there are two things to know first thing about the parties most idols attend: they're usually housebound, a shoddy attempt at hiding away from the public gaze, and they get weird fast. at the end of the day, the code of conduct by which celebrities abide doesn't stray further from any group of coworkers stuck in an office. work hard, fuck up harder. the already exclusive crowd spreds thin around the house, chatter cutting through the music, faces receding into the shadows of a dark corner or a another body to be perched upon.
it's hard not to feel like you're in high school again, but maybe part of it is exactly the appeal. sneak out when you're meant to be back home, make out when the adults are not looking, get shitfaced before a test the next day. when the walls close in, there's nothing better than acting out.
the fog in the air tickles his throat. he takes a drag from his cigarette for a quick fix, holding it near the window to be minimally polite. he has an hour with his vocal coach in just three days, which makes it a bad idea. just being there counts for negative karma anyway, so he supposes he'll just be bad till dawn is upon him.
his tongue is sour in his mouth when he crosses eys with her, but it must just be the tobacco. he drags a hand over his mouth, fingers scathing over his chin and then jaw, and looks away. can't be a good idea to mix hyeyeon and alcohol. he wets his lips and drinks again, for good measure. she should be taken in small doses, and he has had about enough of his fill for the month.
her eyes were wide with worry, lip tense as she kept staring from across the room when his gaze averted. the brief memory replies just enough times to trigger whatever left of sympathy he has stored inside him, and he turns around to look again.
there she is, still watching, still desperate.
he sighs like breathing hurts.
a couple steps later, he sets his bottle on the counter behind which hyeyeon stands. the underside of his tongue smooths over his lower lip in a quick second, his body's last shred of restraint wasted. from up close, he can see the guy sitting on the floor next to her, jaw hanging open as he presses the top of his head back into the wall behind him. that might have something to do with the consternation on her face.
raewon pointedly glances away from the man, the corner of his mouth pulling a lopsided greeting as his sets his elbows on the countertop.
"what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"
MEME 01.
what environment, activity, or mindset puts your muse at ease?
despite what appearances may suggest, raewon has always nourished a genuine passion for rap.
the public wouldn’t take him for the type. he doesn’t look the type, with the softness of his features and his willingness to dance to the fiddle, all for that standing ovation at the end.
the company certainly doesn’t believe he’s the type. the verses he writes for a few of the songs released under the neo umbrella are uninspired, and there’s little publicity made surrounding his authorship, which agrees just fine with him. it’s just business as usual for him, his fans care more about his visibility than he could. they’re not a big deal, so he doesn’t make them one.
the typical so-called idol rapper, a title he will never not loathe, is far more anxious than he would ever be to claim credit for their work. of course, they all have authorial and financial credit, the industry isn’t yet cruel enough to try and rob them of that, however little money there is to be made out of it. of course, that’s not all they are after.
there’s prestige and respect to be gained from being a recognized songwriter, and the bravado inherent to being a rapper only adds to the pressure in needing to attain that particular level of stardom. that’s what they really want when they say they want recognition. they want the golden star for being self-made. how could they not, they’re only ever taught that what they do is not good enough.
after all the years immersed in the world of dogs inside training rooms, it still eats away at him. he also grew up with the culture, and the thing that has stuck with him is: what the fuck do they mean, self made? putting in hours after practice is not extra work, as far as he remembers it -- it’s the rule. everyone tries to dance faster, sing higher, act better, but they can agree it’s a craft perfected through the network. with years of training and a line of chart-topping producers that have made success their profession guiding their hand over the turntable in a professional studio people wouldn’t even dream of laying a finger on, an idol rapper is about as self-made as a chaebol son graduating with an internship at their uncle’s office.
he judges, fuck yeah he does. raewon has taken enough leaps in those shoes to know when people gain the privilege of phoning it in.
the slick, manufactured sound to which he lends his voice is a far cry from what he enjoys listening. they call mopey ballads lifted from dusty demo archives authentic, jesus christ. some things are beyond help. raewon releases songs for people who don’t touch music. it’s the truth of his profession, no different from lawyers who dedicate their knowledge to real estate and corporate because that’s where the money is.
there’s no shame, only the insistence of a prettier lie.
