by the laughter and shouts of groupmates trying to amp one another up before staff is guiding them to the stage, with all the lights and the cameras that are also too familiar. dante would say that he grew up in this room but that would be a lie; bit boys never had the budget nor the fandom to warrant appearing on any music show actually broadcasted on television. they were lucky to even appear on youtube shows with a fraction of the audience.

he should be grateful; his career fell into his lap through little effort of his own. he doesn't have to think about any of the hard questions like what do i wear? or what should i eat? or even who do i want to be? it's all decided for him, every movement and gesture as choreographed as the song he's preparing to perform today. he's a mythical being, he's your favorite manhwa's male lead, he's whatever the fuck he needs to be to get you to listen to his music (which he doesn't write, another decision he doesn't have to make) and follow him on social media. he's nothing at all and he has no right to complain about it.

dante stifles a yawn, tears pricking the edges of his eyes that he blinks rapidly to keep from ruining the makeup so dutifully applied by his staff. he didn't sleep much last night; he doesn't sleep much most nights. he's hungry, but he's trying to trim the excess fat from his belly so he can't eat. he's a battery that's been running on empty for far too long, way past its intended expiration, yet he doesn't know how to do anything except continue down this godforsaken path.

boo hoo, he can hear the critics in his ear already. you're famous, you're rich, you get paid to play dress up and sing a song. i don't feel bad for you. dante doesn't pity himself either. well, maybe just a little. maybe when he remembers how he used to be excited, how he used to love the way his muscles would ache yet did nothing to dull the sense of accomplishment when perfecting something new. maybe when he sees his bare face in the mirror, cheeks hollow and eyes dark, and remembers when his face used to be painted in a smile that used to reach his eyes. he mourns the person he used to be. and yet he deserves all of this, he deserves to suffer. this is his divine punishment for his selfishness, for his disloyalty to the boys who used to walk this path with him: he has everything he ever wanted and yet he can never feel happiness again. dante hardly feels anything at all. except anger. the anger never goes away.

his hands itch to run down his face with a long sigh, to soothe himself through physical touch and the means of his own body. but doing so would smudge his makeup and frustrate the stylist and dante's not trying to make everyone else's life harder, he really isn't. he knows he does. he knows the few friends he has left worry about him. he wishes they would give up on him too because he doesn't want to hurt them anymore. dante is the only person who shoulders this curse and yet he finds himself inflicting his pain on those who matter most to him every day. maybe it's part of his penance, an ever ongoing punishment.

"dante, you're up next," a staff member knocks on the door as they summon him backstage. without a word the man stands, robotic as he crosses the room to follow them out the door. he'll put on his show, he'll smile for the camera. and then he'll return to this room, where even rookies hardly dare to greet him anymore and stare at the whitewashed walls, and accept his divine punishment as unchangeable as the sun rising each morning and setting at night.

[corvuscanus]

"our girls? yeah, they won't be making it." there's a certain amount of fun that comes with rooting for a team that you expect to lose every time: the lows are expected, and the highs are so much better when they're not guaranteed. not that any of the south korean women's curling teams are bad; while theirs won't be beating the garlic girls anytime soon, seoho does feel pretty comfortable watching them on the international stage. if nothing else, it's easy to get invested when you hear so much korean on a broadcast viewed by the entire world, even if said world is the 127 people also watching live.

the food is set down on the couch table, and seoho pops open lids while the youtube app on dante's tv loads. when it does, they're treated to the sight of the other team - canadians, probably? - furiously scrubbing at the ice while the stone slowly glides down the middle. their team's position looks better for now, but it's much too early to tell. seoho hunts down chopsticks and splits them down the middle.

"we really didn't miss much," he comments idly, accepting his water and stretching over half the table to reach the coasters stacked at the corner. seoho's sitting on the floor, back against the couch. the position gives him a great view of dante's calves and nothing more if he doesn't want to turn around, so he gestures towards one of the low-calorie, veggie forward options but doesn't try to offer it directly. most likely dante would snub it anyway, but seoho's certain that dante was lying about having had dinner. the man seems to do that on reflex sometimes: as though, by closing off certain conversational pathways, he'll be left alone forever.

on screen, one of the canadians' rocks knocks one of theirs out of the house; seoho groans at the improbability of the delivery. nevermind his hopes and dreams. "i read somewhere that one of our sweepers is sick," he says as though he's trying to defend them. "like, a bit of a cold or something. so we might end up disappointed."

[andxnte]

cw: references to disordered eating

if dante thought the food smelled good when it came through his door, it's nothing compared to the aroma once it's been released from its container. as strong-willed as he is—though said strength seems to be motivated by a stubbornness to remain miserable—there is a breaking point to dante's resolve. at first he tries to sip on his tea more, to try to stifle the hunger with more liquid. that tactic doesn't last long, especially after seoho gestures to something mostly green and lean looking. dante sighs, as if someone is goading him into it and it's not a basic bodily need he's giving into, and exchanges his glass for chopsticks of his own. he knows seoho won't say anything, won't gloat about being right. maybe that's why he gives in a little quicker than he might have otherwise.

