차은우 @chaeunmoo - Tumblr Blog

#𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨 / wonyoung #wonyum

@wonyum | continued from: x

eunwo.o_c: i knew you would threaten violence before saying thank you 😏 eunwo.o_c: but please don't chew my face off. it's the moneymaker and i still need it for official documents eunwo.o_c: also do not stage a coup at the front desk eunwo.o_c: unless the situation calls for it eunwo.o_c: which includes bad lighting, lukewarm dessert and your husband saying 'is this necessary?' eunwo.o_c: security is already informed that you may attempt one, so you've already lost the element of surprise eunwo.o_c: extra baggage fees are handled eunwo.o_c: within reason eunwo.o_c: and that doesn't mean additional 16 suitcases eunwo.o_c: enjoy your honeymoon, gongjunim. be happy

astrogazing

THE WONDERFOOLS 원더풀스 | 2026, Ep. 8

Sleep never came. not even close. She had spent the last hour staring at the ceiling, thoughts circling endlessly until a sudden light cuts through the darkness of the room from the bathroom doorway. For a second, she ignores it. Stubbornness first. Hurt second. But curiosity always wins eventually. The blanket slips from her legs as she quietly gets up, walking toward the bathroom where the phone still rests on silent on the counter, the notification illuminating faintly against the dim space. her brows knit slightly before pressing play. And the second his voice fills the room again. Something in her chest loosens painfully.

She stays still through all of it, fingers tightening slightly around the phone the longer he speaks. Because somehow, hearing him say it out loud hits harder than she expected.

..all I could think about was how badly I wished I was standing there holding the banner and watching you instead…

Her eyes close briefly. A quiet breath.

"Idiot…" the word comes out softer than intended, affectionate despite everything.

The tightness in her chest eases just enough to breathe properly again, guilt creeping in almost immediately afterward for hanging up on him in the first place. Walking back to the bed. Thumb hovering over the screen. Once. Twice. Then finally.

VOICE NOTE:

"Dongmin-ah…" her voice comes quieter this time, worn down by the hour and everything sitting heavy on her chest. Soft fabric rustles faintly in the background as she shifts beneath the blankets. "I know…" a small pause follows, "but we said we’d see each other and it’s been so many weekends now…" Her breath catches slightly before she continues, more honest than she meant to be tonight,

"..and it still doesn’t make sense to me why they won’t let you take off, so I keep doing this stupid thing where I look for you anyway. In the crowd… backstage… whenever someone hands me flowers…" a quieter breath leaves her.

"I keep thinking I’m just gonna look up and see you standing there.." Silence lingers for a second after that, like she almost says something else. Something heavier. but she stops herself before the words fully form.

"…anyway.. you should sleep now.. it’s late and I don't want you tired when you have a long day ahead. Good night."

Send.

Night folds around the barracks making it quieter, not silent. Never silent. Mechanical humming of the old ventilation units continuing their endless labor through concrete veins. Long surrendered itself to the hour. Not sleep. Not peace. Distant rustling somewhere from an upper bunk, possibly Private First Class Kim Seojun. Springs protesting beneath every shift of weight. Someone coughing two rooms over. That same sliver of fluorescent gleaming beneath the doorway remains the only interruption against this fragmented darkness.

Still pale. Still clinical. Unchanging. Still awake.

Thumb resting along the side of the device without moving, screen darkening thrice on separate occasions already... who's counting? He is, knows exactly how many times. Brief vibration cuts through, attention shifting immediately.

Her contact name...

Her.

Yeon-ah 🩷

Screen illuminating, uncovering the voice note. Something so simple, something so harmless... Thumb taps play and there she is again... Not physically. Worse. Her voice arrives, each syllable wrapped in blankets and exhaustion that's uniquely hers coupled with that peculiar intimacy only lights out and late hours seem capable of conjuring.

Dongmin-ah...

Eyes lowering in instinct, listening word for word... Every pause. Every hitch of breath in between. Soft fabric rustling faintly in the background. Blanket. Not sheets. Thicker. A lot closer to the microphone, already lying down once she pressed the record button, phone held too close, curled onto her side. Or at least trying to. Sleep rarely comes after crying. Not that she'd admit that specific part directly...

Jaw tightening.

The recording continues to play.

