EXSOLTUS

you must have chaos within you to give birth to a dancing star. choi hangyeol // 23

[hangyeolbe]

> do your worst

@beyinuo

pair up, says the variety coach, after a long soliloquy from the public relations expert on what is and is not acceptable behind the scenes trivia to share on national television. hangyeol's eyes are already darting across the room to a familiar face when he hear's the first 'p' sound out of the coach's mouth. the glint in his eye is all impish glee and his gaze meets yinuo's, and he all but skips toward her to sit in a chair directly across from her.

"i can't believe we're here together," then, lowering his volume only slightly, "the drinking gays of seoul must be absolutely lost without us."

a staff member passes around inflatable vinyl hammers, one for every pair, along with a stack of fake variety show cue cards, while the coach explains this next activity.

each pair must take turns playing host and guest, asking and answering the questions listed on the cards they've been given (or coming up with their own, if they're feeling extra spicy). as the host, their goal is to trip up their guest, or get something out of them that will be provocative enough to make a headline, or a viral soundbyte, or a million-view shortform video clip. as the guest, their goal is to survive the interview with their career intact.

the hammer is for fun - to swat their partner for breaking any idol no-no rules: swearing, adult content, smoking, dating, anything that can and will be used against them in the court of the unforgiving kpop industry.

whoever's hypothetical career is the least ruined by the end of the half-hour exercise wins bragging rights and the cheap inflatable hammer that none of the staff want to deal with at the end of the day.

"alright, yinuo-ssi," hangyeol declares with a grin after plugging their newly inflated hammer closed, handing the toy over to her before crossing his legs and folding his hands in his lap in mock formality, "do your worst."

[besooyoung]

“what do you mean instead,” she says, already reaching across the counter before he can finish pulling up the card. sooyoung’s quick about it—grabs his phone like she’s done it a hundred times, because she has.

“tap-to-pay’s been weird lately,” she lies effortlessly, lips twitching like she’s holding back a grin. she holds it to the reader, then lets it ‘fail’ with a little beep and a shrug. “guess the reader didn’t like it. maybe call your bank.”

the screen flashes, then goes dark. no transaction. she’s already tapping through the salon system like she’s troubleshooting something, even though she knows exactly what she’s doing.

when she hands the phone back, she meets his eyes for just a second. something knowing flickers there—not pity, but shared understanding. she knows all too well what it feels like to stack grocery coupons, to time shifts around when the cheap side dishes came out at the cafe down the street. she knows the stretch-thin feeling of ‘this bag of chops has to last me the rest of the week.’

“must be haunted,” she says lightly, breaking the tension with a mock-spooky tone, like the card reader’s possessed with a conscience. “or maybe it just knows you’re a good person and it’s doing its part.”

and then she spins away before he can argue—because he will, and she’s not in the mood to let him win today.

“you came all this way just to let me bleach your soul out of your hair again,” she calls back with a grin, already rinsing out the last of the dye bowls. “least i can do is make sure you leave here glowing.”

a beat.

“and don’t even think about apple paying me directly later, i’ll just send it back with an emoji and block you for thirty minutes.”

she turns back just long enough to catch the way he’s looking at himself in the mirror, brighter already. and when their eyes meet again, her voice softens—just for a moment.

“i missed seeing you like this,” she says. “like yourself. come back when you need it again, okay? this salon’s haunted but it's friendly.”

[hangyeolbe]

"no, that can't be, I have at least-"

then it hits him, her oddly sporadic behavior, her clipped phrases, the strange way she snatched his phone out of his hand before he could even process what's going on. there was a time he would've been far quicker on the uptake, when he would've instantly seen her well-meaning mischief for what it was. but he can't remember the last time he's gotten a full night's sleep or spent less than eight hours a day under unforgiving flourescents, not to mention a reluctant breakup and a lack of fiscal stability turning stress into an almost tangible being sitting at the base of his skull like an invisible cicada.

"yah, moon sooyoung," he chastises in somewhat of a whine, nothing too curt or truly scolding, but not without a hair of exasperation.

"you can't let me not pay you for this. and you can't make me let you pay either!"

he knows, just from that sympathetic glance from across the counter, that she can, will, and has done just that, and that there is now nothing he can do about it even if he was logistically capable. already do his thoughts race around calculating just how long it will take him to save up the money to pay her properly for services rendered.

he catches his reflection in a nearby mirror, unable to suppress a genuine, albeit sheepish smile from curling about his lips. he looks like how he pictures himself in his head now; sooyoung is so very good at what she does. his eyes grow just glassy enough to catch the salon's flattering light fixtures, in the same moment that he meets his friend's gaze in the mirror.

