Freedom! '90

byun yohan / 24 / that one backup dancer

[fmbongki]

( christmas shopping - yohan

[fmpark-blog]

fmbongki:

.  .  .  . 

his brows furrow - the younger’s continuous efforts to push him away are a bit disheartening, but bongki can’t shake the guilt that came with the way their relationship played out all those years ago. the constant abandonment was something bongki wasn’t proud of and park didn’t deserve it.  “ come on, do you think i’ll back out on my word ?” his words a bit teasing, “ i promised to take you two christmas shopping - and i’m committed to stay for a good amount of time, it’s always a bit difficult to go shopping with kids, so i don’t mind distracting haejin.”  and he doesn’t allow for park to disagree with his words, as he turns his attention towards the menu of the cafe, “ you sure you don’t want anything to drink ? maybe a muffin or something ? “ he questions once more. “ i’m sure haejin doesn’t want to drink alone right ?” the choreographer adds, turning his attention to haejin in hopes the young boy would agree with him.” come on haejin, don’t you want your brother to drink with you ? and share a brownie too ?”

the way haejin glances at bongki with an impish smile, the way he nods, looks to park, devilish and determined, lets him know his fate has been decided. perhaps it had been on the car ride over when haejin had made it a point to sing along to bongki's old music as if trying to prove his worth, affiliating himself with his past, or before that, back at park's place, with haejin pulling bongki into the corner to show him his latest youtube discovery like a proud curator.

perhaps it had been decided much earlier than that -- a year ago when his mother had passed away and park, lost and disenchanted, like a speck of dust sailing across wide and empty spaces, had made his way into a new job and practice room to find bongki waiting inside. one wound opening for another to close. it makes him wonder, too, if they had ever ended -- if love has a finale. the more time they spend together, he finds himself believing that all these years spent oceans apart, all these hours, all these seconds, have been nothing but waiting; a pause; a moment for him to catch his breath and prepare for the rest of his life.

yet, he figures these are childish fantasies; residue from those years spent dreaming of another world, another destiny. life had woken him, though; torn his eyes open.

"fine, fine -- haejin can have the brownie. i'll take some tea, though, if they have it."

he says this with a smile, moving forward to press a hand against bongki's arm only to find he regrets it. his nerves flock to the tips of his fingers; with sensation comes memory; nostalgia follows, and it's infectious. it mingles with the season cheer, makes him wish that maybe, this christmas, someone would stay with him and haejin. that he wouldn't have to face those excited eyes alone. he wishes, too, for bongki, though it's nothing like before -- years have forced him to mature, and whatever feeling he held for him has grown calloused and too blurry to read.

what's left are steps in no direction, movement without a home.

"i think we should get those lights that change colors, the ones i can put around the living room. i think it'd be nice to turn off the lights and have just that -- haejin would like those. we never had those when we celebrated christmas. our grandparents were pretty boring: just a tree, some bulbs, a light up star. i don't think they put up stockings, either."

grounding himself in the tangible, he finds, helps to distract himself; his mind strays from emotions and feelings he can't name. instead it floats above the physical, what he can touch, what he can hold.

"and maybe some of those red flowers -- those are so pretty," he continues, this time more excited, animated at the thought of a christmas that could resemble a movie; a dream come true, unfolded without pain, without struggle, and for the first time in a while he believes that good things can happen, "maybe a cute reindeer figurine. i used to always want those as a kid, those things that sit on shelves. i don't know why we never had those; i always begged and begged my mom to get those but she never did since we always just went to my grandmother's and she never had the cool things..."

[fmpark-blog]

it’s been a while so i’m starting anew -- sorry for not being around and stuff but if anyone would like to plot go ahead and click LIKE and i’ll come to you ~ i’d like to get some stuff going for old yohan 💕

[fmbongki]

( christmas shopping - yohan

[fmpark-blog]

fmbongki:

.  .  .  .

the mall spared no expense when it came to showing it’s yuletide cheer - bongki couldn’t help but grimace slightly at the extent of it all - it seemed to be a bit much. he sighed, running his fingers through his hair as he glanced at park and haejin. “ hey uh, do you guys want hot chocolate or like a brownie before we head off to the shops ? so we can make a plan on what stores we need to head to ?” he suggests, before gesturing towards one of the many cafes in the mall. “ plus it was a bit chilly - we don’t want our haejin to be cold right ?”