"oh, fuck off," he groans at the sound of the stones knocking together, glancing up from where he was reaching for the safest looking dish only to see their team's knocked away from the target. "our skip has rocks for brains. i could call the game better." he knows those are big words from a guy who's never set foot on the ice, let alone touched a curling stone or broom. but that's the fun of being a sports fan, isn't it? when you can't pretend to be the superior coach or general manager, you claim yourself the superior captain and act as if you know all. the bite he takes is angry, chewing his frustration in a way that suggests he might be grinding his teeth in frustration if there wasn't something in the way. "do we have the hammer this round?" he studies the score bug on the screen, trying to answer his own question even as it's asked.

"don't make excuses," he warns the other man, his tone somewhere between joking and dead serious, "we just have a bad team. even if she was healthy, she'd fuck it up somehow." with the way he talks about their favored curling team, one might never know that dante is a fan. but would anyone expect anything less? for as hard as he is on himself, why would he be any kinder to the strangers on the screen? especially those whom he entrusts his entire emotional wellbeing to for a couple hours while they throw some rocks across ice. any sports fan would surely understand that while he's quick to doom and gloom and jump to critique, he'll also be the loudest voice cheering them on when the luck finally leans in their direction.

as much as he's not thinking about the food he's shoveling into his mouth between complaints, dante has to admit that he's already starting to feel better. how exactly is hard to articulate but maybe some of the irrational anger is gone, the irritability faded long enough that he can release some of the tension in his shoulders and sit back comfortably for the first time today. it makes him a little kinder too. "are you comfortable there?" he asks seoho, glancing down at him seated on the floor. "there's room up here you know." surely the couch would be much more comfortable.

their team throws their stone and dante quiets as he watches fourty-four pounds of granite slide across the ice. it lands outside of the target, but it's fine. it's probably set up to defend against the other team's throw, or to set up another play with their next toss. "i guess it could be worse," he admits.

[yonglixx]

NYFW 2024🤎

[goldyashes]

the flurry of words come out of him unfiltered and unchecked, a bumbling mess of letters coming together to sloppily encapsulate the thoughts jumping around ahseop’s head. there’s contradiction in his pleas, his demands—something he’s sure dante managed to pick up on throughout this one-sided conversation. once he’s finished running through his speech, he’s breathless, his brain failing to keep up with his mouth. he can’t look at dante in the eyes, gaze fixated on the ground below him, with their feet a few inches apart. physically, they’re so close to one another, but their spirits have long since split apart, taking on different paths years ago.

dante hasn’t said much, allowing ahseop to continue on with his spiel, making no attempt to cut the talk short. ahseop has been running his mouth, unsure if anything he said made sense, if he’s drilling a little too hard when dante doesn’t care in the slightest. on the contrary, dante relents, comes up with a tacked on solution to mend the rift. with dodam, at least—ahseop isn’t privy to the details of their friendship, nor does he want to be. even now, he feels like he’s overstepping, justifying doing so by convincing himself he’s speaking up for the sake of the group’s dynamic ( which he does wholeheartedly believe are his genuine intentions ). he’s not going to force either of them to do anything either, leaving it up to the other boy in the end.

there’s a lot he can say in response, but it’ll only amount to regurgitating his own opinions. instead, ahseop nods, taking a step back. he’s said so much—too much—and there’s no option for him to shove his words back down his throat to salvage the atmosphere that he created by himself. “okay,” he says, taking a breath, chewing on his lip, eyebrows knitted. “yeah, okay. that… you don’t need to apologize to me—i’m not the one you need to apologize to.” not in this instant, not like this.

“i’m sorry too,” he offers up his own apology, tries to make it sound sincere. “you know, for cornering you. and lecturing you. it’s probably hypocritical of me,” he knows it to be true, somewhat—he has no excuse, ahseop allowed his worries and concerns to overtake the reasonable portion of his working brain. “there’s better ways i could’ve talked to you about it,” he admits. “i didn’t have to catch you as you were leaving.”

ahseop shuffles on his feet a little, the tension shimmering in the air as he takes in another breath, nails digging into the palm of his hand. “you don’t have to… make yourself lose everything,” he blurts out. shit, not again. “sorry. what am i saying? acting like i know it all.” he cuts himself off with a short laugh, dry and awkward. nervous. “i guess that’s it,” he mumbles, teeth sinking into his lip yet again, forcing himself to swallow whatever else he’s thinking.

maybe it doesn’t matter, all this, whatever ahseop is even trying to do, in the end. dante can turn around and leave, just as easily as last time.

[andxnte]

"if it's affecting the group, i should apologize," dante shrugs, lifelessly, perhaps echoing a sentiment from an earlier time. now it just feels hollow on his lips, lacking any sincerity or meaning behind it. he's not particularly sorry about anything today, certainly not to ahseop. but things before today? there's regret there. there's too much for one 'sorry' to mend. the sheer mountain of guilt dante feels is too big to pick apart into smaller pieces, to mend bit by bit. ahseop doesn't owe him that sort of time or emotional energy anyway; it would be far too much to ask.

he is taken by surprise, however, when ahseop apologizes in return. "what?" dante can't stop the exclamation before it's out of his lips. he can only stare at the only man dumbly as he quickly expresses remorse for the things he could have done better too. it's unexpected. it's suspicious. is ahseop not the person who yelled at dante for being a 'diva'? is he not the man who had made his resentment crystal clear the first moment they were reunited? why would he ever apologize to dante—surely being able to yell at him again is giving him the outlet to the anger he felt at him all those years ago, isn't it? but there's sincerity to the other man's words, a genuine acknowledgement that he could have handled this situation better. maybe dante should be happy that ahseop admits that he didn't do this right, that he has this one small 'win' over the other. he finds no joy in it at all. he just shifts his weight awkwardly, looking for some sort of escape from the situation even as the other keeps talking.

you don't have to make yourself lose everything, ahseop says. and there it is, the cold dagger to dante's gut. when did ahseop figure it out? when did he notice that dante holds everyone at a distance, that he makes himself impossible to get to know, that he neglects the friendships he has left until they ultimately stop caring about him too? or maybe he didn't, with the way he quickly takes it back. dante's mouth suddenly feels too dry. he tries to wet his lips with his tongue but it's useless.