"I don't mind a few caspars here and there. maybe one of them is cute and single."

he turns to face her directly, reaching for her hand and squeezing it between both of his.

"thank you," and then, with less weight, "come over. I'll cook you something. what do you want to eat? you have to at least let me feed you."

"and no," he adds, matching her tone from earlier when she refused to let him pay for his own dye job, "I am not taking no for an answer."

[hangyeolbe]

mole hill

OPEN !

it is a fault in hangyeol's character that he long ago taught himself, adamantly, that every good deed done for him deserves a good deed done by him in return, faulty only because it has so often left him to the whims of those who would take advantage of a trait that might otherwise be only good in itself. the average layperson wouldn't necessarily feel obligated to repay his friend and roommate for a much needed night of drinking and frivolity with a full surprise breakfast cooked from scratch on his one day off, yet hangyeol traversed the aisles of his local grocery preparing to do just that.

his list is long, but unwritten, not necessarily memorized, but spewing forth from feeling alone as he weaves through produce and plastic packaging. he knows from experience feeding grown men means filling a cart to the brim:

eggs, garlic, onions, pepper of four different shades and textures, milk from a cow and milk from a coconut, shallots, dried seaweed, fresh seaweed, a sack of rice almost half his size, hm, maybe more eggs, beef? not beef (too expensive), pork, tofu, broccoli, kimchi, kkakdugi--

they've moved it, his most reliably flavorful brand of the cubed, marinated root, onto the top shelf, its white-and-green label smiling down at him from far above his head. normally, he'd have jiu alongside him, to reach the furthest aloft items, but it's supposed to be his surprise! and hangyeol dare not ruin it. he could climb the shelves himself, if they weren't packed so densely with countless breakable jars of pickled goodness.

"excuse me," he calls to the taller figure who's just rounded their way into the same aisle, smiling warmly and beckoning them over with his flexibly splinted hand, "could you do me a favor and grab me a couple of those jars up there? my usual helper is on sabbatical."

[bejiu]

dearest wife.

@hangyeolbe

practice ends at every time, every day, on the dot without fail except for sundays and holidays. jiu learned his roommate's schedule long before offering to walk home with him most nights, the sound of the door unlatching, opening, and closing again a familiar fixture in his schedule since moving in together. he knows how tired hangyeol is after a long day of singing and dancing and whatever else these companies make their poor trainees do. he also knows how hangyeol hides his pain like an injured animal desperate to appear too tough for predators to pick off. going straight to bed every night may be a bit boring, but it's what's in hangyeol's best interests.

that doesn't mean that jiu doesn't try to change it up every now and then. he knows, again by the sounds of another body entering and leaving the apartment each day, that sundays are more flexible. so, by his own reasoning, that means saturday nights can break routine every now and then and hangyeol can catch a few extra z's the next morning instead. "get a drink with me," he suggests to his friend, linking their arms together so they're uncomfortably close for a humid june night. "and sleep until noon tomorrow. you deserve it. you're gonna drop dead if you don't."

he grins as he makes his prediction, based on nothing but vibes and the request for someone to go out with him tonight. "we don't even have to go crazy. i was gonna suggest norebang but you're probably tired of singing all day, right? or does singing badly not count? or i can do all the singing, but it'd be so bad it might, like, infect your voice by proximity and then all your coaches will hate me." jiu laughs at his completely impossible scenario, spiraled so far out of control that it's become utterly ridiculous.

"no, i'm kidding. we don't have to go to a norebang. but i am serious about wanting to get a drink with you. when's the last time you did anything just for fun?"

[hangyeolbe]

it's true, he is exhausted. he has spent hours leading into all-nighters preparing for recitals, showcases, competitions, auditions. but never has he done so for days on end, indefinitely, while having his entire being picked apart and reassembled into something closer to perfection like the tortured prototype of an unreleased barbie doll. he loves it, it's clear he does. he was built for it by his own years of dance and ambition, having shaped himself around a dream he thought he'd aged out of years ago.

but his body aches, and he misses his coworkers from the studio, his friends from the club scene, his go-go dancer persona's most adoring regulars. and when jiu points it out with a harmless invitation to drink and sing and be merry, hangyeol swiftly realizes his carefully concocted facade of tireless ease has long since dissipated. he cannot pretend any longer to be so unaffected by the ruthless schedule of an idol trainee, not when one of his closest friends is the one scrutinizing his well-being.

their arms are linked and hangyeol gratefully leans his body weight almost entirely against jiu's, unbothered by the sticky summer air. he is already damp from a post-training shower--at least the scent that wafts off of him as he steams in the humidity is sweet with lilac and faint sandalwood.