but when it comes to him, the public of his own psyche and the right cut of his brain, he wants it to hurt. if he ever were to put his name on something and make it count, it would be something that touches the soul to wrench, to bruise and whip until all there's left is the elation of a breath of air. the catharsis in blacking out. something he could use to work away the tension, fall inside himself. a needle to prick his finger and remind himself he still feels.
he is not the friend who helps, he is the friend who fucks up harder. that’s his music at the end of the day, ruthless and free between schedules.
at sixteen, he promised himself he would sell out, he's going to do it with style. he’ll let his flesh rot on celluloid, draped in couture, thrumming echoes of synths that hide nothing. it’s a point beyond return.
a reminder in his earphones -- there’s no way back.
after a day of music recording and fansign events, second to last on the schedule is a group vlive. the company’s terrified to have fans even glancing sideways amid promotions.
his day now ends at around three am, and he assumes everyone knows that. the extent of the idol schedule would naturally be a poorly kept secret when most of the activities are meant to be heavily publicized. and yet, for the sake of the pretense of relatable genuinity, they now gather in a circle in a practice room with a camera at 11pm and pretend they’re just about to go back to the dorm and wrap up activities, instead of going back to work as soon as the camera shuts off.
just a matter of time until someone wonders why they’re chugging starbucks before bed time.
the six of them line up in on the floor, three at the front, three at the back. they’re mostly neo:red, only one missing, but some of the boys of the other units are there as well, early for rehearsal. impulse for attention chemically curbed from the painkiller he took for his stiff neck earlier, raewon opts back row, leaning gently onto his fellow member's shoulder. part for show, part genuine - his usual operational mode. he watches hye approach them and take a seat directly in front of him, rips rearing to brush against raewon's folded legs.
his body is a chemical battleground, veins besieged. the quiet voices reverberating in the small practice room against the subtle wheezing of the air conditioner, the closest illusion to silence he will experience in his next five years. the caffeine seeping into his bloodstream, every muscle in his body numbly constrained with the shot of adrenaline they barely detect. raewon detaches again.
he ignores the shudder slithering up his spine, sips from his cup.
as hye talks, his eyes fall on his nape, peeking out of the loose collar of the tee he has on for practice, teething the tip of his straw. his fingers flutter to the small of his back, brushing over the spot he remembers to lift shivers out of hye’s skin, just because he can.
for the camera, he casually explains to a curious commenter that he’s drinking americano, wondering if it’s ok to say the brand live before remembering this isn’t a tv broadcast. for hye, he lets his fingertips circle around the spot, inconspicuous and knowing.
the card across the set announces a twenty minute break in a dim red glow.
raewon yawns before he can stop himself, wide and long, only remembering to cover his mouth when he’s nearly done. early variety shooting and late night music show recordings are still a combination that goes rough with his biological clock. he learned fast enough, months ahead of debuting, that being an idol mostly means not getting any sleep, and a majority of the tricks you pick up along the way revolve on stealth nap tactics.
he wishes that was the worst part.
there’s a rift between the prestige spoken of individual schedules (let alone a hot ticket, like knowing brothers had become in recent years) and the bleak reality of sitting through them. of course, raewon’s greed rises to meet the challenge of the huge opportunity this is for him, but the adrenaline can only last so far between takes.
when the cameras stop rolling, he runs on anxiety and self loathing to fight the boredom of the wait. his brain mulls over every joke he made, the ones that didn’t get laughs and the ones that did, thinks over every single word he had said, remembers the fleeting moments of hesitant eye contact he had made with the cast. more than a couple times he looks over his shoulder to throw a joke at his bandmates to ease the tension, only to see the mobius intern assigned to his schedule return his glance, equal parts expectant and annoyed at the prospect of having to get coffee from the cafeteria again.
more than a couple times he looks over to the dressing room, equal parts disappointed and relieved not to see anyone peering back.
checking his phone is as a natural impulse, he does it even when he doesn’t want to look at anything going on in there. but right now, his thumb swipes across the screen with intent. he needs to talk to someone before he gets sick on set. at least that would leave a lasting impression.
he surprises himself by gravitating to his kakao chat with avery first thing. the tightness around the corners of his mouth gives out a little skimming over her last sent messages as he types. it feels odd, opening himself to someone as quickly as he had with her. it’s certainly not something he has enough practice with, but he doesn’t mind the sense of comradery brewing between them. he doesn’t mind the company, for once.