"i didn't lose everything." he says it before he can think about it, the response almost robotic as if someone else is controlling the words coming out of his mouth. dante was employed again within weeks of bit entertainment's collapse. he has no idea what ahseop and the others went through, whether they found their way to new companies or new jobs, let alone how long that took him. how dare dante feel so miserable when he has everything he could possibly dream of—is that what ahseop is trying to say? he doesn't know; dante doesn't know anything.

[yourdodam]

while he would never, ever claim to be someone who acts serious one-hundred percent of the time, lee dodam is a hard worker. his demeanor outside of work environments may convince people otherwise, particularly those who've never worked with him before, but when push comes to shove, he gets the job done, and more often than not, he does it extremely well. he rises to any challenge with vigor and grit, and has since childhood. dodam even jokes that he learned to work before he learned to walk. the sad thing is, though it's framed as a joke, it's sadly true.

however, all this said, his work ethic has never been overly rigid. he's learned how to turn more mundane things, like hours-long rehearsals, into enjoyable experiences; converting stress into feelings of bubbly elation. it's one of the ways he learned to cope as a child on-set. it would get so boring sometimes, and he did whatever he could to keep himself engaged, as well as entertained.

this doesn't always rub people the right way, though. they see his exuberance as him being distracted, or him not taking things seriously, when, really, he's just trying to have fun and not fall into pits of despair or fatigue. that's why they're all here anyway, right? to have fun, to share in the excitement that performing brings, and to deliver a good show to their fans? sucking all of the joy out of it won't allow any of that to happen, at least in his opinion, and by the looks of it, one of his new group-mates seems to disagree with him.

when his elbow is grabbed by dantae and he's barked at for his height, he laughs; raising an eyebrow to the other. "i mean... you're one to talk?" dodam quips back, gently unfolding his arm from the other's grasp; not even bothering to study his senior's pose. while he would like to think that this critique coming from a good place, he still doesn't appreciate the tone that it's being conveyed with. maybe he's gotten used to his members being more supportive and less sour, but either way, he doesn't deserve to be talked down to like this.

"i don't know, dantae. why is a soloist telling me how to dance properly?" dodam returns the question, standing his ground. "it's clear that you haven't done this in awhile and need to relearn what teamwork is. don't take out your insecurities on me, it's not becoming of someone your age." with that, he smiles and winks; cheeky. then, he performs the move as the other instructed him to, proper angles and all, showing him that he did, in fact, understand the correction.

returning back to his standing position, he crosses his arms over his chest. "all you had to do was tell me to lift my elbow up a few inches, not charge over to me and grab me like you own me." with that, his vulpine gaze dons a mischievous glint. "like, i know that's what you really want, but you gotta at least take me to dinner first."

[andxnte]

dante doesn't think twice about the way he comes across these days. it doesn't make a difference after all, does it? people come in and out of his life whether he wants them to or not; why make a fuss to sugarcoat the things he really means when people will walk out regardless of how kind or patient he is with them? and, well, if dante doesn't get too invested, if he doesn't let anyone into his world, then it doesn't hurt at all when they inevitably leave. it's easier to think about his relationships as transactional, that he provides some level of entertainment for companionship in return. dodam never seems to get too upset at dante's brusque nature though. maybe that's why dante doesn't try to drive him off as quickly as others; he's a breath of fresh air, in a sense. he's also really fucking annoying though.

"we're not talking about me," he grumbles back. his height isn't exactly a sore spot, but it isn't exactly something he's proud of either. it's not enough to ruffle his feathers, though he does give dodam a deep scowl. "but all the more reason you should listen to me." he could get irritated easily, and some days he does, but an emotional outburst takes a lot of energy that he just doesn't have right now. dodam's right; he hasn't done this in a while. and with ahseop in the room... how does he even begin to explain all of the complicated and unpleasant things he's feeling right now? flashbacks to a happier past, visions of the life he could have lead under different circumstances... would dante be happy right now in that world? he likes to think so, and that only makes the resentment at the world all the worse.

"it worked, didn't it?" who needs to learn better teamwork when dodam is able to execute on his feedback regardless? sure, he could be nicer, but no one can argue with the results. and when dodam teases him further, dante only frowns in return. "focus on dancing instead of fantasizing about me," he shoots back, unwilling to admit to any degree of flusteredness from the younger man's suggestions. and yet, for a moment, he imagines if he had gripped a little tighter, would his fingerprints be left on dodam's skin? he has to admit that there's an appeal to the image of wrapping a possessive hand around the other's waist, of fingers digging into soft hips. chu dante is only a man after all, one who's made himself very lonely at that. he banishes the distracting thoughts from his head as quickly as they hit him. right now, his only goal is to survive this special stage without fucking his career up somehow. "you're annoying." he tells dodam, as he often does, with no sincere malice despite the flatness of his voice.

