joomi orders food after training from one of the only restaurants open late enough that doesn't suck. somehow, they give him an extra order of kimbap. joomi is a man of integrity, but he's not about to call the restaurant and report that he received food he shouldn't have. he'll be happy to keep it for later, or for sua.
or for hangyeol, he realizes a moment later. it's the kind he likes – knowledge joomi has accumulated from the past several months he's spent with him. hangyeol is thoughtful and good at taking care of people. joomi has the impression that people don't do enough nice things for him in return, so he makes up his mind quite easily. minutes later, he's on the bus to hangyeol's apartment complex, kimbap secure in a brown paper bag.
he rings the apartment doorbell, and realizes only afterwards that hangyeol might already be asleep. hopefully he doesn't wake him up.
asleep or not, hangyeol is not the one who answers the door. instead, it is a ghost, and joomi reacts the way any reasonable person would react to a ghost: recoils a little, eyes widening in fear against his will.
at first he assumes the worst: his ex boyfriend did in fact not enlist in the military, used it as a lie just to get away from joomi, and is now sleeping with the guy joomi is really as close to dating as he ever was with said ex boyfriend.
then he takes a breath, and recalls that there is in fact a jinyoung lookalike on the loose in seoul, and he's met him before. jiu, his name is, maybe? he has decisively less hair than the last time joomi saw him – looks even more like his former boyfriend than then – but that's probably the more likely explanation.
there is still the issue of hangyeol potentially sleeping with this guy, but it's not an issue, really. it just makes joomi a little sad even though he has no right to be. then again, why would a guy hangyeol is hooking up with answer the door on his behalf? that's a little weird, isn't it? unless hangyeol is so fucked out that he doesn't want to move.
ultimately, none of this is relevant to his goal, so he says, "uhh...is hangyeol here? i have something for him," and raises the paper bag in his hand. "food," he elaborates, in case it's necessary. he has the urge to babble further explanations, but decides to make the rare decision to keep his mouth shut instead.
hanna smiles and nods when she hears her name, grin growing wider when joomi agrees to her suggestion. "great, i took a look at the other characters briefly so i'd love to hear more from the ones playing them!" perhaps her excitement might be unexpected to some but despite everything, hanna has realized that acting is something she is truly passionate about and enjoys so this opportunity feel like a new wind in her sails, so to speak. if she felt a bit lost since becoming a trainee, wondering if she was cut out for this or not, this drama has helped her find renewed energy.
"i personally really like my character," she begins by saying, once she's taken a seat next to joomi. "i can see some parts of myself in her but there are other aspects that i think will be interesting to portray since she's way more feisty than i am." hanna lets out a laugh at this, remembering how refreshing she found her character, tae chohee, to be when looking over her profile and other details.;she wasn't a demure character, that's for sure.
"chohee feels a little rough yet carries herself with ease, and is someone who stands up for what she believes to be right and just, nor is she afraid to defend herself. she's really cool honestly, i'd look up to her if she was a real person in my life," she laughs again then looks at joomi. "what are your thoughts on your role so far? his name is minjae, right?"
hanna seems nice. that's a relief, considering they'll be spending a lot of time together in the coming weeks. her smile is pretty. she looks like the kind of person that will shine on screen.
joomi is not really that, in his opinion. he's far more comfortable as the guy that writes soundtracks for the dramas opposed to being in one, and yet here he is. apparently he can't say he's not an actor anymore. he's going to be in a real drama. on tv. god.
he listens to hanna talk about her character and nods along. she seems excited, too, and he hopes some of her energy transfers to him. then again, from what he's read about minjae, maybe unexcited is exactly what he needs to embody for shooting?
he nods again in response. "minjae is kind of closed off and cynical, maybe even sort of a jerk...?" he laughs a little. "at least in the beginning. but he ends up a valuable member of the cheer team in the end."
what are joomi's thoughts? "i honestly think he's probably a good role for me. that's a little similar to my personality already, so i won't have to act or embody something unlike myself as much," he laughs sheepishly. "and i guess i'll be able to relate to him more? which should help."
this is all joomi's fault. literally, it is. kou had pushed joomi to audition, something along the lines of "what's the worst that could happen? they'll just say no." and after some sort of odd deal, joomi decided to audition as long as kou did. and somehow, that led to the both of them being casted -- and for kou to become the main character of a drama.
some may say, by accident.
a lot of the things to happen to kou's life had been by accident; not that he dislikes it in any manner. these things happen, he guesses, maybe not like this for the average person, but they seem to happen quite frequently with kou.
"i think we both have it wrong," kou replies plainly. we scrunches his nose and pulls out the ipad, replaying the part they're both supposed to practice. kou isn't the best dancer out there, could barely move his feet in synchronization when he'd first entered sr media; and while there's been some improvement, he still finds himself struggling from time to time.
"one... two... hand - up, leg - left," he says, eyes darting around to the movement of the limbs in the video. "should we try again, joomi?" he asks, turning to his friend. "i think we've almost got it."
i think we both have it wrong, kou says, and joomi can't help but laugh a little, both at how straightforward he is and the fact that it's probably true. kou is usually straightforward, though – always in his strange kou way that no one else can really mimic.
he watches the choreography video alongside him, eyes tracking the movements closely, blocking them out as he does. he nods in understanding. "yeah, we weren't too far off," he agrees.