…so I keep doing this stupid thing where I look for you anyway. In the crowd… backstage… whenever someone hands me flowers…

Flowers... not bouquets. Flowers. Which meant hands. Many hands. Singular would have been easier. Image forming automatically. Too quickly. A hand existing. Her accepting them. Smiling. Polite. Grateful. That same smile she gives strangers. That same smile she gives the staff and crew. That same smile she gives at interviews. That same smile she gives everyone, because she has never understood how careless generosity can feel like cruelty to someone starving. The thought should have eased into comfort, instead it's something that settles beneath the ribs that's both ugly and unpleasant.

Gone almost immediately. Embarrassing.

Because jealousy requires entitlement... And for him? None.

Not from here.

Not like this.

I keep thinking I’m just gonna look up and see you standing there...

Look up...? Interesting. Not find. Not notice. Not turn around. Look up. As though in her mind he is already there. Standing somewhere visible. Waiting. Present. A fixed point. That lodges immediately. Sharp. Precise. Unwelcomed. Gaze lowering at the progress bar, exactly twenty-three seconds remaining. The silence afterward is already telling the unfinished sentence, the hesitation, the retreat, the good night. Exactly where he expects it to be...

The recording ends, two minutes and forty-seven seconds.

Replay.

Her voice filling his ears once more, that same rustle, that same hitch of breath, that same pause, that same sentence... Each iteration becomes worse and worse because now he isn't just listening. Anticipation now comes with teeth, sharpening between the first replay and the second, the third, fourth.... Knowing the sentence and precisely knowing when it arrives word for word, breath for breath.

Click.

Cursor blinks, breathing in the space between passing seconds, a reply waiting... not written, not even begun. To answer would give the feeling somewhere to go. It remains restricted. Tomorrow's schedule surfaces—morning drills, physical conditioning, instruction, field exercises. No, not enough. An earlier run, with additional laps. Extra drills. Dishwashing and cleaning duty. Equipment check. Night watch. Volunteer duty. Football practice, orchestra practice...

Anything and everything. Every day, including weekends.

Again.

And again.

...And again.

itsallaboutbl

Cha Eunwoo as Lee Unjeong The Wonderfools, ep. 1

+ bonus

The water is hotter than it should be, steam slowly filling the bathroom while she stands there unmoving for a moment, forehead pressed against the cool tile. Her chest still feels tight in that familiar way it always does when emotions catch up too fast.

The call keeps replaying anyway. Every pause. Every shift in his tired voice.

You called just to tell me all that?

Her eyes squeeze shut briefly under the water.

"I hate this…" she mutters quietly to herself.

Because missing him was already hard enough before hearing how exhausted he sounded tonight. Before picturing him stuck inside those cold walls while she talked about concerts and banners like things were normal and the worst part? She still wanted to call him again anyway.

Eventually, the shower shuts off, leaving only quiet behind. she steps out slowly, wrapping the fluffy towel around herself before instinctively glancing toward the phone resting on the counter.

Nothing.

Her stare lingers on the dark screen for a second longer than it should.

"I guess you really didn’t wanna hear from me tonight…fine." The words are quiet, mostly to herself. She switches the phone to silent before leaving it far from the bed, knowing herself too well. The familiar ache presses against her chest again while she changes into comfortable pajamas, but she ignores it the same way she’s ignored everything else tonight. She drops onto the bed with a tired exhale. Sleep never comes, but she won’t call again either. And even knowing she has an event tomorrow, knowing her manager will absolutely complain about the dark circles beneath her eyes before she heads home for the time being. She can’t bring herself to care tonight.

Because no matter how hard she tries to stop thinking about him, her thoughts always find their way back anyway. They always do.

So instead, it’s just her, the ceiling, and him lingering somewhere in every quiet thought for the rest of the night.

Barracks settling deeper into the hour—lights out had long since been called. Sleeping quarters swallowed now beneath muted darkness and fragmented shadows, save for the weak fluorescent sliver leaking through the narrow gap beneath the doorway. Pale. Clinical. Just enough illumination to carve silhouettes from metallic bedframes and folded uniforms. Vision adjusting instantly through the dimness, fluorescent haze ebbing across gloomed specters never once truly warming the space itself.

Still awake.

Still widely awake.

Exhaustion wearing its second skin now—restless.

Slightly slouched posture, deceptively relaxed at first glance, casual even, remains seated against the edge of the bed, elbows resting loosely atop knees while the dimmed screen glows faintly between hands. Stiffness across shoulders, tonight's lingering company. Jaw flexing every so often as thumb hovers against the side button, the screen had already darkened twice from inactivity alone. Unread messages remaining exactly where they're left them. Unsent.