[rosesblve]

dante & heejin star in the great escape--*

with @andxnte

heejin hadn’t planned on staying long.

honestly, she hadn’t planned on coming at all. but when the after-party invite came through, it wasn’t like she could just not show up. midas family and all that. she’d smiled her way through the congratulations, accepted compliments on the performance, laughed politely at jokes she didn’t quite hear. but now, with the music pulsing a little too loud and the lights dimmed to a headache-inducing glow, the only thing she could think about was leaving.

and, apparently, so could dante.

she found him near the back of the club, same as always—quiet, brooding, sipping at a drink that didn’t seem touched. his expression unreadable, but familiar. heejin didn’t bother announcing herself when she came to stand next to him; he knew she was there. he always did.

"ready to disappear?" she asked, glancing at him with the faintest ghost of a smile. she didn’t expect an answer. dante didn’t really do answers. but his slight nod was enough.

they slipped through the crowd with practiced ease—heejin offering polite nods here, small smiles there. almost free. they made it to the hallway leading to the exit when—

"heejin! dante! come take a photo with us!"

heejin turned, smile still intact but flickering at the edges. she shot a quick look at dante. of course. the first obstacle.

"just one," she promised him under her breath before turning back to the group. picture taken. compliments exchanged. smiles all around.

"okay, now—"

"hey! where are you going? there’s cake coming out!"

heejin blinked. cake. of course. she glanced at dante again, lips twitching. "we can’t say no to cake, can we?"

she wasn’t sure if the look she received was amusement or sheer resignation. maybe both.

cake came and went. another attempt to leave. stopped again. this time by a manager. small talk. forced laughter. another nod toward the exit.

"third time’s the charm?" she said quietly, glancing up at dante. her voice was light, teasing. but there was a quiet understanding there too.

they both knew neither of them wanted to be here. but somehow, standing side by side, it felt a little less unbearable.

"if we make it to the door this time," she added, "drinks are on me. and i’ll even spare you one of my bad jokes tomorrow. just one, though. don’t get used to it."

[andxnte]

he's absolutely exhausted. never mind the fact that he, like everyone else in the room, just spent the last several hours singing and dancing on stage, but his social battery has long since drained. there's only fumes left in the tank, just enough to keep him upright yet not enough to actually indulge in mingling and celebrating. maybe if he wasn't surrounded by coworkers he could let loose a little, actually drink and dance and have fun without a care in the world. but dante still has some sort of reputation to uphold here. and, frankly, he can't think of anything worse than getting blackout drunk at a work party and having to rely on coworkers who barely tolerate him to help him out.

his plan is to disappear into the background and slip away unnoticed but even that goes awry. heejin notices him, which is fine. they've known each other for a long time and she knows that when dante is this sort of tired, he doesn't even want to talk anymore. she wants to leave too, apparently, which is the only reason dante agrees to go with her.

what a fucking mistake that was.

first it's a photo, then it's cake—which dante stubbornly refused, though still held him up with the group he had been unknowingly roped into—then it's polite smalltalk with someone who dante doesn't even remember the name of. if he was running on fumes before, what's left now? as much as he's tried to keep his patience, something about heejin's jokes just snap that last bit of restraint left in him. he's so tired; tired of playing nice, of being responsible, of just being here among these people who are either using him for money or want nothing to do with him at all.

"i'm done." dante snaps, his frustration pouring out on the person closest to him despite knowing it does neither of them any good. at some point, he lost the ability to hold his temper back. "i'll leave without you at this point, i don't fucking care. i don't want to take a picture, i don't want any sweets, and i don't give a shit about making nice with a staff member who has nothing to do with me. i'm done, heejin. i'm leaving one way or another."

he knows he's gone a bit overboard, that she of all people didn't deserve his angry tirade. what's done is done, but he runs his hands over his face with a long groan, verbalizing his stress and exhaustion if only for the moment. "i'm so fucking tired." he excuses his own actions. there's an apology somewhere between the lines, though it never really comes out.

[corvuscanus]

“yeah, i figured. i’ll take the leftovers home if you don’t want ‘em.” seoho doesn’t subsist on takeout the way a lot of his friends do, but these are busy times, and having frozen food for a bad day is the sort of forward-thinking planning he’s been urged to incorporate into his life. doesn’t mean he’ll remember it’s there when it matters, but if he can make himself feel good about it now then that’s a plus no matter how you look at it. “i told them to go easy on the sauce. just so you know.”

far be it from him to assume that there’s reason behind dante’s caginess. through exposure, seoho thinks he’s learnt how to handle him: approach from the side, make casual comments that can be interpreted as nothing more than idle chitchat so dante can snatch them up and they can both pretend there’s no meaning behind it. it’s like he’s feeding a suspicious stray: no, there’s no poison in the food, see; no fats in sight!

he busies himself untying the plastic bags. one knot has pulled down so tight he struggles to loosen it up. “maybe this time will be the turning point. nothing like a last-minute winning streak to get us truly hyped up for worlds.” the world women’s curling championships are still a few weeks off, but seohos’ been looking forward to the event: their favoured team won’t be participating, but it’s right on their doorstep, which means that seoho bought tickets the moment they went on sale. perhaps the most pathetic fact about it is that he’s entirely certain that there’s still seats up for grabs, but exposure to remedy’s fans telling him that ticketing is serious business have instilled an unwarranted mindset within him.

the plastic gives way for cardboard, which seoho assembles in a neat tower to carry over to the couch. “water, thanks.” even if he was inclined towards some fuzzy soft drink, he’s almost sure that dante doesn’t keep any of that in storage, so this part of the conversation almost goes down the same way. “want me to put on our show?” the tv’s still off, but the remote’s right there.