"let me get a sip of water, then we can go again," he decides, crossing the room to where his water is sitting on the floor. he unscrews the lid, then takes a sip. "how much do you think we'll be dancing for the drama, anyway?" he asks. he can only assume a lot, if the labels are making them practice their dancing so much.
joomi doesn't think he's that bad of a dancer – not anymore, at least. he can admit that he's focused more on other areas lately, though. there was a time where he was dancing a lot and improved significantly in a short time. there's something cathartic about movement that's different than songwriting, so he doesn't mind it at all. he might even like it. past joomi would never believe it.
training for axis labels' drama feels a little bit like starting over. suddenly, despite training for nearly two years, he feels out of his element again. so much is new, and there's so much to improve.
there are plenty of differences, too, though. he feels lonelier than when he first started training under delta, despite knowing more people than back then, and plenty of his co-actors in cheer up needing extra work too. he knows it's probably just because he isn't stumbling through the early days of training alongside jinyoung, and he goes home alone.
but at least there's kou, and even though kou has never been in studio delta, he's always been a presence in joomi's life. neighbors first, then dead calm members, then trainees. kou is never the smartest man in a room, but he's sincere, and he knows joomi in ways most others don't.
he also needs to practice his dancing for cheer up, apparently – so they've taken the opportunity to train together after regular hours, just to make sure they can do the choreography they learned in lessons today well for tomorrow.
he wouldn't say they're exactly synchronized, but he doesn't think they're bad.
there are a few moves they clearly didn't match up on, though.
"this part, right before the chorus," joomi says, and he demonstrates one of the moves in question. "i think you have it wrong. unless i have it wrong? how well do you think you remember the choreo?"
to say hanna is excited about the drama would be an understatement. she still couldn't believe how quickly things had gone from 0 to 100, and while she still had some regrets, perhaps her exit from the project was for the better because it led to this opportunity instead - one she felt more suited for and where she could actually feel confident for once. even the extra training wouldn't get her down, although she did feel a little offended that they seemed to think she needed more work on her acting. at the same time, she was happy for any reason to focus on acting more so hanna brushed that thought aside for the moment.
a month of preparations before beginning filming was kind of crazy though and hanna felt the pressure, both from wanting to do well and also because the drama focused so much on teamwork that they wanted the cast to work well together too. she was never one to force friendships but she did want to try and achieve a comfortable work environment since they would also be filming together a lot so she made sure to try talking to the others as often as she could.
joomi wasn't someone hanna was familiar with before the cast was announced so she wasn't really sure about his skillset or what he'd be like - but there was only one way to find out!
"hi, joomi?" she approaches him with a simple greeting, smiling. "have you looked over the character details yet? i wanted to see what everyone's characters were like since they'll be a team together but i haven't really gotten to talk to most of the cast before now," she admits, a bit sheepishly. hanna does have a habit of keeping to herself as a defence mechanism of sorts but it's not like she has a problem initiating conversations or talking to others. "do you want to go through the info we have so far together?"
joomi is still a little surprised he got chosen for a part in this drama at all.
he doesn't consider himself an actor in the slightest. he tried out because he didn't want the opportunity to pass him by – because if he got a part, it could only benefit the future success of his group, right? something like that.
and he did indeed get a part. he failed to account for how much preparations and filming for the drama would take over his life. practicing dancing more isn't a problem, and he doesn't even mind the extra acting lessons – god knows he needs them. it's just strange to train at the axis building full time and be away from his friends (and favorite recording studio) at studio delta.
he's trying to keep a positive mindset about it, though. it's definitely new and a good opportunity for him. he certainly won't be bored in the coming months, at least.
this is also an opportunity to build relationships with trainees across the other companies. many of the other cast members are unfamiliar to him. he's not the most outgoing person, but he has no problem chatting with others, especially when they approach him first. that's exactly what hanna does.
"hi, hanna?" he returns her question, hoping he got her name right. "i looked through my character info, but i don't know much about anyone else's either, so that would probably be a good idea."
from what he's read about his character, minjae, he seems like a bit of an antagonist. somehow, he feels like that suits him well.
"mm, festive," he responds easily, as if the pair of them have been friends their whole lives and the awkward moment melting into the asphalt with the falling snow never even existed, "good choice."
"sure," he validates joomi's honest feelings, even if he finds his own disappointment in them. no, he doesn't desire a relationship, or anything romantic, with his best friend's ex or ex's best friend. but he had, before laying eyes on his blind date, been hopeful at the thought of newfound companionship, of someone to do silly holiday things things with, to make smile, to cook for.
hangyeol sees his own melancholy mirrored in the way joomi's smile barely meets his eyes before it falls to the floor. the parallels are uncanny for the pair of them: two idol trainees, left behind to pursue their dreams to let their loved ones pursue theirs. he can see why yinuo might have been excited at the prospect of her forlorn friends finding solace in each other. now, hangyeol is just concerned they might just make it worse.
"i think yejun would say something like 'i'm glad it's joomi. he's safe,'" he does his best impression of yejun, with the feather-soft tones of someone good being coaxed out from their turtle shell of overwhelming sadness. hangyeol can feel his own sadness threatening to tug his smile down at the corners, but he forces it away, determined to make sure they both have a good time tonight, regardless of their current, miraculously similar circumstances.
"i thought we might just walk around, look at the lights, exchange some gag gifts we buy right in front of each other?" he turns his shoulder to initiate their journey, taking a sip of his matcha and smacking his lips in appreciation of the steaming sweetness against his tongue, i thought about the skating rink, but the line is out of this world."
hangyeol seems to understand joomi's intentions, but doesn't indicate anything about his own. should he ask? is it even his business? what matters most to joomi is communicating clearly. he may not know hangyeol well, but he knows he is kind and he has the smile of someone who has already been hurt far more than he deserves. joomi would prefer not to add to that burden.
i'm glad it's joomi. he's safe. hangyeol's impression of yejun feels like a weight on his chest. it's neither a bad nor good feeling – something bittersweet. "i'm glad he thinks that of me," he replies, softly. "or, that you think he would," he adds with a light laugh. joomi knows firsthand that true safety is hard to come by. he still doesn't know if he's found it himself, or if he ever will, but the idea of being that for someone else is a strange honor.