The imagery of her takes its own chisel and brush, falling all too easy beyond these concrete walls and rigid schedules and suffocating routine. Uninvited yet taking residency anyway. Slow exhale releases, head tipping back toward the wall with a dull thud as eyes close briefly... Because even now, after all what has happened, the only thing he wants is to hear her voice again. Because no matter how many drills occupy his mornings or how disciplined routine forces him to become, there are some things military structure cannot teach on how to suppress properly.

Thumb tapping against the screen once.

Voice Note: Yeon-ah. I listened to every single thing you said. Do you really think I'd stay on the phone that quietly if I didn't want to hear from you? You were talking about banners and the concert and fans screaming your name and all I could think about was how badly I wished I was standing there holding the banner and watching you instead of just hearing all that through a phone speaker...

Click.

aeroplvne

cha eunwoo in the wonderfools (netflix - 2026)

His words leave her quiet for a second longer this time, fingers tightening slightly around the phone as she leans back against the counter. The sting settles slowly, not because he raised his voice, he didn’t, but because of how easily he made it sound like this call was something trivial.

"I— You wanted to know how it went…" the reply comes softer now, more hurt than defensive.

"I wasn’t trying to make it worse for you, Dongmin-ah… I just thought you’d want to hear about it from me."

A pause follows, the sound of the shower filling the silence for a moment.

You called just to tell me all that

The line repeats in her head now.

"You make it sound like it wasn’t important enough to call you for," her fingers curl tighter around the phone, the familiar pressure in her chest making itself known again and this time it has nothing to do with the exhaustion from the concert.

"…but I called because I missed you. and because I wanted to hear how things were for you too, even if you barely tell me anything lately.." a faint exhale leaves her, quieter now, the tightness in her throat getting harder to ignore the longer she speaks. she can already feel herself getting upset, emotions slipping in faster than she can push them back down.

"..sorry for missing you I guess. how dare I."

Before he can answer, the line cuts. the phone is set down involuntarily on the counter as she steps into the shower instead, letting the water drown out the sudden tightness in her chest.

❝ Yeon⸻ ❞

Cutting abruptly, cold. That sharp empty deafening tone replacing the voice that once was there, violent in the sudden stillness. Phone still pressed against ear despite the call already gone dead. The fluorescent above flickering weakly against the pale exhaustion already settled beneath the eyes. Somewhere down the corridor, another soldier laughs at something indistinct. Metal clanging against metal. A locker slamming shut. Combat boots dragging across tiles. Someone calling for lights out. Barracks continuing to breathe in that same monotonous rhythm.

Everything both amplified and none reaching properly all at once... Not after hearing how her voice tightened around the edges, trying not to unravel right there where he could hear it.

"I missed you."

Lingering.

Over.

And over.

And over again.

Those three words linger with unbearable heaviness wedging itself somewhere beneath ribs and just chooses to stay right there. Gaze lowering at the now dimmed screen, jaw flexing once beneath the silence that continues to play like ambient noise. Head tipping back against the cold grey wall behind while enervation decides to settle more weighted into muscle and bone, morning drills still clinging painfully over shoulders, legs aching still from field exercises, the sweat still tracing already dried beneath military issued fabric hours ago.

Carelessly familiar voice of hers replaying, talking too fast, rambling, complaining, laughing halfway through sentences. Insignificant details spilling like his world still belongs just beside hers enough to be reciprocated naturally. As though it's not existing behind strict military regulations and monitored hours and walls that reduce people into rigorous routine of chain of commands rather than the usual versions of themselves.

And the worst of all, for a few minutes, he had forgotten—where he was, how the stiff corners of that standard issued sheets folded beside him, the all-in-one wash devoid of any moisturizing properties, the suffocating sameness of every passing day.

D-254.

Missing her inside a place like this becomes dangerous fast, sneaking into everything. Morning drills turning into wondering whether she's awake or had already slept at all. Mess hall conversations become remembering if she had another bubble tea with her Kyochon fried chicken late at night. Lights out becomes imagining her still moving through practice rooms, studios, photoshoots, the concert tour—Somewhere far beyond these dull walls while he lies awake staring at that chipped paint at that same corner of concrete ceiling.

How badly he wanted to stand somewhere backstage waiting for her again instead of being stuck and sitting on this bunk bed counting permitted phone minutes like scraps?

