for @fmdyunseo
At the Seoul Spring Festival Day Concert, backstage.
It’s been seven years. Not counting the time Dawon has spent training for this, it’s been nearly seven years since Origin’s debut. Yet here he is, mouth dry, hands shaking where he stuffed them into his pockets, expecting something bad to happen at every turn. It’s easier to deal with once he’s on stage, the in-ears blocking at least some of the noise, muscle memory taking over and guiding him. But the moments before a performance are always the worst.
Coming to Yunseo about his stage fright hadn’t always been this easy; Origin’s leader was strict and intimidating and at fifteen, sixteen Dawon hadn’t really known how to process that, least of all in situations of high stress. And maybe he wouldn’t have, hadn’t their job forced them to work in such close quarters for so long. But he did, and that was what really mattered in the end.
Hiding out around Yunseo was calming, in part because the rapper was tall and Dawon, even though of fairly average height himself, had an easy time disappearing behind the other’s frame. There’d be no pity either, nor coddling, the latter probably being the thing Dawon mourned the most, though he found Yunseo’s way to deal with his anxious bouts comforting all the same.
“I’ve started making plans for the rest of the festival,” Dawon shared, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the backstage bustle. “But I think I forgot most of what I wanted already. So much for trying to distract myself.” For a moment he fell silent again, tried not to start nervously picking at the seams of his oversized blazer. “Tell me about your plans, hyung? You can even make things up, talk about something else, just–” He shrugged helplessly. “Not doing anything is a little hard to bear right now.”
sometimes it’s easy to forget the time they’d known each other. after a while, time stops ticking for yunseo, nothing exists but what’s at the center of his attention, whether that be music, origin, his fans, time stops. it’s why he gets lost, it’s why the crowd that screams can barely cut through the noise, quieted by the spiritual walls he keeps at all times. park yunseo thinks it had been too many years since he’d last thought about origin as anything other than an extension of himself. he hardly notices any longer, doesn’t recall a time he wasn’t with them. he fiddles with his vest, straightening it absentmindedly as he glances the area without seeing. he had been keeping an eye for his members, particularly joohwan, but catching sight of dawon was just as well received by yunseo. possibly more of late.
he glances over at first distractedly, a phantom look that passes through on his way to pay more attention to his thoughts, before he dials back. since the break, dawon had been a sort of life line for yunseo, in a welcome way, a tether to reality and the a reminder of the connection origin shared that brought yunseo back to earth, set the hands on the clock back in motion. so he takes a pause at dawon’s muffled voice. leans downward and inward a bit so that they’re closer, his gaze tangibly searching dawon’s features. he waits for the finish before answering, the slight nerves reading loud and clear despite dawon’s subtleties. he recognizes that dawon is seeking comfort, he’d seen it many times, but nothing about yunseo’s mannerisms changes. he puts on an understated smile, “you want to do something with me?” he looks up and out, scans the room in a way that’s become habitual of him, like a guard dog, or a bastion at watch. looks back as though nothing had drawn his gaze (and nothing had, not really), “i wanted to see some of the collaborative project stages.” he just wanted some way to waste his time, in truth. he back peddles, “don’t distract yourself with thinking about serious things,” he speaks, somewhat hypocritically, crosses his arms over his chest. “━do you want to work on a track with me in the future?” he starts over, asks something he had been planning to ask much later, when there was less noise, less distraction, but maybe he can turn it into a distraction at this point, and that’s good enough. it isn’t the same as usual concerts, where he can just give dawon a stern look, a rousing few words and postpone things until later. yunseo gazes expectantly and patiently, uncrosses his arms to reach out and straightens the lines of dawon’s clothing into perfection in a familiar, finicky manner, before crossing his arms again.