SENDING: buttercup
--- i’m on set for knowing brothers now and i feel like i’m going to throw up
--- can’t wait to be blacklisted on jtbc for the next 10 years of my career
--- where even are you rn btw? still la?
MISSION 01. +5 skl +5 kar
write about your muse’s family and their thoughts about your muse’s career.
--- you don’t listen when they warn you
growing out of a shell is meant to hurt.
it’s quiet in the house. for a family of five, that’s far from common. raewon was used to noise, the chatter, the quarrelling, the endless life echoing down the aging walls. the silence feels heavy on his shoulder. the pit of his stomach used to be all flowers and butterflies, ripe fruit dangling off the vines, but somewhere down the line the roots dug too deep, the leaves grew too thick and the soil turned murky. there are things growling in its darkness, and the unwelcome contrast only fuels the beasts lurking in his gut.
raejin looks at him from across the table, between mom and dad. he holds his gaze long enough for raewon to look back, and makes a point of heaving out a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes to the very far of his back and slouching in his seat.
“don’t goof around during dinner,” their father calls out without looking up from his plate, but raewon is already chuckling. literally bubbly, tension flowing out of him with a heart ring. the man grumbles under his breath, shaking his head to himself.
if sungkyung had been there, she would have poked fun at dad and left some room for raewon to join in and break some of the tensions with the man, but her seat at the table remains empty.
his is up next, soon enough.
“listen to your father, kids.” his mother distributes moderate stares across the table, a crease forming between her eyebrows when her eyes find her husband’s figure, head hanging low. “children who obey their parents go further in life.”
that’s a lecture they’re all entirely too familiar. it’s odd how they’re all similar, the three kim children. though they each externate it in varied ways, they were all born with an impulse for defiance. sungkyun is bold, raejin is reckless, and raewon is sly - raising them is not entirely unlike domesticating a three-headed monstrous dog. their parents are calm, typically serious people who wouldn’t ever be caught exceeding themselves, and relatives wonder how such a boisterous, troublesome offspring could have come out of them. you’d think at least one of them would take after them, they often suggest. divine punishment, mother often replies.
raejin sighs again, this time a resigned, small one, fixing up his position. his tiny face lights up with a small smile, the words leaving his lips before he has time to filter them through a second thought. “we’ll see if that’s true if raewon manages to hit it big as an idol.”
raewon is the first to shoot him a dirty glare, lips tightening in a silent threat. it’s really just like that stupid little airhead to run his mouth and bring up the elephant in the room while people are just trying to exist. what, the boy mouths back in confusion.
“that’s a big if right there,” their father steps in. his voice drips with derision, but he leaves it at that, avoiding gazes. biting back everything he has to say, like he had for the last few weeks.
“well, it is possible,” raejin insists.
raewon knows he does this because he doesn’t have to clean up after himself, being the youngest means never being held accountable. he probably means well, but it would be best if he just learned how to shut the fuck up. “can we talk about something else?”
something in their father snaps, if lightly.
he finally glances up. when he smiles, it’s rabid, a flood of emotions reeling in his eyes. “why don’t you turn on the tv, we should start getting ready to only seeing you in there. and that’s only in case your brother’s big if miraculously comes true, isn’t it?”
the growls raise to a sharp snarl, his fists clenching, heart set in an uproar near his throat.
the shrill sound of cutlery on porcelain pierces down the living room, and mother put a heavy palm to the table. her jaw is set and her eyebrows are raised in fury, raising her tone above all others.
“kyungjoon, that’s enough.” she heaves a breath, licking her lips anxiously; “we will sit and dine like a family. our children make their own choices for their future, but for now-- for now, we eat in peace.”
it’s only after his father wolfs the rest of his meal down his throat and raejin slips out leaving an unfinished plate on the table that raewon lets out the breath he had been holding the whole evening.