❝ ...fuck. ❞

eeunwoo

She notices it immediately, the short replies. The way he barely says anything about his own day again. Simple answers. Surface level. Enough to respond without really opening anything up. For a second, she almost asks about it. Almost pushes a little, but then she remembers where he is, how little time he probably even has to sit with his phone in hand before someone calls for him again. So she lets it go, for now. She stares at the screen for a moment longer than she should, sitting back against the bed as her fingers lazily work at the remaining pieces of clothing from earlier. thumb hovering over his name. Once. Twice. Almost backing out before she finally presses call of impulse alone.

The second it starts ringing, panic settles in. A muffled sound follows as she drops the phone somewhere beside her on the bed while still talking. "Okay no—don’t make fun of me for calling, I just—" a soft exhale leaves her. "I was gonna send a voice note, but then I overthought it, and somehow, this felt less awkward? Which makes no sense now that I'm saying it out loud…" fabric rustles in the background as she shifts around on the bed removing the remaining clothes. "Anyway— it went well. Barely. I thought we were actually gonna be late because it was insanely crowded outside. Like genuinely packed. Security looked stressed, and I looked stressed… "Everyone looked stressed," a quiet laugh escaped her, "but there were so many banners this time, and someone printed that dumb mustache picture you laughed at. Huge, by the way. Absolutely humiliating.."

There’s another pause before movement picks up again, the mattress shifting softly as she finally gets up, grabbing the phone again while heading toward the bathroom. "It was nice, though, hearing everyone sing along and seeing all of that at once…" her voice softens without realizing it. "…you should’ve seen it." The bathroom door shuts softly behind her as she leans against it, silence lingers for a second after the words leave her mouth, fully aware of how honest they sounded this time, fingers tightening slightly around the phone before she says anything else.

Bzzt... Bzzzzzzt...

Vibration cutting through the dimness that's sharp and immediate. Prominent. Screen lighting first before the second vibration that follows, the sudden brightness spilling against the darkened room. Unexpectedly. Not the name, no. Never her name. But the sound itself. It stays there against the warmth of palm, reflex lifting the device as shoulders straighten despite the day's exhaustion dragging along muscles and bones. Stuck in this muted fluorescent haze, cold light bleeding beneath the doorway while distant echo of boots mingle with someone's brief laughter down the hall, the sound of metal locker shutting. Just the usual restless rhythm of military housing.

Familiar tone and cadence of voice now bleeds through the earpiece. Uninterrupted. Quiet and quieter the longer it continues. Listening. Eyes lowering briefly at the sound of her scrambling halfway through it, thumb resting against the side of the phone as that faint almost of a smile threatens to slip for a second before it disappears just as quickly. Head tipping back against the wall, attention all ears into every unnecessary detail unconsciously being handed to him. Rendering. Delineating.

"…you should’ve seen it."

Jaw tightening faintly at the words.

That's exactly the problem, is it?

He can't.

Not from here.

Not like this...

Phone time ticking at the back of both an idle and ever busy mind the entire call. Awareness always amplified, that knowledge someone of higher rank could walk past at any moment. Not exactly the normalcy anymore life is currently offering no matter how casual the conversation is.

❝ You know you're making it worse, right? ❞ Voice low, weight of the morning drills, academic instruction, field exercises and other military duties bleeding with a quiet exhale. ❝ Now I'm just sitting here thinking about it... ❞ Thumb tapping once against the screen as it stills, that same silence lingering longer before the roughened exhaustion of timbre finally comes through. ❝ ...You called just to tell me all that? Sounds like it went well. ❞

#𝙪𝙣𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙩 / yeonah #yourmiyeon

BALI 17/04/2026

the sun, sea & you

🤍: @chaeunmoo

Her phone lights up again. She's still seated on the edge of the bed, one heel already slipped off, the other forgotten as her attention lingers on the screen. Her eyes move over the messages, and for a brief moment, something shifts. A memory, uninvited but familiar. Late nights after a show, still buzzing with adrenaline, talking too fast as she tried to explain everything at once. How the crowd sounded, how she almost missed a cue but didn’t, how the stage felt different that night. And there was him just listening. Letting her ramble, occasionally smiling at how excited she got. That version of them feels… far. She exhales quietly, grounding herself back in the present. Her phone remains in her hand, and after a moment, she types.

miyeon: yeah, schedule wasn’t too packed today

miyeon: it went well

Her thumb hovers for a second before she adds one more line.

miyeon: how are things there?