"i miss him too," joomi says without thinking it through too much. when he thinks about it, as long as he's been in seoul, there was always yejun: a somewhat bleak but always reliable presence in the backdrop of his life. yejun was part of joomi's journey through music every step of the way – watched him blossom from reluctant keyboard-playing ghostwriter to frontman of his own band. once joomi was signed, they didn't keep in touch as much as they once did, but it was comforting knowing yejun was there if joomi ever needed him, and vice versa.
he nods in agreement, because hangyeol's plan sounds nice. he trails after him, taking a sip of his own drink and looking toward the line for ice skating when hangyeol mentions it. he's right. he can see it from here.
the last time joomi went ice skating was with the ex before jinyoung, when everything was warm and rosy, before he revealed the monster he really was. something curls in his stomach at the memory. he's trying to reclaim all the tainted parts of his life, but maybe that's one that can wait for now. "maybe next time," he decides. if hangyeol ever wants to hang out with him again after this. he supposes it's too soon to know.
he wishes he could've ice skated with jinyoung. there's so much he wishes they could've done. he didn't have to enlist so soon. he could've waited a little while longer for joomi's sake. if he pushed a little harder – asked him sincerely to stay, would he have listened? would they both finally get the christmas they deserved but never had as kids? would joomi finally get a birthday where he felt loved instead of insignificant?
it ultimately doesn't matter. it will be just another year without either. one day, hopefully. maybe. he doesn't know if it's better to hang on to that hope or try to come to terms with the likely reality that he will never have the life he dreams of.
"sometimes i think i'm just meant to be unhappy," he muses aloud, though he realizes a moment later that hangyeol didn't ask for this. hangyeol carries the weight of his own sadness and doesn't need anymore, especially from someone he barely knows. "sorry – that sounds really depressing. i don't really mean it like that. just that...i have these moments of happiness that last just long enough for me to feel hopeful, but then they're over. and i know everything is temporary, but it's just...two months with my band before the members start getting signed to companies and it falls apart. two months with jinyoung before he distances himself from me. two weeks to spend with jinyoung before he enlists. three days of knowing he loves me before he leaves me," he chuckles a little even though nothing about it is funny.
"and i just...i'm trying really hard, you know? i'm putting in the work it takes to be happy and healthy every day. and it really does take work to be happy. i'm not always perfect at it, but...i'm trying really hard. and i don't think i'm doing anything wrong? so it's like...when will i get something good that finally stays? it doesn't have to be forever. just for a while. and i just...i just don't. i don't know why."
he heaves a deep breath, letting the chilly winter air fill his lungs and clear his head. "sorry. you have enough going on without me dumping shit on you. sometimes i just...talk," joomi laughs, a little embarrassed.
joomi waits. ren will either tell him or tell him he doesn't want to talk about it, and he'll accept either answer.
but ren does tell him. "oh," joomi breathes before he can stop himself. he wants to ask why, but he doesn't want to force ren to relive whatever he just experienced. maybe he should know, though. maybe in knowing he'd be able to help more. joomi isn't sure.
still, he takes steps toward ren and pulls him into a hug. it's loose for now, so ren can escape if he wants.
"we'll figure this out," joomi mutters. and it is we. it is them, because he and ren are a unit at studio delta now. joomi doesn't know what he would do without him. he doesn't want to know.
he'd survive, he knows. he always survives, even when he doesn't want to. he'd live with the loss and once again erase someone from his dream of debuting with his friends. it would be unfair, though. maybe it's selfish of him, because this is about ren, really – but it's not fair to joomi, either. it's not fair that he gets loss after loss after loss.
they have three months, though. three months to make sure ren stays in delta. that's surely enough time. it'll have to be enough time.
he pulls away from the hug eventually, and his mind switches from reassurance to problem-solving. "did they say...how you get off of probation? what do they want you to do?" he supposes he has to ask before they can find a solution.
joomi waits. ren will either tell him or tell him he doesn't want to talk about it, and he'll accept either answer.
but ren does tell him. "oh," joomi breathes before he can stop himself. he wants to ask why, but he doesn't want to force ren to relive whatever he just experienced. maybe he should know, though. maybe in knowing he'd be able to help more. joomi isn't sure.
still, he takes steps toward ren and pulls him into a hug. it's loose for now, so ren can escape if he wants.
"we'll figure this out," joomi mutters. and it is we. it is them, because he and ren are a unit at studio delta now. joomi doesn't know what he would do without him. he doesn't want to know.
he'd survive, he knows. he always survives, even when he doesn't want to. he'd live with the loss and once again erase someone from his dream of debuting with his friends. it would be unfair, though. maybe it's selfish of him, because this is about ren, really – but it's not fair to joomi, either. it's not fair that he gets loss after loss after loss.
they have three months, though. three months to make sure ren stays in delta. that's surely enough time. it'll have to be enough time.
he pulls away from the hug eventually, and his mind switches from reassurance to problem-solving. "did they say...how you get off of probation? what do they want you to do?" he supposes he has to ask before they can find a solution.
Jindallae just got back from Shanghai. A close friend of his has been living out there for awhile, opened up his own BBQ restaurant that's been seeing a lot of success amongst both locals and tourists. The two of them have been thick as thieves since elementary school, which is a rarity for him knowing the type of kid he was. Once in awhile, in order to keep their friendship alive, he'll pay him a visit to hangout just like old times, but while he's there, he also makes it a point to enjoy as much of the local cuisine as he can. Not only out of enjoyment, but also to learn new techniques and gain inspiration, all in hopes of bettering himself as a chef.
He's never been formally trained or anything, an he has no plans on entering a culinary program in the future, but he doesn't let that stop him from teaching himself all he needs to know. He spends hours of his downtime cooking, even if that's what he does all day at work. It's always been a passion of his, one bordering on complete obsession at that. Food has always been important to him. It's not only what sustains people, but it's often what brings them together, too.
He may not look it, but Jindallae's a big family man. There's nothing he loves more than providing a hearth for his loved ones to convene at, which is why he not only takes so much pride in serving them delicious meals, but also in ensuring that they know his restaurant (and to some of them, his own home) is open to them if they need a place to go. Lately, Joomi has been making himself comfortable here, which he loves to see. They maybe haven't always had the smoothest relationship, but above all, Jindallae's glad that they're able to be friends nowadays. It means a lot to him that Joomi would even accept that from him, given their past.