"mm," he half-groans, half-hums, still in good humor and good spirits despite his fatigue, resting his temple against jiu's shoulder, "no, they'd probably be thrilled I'm getting more practice in. I'm not exactly lead vocalist material."

his roommate calls him out, and it pulls from hangyeol a sheepish, conceding chuckle. when was the last time he'd done something just for fun?

"fine, but it's been a while. I'm probably a lightweight now, so if you drink me under the table, you have to carry me home."

"oh, and," he glances up to meet the gaze that sits a head taller than his, batting his lashes comically and pursing his lips to match, "you're buying."

[hangyeolbe]

--starving artists

@besooyoung

it feels nice, to pamper himself again. he didn't mind the appearance of his roots peeking out from months-old blond, especially for the winter, when darker colors made sense with longer nights and holiday lights. he'd heard somewhere in a reel that more visible roots were a sign of an economic downturn, and that was true for hangyeol, who was still adapting financially to living on a full-time trainee salary after spending his entire life working two steady jobs to fund his dance career. but he'd missed sooyoung, and the physical touch that came with letting a hairdresser, and his good friend, work her magic across his scalp.

maybe he'll send yejun a few before and after pics, for old times' sake.

"ah," he hesitates, after checking his rapidly dwindling bank balance. he'd already spent several minutes with sooyoung just admiring his reflection and complimenting her on her unmatched aesthetic skills. of course he hadn't let anyone else touch his dye job--he would never! not until the company assigned him a new look and his own fancy idol styling team, of course.

but his natural cheer and unbridled warmth falters as he slides his debit card away and reluctantly pulls his credit card up on his apple wallet instead. he used to be able to pay for a single hair appointment with a single private lesson fee at the studio, or one night working the bar at club liber. but thirty thousand won a week, and whatever savings he'd managed to accumulate, was already depleting itself at an alarming rate. maybe jiu might be willing to cover utilities this month. and the next. and maybe the one after that.

"here, use this card instead," he explains, letting his usual bright smile take over his worrisome financial situation, "it should go through, but let me know if you have any trouble."

[sarangbe]

improvisation isn't something that scares sarang. while he may lack formal training, there's a confidence and wit about him that adds to all of his natural theatrical skills. before chasing the idol dream, he considered making a name for himself as an actor, but whenever he looked at himself in the mirror and wondered what types of roles he'd be seen for, the more discouraged he became. unfortunately, he's not tall nor traditionally masculine enough to be a dashing male lead, and while he can be dolled up to the nines to exude potent femininity, his true anatomy wouldn't allow him to be considered for female leads either, which is a shame to him, but he digresses.

the fact of the matter is, in tv and film, especially in his country, he wouldn't stand much of a chance unless he sought out roles in 'BL' dramas, and while they sound titillating and fun in theory, they have a reputation for pigeonholing an actor's career into one specific lane, and torching other opportunities for them because people simply can't be normal about same-sex relationships here. it's sad, really, but there's not much he can do about it. at least not right now.

nevertheless, whenever sr media offers acting workshops, sarang makes sure to sign himself up for them; enjoying them more than any of the other types of instruction they offer him. this go around, he's paired with hangyeol, a 'bestie' of his that he loves so much, and he's excited to see what comes out of their work together. their closeness could be an asset to them and their chemistry, or it could be a deterrent. familiarity when it comes to things like this goes either way, at least from what he can tell, but when hangyeol dives into their scene, sarang empties his mind and stays present in the moment. he's 'locked in', as they say.

pretending as though he's lost in a pc game on a make-believe screen in front of him, he whines out loud when his shoulder is tapped and enacts how he'd imagine a gamer would after losing a final match, agitated and coping with too much adrenaline from the stress. "c'monnnnn, i was just about to nuke the boss!" sarang hollers, then stands from his seat; perturbed. "that was the longest winning streak i've had in weeks, but nooo, you just had to come up to me and ask for my computer!"

is he escalating things too far, too soon? he doesn't know, but he proceeds anyway. from what he remembers, he should make big choices and stick with them. "no, you know what, instead of me giving up my computer to you, now, you have to pay for more time for me. you need to let me try and beat that boss again because you're literally the only reason i lost! you ruined my high score!"

[hangyeolbe]

sarang immediately raises the stakes, which is, technically exactly what they were taught to do when making improvisation enjoyable both to the people watching it and the people performing it. at least then, the story is compelling, and allows for more plot to develop in a little amount of time. but it does startle hangyeol, the inexperienced actor, who chokes a little on the sudden laugh he forces himself to bite back. he leans in to his body's natural startle response instead, once he's determined he isn't going to laugh (it takes him a noticeable few moments to recover), and his expression shows it, eyes wide and shoulders scrunched, as if afraid sarang's newfound character might throw something at him in retaliation for his intrusion.