She stares at the screen for just a moment after sending the words sitting somewhere between distant and familiar. Her grip on the phone loosens slightly, though she doesn’t set it down. Not yet.

#𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨 / miyeon #yourmiyeon

Reading the reply as it lands, gaze steady but something in the once neutral expression shifts at the last line. One that's subtle, almost imperceptible. Just like how everything else is being handled. Quietly. Filed somewhere that's not to be looked into too closely. Thumb pausing over the screen, just resting there, idle, poised as if it's weighing more than words. There's something about actually seeing it—that it went well—not written simply like that. It settles and unsettles at the same time. And then, that last line... thumb pausing mid-air. For a brief second, considering giving the same kind of answer given to everyone else lately... Short. Vague. Finished. Generic.

Training's fine. Busy. Nothing much.

Easy.

Gaze dropping to the floor before lifting back to the screen. The room now dimmed in a muted way it always is at this hour. Nothing demanding his attention, nothing pulling him out of his own head. Could keep it at surface level. Should. Thumb moving before he can stop it but then deleting, staring for a second, then those three dots appear once more, then disappear...

dongmin: training's the same dongmin: nothing worth complaining about

Thumb lingering just above the screen, about to leave it there but he doesn't—

dongmin: you said it went well dongmin: which part

@gnhabsirhc

Elbows resting loosely against thighs, a roll of hand wrap unraveling between fingers. More like a ritual by now. Cotton fabric brushing against skin, starting at the base of palm, winding it slow. Carefully. Meticulously. There's awareness in each movement, attentive to pressure, to tension. The wrap tightening across knuckles, sliding between long fingers as it anchors everything perfectly into place. Flexing once, testing. Faint creak of the material answering back in perfect pitch.

Only then does his gaze lifts, knowing and lingering.

❝ Thought you'd back out the last minute. ❞

Voice low and teasing, like it's been sitting there waiting to be used at the earliest given opportunity. Another pull of the wrap, a bit tighter this time. The intent settling in with it. A roll of the wrist, watching the way the material holds, before starting on the other hand. Same pace. Same attentive care. In flawless symmetry.

❝ Sure you're not busy? ❞

#𝙤𝙥𝙚𝙣 𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨 / chris #gnhabsirhc #[ he he he he ]

eunwooverse

CHA EUN-WOO ✶ Saint Laurent x Elle Korea, February 2025 Fantagio Mood Film

wonyum

For a second, she really did just sit there. Not stiff, not frozen, just… still. Like her body had gone quiet on purpose while everything else kept moving underneath. Her eyes followed his hand when it reached over, the way he fixed her seatbelt, the way his fingers brushed over her shoulder like he had every right to, like it was nothing. She watched that more than she should’ve, gaze drifting from the belt to his hand, then higher, catching the line of his jaw for half a second before she looked away again, like she hadn’t been looking at all. And she didn’t say anything. Not when he told her to stay still, not when his knuckles skimmed her skin. She just let it happen, chin tilted slightly, lips parted just enough like she might speak but never did.

By the time he answered her, she listened, she did, but it didn’t settle the way it probably should have, didn’t stay in that soft, exposed place it had pulled her into a minute ago, because she was already climbing out of it, already deciding she was done sitting there feeling too much, letting it show all over her face like that. It wasn’t her. Or at least, it wasn’t the version of her she let people keep for long. She heard him. Of course she did. Every word landed, annoyingly precise, like he’d reached somewhere he wasn’t supposed to reach and just… stayed there. It made her chest feel tight in a way she hated. Too exposed. Too close to something she didn’t like sitting in for long. That kind of conversation, the kind that pulled things out of her instead of letting her keep them tucked away and controlled.

Her free hand lifted without hesitation, fingers hooking under the small mirror attached above her seat, flipping it down with a quiet click. Her eyes flicked to her reflection instantly, scanning, assessing, taking in every detail with quiet precision, the slight redness around her eyes, the faint smudge at the corner of her liner, the gloss still sitting pretty on her lips like nothing had happened. Her fingertips brushed lightly beneath her lashes, fixing what she could, smoothing it over, then adjusting a strand of hair where it fell over her shoulder, tilting her chin just slightly to catch the light better, making sure everything looked right, or at least better than it did five minutes ago. Like she hadn’t almost cried. Like she wasn’t still feeling it somewhere under all that polish. Perfect, or at least convincing enough. The mirror stayed down for a moment longer than necessary, just enough for her to breathe through whatever had tried to catch up to her. Then she snapped it shut again, her attention shifting back to him just as easily, like nothing had happened in between. Her expression had changed by then, the softness gone, replaced with something more familiar, something lighter, a little bratty, a little careless, the corners of her lips lifting just slightly as she watched him drive, head tilting as if she was studying him for an entirely different reason now.