christmas comes at a cost -- park treads into the season with cautious steps and no expectations. for years now he'd swept the festivities under the rug, had found ways to ignore the yelling reds and screaming greens, focused on the white of the season and the cold, blue afternoon skies that seemed to stretch on forever and ever. but now, with haejin in stride, he's forced to face it; to plan; to fashion an evening of love and warmth and jolly jingle that december brings. yet, he can't shake the connotation -- the last christmas he'd celebrated had been in seattle with a baby haejin, his mother in the corner, weak and sick; she had looked like a ghost; the image still makes him tremble.

but haejin is older and moves through his life with unmatched energy. he paints his world in bright colors; laughter that splashes like water; meets each morning with so much desire that park feels it, too. that breathing in -- it wakes him up to the world. makes him see rose where there is none; flowers where they can't grow. and just when he thinks his hands are full, bongki arrives, much like an angel from his past, ready to help. ready to soothe. it worries him sometimes -- he doesn't feel like a burden, but a distraction. they had dreamed of entire lives spread out before them -- endless horizons, an incessant chase for novelty. spending so much time with haejin and him, he thinks, might distract bongki from that. he has a life, after all, and a boyfriend and a career and money to spend his time anywhere else than a crowded mall with a three year old jumping up and down at the promise of hot chocolate and the older brother he'd once loved. and he knows this is how he loves to spend his time, but he's left to wonder if this is the best for bongki -- if it suffocates him. maybe, he thinks, that's why he seems so skittish; so nervous. he looks trapped.

he distracts himself by leaning down, running a hand through haejin's hair, tries to coax him into standing still.

"i think haejin definitely wants some, so we'll get some for him -- i'm fine." haejin looks around, makes a choice, begins to walk in that direction. park hesitantly follows, looks to bongki again, this time with a smile. "i don't think there's much to buy. it's okay if it's small, right? you know, you don't have to spend the whole time with us -- if you've got plans or something. i'm sure the guy you're dating will want to see you in person."

[fmpark-blog]

fmnahyun:

( kkt / 박 ) leave you alone? you were just practically begging me to compliment your butt and now you’ve changed your mind ( kkt / 박 ) king of fickleness ( kkt / 박 ) … alright well with that i‘m gonna strawberry soda this conversation in a different direction ( kkt / 박 ) you know i do have the option to delete your kakao from my contacts and i’m not afraid to do it ( kkt / 박 ) people already mistake you as haejin’s dad why do you need a beard to go along with it

[ kkt  :  나나 ]

→ i want to be called daddy → also i like pretending to be his father because i make a good damn father → i feel so boring lately. he’s the most exciting thing i have going for myself → the other day i bought him candy and didn’t even buy myself anything. it’s like i don’t exist anymore → which is why i need the rush of someone calling me daddy, you know? like old times. or maybe i need to get laid. we need to get laid nahyun → we’re going to get arthritis or something if we don’t → remember when we used to be kids and you learned the word fuck and you would always yell “bring your wives we’ll fuck them!” 

[fmpark-blog]

fmharu:

.  .  .  .

the question caught her off guard by how abrupt it was, but she nodded nonetheless. “he’s my big brother.” 

"i'll try to be helpful -- i mean, i teach my kid brother all the time. not that you're a child, but, it just means I'm more patient and better at helping." he winks as he delivers the news, steps closer to the mirror, lets his gaze flit from object to object -- focus, he finds, is hard to hold, so he lets it feed. lets it scatter to regroup on dark eyes; dark hair; the most charming of noses.

"i don't help that much -- I'm kind of like a guinea pig. they have to see if it will work in a group and I'm there -- i get paid -- but I'm there, offering help as best as i can. some of them choreograph that way, like they're painting and have to step back to see how it'll look -- " he shrugs, turns back to the mirror, " -- and some of them just kind of make it."

he finds her eyes in the mirror, gives her a smile.

"yeah -- you seem familiar. for obvious reasons but your brother he's -- well, he's nice. i like him a lot.