[andxnte]

cw: references to disordered eating

if he wasn't pretending that nothing was wrong with him, maybe he'd acknowledge the breath of relief when seoho mentions taking the leftovers with him. good, keep them out of reach where they won't be a temptation. maybe he'd be more critical of the way he sighs as the other man mentions the sauce. there's so much sugar in that... at least it's supposed to be light. but dante intentionally avoids thinking about such things too much. the thoughts flit in and out of his head, never captured for longer than the moment they are conceived as he lets them go. he's miserable enough without dwelling on all the other things wrong with him.

he could get mad at seoho. he could blame him for sabotaging his image, his physique, he could scream until his throat was raw. but what would that do? sometimes, in the midst of it all, dante has to admit that his biggest problem is that he's so damn lonely. he's severed every tie, burned every bridge he possibly could, and instead of feeling free he only felt worse. he'll likely never say it, not one for sappy words or opening up his heart, but he appreciates seoho's willingness to put up with his bad days; he can't thank him enough for not giving up on the friendship when dante offers almost nothing in return for the other man's kindness. he's not completely blind to the dynamic here, how hard he is to be around and how generous seoho is with his limited time anyway.

dante could live in his own head indefinitely; it's such an expansive world there. but that's not the point; the point is to spend time in the real world, watching some incredibly talented women disappoint him with the way they slide a rock across the ice. "aren't they mathematically eliminated yet?" he questions, the current standings escaping his memory. "i'm not gonna get excited until they actually do something to be excited about."

"go ahead, it's already starting isn't it?" dante's already opening a cabinet door for a clean glass, grabbing two; one for seoho's water, one for cold barley tea for himself. it only takes a moment to fill both, making his way over to his own couch to hand over the cup. "use a coaster," he reminds the man before setting his own cup down and half-collapsing into the furniture. he's exhausted, but he always is. the soreness of his muscles and heaviness of his eyes is nothing new.

[goldyashes]

rift in the water. / @andxnte

lady luck isn’t on ahseop’s side this month—hasn’t been for a while, to be honest. the concept of a unit stage comprised of members of other groups and soloists should be that shiny new thing that gets him going, after being pulled apart and stripped down by ydh to become a doll marketed for fans giving in to their delusions. he’ll be collaborating with other artists that aren’t confined to the same concept, meaning this stage could bring forth a pristine side to him for the universe to see. hints of his true personality, without the existence of a filter—at least, those were his hopes. at the end of the day, ydh wouldn’t have approved if it would stray too far from his sodapop persona, but it’s still a step he should have been excited to take.

should have.

when ahseop’s gaze landed on one of the names that will be present on this brand new stage alongside him, he failed to stop his visceral reaction of dramatically clicking his tongue. chu dantae. of course, ahseop thinks, even now the world is determined to have the two of them crash back into each other’s lives. their last encounter remains hazy in the back of ahseop’s mind—a small flask filled with poison positioned comfortably in his hand, as if it belongs there, dante’s figure a shadow of blurred lines encompassing the past that abandoned him. this resentment he holds close to his chest is irrational, another form of poison he allows to settle in his body, contaminating the good memories he keeps locked away within the files of his youth.

when preparations began, ahseop knows better than to engage with dante directly, unless it pertains to their task ahead. that’s all it is—work. even though each time ahseop sets his foot in the practice room with dante on the other end, flashes of their time in bit entertainment would linger in the back of his eyes, playing as a slideshow of torn old sepia photographs. how easily it is for someone who he used to share laughters with, hidden aspects of his life, comic books he’d conceal under his bed, can become nothing more than a stranger.

people change. ahseop isn’t so shielded from the world that he’d cling onto the dante that he knew. he’s still not used to this though, dante’s determination to burn every bridge he has left, under the guise of putting a good performance. ahseop couldn’t claim to know what dante has gone through, dante chose to step out of ahseop’s life after all, never to be seen or heard from again until ahseop notices an up-and-coming soloist with the same features of his previous groupmate. but when it comes to attitude, mannerisms, behaviours? it’s a completely new person.

ahseop made the executive decision not to step on dante’s toes, maintain a level of professionalism that allows the unit to move forward and accomplish its goal. he can be civil—but apparently, dante cannot. it’s only when dante’s bitter and sharp words manages to prick dodam’s softness does ahseop believe the line has been crossed.

with today’s rehearsals over, ahseop waits for the rest of the group to pack up their belongings and leave, before intercepting dante’s exit carefully. “dante, we need to talk,” he begins, cutting off any room for negotiation. he keeps his tone calm; a simple discussion between co-workers. “i know your career as a soloist has basically taken off, but have you really forgotten what it’s like to function in a group?” has dante forgotten what they’ve been through? has dante stopped caring about the group that was once theirs?

“there are other ways to deliver your criticism. ones that don’t require you to literally berate someone who’s supposed to be your peer,” he reminds, wondering if his words are falling upon deaf ears, if this effort of his will amount to nothing. “even from a professional standpoint, you’re going to risk the group’s synergy on stage if you keep at it.” in another alternate timeline, it shouldn’t be ahseop saying all this. the both of them are the youngest members of bit boys, they’re the ones being watched out for. here though, ahseop has the responsibility to look out for the younger sodapop members as one of the oldest.