"oh- i'm sorry, i-"

he gets distracted by how well sarang is playing this character, the toxic gamer nerd who is going nowhere in life unless he is scouted by some international nerd organization ready to pay him to play professionally. hangyeol hasn't experienced many of those in his life, but he knows, for a fact, that sarang has, has even dated them, which is why he's so good at playing them. he has to stifle another laugh before he continues.

"i...don't have enough money to pay for both of us, and i have a final essay to write for my ethics course..."

there is a thought in the back of his mind that, in his world, and likely sarang, this dialogue is risky; risky in that it could easily lead to a very different kind of scene, one that hangyeol is certain their acting tutors would not be thrilled to see play out with two trainees in a room full of other trainees all with the prospect of idoldom hanging over there heads.

oh well, the ball's back in sarang's court now. he can decide where it'll go from here.

[hangyeolbe]

what comes next?

@sarangbe

so far, in hangyeol's twenty minutes of acting experience, he had quickly learned acting, as a concept, wasn't so different from what he inherently brought to the table when he was expressing himself through dance. every routine was made infinitely better when the face, as well as the body, told the story of the movements it made, and when he put himself in the mood of the story he was telling. this acting thing, he'd discovered, was just that, but with words, instead of dance moves.

and improvisation, in this context, was just like improvising a dance. he would have to pick the mood, the story, himself, with no script or routine, and with a scene partner. they would have to work together to tell the story without any inkling of where it might go next: infinitely more difficult, but no less exciting. and fun.

they should have, however, known better than to pair hangyeol and sarang together for such an unpredictable task. they already lived each day alongside each other carefree and virtually untethered, despite the stringent expectations of their career trajectory. they fed off of each other's fun-loving energy, their creative minds and untapped chaotic positivity a recipe for some kind of entertainment. even if the only ones they were entertaining were each other.

pc bang. pc bang?? between the two of them, hangyeol couldn't think of any two people in the world who had spent less time in a pc bang. winging it felt like the biggest understatement possible for what they'd have to do next.

"excuse me," he tapped on sarang's shoulder, smile terse and posture scrunched, all the picture of the timid computer enthusiast too shy to let their obvious annoyance at being ignored yet again slip through the cracks, "you've been at this computer for a while, and all the other seats are taken. do you think i could hop on soon?"

[bejoomi]

joomi understands very quickly why yejun liked hangyeol so much. he's very warm. it's like kindness rolls off of him in waves. it's almost comforting – or maybe it's just because he knows hangyeol treated yejun well. it's far easier to trust him than most for that reason alone.

joomi can't help but chuckle too. he does feel sorry to yejun. it is awkward. but...it doesn't have to be a big deal, does it? this can just be whatever they want it to be. it doesn't have to be a date. hangyeol offers him a drink anyway, apparently deciding to not just turn tail and run. "peppermint mocha," he decides, looking between the two cups. he figures out which is which, and carefully takes it in his hands.

"i'm not really, like...interested in a relationship. just so you know," he feels the need to clarify. "or, a new one, anyway." he is still very interested in a relationship with jinyoung, but that doesn't really matter anymore. "yinuo is just...very convincing. especially after a couple shots of soju," he chuckles, looking down at the peppermint mocha in his hands.

"i think jinyoung would just find this funny, if it makes you feel better," he adds with a soft, genuinely amused smile to hangyeol. it fades, though, and he looks down again, gaze growing a little distant. i think he wants me to move on, joomi nearly says. he doesn't even want to see me when he's on leave. early on, joomi thought it was a nice sentiment. jinyoung doesn't want joomi to sacrifice the life he could live for him. he gets that much. now, he just wonders what happens if he does move on before jinyoung is back. would jinyoung be sad? will jinyoung still love him in two years?

there's no use in thinking about it now. he could worry himself sick with it and be no closer to an answer. all he can do is wait – or not wait. live. let the time pass. find out eventually.

he realizes he zoned out a little, and looks back up at hangyeol with another soft smile – apologetic this time. he doesn't apologize out loud, though, and just asks, "do you want to walk? or did you have something else in mind? if you don't want to just go home. don't feel obligated to stay."

[hangyeolbe]

"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."