It's been slow tonight, so he's out of the kitchen early and partaking in his nightly cocktail. He's been on his feet all day, so his posture is extremely languid in his seat; his massive frame spilling out of it and maybe taking up a little too much space, but since there's not really anyone around right now, he's decided not to care. Looking over to Joomi, he nods toward him to catch his attention. "I've got the guys packaging up more food for you," he begins, then takes a long sip of his scotch and soda. "It's good to freeze if you can't eat it right away, so I don't want any lip from you. You're taking it."
His tone is demanding, but not in an aggressive way. He just knows Joomi will likely reject his offerings and he simply wants it to be known that that's not acceptable. "Share it with Stevie, or Jay, even Ren, if you want to. There's... probably going to be a lot of it. As you know, it's been pretty dead tonight and I don't wanna waste all that we prepped." It's then when he yawns, feeling rude for interrupting himself with one, but it is what it is. "You want another drink? If you want, I can mix you up another one while Yinuo closes up."
joomi probably spends too much time at the bar these days.
sometimes it's yinuo's bar in jindallae's restaurant. sometimes it's a bar in the club he frequents. sometimes it's a bar where no one knows his name. it depends on his mood: if he wants to be among friends, if he wants someone to take him home, or if he wants to be invisible but not alone.
at least he doesn't drink too much, if only because he doesn't want to deal with training with a hangover and he has too much to do on his one day a week that he isn't training. he also doesn't really want to become an alcoholic. he's probably miserable enough for it, but thankfully has the self-control to resist it.
jindallae takes a seat not too far from him, then gets his attention. joomi looks at him, and lets out a small huff of laughter. of course jindallae is giving him food. "okay," he says without fighting it this time. jindallae's food is good and his savings are dwindling after nearly two years of training and making minimal money. now that sua is a trainee too, it's even harder. he has no real reason to say no.
jindallae offers him another drink and joomi shakes his head. "i'm good. thanks. i'm here too often to justify another drink." it's lighthearted even though it's also true.
he takes a deep breath, then rests his elbows on the bar and props up his head with his palm. he just sort of looks at jindallae. he would like to talk to him while they're both here, but he doesn't know what to say.
the thought flits through his mind: where would we be if i actually gave you a chance? would they be happy now? would jindallae have given him the earnest devotion that jinyoung never did? would he have laughed as much? would he have cried as much?
ultimately, it doesn't matter. jindallae is happy now, and he is...here. he was happy, for a while. a brief while. he doesn't regret choosing jinyoung instead. he just wonders.
"do you regret that i never gave you a real chance?" he asks, because there's no real reason not to. he knows jindallae isn't afraid of these conversations, and neither is he. "or i guess...not regret, but wonder? or are you so happy now that you don't have to?"
it’s not until evening on your last day of your contract that anyone says anything about it. maybe you were starting to wonder what had happened, if they had forgotten about you or something. no, they hadn’t forgotten; after your last scheduled lesson of the day ends, the instructor pulls you aside and lets you know that you’re wanted in one of the offices.
the coach leaves you alone after escorting you to the door you’re supposed to be at, not giving anything away in his words or expression as he goes. when you enter the room, you’re met by a lawyer, jin youngho, a staff member who oversees the coaching staff, and yoon jihun himself.
you take a seat across from them in silence.
jihun’s facial expression is stern, exasperated even as he looks at you. he twirls his pen in his finger, allows you to sit in the silence for a good few moments before he finally speaks. “ren,” despite only calling out your name, the sharpness in his voice isn’t lost on you. “when we first signed you, we were truly looking forward to seeing the kind of idol you could become. but this last year, has quite honestly, been a disappointment.”
he realized, at some point, that two years had passed since their season of next gen, which meant ren's contract must be expiring soon. on the day it happens, though, he doesn't realize. even when ren is pulled away from their practice, he doesn't recognize why.
he runs through the choreography they learned in dance lessons that day while he waits, unruffled.
when ren returns, it's during a brief break to drink water. all he has to do is look at him to know something is terribly wrong. his face is blotchy and tear-stained, and he looks significantly more miserable and disheartened than usual. he catches the piece of paper in ren's hand as he moves to shove it in his bag, and it clicks. his contract renewal.
joomi's mind scrubs through the information in front of him quickly. ren looks devastated, but he has a contract. he's trying to return to training like nothing happened, which means he wasn't dropped from the company. so..."what happened?" he asks, seeing no reason to beat around the bush. his voice is soft – calming, hopefully.
"we don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, i guess," he adds, no matter how much he wants to know what's going on. he mainly wants to help how he can. if that just means comforting ren over problems unknown to him, so be it.
"can i hug you?" he asks, probably unexpectedly. "you can say no. you just look like you need a hug and i know you're not gonna ask for one."
saturday after training, joomi drives to his usual bar.
he doesn't get out of the car, though. he sits in the parking lot and fights with himself.
he desperately wants to kiss someone – to feel wanted again, just for a little while. it doesn't have to mean anything. he can flirt with a random guy at the bar and make out with him and maybe go home with him, if the stars align. he can feel a little less lonely for a few hours, until reality sets in and he feels empty and cold.
this is what he does to cope – not always, but too often. he knows it isn't healthy. he knows he'll never find what he really wants here. he is just chasing remnants of what he once had, desperate to prove to himself that the emptiness isn't permanent – that he will one day feel satisfied and safe again.
but he doesn't. again and again, he doesn't and he doesn't.
he knows the key doesn't lie in another person. he needs to learn how to be alone again. it's such a strange concept, for someone who spent 20 years of his life only relying on himself. his therapist says this is normal and understandable. of course he doesn't want to go back to how things were now that he knows what it's like to be loved. of course the idea of it scares him. of course he feels sad and lonely and empty.
he pulls out of the bar parking lot and drives home. the apartment is quiet when he arrives. sua is likely still training, or maybe asleep. biscuit doesn't even come to greet him at the door.