“Are you buying me something?”

It came out casually, almost bored, like she’d just thought of it on a whim, though there was something slightly off in the way her gaze lingered on him a fraction too long. A small smile tugged at her lips, but it wasn’t sweet, it never really was. It had an edge to it, something playful but unpredictable. “Because that would actually make me happier.” she added, softer but not serious, not in the way she’d been a moment ago, like she was brushing past it on purpose, like she didn’t want to sit there and unpack anything he’d just said. Her fingers settled in her lap as she crossed her legs, smoothing down the hem of her skirt in a slow, absent motion, tugging it just enough to sit right against her thighs, giving her something to focus on, something small and controlled. “Or is your tax evasion situation that bad?” A soft breath left her, almost a laugh, but not quite. She leaned back into the seat, turning her gaze toward the window for a second, watching the city pass by in streaks of light and movement, like none of it could catch her long enough to matter. Then she glanced back at him again, quieter this time, but still carrying that same strange mix of playfulness and something just slightly unhinged. “Be honest. I need to know how rich you are before I decide how nice I’m gonna be.”

#𝙤𝙥𝙚𝙣 𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨 / wonyoung #wonyum

Engine continuing to hum forward and low beneath them, steady and cutting through the city like it belongs to him than the road does. Hand resting loosely at the top of the wheel, fingers draped and relaxed, the tendons along wrist shifting subtly every time he eases them into another lane, smooth enough it barely registers as movement. The light continues to stretch in long ribbons, slipping across the windshield and over the length of his hands. His idle thumb drags once more against her hand, slower, lingering, an unspoken acknowledgement of something she didn't allow to finish happening.

She pivots. Just like that. And he just lets her... as always. Doesn't chase what she had just dropped. Doesn't drag it back into the light. Just watched the way she steps around it like it never meant to exist, like she didn't just hand him something so fragile and real then just decided she didn't want him holding it anymore.

Are you buying me something?

That almost earns something. Not a full reaction, not something immediate. The corner of his mouth shifting just barely. It flickers something that sits just at the edge of amusement... already seeing it coming before she even decided to say it. Before she even decided to contact him.

❝ Depends. ❞

Voice even, unbothered, eyes still focused on the road, stepping on the accelerator just a touch as the car eases into another lane.

❝ Are you negotiating? ❞

No bite to it, just that signature quiet tilt in the cadence of tone. The same kind that meets her exactly where she moved the conversation. Light. Careless. A little sharp around the edges. Then the words about a recent event of utmost unimportance slipping past her lips. Tax evasion. Allegedly. Such a baseless accusation, but he'll take the bait. A breath leaves him, softer than a laugh but close enough to count, head tipping back just slightly for a second before settling again. Not defensive. Not tense. If anything... just entertained now, almost fully.

❝ Mm. ❞

It was anything but a small sound, thoughtful in the most uninterested way possible. Hand shifting on the wheel once more, fingers tightening just enough to make a smooth turn, another inch of a press on the pedal, slightly sharper than necessary, commanding the car to glide through to follow muscle memory rather than direction. Stepping on the accelerator just a touch, enough for the engine to answer for him first, a low roar, enough to be noticeable as it trembles beneath them.

❝ What do you think? ❞

Basing her attitude on his net worth. The corner of his mouth lifts again, faint but unmistakable, the usual amusement rising through. Familiar. Predictable.

❝ If I say I'm broke, would you believe me and get out at the next light? ❞

Miyeon sits on the edge of the bed, still half in her stage makeup, hair slightly undone from the night’s performance. The room is quiet now, too quiet compared to the roar of the crowd just hours ago. Her phone buzzes beside her. She doesn’t think much of it at first, reaching for it absentmindedly while pulling off an earring, but the second his name appears on the screen, her movement stills. For a moment, she just looks at it. Her expression softens, just barely, something unreadable passing through her eyes as she exhales quietly. Her thumb hovers over the screen, hesitation settling in like it always does with him now. Still, she types. Pauses. Deletes it. Then she tries again, keeping it simple.. keeping it safe.

miyeon: yeah… just got back to the hotel