[bejiu]

by all rights, hangyeol should not have more energy than jiu does on a sunshiny sunday afternoon— or is it still midmorning? all jiu knows is that he didn't set an alarm today and had fully intended to enjoy it if it were not for his roommate's chipper greeting from the door. he groans, burying his face in his pillow like a disgruntled teenager who really doesn't want to go to school today. ultimately, sleeping in is no longer an option. every day he feels like he's a little slower to get up, a little stiffer in his back and hips than he was the day before. slowly, his youth is slipping away from him and real adulthood is settling into his bones with all their new aches and pains.

jiu runs a hand over his head, the hair buzzed short after a rather artistic gesture to start the new year fresh. he knows he'll still be swollen in the face and clearly in sleep-wrinkled clothes, but at least there's no such thing as bedhead anymore. he pads out to the kitchen where hangyeol is unloading his haul with the excited fervor of a honeybee on a warm spring day. despite still rubbing sleep out of his eyes, jiu offers: "can i help you or do you got it?" he leans his elbows against the countertop, taking some pressure off of his weaker joint.

he inspects the scar cream, reading through the ingredients quickly as he appraises the product. "you know i'm not too worried about my knee being good looking," he jokes, "it was never my best feature, i'll be honest." still, he knows hangyeol has a tendency for doting. he'll indulge it up to a certain point and turning down a gift too strongly would be rude. "thank you," he grins, and then pulls up a kitchen chair so he can hike up the leg of his pajama pants and start giving the stuff a good test run. "i'll let you know. if it doesn't do shit, do they give you your money back?"

it's cold but not unpleasant as jiu dabs the cream on, slightly sparingly for now. "dunno, what are you making?" he shoots a grin over to hangyeol. "rice. meat. probably a vegetable or two," he lists ingredients off as vaguely as possible, as unhelpful as possible as a joke. "does that help?" he knows it doesn't, as told by the wide smile on his face.

[hangyeolbe]

the sound of bare feet against the kitchen's tiled floor is a telltale sign his roommate has finally managed to climb out of bed and joined him in the day. hangyeol knows there will be reluctance behind it, but he also knows the promise of food someone else has made is usually enough to pull any grown man from his haphazard cocoon of bed linens and onto his feet. he does spare jiu a quick glance to make sure he isn't on said feet for too long, forever aware of the other male's injury more than he is of his own.

jiu offers him assistance, as he starts to put groceries away, and hangyeol contemplates it for a brief moment, a small stack of vitamin packet boxes and spice refills balanced precariously in the crook of his elbow as he eyes their designated spot at the top of a nearby cabinet.

"hm...actually..." but he changes his mind almost instantly, deciding it isn't worth risking his friend's healing process when he's perfectly capable of climbing the kitchen furniture on his own, "no, i got it."

he sets the small containers down on the counter before him, before hoisting himself up onto the countertop, steadying himself on both knees before reaching down for the cupboard's new additions. he begins to go through the various items, checking dates, pulling out expired ingredients and replacing them with the new, all while balanced firmly on both knees against polished granite.

"probably," he muses back, when jiu asks about the scar cream's money-back guarantee, "it's supposed to be anti-itch too. ooh-" he adds suddenly, twisting his body to glance at his roommate over his shoulder, "take a before picture, maybe they'll give us a discount if you do a testimonial~"

when he's satisfied with the top shelf's arrangement, he carefully descends from the counter, but only after pulling a few key seasonings he knows he'll need no matter what he ends up cooking for the pair of them.

jiu is patently, knowingly, and deliberately unhelpful, but not without charm, and hangyeol pauses the unwrapping of a back of fresh leeks to pelt a crumpled up receipt in the direction of the other man's head in response.

"i'm gonna cook you in a second," he threatens with a grin of his own, before retrieving a colander from the nearby drying rack and beginning to fill it with an assortment of vegetables from the bags and the fridge, starting with the leek.

"yachaejeon sound good? hope so, because it's what you're getting~"

[hangyeolbe]

// a hundred senses

@nickybe

"you only have the one day off," yulhee had insisted, "don't spend it watching our sad, stuffy little play."

"nonsense," he'd insisted back, over a facetime call a few days prior, he, on his way home from training, she, on her way home from tech rehearsal.

"besides, if i want to convince all of seoul's eligible bachelors that i'm more than just a pretty face, i should probably get to know tolstoy a little better, no?"

"bitch--chekov."

"isn't that what i said?"

so now, he finds himself on a sunday afternoon, trailing out of a cozy, well-dressed theater, the crowd of elderly patrons and college students who'd been coerced into seeing a bit of university-sponsored drama by the promise of extra credit, spilling like molasses into the lobby and out onto the street.

she was right, the play had been a little more highbrow than he ever could have been prepared for (his experiences with theatre had been primarily big ticket musicals with massive dance numbers and happy endings, and he was humble enough to admit when something like classic russian literature went almost entirely over his head), but the set was immersive, the costumes impressive, and the cast easy to look at. and from what he could tell based on the reactions of the halmeonis on either side of him (one of whom he was sure had been asleep through all of act one until she chittered loudly at some joke that hangyeol had missed entirely), they weren't half bad, either.