"not that you are your brother, but, you know. I'm glad you both look nice. and pretty, too." his eyes squint and he has to wonder if he's being too forward, too brusque with his compliments; he always faces the same problems, the assumed closeness. the moment someone ceases to be a stranger, their connection grows deeper -- a leap into a comfort that he's never been afraid to take.

except as of late, as the years speed by, and as he grows older, tries to shed his childish antics.

"but, anyway, enough of that -- what choreo did you need help with? maybe i can help you out a little. I've learned most of yours, i think. that they give to you."

[fmpark-blog]

genesis

[fmpark-blog]

fmnahyun:

.  .  .  .

nahyun feels herself hurting for him, wondering what she can do to relieve him of his pain. but if he can’t manage to communicate, she knows she’s practically useless. the room feels all too bright now, like a spotlight has been put on them and their little teenage melodramatics. fries cold and wasted, frostys melted and puddles of condensation beginning to form rings around the bottoms of their cups, already long forgotten. nahyun doesn’t want anything to tear them away from the simplicity of this — everything they’ve always known — but life, as always, is never predictable.

“ talk to me, please. i need to know what i can do to help. “

and nothing makes sense -- not really, not for him. not the promise of love he learns about, nor the silences at home that are too wide, feel like gaps he has to leap across to get from one room to another. though he knows that he prefers the jump than when their home shakes with anger, words thrown around, yelled and flung and park has to retreat into his room where he writes lists of better moments, better times; of daydreams that had softer edges; of songs that aim to soothe, to drown out the arguments. he learns to hide; to cope; to lick his wounds and recover.

but here, at Wendy's, there's nowhere to run, to hide. nahyun herself becomes a force that unfolds him so he no longer feels small, but he can no longer hold it in, either.

by the time he raises his head, his tears are wet. he searches for her eyes -- their warm glow, the promise of peace. it only makes his tears fall a little my faster.

"i didn't wanna say -- there's nothing to do -- I'm just -- i don't want everyone to leave, and, like, it's dumb, but -- my mom's leaving my dad. we're going to live with our grandparents and --

"i just don't know what to do, nana."

he doesn't find the answers he wants nor needs but he finds solace, feels a bit lighter; even when he puts his head back into his arms, even as he buries himself so that the tears can dry, so that he doesn't feel so stupid, he does it with a sense of relief. it no longer feels like falling, but resting. a healing silence.

[fmnahyun-deactivated20171209]

superheroes

[fmpark-blog]

fmnahyun:

.  .  .  .

“ my pompoms? “ she repeats, eyes shifting to the sink counter where she’d left them before, now gone missing. “ where did they — did haejin steal my pompoms? “

"yeah, i mean, i don't know -- he's been getting bored of things really quickly, it's hard to keep up. he's always been like that, though, like bouncing from thing to thing -- i don't think he has a short attention span because when he gets into something he'll really get into it -- like that fidget spinner i got for him. actually, maybe he does have one.

"eh -- either way he was pumped, and then we got pumped, and now everyone's pumped."

he takes the hint and moves away from the mirror, leans against the door to watch her apply her make-up. even as children, her costumes had always been a bit more complex -- layered, ornate. park always knew it was because of her that they won; he would be an accessory, her complement, something to make her shine, though he never felt like he was in the background, or forgotten. she had a power, of sorts; her gaze never felt cold; even when she would pretend to be ruthless, she was always kind, looking out for good, making sure no one got left out.

and it happens now as his arms cross and the robin outfit -- complicated in its own ways -- only brought out the color in hers. it was a good choice -- a feminine icon of power, a lanky, awkward authoritative figure. sometimes fiction had a way of surfacing in real life that way.

"thanks -- plus the real dick grayson has the best ass in dc comics, and i, through years of dancing, also have the best ass in dc comics. some things are just meant to be, you know." and he winks, steps back into the apartment. " i need a bigger place, but -- i don't know. i think he's watching tv in his room. maybe he's practicing a dance routine -- haejin! have you seen the pom-poms? nahyun wants them back."