“you might not realize, or care… but you sounded patronizing and mean. aren’t you friends with dodam? that’s not how you talk to a friend… surely you don’t need me, of all people, to tell you that.” facing dante like this, ahseop lets out a breath, eyebrows furrowed—he doesn’t know how he looks, his facial expression crumbling beneath the cold gaze that once belonged to his friend. “stop… stop burning your bridges, dante.” his last words come out as a plea, his eyes softening at the sight of the other boy. a hint that he cares—he still does.

[andxnte]

guilt has made a heavy home in dante’s gut. it tangles its gnarled, misshapen roots through his stomach, constricting it along with his diaphragm when it decides to bloom anew. sometimes he can go days without noticing it, ignoring the faces and names that trigger its writhing presence, but it’s never truly gone, taken root to the point that no amount of weed killer can get to the bottom of the cursed vines. he’s tried all sorts of toxins to kill it, vices that numb the pain for a moment only for it all to return later. it’s all useless; it’s a product of dante’s own bad decisions, after all, and left to fester to the point where apologies would do nothing to salvage the relationships he used to have.

being in a unit with ahseop felt like the devil himself collecting his pound of flesh for the contract dante signed with him years ago.

the whole acquisition seemed to be solely to torment dante, actually. the vibe choking him from the inside out is harder to ignore now than ever, his old friends and groupmates now roaming the same halls as he does. he knows they regard him as one would a ghost; an unrecognizable fragment of what he used to be, silent and unapproachable, only there to serve as a haunting reminder of the past. he’s tried to avoid them, ahseop in particular. he’s sorry to them, sorry for leaving them behind in the chaos and confusion of bit entertainment’s bankruptcy, sorry for never reaching out, and sorry now that he’s not the boy they remember. oh, how he wishes he could simply turn back the clock and do it all again. perhaps the devil is mocking him, because this unit performance certainly seems like he has; the familiarity of ahseop in the practice room with him pulls on his heart until he has to swallow down the emotion and embrace his usual numbness. they have a job to do here that doesn’t involve group therapy.

dante thinks he’s pulling it off, that by detaching himself from his emotions and focusing solely on their performance he’s being the best teammate he can be. but apparently not, judging by the way ahseop corners him at the end of practice. there’s some truth to the accusations hurled at him: dante hasn’t been in a group in a very long time. perhaps he has forgotten how a foundation of trust and camaraderie goes much further than one of rigidity and cool professionalism. communication is a skill he has not fostered in many years.

ahseop lays into him without pulling his punches and as much as dante’s instinct tells him to snap back, he bites his tongue. he lets the other man rant and berate him until he runs out of words, and then finds a second wind and exhausts that too. he keeps his face trained as blankly as possible, desperately containing the ugly mix of emotions swirling inside.

“are you done?” he asks when ahseop finally pauses. stop burning your bridges, ahseop pleads. dante’s eyes flicker then, the only sign that anything resonates with him. i don’t have any left to burn, he wants to say. he’s so determined to live on an island, perhaps to punish himself for the past. there’s a rope thrown to him again, a lifeline to save him from the rising tide should he choose to grab it. oh, there’s a part of him that does. there’s a part that wants to embrace his old friend and cry openly, to ask forgiveness for the way things have been and to rekindle the bond they used to share. he wants to be his old self again, who loved music, whose world was so full and vibrant and colorful. dante only sees gray these days.

“i’m sorry,” it’s all he can say. no matter how much he wants to bite back, to defend himself or point out how ahseop is doing the very same thing he was just chastising dante for. “dodam doesn’t hold a grudge so i didn’t think i had to sugarcoat it. i’ll talk to him later.” an apology, if dodam thinks he needs one, and a coffee to mend the friendship if there’s anything broken.

he can’t fight ahseop even if he wanted too. there’s no way he could keep those emotions from spilling out everywhere, open and exposed for everyone to see, all too vulnerable in a place where he doesn’t feel safe to be so. the only solution is surrender, deflating instead of puffing himself up for battle. “is that everything?” if he sounds cold it’s because he has to be, because he can see a different version of this moment where instead of ahseop scolding him, they’re giggling over a shared joke instead. a universe where the group didn’t split up, where they continued their journeys together, and dante wasn’t forced to turn into ice and stone. if only.

[andxnte]

do it again.

@yourdodam

it’s strange. dante feels like he’s only just gotten used to a practice room that feels a little too large, relying on his own vocals instead of trading off with a more talented coworker when recording, all of the slight differences that came from the transition from a group to a solo performer. and now he’s thrown back into group rehearsals, if only temporarily, as they prepare to join the midas family in one of the biggest performances that the city has ever seen. he looks around the room, eyes glancing over the other men who are his teammates for one short song, and can’t deny… it’s sort of nice to work in a group again, in some ways. in others, it’s fucking awful.

he’s always been hard on himself, always holding his own performances to an impossibly high standard. the other members of this temporary team are surely no exception to dante’s discerning eye. he’s tired, they all are, but that’s no excuse to get lazy in practice. maybe it’s the exhaustion and the over-caffeination still buzzing through his blood but he doesn’t think twice before grabbing dodam’s elbow, pushing it up just an inch or two more. “look,” he points to their reflections in the mirror, then strikes the same move himself, elbow raised to the same height as the pose he just left dodam in. “your angles are off. pay attention.”