he bellyflops onto his bed.
sometimes, these days, he is angry, too – because this suffering was all preventable. jinyoung could've stayed. he just chose not to.
joomi grabs one of his notebooks and a pen, then sits back down on his bed.
he still feels silly doing this, but his therapist told him it would be good for him, so he might as well keep trying. he starts writing:
jinyoung,
i miss you. it really pisses me off.
i met up with kou for drinks after you enlisted. i told him you told me you loved me a couple days beforehand. he said "that's a little cruel, to finally tell you he loves you only to leave."
i didn't even think of it like that. isn't that sad? i was just so happy then. so happy to win any shred of your affection and have proof of it.
in some ways, nobody else gets it. nobody knows how hard we worked for you to be able to love me. both of us worked hard. so you telling me was an accomplishment. but kou is still right.
you didn't have to leave. you could've just stayed. i'm sure you could've gotten a job at jindallae's restaurant while you figured out what you wanted to do next. you could've at least given me more time.
we worked so hard for...years, for two weeks of being in love. and i loved those two weeks. i just wish it could've been longer. even if you still enlisted, couldn't you have waited until after christmas? after my birthday? did you know how excited i was to be loved by you on christmas and my birthday? and maybe i still was, even though you weren't here for them. but i don't know.
i know you loved me as best as you could, but that doesn't mean it was well. that doesn't mean it was the kind of love i deserve. you know that, don't you? i think you always knew that.
but it's still the love i want. i have been trying so hard to move on. too hard, maybe. i'm trying a different strategy these days, where i just feel how i feel and accept it. i always feel better when i don't beat myself up for my thoughts or feelings. i've gotten better at that in recent years, but it's still a habit to feel stupid for feeling certain things.
these days i feel stupid for still loving you as much as i do. it's been over six months now – how is it still this fucking bad? how do i still miss you so much? how am i still here like a dog waiting for you to come home? i would do anything i could to get a glimpse of you through the mail slot. i am still here putting my paws against the window searching for your face.
it's embarrassing, but it's just how things are. i love you so much, moon jinyoung, and i don't know why. i just do.
i hope i move on soon, or that you come back for me and tell me that you love me and that you missed me. i am trying not to wait, but i'm not trying to move on. it hurts too much. it doesn't work and it's frustrating and i know it's because i'm just not ready. so i think instead of trying to move on, i need to just...i don't know. i don't know yet. i think i just need to exist where i am, and grow without forcing it.
so i love you. so i miss you. so i'm mad at you, and for now, i still know that if you walked through my bedroom door today i would wrap you up in my arms right away. i'd kiss your face and tell you that i love you and missed you and make you promise me you won't leave me like this again.
but that's not reality. you won't come home for another year and i might not be part of what home is to you by then. maybe i will love someone else and be happier than i ever was with you. that would be nice.
in the meantime, i will just...feel it all. i still wish you were here. there are still some days i wake up hoping this was all a dream and that i'll find you next to me again.
but you aren't, and that is a choice you made. it is a choice i have to live with. and it's frustrating. you never sacrificed a thing for me, did you? you never considered my feelings in any choice you ever made. you never apologized to me, either. how could i love someone like that? how could i love you so much? how could i do this to myself?
sometimes i wonder if it would've been better if i let you get kicked out of that cat cafe instead of buying you a drink and getting in a fight with you. would the universe keep bringing us together again? were we just...destined to meet, and fall in our dysfunctional form of love? i never believed in shit like that before. i don't know.
i did my best. i wasn't perfect, but i loved you so earnestly, in ways you might not have deserved. and it was painful a lot, but i loved loving you. life with you made me understand what people mean when they say they love being alive.
so i will treasure my time with you always. part of me hopes this is just a small bump in a lifetime's long road with you. part of me hopes this is it, and that i'll be over you tomorrow and never look back.
realistically, i'll end up somewhere in the middle. but you did change my life, moon jinyoung. a lot of times it was painful, but you changed my life for the better in the end. so thank you.
i hope you feel the same way about me. it would make me really happy if you thought i changed your life for the better. i hope you tell me that one day. i hope i mattered to you that much. i think that would be enough.
okay, i think i feel better now. thanks for listening, void jinyoung. i do still miss you, but i'll see you soon enough.
stevie's always been a less than average student. his academics were always standard enough to pass, sometimes even scraping by-- no matter how many notes he took or hours he put into studying. it's never been his strong-suit, too much at once being thrown at him that his hands can't keep up. his notes are usually indecipherable through doodles and the scribbles of what does this mean????? littered about.
so when he sees joomi's notes, filled to the paper brim and more makes his mouth drop open in genuine surprise. stevie's body leans forward on instinct, as if he really can't even believe what he's seeing. "wha—" he sputters out, a squeaky laugh leaving him. straightening up, stevie clasps his hands together, peering at joomi with the widest eyes imaginable. he's willing to grovel to be able to take a glimpse at what the older's written down.
"joomi. joomi. my comrade. piano god. my incredible friend who takes insane looking notes. can i pleeease take a peek? share the wealth of knowledge with me?" he grins sweetly, pushing his own notes towards him. stevie doesn't even look down at it, knowing how much it lacks in comparison to joomi's gold mine. "you can see mine! i mean-- it's not much, but less is sometimes more, y'know? i keep everything up in here." stevie babbles, tapping his head with his pencil. "well. the uh, important stuff. like the track list order of one of vertex's albums."
joomi has a hard time saying no to stevie. he has a hard time saying no to any puppy-dog eyes, really, especially when they're requesting something harmless. it's the same whenever eunbin asks him to join her for a workshop, apparently.
he just chuckles and passes stevie his notebook. he doesn't mind sharing, though he's not sure how much stevie will actually learn from studying joomi's work instead of writing down his own.