[fmpark-blog]

music of the night

[fmpark-blog]

fmseongjae:

.  .  .  .

he smiles like a honeysuckle in bloom at park’s words, draws closer like a vine to the light, limbs eager to coil. “true. you better keep a better grip on me than you did with your mask.” he chuckles, and it’s a low sound, nearly disappearing into thrumming music, dark eyes creased in mirth as he grazes his finger along the stark delineation of where plastic stopped and warm flesh began. “are you asking if i stole your mask and pretended to find it as a measure to inspire codependency on your part? so that you would swoon and stumble with gratefulness at the sight of me? that’s something the phantom would do, no?” the hand on park’s cheek falls to cup his neck, and his smile becomes coy. “but it’s not a bad idea.”

the longer seongjae talks, the deeper park falls – though he doesn’t understand it that way. where there’s pull, there’s the illusion of push, and park imagines bits of his thoughts racing to seongjae like metals leaping towards magnets and he fashions some sense of control there; some calloused consent that he can’t feel, but assumes. like his focus isn’t slipping through his fingers, disappearing, rather returning to where it has always resided – like time spent apart is spent counting towards the next meeting, haunted by the outline of distance itself.

sometimes seongjae is a moon and park the ocean, one full aware of their gravity, the other only aware of the ripples that swell into waves; their crash; the murmur of unrest; an infinite chase.

but in the light he can’t make out shadows, can’t guard himself from the delusion that clouds the party; he can’t see much past seongjae’s smile and the way his reflection looks framed in those eyes. there has never been anything brighter, he’s sure, and he lets in the magic of the moment all at once as though he were leaning into the rush of water, both exhilarating and deafening and overwhelming.

he takes a breath, steadies himself. without awareness, and without the skills to untie the knots of mystery, nor the capacity to dote on the workings of attraction, park is left to wander in the world of the tangible. his hand lowers to grip at seongjae’s hip – his fingers are steady and firm in their hold – and he shapes his words like carving wood, his tongue shaping, lips cutting meaning in to them. even speech is a humble attempt at replicating the frenzy of feeling and the madness that seongjae both soothes and inspires.

“high notes or not, i’m sure someone as lovely as you can be the exception,” he begins, realizes a beat later that he no longer strains against the party to hear; the sounds thin; people blur; the world keeps spinning but he’s no longer dizzy, “you’re right, we might both be playing games: i lost a mask hoping to find you. and here you are, just as i’d hoped – just like i planned.

"maybe my luck isn’t so bad after all. i mean, i could ask you to sing but i’d rather ask you to stay. we can worry about the music later. we have lots of time, i think. lots of chambers. lots to do. anyway, i’m – how does it go? – in here all the time?” his free hand rises so he can press a finger against seongjae’s head, fiddles with a lock of hair. “inside your mind.”

[fmpark-blog]

focus on me

[fmpark-blog]

fmnahyun:

.  .  .  .

drowsiness is soon teasing at her growing delirious consciousness, begging for her to drink more. she stirrs, carefully sitting herself up to avoid knocking herself in the head. the feeling of his warmth beside her is noticeable once it’s suddenly gone, and nahyun is already missing it. “ i need to drink more, “ she declares, voice ditzier now than it was before she laid down. she reaches to grab his hand, gently tugging, never aggressive. “ c’mon, you’re getting trashed with me. “

"i don't even remember the movie, really, and it's funny because one time i was trying to impress someone and, like, i said i had seen it -- which wasn't a lie -- but then they went into details and i couldn't name all of them so, yeah, i looked stupid."

and the memory itself is dull: its edges are torn, ripped. faded pictures; worn with age; with forget. and as he remembers, there is no pain, no sting; even though he'd cried later that night, he only remembers it as bliss; a moment where emotion ran through him unbridled and free, like a river leaping over rocks, beating shape into a bed of dirt, whittling stone as though it were the easiest thing.

sometimes he thinks he can feel its ridges in his bones -- the way they ache, the way his blood sometimes races towards something unseen; these are the memories, he thinks, resurfacing. reminding him. remaining.

but the alcohol dulls his wonder -- streamlines it into a medley of lights, color and the faint strain of music. and, of course, the laughter. builds like heat, escapes the same way; slow, melodic. like a clumsy song finding its way past his teeth. in between bundles sprout words -- just as bright, just as airy.

"stop -- no -- don't you have an image to maintain? plus i work tomorrow, and i get such bad hangovers -- i need to just drink water. i still feel like a newbie at work, ugh, i have to keep a low profile."

though, he sits up, reaches out a hand just to press against hers. to feel the warm fingers that he'd seen grown, always tangled with his.