“you’re short but you still have to match the others visually.” dante fails to add how he knows such things; he’s short too. he had heard the same advice from the choreographers that bit boys used to work with. dante was even shorter back then, still just a kid going through puberty while many of his teammates were older and taller, certainly more dramatically so than the small gap between dodam and himself. “you should know this. you perform in a group regularly. why’s a soloist telling you to dance properly?” he continues to berate the other. one would never guess that they were friends of sorts behind the scenes, though dante rarely has soft words for anyone in his life these days regardless of the setting. it’s never seemed to bother dodam though, dante’s bitter tongue typically falling like water off a duck’s back. maybe that’s why he doesn’t even think twice about his tone anymore.

[yonglixx]

Felix "Unfair" 🥀

[dxjunyoung]

truth – starter for @andxnte

many aspects of idol life are fabricated, but the fact that kang junyoung is a little bit of an extrovert and fairly easy to get along with isn't far from the truth. surprisingly ( or perhaps unsurprisingly ), he keeps in touch with the members of the group he'd been cut off from years back. whilst it had been a terrible wound for him, he'd come to the realization that it wasn't the fault of any of the members that had made it through. the fact that the group ( dubbed 'bit boys' ) hadn't seen much success, and were more or less forced to disband in truth, makes the pain a little less pliable.

he sits across his ex-almost-members, smiling as they recall their trainee times together, and stories from their debut – that jun had no part of – begin to pour. it's interesting though, to listen to them, and he finds it easy to laugh and insert himself into the conversations. he takes another bite of his chicken, careful of the time. despite the fact that they're all guys, he knows he should be careful of curfew and what not – especially now that he's more or less at the prime of his idol-hood.

they chatter amongst themselves, and it's only when a familiar name comes up does jun's eyes lift upwards. "... and dante, i heard he's such a diva now. isn't that right, jun? you'd know that best wouldn't you?" his friend says. immediately jun's expression changes, uncomfortable. "ah... i don't see come across him much," he half-lies, feeling himself stiffen at the mention of the boy.

the others don't seem to relent though, as they go on talking about the boy that had more or less 'stolen' jun's spot from him. the boy that was now the center of 'diva' accusations. it makes jun uncomfortable, to hear this and be aware of the truth. he tries multiple times to steer away from the conversation but realizes that it's futile.

"ah, sorry guys! my manager just texted me!" he lies, the urge to leave overwhelming him. but jun lies with practiced ease, standing up, and waving at his old friends. "i'll see you guys another time! keep me updated on any meet-ups!" he beams, before he makes his way out of the restaurant.

as he steps out of the eatery, the cold breeze hits his skin and he sighs, pulling out his phone to text a familiar number.

to: dante > hey > i bought some extra chicken lets meet up at [address] > my treat! you better come out!!

[andxnte]

his phone buzzes once. twice. three times, and dante starts to think there might be some sort of emergency, so he actually lifts his head from his pillow to check the messages there. just junyoung, he realizes, and nearly throws the device back to the other side of a bed far too large for just one person to go back to sleep. but then he actually reads the messages. it's not so much of an invitation as it is a demand, yet dante can't find it in himself to say no. jun's too nice to leave hanging with cold chicken, unfortunately.

[ msg to: junyoung ] i was taking a nap [ msg to: junyoung ] make an appointment next time

he never confirms his attendance, but he also doesn't say he's not coming. hopefully that's enough for junyoung to know to stay in place until dante has the chance to make himself half-presentable. he hauls his tired body out of bed and shuffles into the bathroom to splash cold water on his face, staring into his own reflection as he takes in the state of himself. dark circles, an unattractive softness to his skin, a zombie-like lifelessness without makeup covering his many flaws and imperfections. there's no fixing this, he realizes, and not for the first time curses the fact that there's not many men with long blond hair running around seoul right now. an iconic image, great for his brand and his professional career, but another obstacle to having a private life right now.

it's not like he can change anything about that, so he does what he can to minimize the damage. a hair tie, hat, and hoodie cover most of his defining characteristics while a mask takes care of the rest. i look sick, he takes one last glance in the mirror before heading out.

he calls a car, public transit seeming like an unnecessary risk and unable to drive himself. it's while he's in the back seat, killing time by scrolling through his phone, that dante sees a post from a former group member, a photo of a good chunk of the crew formerly known as bit boys. junyoung was there too, he realizes. well, it's to be expected. dante has spent the last year or so systematically tanking every relationship he's ever had, making himself unapproachable to anyone who used to know him. they'll miss him less when he finally fades away.

the only thing he doesn't understand is why junyoung would invite him out now when he was clearly enjoying better company not an hour ago. well, he supposes such questions are best asked the man himself, as he steps out of the cab a block or two away from their agreed upon meeting place. "jun," dante greets the other man, not smiling though it wouldn't matter from behind the mask anyway. "are you okay?"