"one," joomi teases him, though to be fair, joomi doesn't have any of the track list orders of their seniors' albums memorized. he never thought any of that was as important as remembering the melodies and chord progressions, or how to translate the songs to the piano or guitar.
he holds his hand out for stevie's notebook regardless, if only because he's curious. he suspects stevie's notes will give him a good laugh, if nothing else. maybe he can offer some help if there are any areas he seems confused about in his notes – if they're even that substantial.
"we shouldn't be unreasonable and hold on to an illusion. we should accept reality."
joomi is not an actor.
this is what he keeps saying, and yet somehow, time after time, he ends up in a situation where he needs to act. one acting workshop, another acting workshop, and now this – truly his stupidest venture yet.
he had no intentions of getting anywhere near axis's drama auditions. a former joomi might've thought, "what the hell, why not? it's not like they'll select me for anything. it's just a new experience," but after approaching next gen that way and getting on the show, he knows better.
and yet he can apparently not say no to the people he cares about most, especially if they make good points. jay of all people encouraged joomi to try it. he said something about how they should seize every opportunity they can, because being in a drama can only help them and their popularity when they debut.
joomi thought that was fair enough, and jay can truly be so annoying when he wants to be, so joomi eventually agreed. fine. chances are he wouldn't get a role in the drama, but if he did, he'd do his best, and hopefully draw more attention to the delta boys.
it's only now, moments before he's set to go in the audition room, that he realizes he could get selected and bring attention to the delta boys for being a horrible actor.
no, no, surely axis wouldn't choose him for anything if he was a horrible actor. right?
it's his turn to audition soon enough. he plants himself in the center of the room in front of the judges' long table.
"hi. i'm jung joomi. i choose the scene from start-up," he informs them, and watches as the lady he assumes will be his scene partner for the audition shuffles papers.
maybe it's a risk for him to choose a scene where the male lead cries for his audition. joomi is not that good of an actor. he doesn't know if he can pull it off convincingly – but he's already familiar with the scene from the acting workshop they took, there are only a few actual lines for him to memorize and say, and he thinks he naturally looks a bit miserable. all he really needs to do is play into his image, right?
he's only practiced to the point of crying once. he forced himself to practice in front of the mirror so he could see his own expressions at least for a bit, but he hated it and felt awkward. he's comforted by the fact that he doesn't actually care what happens here. he'll do his best, and that's that.
he will unlock his ability to potentially cry for this, though. all he really needs to do is think about jinyoung in the place of dalmi in the scene. an alternate universe where joomi also goes to lime entertainment and gets picked over jinyoung to join vybe. it would play out the same, wouldn't it? even if not, it's easy to imagine. he doubts jinyoung would be nearly as torn up about it, either.
the staff member starts them off. you're making me miserable.
joomi does his best to look as miserable as possible. it's honestly not that hard – or at least it doesn't feel hard. he doesn't know how he looks, but he imagines those words leaving jinyoung's mouth and it hurts.
the staff member keeps reciting the lines, and he stands there pitifully.
and i'm not your dream, she says, and it reminds joomi of something. back when jinyoung told him he wanted to leave studio delta to join project green, he didn't react well. he mentioned something along the lines of having to cope with his dream being destroyed, and jinyoung said a person can't be your dream.
the memory comes at the perfect time, because it's when he's supposed to get more emotional in the scene. jinyoung wasn't his dream, but debuting with him was, and just like in the scene from start-up, joomi had no say in that dream being shattered.
it is really fucking sad, and sadder still that maybe if jinyoung stayed – maybe if he honored joomi's dream enough not to leave him twice – joomi would still wake up next to him every morning, and they'd still be training together.
of course, there's no knowing that. it doesn't matter, either, because like dalmi says...we shouldn't be unreasonable and hold on to an illusion. we should accept reality. he doesn't usually let himself dwell on it for long, but for this situation alone, and the purpose of stirring up the necessary emotions, he does.
"it's my birthday today," joomi says the line. and of course, joomi has a terrible track record as far as his birthday goes. something like this would happen to him.
his first year with jinyoung, he got his hopes up that he finally wouldn't be alone on his birthday – but jinyoung stopped talking to him. once jinyoung settled into himself again, joomi once again couldn't help but imagine a joyful holiday and birthday season – but jinyoung enlisted, leaving him more alone than ever.
i know.
by the end of the scene, the original actor in his role cries. all it really takes for joomi to do the same is focusing on opening himself up. it feels unnatural to cry, especially in front of other people, but he's supposed to cry over this. this is the kind of thing even boys cry over.
unfortunately, once he starts crying, he can't stop it. the scene ends, one of the staff members saying, "thank you, joomi," and tells him when he can expect to know the results, and joomi still cries.
it's time to take himself out of the scene and return to reality now, but reality is still...sad. it's even sadder that he cannot escape from this. it's no scene from a drama, where he has a boyfriend who will wrap him up in his arms after they say the word cut. this is no nightmare he gets to wake up from.
when it's all said and done, he feels...cold. alone.
"sorry," he tries to laugh through his tears that still won't stop coming. "um, thank you."
it'll be fine. he just needs five minutes in a bathroom stall to pull himself together. then he can return to training as good as new.
hopefully he just won't run into anyone on his way there.
while this is probably the first workshop in a while that's felt like he's back in university, at least it offers information that stevie is somewhat privy to. he knows a decent amount of idol groups, even if he's never cared to know the technical aspects behind it. stevie doesn't really care about the logistics behind trends or how they work, though he does have an idea of what's trendy.
on a brief break, stevie's sifting through his notes haphazardly. his knee bounces under the table, restless after sitting for waaay too long. his eyes flicker over to joomi seated next to him, his attention flopping over to the older.