"where do the actors come out?" he inquired with the young woman closing up shop behind the concessions counter, smiling a warm thanks when she gestured to an inconspicuous door on the other side of the lobby and tucking the small bouquet of pink and white roses he carried into the crook of his elbow as he pulled his phone out to text his friend.

i'm at the stage door! i have very little idea what happened, but you were amazing. and the little old ladies were absolutely smitten wi-

the door unexpectedly opens, and does so outward, so that hangyeol has to abruptly pause his text writing and splutter out a clumsy apology for nearly bowling over both the actor emerging from backstage and a gaggle of elderly women in colorful wool coats chatting animatedly nearby.

"oh- it's you! congratulations. it was a great show. do you know if yulhee is still back there?"

[hangyeolbe]

--and they were roommates

@bejiu

"honey, i'm home~"

it's a sunday, which means hangyeol is all well-rested chipper greetings, having gotten to sleep in until a restful nine in the morning, leaving him plenty of time to wash up and run his favorite day-off errands. in both hands he carries shopping bags of varying textures--it's been a long time since he's had the opportunity to stop by all of his normal stomping grounds without competing with hordes of holiday shoppers, and it shows in the way the bags bulge against his legs as he slips his shoes off in the entryway and slides on a pair of powder blue slippers in their place.

"jiu, you'd better not still be sleeping or i'm eating without you!"

he beelines for the kitchen, hoisting all of his bags, food-related or not, onto the counter with a small grunt. his muscles still sing with the aches that come from hours of training ten hours a day, six days a week, and he can't help but wonder if that feeling will ever go away, or if this is simply the consequence of pursuing idoldom long after his skeleton has stopped developing.

"i went on a bit of a skincare binge--couldn't resist the new year's sales," he continues to speak as if jiu isn't just now emerging from whatever corner of the house he was marinating in, running like a high horsepower engine fueled by black milk tea and crisp winter sunlight, "there's some of that scar cream from that plastic surgeon i like. the one on youtube. see if it works as well as they said it would."

he is busy unloading paper and plastic bags alike, darting from counter to fridge to cupboard and back, a clear indication that this seems to be one of the few days he isn't dreading the spontaneous reappearance of his evil ex or the lingering brooding over his good one. when he finally spots his housemate he smiles, turning his attention to him fully with both hands resting on the edge of the countertop.

"what do you want for lunch?"

[be-events]

— send me an emoji and i will answer the question based on it !

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🍄: how will your muse spend seollal this year? will it be different than the previous?

✈️ : are there people your muse is choosing to leave behind in 2024?

🍂: have there been any changes to your muse's mindset over the course of the year? how have they grown?

🫂: how has your muse's relationship with their family progressed?

✍️ : is your muse getting into anything new? hobbies, interests, etc.

💭: please show a short glimpse into your muse's diary entry that they might have written about last year.

🤔: what are your muse's hopes and dreams? has it changed?

❤️‍🩹: is there anyone your muse will miss in 2025?

💔: what made your muse cry the most in 2024?

🎪: what is one thing your muse would like to achieve in 2025?

📝: is there anything your muse would want to change in 2024? what would that be and why?

🎭: what is your muse’s happiest moment in 2024? 

🧼: what is your muse’s greatest achievement in 2024? how has it impacted their life?

[bejoomi]

joomi has historically made some bad decisions – mostly related to people he's been interested in.

then again, plenty of people would consider his feelings for jinyoung a bad decision, including himself at points – as if he had a choice. he doesn't think that anymore, though, even though technically, moon jinyoung has once again hurt him and left him to put the pieces back together by himself.

he doesn't blame jinyoung this time, though. he never really blamed jinyoung, for better or worse. it was always just circumstances. bad timing. in the end, he and jinyoung still loved – love? – each other, and that's more than he ever thought he would get. sure, he wishes there was more time, but he's glad he got to experience moon jinyoung the way he did at all.

he figures this blind date is probably another bad decision. it's just a matter of if it'll be worth it in the end or not – and if he's a friend of yinuo's, surely he can't be that bad. joomi, for better or worse, trusts her, and he is tired of being lonely and depressed, so he agrees.

he figures the worst that can happen is they have terrible chemistry and it's awkward. or maybe the worst that can happen is joomi actually likes him and falls in love again far too quickly. he doesn't want to do that. he's not looking for love again, really. he's just looking for...something. he doesn't know what.

that feeling of needing something – missing something – unknown to him is ultimately what keeps him from canceling the date. it's what gets him to leave his apartment and embrace the chill, and what makes him push the emptiness of being alone on seoul's crowded streets out of his mind for now.