"god, i'm really fucking growing up -- maybe another shot or two. i said i'd stop at twenty-five and i still got some time before then, i guess. fuck it -- ugh. help me up."

[jaybleep]

the sweetest smile ♡♡

[fmpark-blog]

fmnahyun:

( kkt / 박 ) i know. you’ve talked about it forever ㅋ ( kkt / 박 ) too bad there’s no ‘best looking behinds’ competitions in existence ( kkt / 박 ) you’d definitely win first place 🥇🍑 ( kkt / 박 ) what does growing a beard have to do with bringing home a girl? ( kkt / 박 ) i’m gonna tell you two things right now: 1. i know you don’t own wigs, 2. don’t ever grow a beard ( kkt / 박 ) you’d look ugly with one and i’d be embarrassed to be seen with you

[ kkt  :  나나 ]

→ my life isn’t that exciting to talk about anything else, leave me alone → i think they have that category in porn awards or something → i don’t want to explain it all to you → really thinking about growing one though i need to step up my masculinity game. i want to be called daddy before 2017 ends

[fmpark-blog]

fmbongki:

kkt ( haejin’s dad ):  is he gonna dress up in his costume?

kkt ( haejin’s dad ): wow does the kid have a list ? text it to me so i can work it out for him.

kkt ( haejin’s dad ): haejin tires you a lot huh ? if you need a break just text me, im down to watch him

kkt ( haejin’s dad ):  not after the auditions, after thati’m all yours. and uh haejin’s too

[ kkt  :  봉기 !! ]

→ he’s painting his face green as we speak → let’s start small at first. he’s really excited. i want to see how long i can drag this out → i’ll keep that in mind. it’s gonna get busy in two weeks. i’ll have to give you some babysitting training ~ haejin is... a handful → then we’ll steal you for dinner. say hi → [ VIDEO ATTACHMENT ] 

[fmbean-blog]

Learning Curves

[fmpark-blog]

fmbean:

.  .  .  .

so with shaky fingers, he turned to his prewritten page. 

“Can you please help me with my new routine?”

after his mother had died and his brother had been left in his care, park had begun to transform; his desire to waste his life away drunk and dancing had wilted and withered, made room for the maturity that followed.

slowly, but surely, he'd become more quiet, more firm. caring towards his brother, and, in turn, to others.

because park has never been smart enough to be complicated -- subtleties are lost on him, and his mind, ever simplistic, traveled in a singular direction. like a train speeding down its tracks, unaware of the possibility of turns or the fickle patterns of the wind.

so when bean arrives into his life, quiet, demure, no more than a child in his eyes, park deems it an act of fate.

with bean he performs everything he practices, from cooking food to offering encouragement, fulfilling favors no matter their size, caring no matter the weather.

yet, no request compares to the one that appears today: park reads with furrowed eyebrows; confusion settles in the ridge that forms between them.

"sure, bean, but i don't know what you would need help on." his arms stretch above his head -- his muscles stretch and shed themselves of some of the day's stress. "you're a good dancer, what's up?"

[fmpark-blog]

music of the night

[fmpark-blog]

fmseongjae:

.  .  .  .

it doesn’t take long to find the phantom without his mask, and seongjae approaches with soft, slow steps, mirth and fondness filling his grin, his eyes. “oh, look at you. there’s not much monster behind the mask, is there?” gently, he places the mask back around park’s head, the tips of his finger soft and careful maneuvering along his cheeks and hair. “just a dashing hero playing the part of the villain for a night.” when they’d decided on their costumes, there was no question who would be who - park was a modern day phantom, weaved in and out of the shadows but whose presence was relegated outside of the spotlight whilst it was the opposite for seongjae. “how debonair. now everyone will know who i’m supposed to be.”

seongjae approaches like a dream and it takes effort for park not to gawk; rather, he drinks in the sight of him, slow and careful. white spills into his vision before the curves of the older's face, lines that bend into an ageless beauty. as always, seongjae inspires something heavenly inside him rooted deeply in feeling: a look at seongjae feels like his eyes have brushed against newly spun silk, elegance in the midst of madness.

he wonders if it's always been like this: if lust has somehow aged like wine -- sweetened by the wait -- or, perhaps, it's something closer to waking after a daydream, that slow descent into reality. like the sense of wonder that crackles like static around seongjae has always been there, waiting to be noticed.

or maybe it's the influence of his costume that makes him so obsessive and fixed on the small details, like the warm tips of the other's fingers on his cheeks, the way they graze his hair. maybe it's the character that props a hand up so he can catch seongjae's before it falls too low, or that guides his other to rest against seongjae’s side. shadows gather where his fingers make dips around the fabric, and park is pleased to know he isn't dreaming.