"joomi," he whispers-- with no need to, really. there are other people talking amongst themselves, but with how lecture focused this workshop has felt, stevie's reverted back to school days tendencies. "you wanna compare notes?" the blonde cocks his head to the side, grinning boyishly as he holds up his notes-- which aren't much, other than a couple of scribbled words and question-marks. stevie can keep up with what's being released and what idol groups are under each company, but everything else regarding the math, the marketing and the like just flies over his head. "it feels like they're going to pop quiz us at any moment."
before joomi made it into the first season of next gen, he knew next to nothing about kpop. he liked some wonderland songs, though he couldn't match the names to the songs themselves, and he liked nara. beyond that, he was clueless, and he saw little reason to learn more.
fast forward...what, two years now? and he knows a lot more than he once did. still, on most days, he feels like far from an expert, especially compared to his peers. many of them have wanted to be idols for years. they live and breathe this stuff. he figures the least he can do is take a workshop.
joomi finds the lecture interesting. there are plenty of things he already knew, but some information brand new to him, too. his notes are meticulous and thorough, handwriting a little sloppy for the sake of saving time. he has a good memory, but that's due in part to taking good notes. writing things down makes them stick more easily.
stevie loudly whispers his name, and joomi looks over at him. he can't help but laugh at how minimalistic stevie's notes are, especially compared to his own, but he supposes he shouldn't be surprised at this point. "sure?" he replies, the word leaving his mouth more as a question than agreement. he holds up his own notebook and opens it up to reveal a full page and a half of notes on the workshop so far, then grins back.
kian doesn't remember who he is anymore. long gone is the boy with a guitar, a bright smile, and a dream, and in his place stands a man who carries the weight of a debut on his shoulders; a man who is more of a hollow shell than a human being lately. the never-ending schedules, the airplanes, the rehearsal spaces, the studios... all of it has started to blur together into one everlasting day. there's no starts and stops, no sunrise or sunset. it's all the same. the only thing that feels different is him.
whenever he looks in the mirror lately, kian is quick to notice the changes he's gone through. his physique is more toned from hours of dancing and working out, his hair is cut in a way that eradicates its once charming messiness, and his face no longer dons a cherubic glow. instead, its angles are defined; sharp.
those aren't the only changes though. sure, he may appear different to those who've known him forever, but lately, he feels as though the person he once was has died, too; his personality metamorphosing into something that he doesn't recognize. there's still glimmers of whimsy and boyishness there, but being that he's been somewhat forced to grow up throughout his trainee journey, the heightened sense of maturity he feels confuses him... scares him, even.
he's very much a bird that was booted out of the nest for the first time, forced to use his inexperienced wings to keep himself afloat as the winds continue to knock him off his course; forced to adapt his mindset to what's going on around him instead of clinging onto any naivete like a comfort blanket, hoping that someone can save him.
however, breaking him free from his thoughts is his phone. as it vibrates on his nightstand, he rolls over in bed to check who it is and sees that it's joomi. a fond half-smile tugs at one corner of his mouth. it's only an incoming call, but it reminds him of the good ol' days. back then, this call would likely be a reminder not to show up late to dead calm practice the following morning, but now? he's not sure what joomi has to say, but he's definitely curious. eager, he picks up the phone and answers it; feeling immediately comforted by his friend's voice on the other side.
"hey!" he replies, then clears his throat. he's been singing so much lately that his voice is pretty tired, but not tired enough for him to prioritize remaining silent. "nah, you didn't. honestly, i don't think i know what sleep is anymore..." it's a joke, but it's also true. "which is weird because, if you remember, i'm someone that can pass out, like, anywhere." kian's fallen asleep on trains, buses, stairwells, you-name-it. nowadays though, he's lucky if he can get two hours per night. naps during the day are no longer an option either. "during one of our shoots, i started falling asleep in the makeup chair and got in trouble. guess that makes me a bad boy now."
kian takes a deep breath, rolling back onto his back. "how are you? i, um... i miss you. i think about you a lot, so getting this call from you made my whole day." there are times where he wonders what it would've been like if he ended up in studio delta with joomi and the rest, but it's far too late to daydream about those what-ifs now. he's quite literally confirmed to debut under lime entertainment. there's no going back. "m'sorry i haven't kept in touch much. it's been... crazy."
he listens as kian talks, and can't help but feel concerned. this is the life they're fated to live, though: sleepless nights, sore muscles, strained vocal cords, and pushing through all of it. joomi thinks kian, especially, was made for this. music always permeated every part of kian's life, and he loved it so loudly and enthusiastically. in some ways, it feels weird that kian is debuting first of the two of them. in others, it makes perfect sense.
joomi doesn't think he ended up on this path by mistake, but it certainly wasn't intentional. he is still a little gloomy and hard to get along with – not likable idol material yet, at least in his eyes. kian, on the other hand, is warm. kian always shines so brightly.
something in his voice sounds a little dull now, though, and joomi can't help but frown to himself. is he okay? what state is kian in, that a call from joomi of all people can make his whole day? "bad day, i'm guessing?" he jokes, because he can't just accept that hearing from him is enough to improve someone's day so drastically.
"you don't have to be sorry," he adds softly. "you have plenty of reasons for not keeping in touch. i could've done a better job too, so." he chuckles.
after another beat of silence, he realizes he didn't answer kian's question. how are you?
"i'm, uh...good," he replies, likely entirely unconvincingly. he lets out another tiny huff of awkward laughter. "i mean...you know. i'm okay." he knows kian knows what he means without him elaborating. it's nice. he doesn't have to explain what happened with him and jinyoung, or why his sadness rolls in and out like the tides. kian might know even more than him, really. he hasn't asked. he doesn't need to know more. he needs to let it go. eventually he will.
there's still the matter that kian sounds exhausted, though. "are you okay?" he asks eventually. "i wish they would let you rest." he knows it's an unrealistic request, though. this will be kian's life for the foreseeable future, and joomi's too, if all goes according to plan. he knows what he signed up for. it just worries him a little. kian's life as an idol is only just beginning. how long can he hold up if he already sounds so...tired?
taste that thunder? yeah... that's the smoke alarm ¤ w/ @bejoomi
sooyoung wasn’t the best at following her therapist’s suggestions, but this one—this one she was determined to ace. cooking. real cooking. none of that “just add water and hope” nonsense. she was a mature, responsible adult, and mature, responsible adults knew how to make at least one edible meal that didn’t come from a convenience store aisle.