when he approaches their rendezvous point, he checks his phone to refresh his memory on the defining features he's supposed to be looking for to identify his date. yellow scarf.

he catches sight of it at the same time that he hears his name. huh?

he recognizes him then. hangyeol. oh fuck no. that's yejun's...well. boyfriend, but not boyfriend.

yinuo was right. they are in very similar situations, aren't they? for as much as he feels bad going on "a date" with the man one of his closest friends was head-over-heels for, he also finds relief in the fact that he won't have to explain anything. if they want to talk about their past relationships, he won't have to try to find a description to do jinyoung's simultaneous insufferable and endearing nature justice.

hangyeol knows jinyoung. joomi knows yejun. there is understanding here. is that what he's looking for...?

"yeah," joomi half sighs, half chuckles as he pushes his way through the crowded streets to stand beside hangyeol. "hi," he greets him, a little awkwardly. truthfully, he has no idea what to do or say. from his observations, hangyeol is the warmer of the two of them. joomi hopes he doesn't mind taking the lead on whatever the fuck they do now.

[hangyeolbe]

wait.

wait.

the joomi in question separates from the crowd, his face coming into focus when it catches the glow from a cluster of shimmering white christmas lights decorating a tree overhead, and a matching cluster of emotions crosses hangyeol's psyche as the realization dawns on him.

it's that joomi. jinyoung's joomi. his very good friend jinyoung's very ex-boyfriend, joomi. his very ex-boyfriend yejun's very good friend, joomi.

dammit yinuo, you could've done some research.

"hi..." he greets back, just as awkward, though his awkward still breaks into a smile that reaches his eyes, tints his cheeks pink with an unspoken apology, as if he's somehow had a hand in this sitcom-level mishap. but in spite of hangyeol's best efforts to keep the moment entirely seamless and jovial, there is still a pause that lingers heavily in the air while he contemplates what to do next, how to handle this...whatever 'this' is.

"uh," he starts again, uncharacteristically at a loss for words for another long moment. he considers apologizing out loud, actually, or calling yinuo up right then and there to explain to her just how surreal of a situation she's created on the snow-slick streets of seoul. except she'd probably feel terrible, and then he'd feel terrible, and then he would have spent an exorbitant amount of money on a pair of warm seasonal beverages for no reason.

a split second later and he saves the day, so to speak, letting the atmosphere pull out of him a genuinely amused chuckle before he holds up the paper-sleeved cups in offering.

"taro matcha or peppermint mocha?"

[sarangbe]

he hears what hangyeol says, and he agrees with a lot of it, but he realizes, yet again, that it's hard for someone who loves this lifestyle to comprehend when someone doesn't feel the same way. sarang had the same issue whenever he'd try and talk to ren about similar subjects. people who are passionate about the performing arts look at him as if he's insane for not pouring all of his heart into singing, dancing, and rapping, especially considering his circumstances, but it's genuinely something he cannot help.

sure, he may be perfectly cut out to be an idol—much to his chagrin, as of late—but that doesn't mean it's what he wants to be doing, that he cares about it on an especially deep level. no, to him, after he inevitably makes his début, it'll simply be a job, a means to an end, but admitting to that to certain people isn't a good idea.

he knows that now.

the fact that he's yet to meet another person who feels the same way makes him feel genuinely quite crazy, like he's purposefully excluding himself from the small community of his peers who are in the same boat. while he should be feeling comforted by everyone's presence and encouragement, he can't help but feel further isolated by them. it's difficult to feel lonely in what appears to be a crowded room, but at this point, it's a feeling that sarang needs to learn to accept. in his mind, that's the easiest way to cope. at least for right now.

"mmm," he hums back in response, not really knowing what to say just yet... which is rare for him. though, when that teensy ounce of shade is jabbed into his side, his gaze narrows in on hangyeol. "well, if i'm faced with a silver platter and a handsome man is one of the many options, that's what i'm going to choose." he's honest, even if his tone is teasing. "nothing else intrigues me, as sad as that is. even dancing is becoming something that i'm just... i just don't really care."

he hates whenever he lets his negative emotions get the better of him. most people enjoy the fact that he carries around the warmth of the sun, bathing other people in it whenever they get close, so when he's unable to muster up enough shine to share with others, he feels like a failure somehow. "i'm starting to think that i should just suck it up and keep my head down, like i'm expected to, even if it's crushing. there's no one else to blame for my predicament but myself. i'm the one who chose to go on 'next gen' in the first place."

pausing, he sighs; tapping the screen of his phone to check the time. once confirming, he removes his face mask, then gently pats the remaining product into his skin. "how have you been doing though? like, outside of axis?" his question is sincere, he knows hangyeol's been going through a lot himself. "you doing okay?"