"that's odd," he replies; his lips pull back into a smile, his cheeks lift, his eyes thin. even though he's meant to be sinister, he can't help the warmth that gathers around their shape or the wrinkles that dip into his cheeks. something inside him turns over and it reminds him of the rustle of leaves in the spring -- the whistle of the breeze, the promise of novelty. "i think it's pretty obvious you're an angel of music -- maybe you should have sung a little to them. driven the point home.

"but i guess you're going to have to stay near me, though. so no one confuses the costume. someone already tried to order a drink from me earlier -- where did you find it? did you take it when i wasn’t looking?"

[fmpark-blog]

genesis

[fmpark-blog]

fmnahyun:

.  .  .  .

“ yeah, i am, “ it almost sounds like a matter of fact: she’s admittedly never felt so confident about an answer in her life, but there’s never been a time like right now where nahyun has ever felt so sure. it’s all she’s ever known, a fact remained unchanged for as long as she could remember. “ i’d do anything in the world for you. “

his gaze falls to her hands, focus losing itself into the swirl of her motions; round and round and round until he feels dizzy enough to sigh, to rest his arms against the table, to place his head between them. it's only then, in the makeshift dark, that he grows bold and honest -- an open book out of focus, pages bared but blurred.

"but, like," he begins; each word flattens; sounds deep and distant; meaning muffled, "would you, like, leave me even if you were in love with me?"

because it isn't only a matter of emotion -- there are circumstances, situational tremors; love arrives at wrong times and tries to organize a mess beyond its control; and when it isn't there, but forced, it blossoms too early, breeds fruit too green to eat.

and he wishes he hadn't been forced to learn their subtle dance but his feet have fallen into step, and the adult world is much less welcoming: it confuses and teases and makes him wish he were small --  so, so small -- and as tiny as a speck of dust sailing across his room in the morning, unafraid to crash or to die or to live.

he tries to speak, though only a groan pours from his throat and it sloshes over his tongue, fills his mouth with a bitter taste.

in an act of resistance against the gloom that descends, his head lifts, neck straightens.

"like, you'd want to be together forever, right?"

looking at her makes him wish he'd kept his head down because he tries to measure love in weekends at wendy's or smiles shared or seconds full of staring that rattle his nerves, but introduce him to joy. maybe it's time shared that constitutes love, or the pining when they're apart, and as he looks over nahyun, he's left to wonder which of those his parents had been missing and if they, too, even in their youth, were racing towards the same end.

[fmpark-blog]

fmnahyun:

( kkt / 박 ) you’re just saying that because i complimented your butt :/ ( kkt / 박 ) hmm what is he doing now? i remember he said he wanted to compose songs in the future for singers ( kkt / 박 ) yeah tell me about it! ( kkt / 박 ) ew no park please don’t… ( kkt / 박 ) i don’t really like beards

[ kkt  :  나나 ]

→ i’ve had these for a while okay → i think he’s taking a “gap” year but it’s been 3 →  he can’t even grow a beard but i think he needs someone to bring home → i don’t think his dad is gonna be happy unless it’s a pretty girl → and i left all my wigs back home so... 

[fmpark-blog]

fmbongki:

kkt ( haejin’s dad ): he’s cute take a video

kkt ( haejin’s dad ): : ( i miss him tell him and that if he comes he can have pics with other idols if he wants

kkt ( haejin’s dad ):  yeah there’s food here, but if you want i can take you two to a restaurant after im done with the auditions.  

[ kkt  :  봉기 !! ]

→ he said he needs to get ready he wants to look his best in the video → oh he has a lot of girls he wants to see → that sounds really nice ~ i’m gonna be too worn out to cook anyway → let me get ready and i’ll head there. are you going to be busy?