that’s what she told herself, anyway.
it’s also what she texted joomi before he even had a chance to escape training for the night:
hope you’re hungry. chef moon is IN. no refunds, no regrets 🫡🔥
and now? now her kitchen looks like a low-budget cooking show gone horribly off-script. there’s flour dusting the counter like fresh snowfall, a suspiciously scorched pot sulking in the sink, and she’s wearing an apron that says kiss the cook—ironic, really, considering she’s debating kissing this entire cooking attempt goodbye.
she’s mid-wrestle with a way-too-thick batter when the door sounds. without thinking, she yells over her shoulder, “don’t panic! everything’s completely under control!”
something audibly sizzles, ominous and threatening. she winces.
by the time joomi steps inside, sooyoung is standing there with a wooden spoon clenched like a weapon, a smear of flour across her cheek and the kind of manic determination in her eyes that says she is not going down with this ship.
“listen,” she starts, trying for casual, waving the spoon like it’s some kind of magic wand. “this is called the experimental stage of the recipe. it’s very advanced. top chef material.”
a beat. something bubbles behind her in a deeply concerning way.
“…maybe a tiiiiny bit of assistance wouldn’t hurt, though? strictly sous-chef duties i swear. you in?”
she grins, hopeful, already halfway accepting her fate but refusing to lose before the final round. and hey—if all else fails, there’s always that convenience store down the street. but that’s future them’s problem, right?
joomi doesn't really have plans to hang out with sooyoung after training, but they have long passed the point of needing plans to hang out. they know each other's usual schedules just as much as they know they can show up unannounced and always be welcome.
so it doesn't really come as a surprise when sooyoung summons him to her apartment after training. what's more surprising is the content of the message itself. chef moon...? can sooyoung cook? joomi doesn't actually know. he knows by now that sooyoung is a bit of a mess, but by far the more capable and put together of the moon siblings.
it seems like sooyoung would know how to cook, but something about the fire emoji at the end of her message strikes fear into his heart, so he makes his way to her new place as quickly as he can.
and yet once he arrives he is met with an immediate challenge to that assumption. perhaps sooyoung doesn't know how to cook.
he lets out a bark of laughter, though, because the entire situation is pretty funny. "right," he agrees with a skeptical nod, playing along, but unable to completely commit to the bit more out of concern than anything else.
he really already resolved himself to help even before she asked for it. "yeah," he agrees once again, stepping into the kitchen area beside her. "what are we making?" that's probably one of the most important things to know.
he looks over the scene, seeing if he can piece it together before she answers. he can't. instead, it brings back memories: joomi with a different moon sibling in a different kitchen, him mostly just watching jinyoung's baking expertise in action while he waited his turn to decorate something-or-other.
his heart clenches a little. he tries to follow his therapist's most recent recommendation: whenever a good memory surfaces and it hurts, sit with it for a moment, practice gratitude, then let it go and focus on the present. he basks in it for a few beats – tries to think of it like the sun warming his back on a day that's not too hot or too cold. thank you, he says silently, and with a long exhale, focuses on the smell of the kitchen to ground him.
it's only a second before he asks, "is something burning?"
ren is always weird, to be fair – he's ren. but it's different now, and joomi isn't stupid. he's actually pretty observant, so he knows ren is upset with him over something.
truthfully, he's too exhausted to approach the subject for a while. the holidays and his birthday were lonely and not at all what he hoped they'd be when he imagined them months ago. he's tired and he's sad and he just hasn't had the mental and emotional capacity for whatever it is ren has going on.
but ren is joomi's friend – one of his best friends, even – and when it doesn't just go away after a few weeks, joomi knows they have to talk about it. he's probably about to feel stupid for not knowing what he did once ren explains it, but whatever. as much as he wishes he knew everything, he doesn't. he's not a mindreader, especially when it's draining to try to be.
so he heads to their usual studio during their free practice time. sure enough, ren is there already, in his usual chair, situated in its usual spot. they haven't properly written anything together in a while now. joomi has been writing too much about jinyoung's absence, and it hasn't felt right to share those feelings with ren, at least not yet. he misses it, though, so he hopes they can fix whatever's going on.
"do we need to talk?" he asks, not seeing the point in beating around the bush. he kind of expects ren to explode any moment.
while eunbin wasn't dreaming too far ahead, she does think that becoming a host later on would be a really fun experience. of course, she'll have to debut first for any of that to happen, but she's done some small gigs here and there during college within her major, and she always found it fun.
plus, she was a broadcasting major, which meant that standing in front of people and acting like a mc was something she'd have to get used to, even if this whole idol thing didn't work out for her.
"don't you think this will be fun?" she can't help the chuckle from leaving her lips as she takes a glance at joomi as she's dragged him to another workshop. however, she had her reasons. this workshop was a little different, and she thinks it'll be helpful even if joomi never dreamed of becoming a host in the future. "just think of it as like a public speaking class or something," she said, hoping it'll make this whole workshop sound a bit more convincing to him.
joomi doesn't really know how he ended up letting eunbin drag him along to another workshop he otherwise wouldn't have signed up for, but what the hell, sure. he's felt a little stuck these days. maybe trying something new is exactly what he needs?
ironically, for as much as joomi talks, he is not a fan of public speaking. it's too much pressure. too many eyes on him. he's still not entirely comfortable with being the center of attention, and public speaking of any kind demands it. hosting is no different, as far as he's concerned.
but he's very aware public speaking is an important skill to develop, and hosting can only help him even if he doesn't host anything in the future. maybe he'll be a natural?
"i hope so," he practically murmurs. it could also be embarrassing, but he takes comfort in the fact that he's surely not the worst at speaking here.
he hopes he's not, anyway.
he figures he might as well get into a better mindset, though, and get to know eunbin a little better in the process. "if you could host any show, what would it be?" he asks.