“you know he just needs time to adjust.” his mother lets a beat run between them, picking herself up from her seat to start cleaning the table. “the nest is going empty, it’s all still very difficult for him. you have to understand his point of view, too.”
he knows he had picked the worst moment to decide to transfer to seoul to start auditioning for entertainment agencies. the oldest child is off on her first year of college, and his parents had counted on keeping the house full for at least three more years until raewon started talking of these big ideas out of nowhere. he knows he had to act now, before he had started high school in ulsan and the chains keeping him in place grew too tight around his ankles. it’s the only moment for action, it just happens to also hurt the most.
it’s betrayal.
he does wonder if it’s worth it, putting his family through this anguish for something as trivial as a dream that is not even his.
the two of them remain silent as they move around the kitchen. his mother takes her place by the sink and raewon has the cloth, drying and stacking the dishes. when she stops, wet hands on the marbled edge of the sink, raewon feels his heart sink. she glances at him over her shoulders, and he notices, for the first time, her eyes are swimming in tears that are only now starting to roll down her face.
“is this what you really want?”
he doesn’t know the answer, but he knows what he has to say.
“yes.”
she sighs and sobs all at once, and moves to wrap him in an embrace. his shirt turns wet from her hands and her tears, the load of years of unspoken words breaking into every keen she muffles in his shoulder. he’s almost too shocked to return the hug, almost scared. this isn’t a side of her he had ever seen. it’s frightening to witness, to be the reason behind it.
“that’s good, it’s good.” she nods to herself, wiping her face with her rolled up sleeves, lips pressing into a thin line curving upwards. she glances at him with her flushed cheeks and glassy gaze, sniffling with a smile. her hands touch his cheeks kindly. it’s hard to stand still, receiving that amount of affection.
“i can send you off with a light heart, then.”
( 00:38AM, november 12th, 2011 )
INCOMING: sungkyung 😬
i'll be counting on you for autographs from handsome actors when you debut
i'll sell it all online and we'll get rich together~~
hello team, it’s very late and i’m just about to go to bed, but i wanted to drop by first! this is neo’s lead rapper raewon, your true neutral fave. he’s here to get a little fucked up but also get ahead in the game, so he’s just keeping in mind that every terrible life choice has its place and time. i have a few links that you can browse (plots tba), but the cut contains a few random facts about him + a few plots i’m looking for, so give this a like if anything catches your interest and i’ll hit you up (along with the lovely messages i’ve received so far) later!
kim raewon, 22, neo + neo:red, rap and vocals
useless variety talents: making his double lids disappear, liberally accurate cartoon + anime impersonations
aegyo style: baby-talk mixed with his native southeastern accent, actually not bad
middle child, clinically starved for attention
networker aka leech, very aware of the Connections he makes in the industry
his brand within neo is a tactical Confident Gay, for easy attention
his typical anti sees him as a presumptuous wave rider, while his typical fan sees him as a loveable soft brat
incredibly insecure in his skills, feels like a fraud most of the time, but still tries
he’s very easy going normally, but lately he’s been going through some weird mood shifts (actually dissociating episodes that will likely go unnoticed forever) and it’s been putting a strain on some relationships
very duplicitous and private about his personal life to groupmates, typically
has recently been on a fortunately very vague blind item for being a bit of a slut during his trainee years but it was never linked back to him
wanted plots! just a few guidelines, very open for discussion!
for the love of god, some backstage drama. either fighting, or apologizing for fights and making up, or talking shit about someone, anything messy
coffee runs at 3 am after schedules
a sunbae (preferably male) that raewon approached for connections, and that has taken interest in raewon for his current relevance. they pose as wholesome intergenerational friends for publicity, but, behind closed doors, it’s sort of an internship mixed with hazing. raewon runs errands and has to impress him to gain his approval, just a secret tradition of the industry. details can be discussed! would be nice if there were friends to this muse who would also be part of this, idk!
neo / the member raewon was awkward with but has been trying to befriend lately after his popularity skyrocketed
neo / dorm life shenenigans pls! getting locked out of the dorm, sharing feelings at 1am, raiding alcohol stashes, strip poker :)
neo / 19+, possibly roommate? they were always close, but lately the signals have been getting a little mixed. maybe it’s the proximity and the craving for affection, maybe it’s latent feelings they ignored for the sake of their careers, but it’s getting harder to ignore. full fanfic fantasy.
female, preferably solar member / 19+, ex-plot! they dated in secret for a hot second in their trainee days, burned bright and fast, now must work through the bitter aftertaste to play sunbae and hoobae for the public.
non mobius / the one person in the industry he can call a genuine friend. they never thought fame could get between them, no one ever really does. maybe popularity gaps, sheer envy, or simply getting out of touch!