[corvuscanus]

the short trek from the curb to dante’s apartment door is made much longer by seoho’s juggling of three bags and him trying to hit the doorbell with his elbow without also alerting all of dante’s neighbours to his presence. he’s well-prepared for an evening of suffering: takeout from a spot that’s diet-accommodating enough that not even dante can complain too much about the food, salty snacks and candy that definitely miss that criteria.

dante greets seoho at the door with that sour attitude of his, so familiar by now that seoho almost laughs at him. “yeah, sorry, traffic. it’s good to see you too.” he divests himself of his plastic bags by pushing them into dante’s arms, kicking off his shoes and nudging them towards the side of the hallway. “did you have dinner? i picked up some stuff.” some stuff, meaning he’d ordered his way halfway through the menu. seoho tends to stress eat when the athletes he supports through the screen start underperforming, and there’s no doubt that tonight will be one of those occasions - none of the south korean teams are bad by any means, but with the luck of the draw turning into misfortune there isn’t much reason to hope for a miracle.

he leaves the jacket in the hallway and nudges dante further into the apartment, towards the living room. that package on the coffee table drives a smile to his lips. through many months of exposure seoho has learnt not to comment on it, though; he doesn’t trust dante not to be petty about it next time, as though him paying attention to friends is some great vulnerability he can’t possibly admit to, lest he die a painful and immediate death. so he settles on the neutral topic instead: “you ready to celebrate certain failure or are we gonna pretend there’s a chance?”

[andxnte]

"you brought too much," again with the complaints instead of thanks, even as dante hardly balks at taking the bags from seoho's arms as he settles himself inside the apartment. he could complain about that too of course, but it's the little moments that betray dante isn't completely miserable about having company in his home. he can't lie, the sterile white walls seem a little bit warmer just with the presence of another human person. as much as he pushes others away, demands an existence separate from the rest of society, he's still just as miserably human as any other; he still needs some sort of connection.

seoho is never too bothered by dante's attitude at least. it should be a relief that he still agrees to come over. "i already ate," dante lies, because it's easier than explaining that his face was a little too puffy for his phone to unlock for him this morning and he fears that he'll also stop recognizing the man he sees in the mirror. he trusts seoho not to pry or push, not to give him sad eyes that make him feel guilty for his very existence, but he doesn't want to get into all of that right now anyway. the smell of something warm and well-seasoned tempts him regardless. maybe i'll go to the gym early tomorrow, he bargains with himself. maybe.

in any case, he gets out of the way to welcome seoho into his home—after ensuring his shoes are tucked neatly off to the side of the hall— and places the bags on the small kitchen counter. "there's always a chance," he grumbles, oddly optimistic despite the hint of scowl on his brows. "but they'll give us hope and then screw it up somehow. like they always do." would he be happier rooting for a winning team? probably not; dante would still find something to complain about. but at least being a sports fan takes his mind off of himself for a few hours, all those turbulent emotions instead focused on something outside of his own experience.

"do you want anything to drink?" he can be a decent host after all.

[andxnte]

b-cut, 22. what do you think your life will be like after disbandment (or contract expiry, for soloists)? would you still work in the industry or will you retire and settle down?

that's so far away, isn't it? dante has hardly had time to think about what he's doing next week, let alone years from now. if it was over today, what would he do? the sad truth is... he really doesn't know.

"i've been in this industry for... as long as i can remember, really. i was just a kid in my old company and i never really had to think twice about coming to midas when that failed. i think this is all i know how to do." the words come with a heavy realization, a sinking pit in his stomach that there's really no other option for him at this point. sure it's not too late to enroll in university but it's not like his grades were ever something to brag about. this is the curse of this industry, isn't it? the insidious spiral that keeps so many young, hopeful people shackled to a corporation that's only real interest is monetizing someone else's talents.

"but i'm tired," it's hardly more than a whisper, a soft confession of the things he doesn't dare say aloud. "i want to know what it's like to be normal. not to put on all the makeup and bleach my hair and pretend to be something flawless when i'm really so incredibly flawed. just... be myself without playing a character that everyone expects me to be. to just be a person."

"is that even possible for me anymore?" he doesn't know; maybe in time, he'll fade from the spotlight and his dreams of normalcy can be achieved. money... that's always the issue though. it's not as if he has family he can fall back on, considering he's subsidizing their lives right now as it is. "i think i'm going to have to keep doing this. i don't know, though. i have a long time before it's even an option."

[andxnte]

on-camera + 13 (is there anywhere you'd like to perform where you haven't yet? anywhere you'd like to go back to?)

"ah, there's so many places." is his smile just a little too tight? is there bitterness in his voice? dante does everything he can to mask it. "i haven't had an opportunity to tour yet, so there's not many places i've had a chance to visit. i think it'd be fun to film a music video in los angeles... i've never been, but the pictures i've seen look beautiful. the palm trees, the ocean... we have an ocean here in korea too, of course, but it'd be fun to see a different side of it."

[andxnte]

on-camera + 5. (what's the best part of being an idol?)

his smile is bright, as if nothing in the world is wrong. when he hums, it's with the intent to give the illusion that he's sifting through so many positive parts of his job that he can't possibly pick a single answer. "let me think," he asks the camera for some time, as if talking to the viewer directly instead of the human holding it. just as he had been taught.

most of his silence will be cut out anyway.

"if i had to pick just one thing... probably the adventure of it all. i get to travel to new places and meet new people that i would have never been able to experience otherwise. i feel like i've had so many one in a lifetime experiences since my debut and they just keep coming. i'm so grateful to be here and i'm excited to see what the next adventure will be!"

he can lie with the most convincing smile, bright and lovely as ever for the cameras. they don't know he's rotting from the inside out.

[andxnte]

i was trying to send asks to everyone but i'm afraid tumblr is gonna shadow ban me.... if you didnt get one from me and want more, please drop a like and i'll try to trickle them out slowly!!