[hangyeolbe]

"have you tried talking to someone?" hangyeol tries again, this time with no indication of mischief or banter, leaving only tender, careful concern to be heard in his voice, "like a professional someone. if it's the one thing in the world that used to bring you joy, unconditionally, unfailingly, and suddenly it can't anymore..."

he trails off, knowing how sensitive of a suggestion this can be, even if he is among some of the closest friends he's ever had. hangyeol was blessed with a large family full of open-minded, compassionate human beings. even as his parents' only son, even as their only child, even as a young man who grew up in a small fisherman's town with both sets of grandparents present, he never felt that his feelings, good or bad, were something to be feared, or kept secret. maybe his family couldn't always afford something as official as therapy, but there was always someone to talk to, and always someone who would listen.

"you're allowed to feel these things, sarang. you're not a bad person for feeling them. but if you've started to feel like--" he hesitates again, recalling the days yejun was at his lower points, searching through his own personal vocabulary in an attempt to articulate his concern in a way that doesn't cause sarang to feel like he should shut down or brush him off, "if you're feeling hopeless, or like the things you love don't make you happy anymore...look, i know you know, but...especially when it comes to people like us. suffering in silence is the worst thing you could do."

how quickly his own words are turned on him, when sarang takes the opportunity to make hangyeol reflect on his own silent suffering, the kind he does when he thinks no one is looking, the kind he keeps close to his chest because it feels so trivial in the grand scheme of things, and the last thing he wants to do is worry or distract the ones he loves.

"i'm...okay," he says, attempting to analyze his own response as it falls from his lips. in reality, there hasn't been much time to contemplate how he feels outside of training, when it's ninety percent of what he does now, day in and day out. unlike sarang, he adores it, can't think of anything better he could be doing with his time, is already addicted to expanding the limits of what his body and mind can do with art.

but outside of training is where he has to confront the empty side of his bed, the looming shadow of his ex's presence floating somewhere through seoul's hairline cracks. how is he doing?

"i miss him," he adds, honestly, not overwhelmingly sad and with a smile that is only just tinted with melancholy, "i just hope he's doing okay, you know?"

[hangyeolbe]

say, what's in this drink?

@bejoomi

it was probably inadvisable to some, being a trainee in the public eye, fresh off of national television, and meeting a blind date, of all people, at the very venue he would eventually be performing at as said trainee. for all anyone knew, hangyeol could be meeting his ex's cousin, or an axe murderer, or someone who didn't like seafood (the latter being the only deal-breaker among his close relatives, a fish market family of multiple generations). but he trusted yinuo when she suggested it, even if the only real introduction he had was the fact that both he and his date shared in common a fresh, complicated, lingering heartbreak. they weren't the healthiest parameters for beginning a new potential relationship, but at least they'd have something in common to talk about.

hangyeol stood at their agreed upon meeting place, in front of the bustling samsung store with its unmistakable black and white signage overhead, clutching two cardboard-sleeved beverages in mittened hands. his scarf, mustard yellow to stand out among a sea of reds and greens and to bring out the warm highlights in his freshly treated rolts, had migrated from just around his neck to where he now gratefully hid his mouth and nose from the biting december chill, which seemed to, for the most part, keep most sets of curious eyes from lingering too long.

he was tempted to sip one of the hot drinks prematurely, despite his previous plans to let his unknown companion choose between the two (one taro-matcha latte and one peppermint mocha), just to have something warm to do while the clouds overhead thickened and threatened to snow on the cheerful festival-goers at any moment. it was winter days like these, surrounded by commerce and high rises, that he missed his quiet seaside hometown; at least any chilled breezes that passed through his bones at home carried the ocean's promises of newness and adventure with them.

"ah-" he craned his neck to peer through the throngs, thinking perhaps he had spotted someone matching the physical description they'd exchanged over sns, "joomi? is that you? i'm over here-"

[sarangbe]

SELFISH 염사랑 → 최한결

recently, and more consistently than ever before, sarang finds himself as the unfortunate victim of immense boredom. the lifestyle of an idol trainee is insufferably dull to him, and every new day he spends within the rather grim (to him, anyway) confines of axis labels, he feels like he's doing absolutely nothing with his life; like there's no forward progress, no thrill or excitement, no men to keep him warm at night... it's an all-consuming feeling of nothingness that swathes him instead. it's cold, this nothingness; so much so that he dreads making the journey to the company every morning.

he wishes he was as in love with this life as the others are. he sees how dedicated they are to their crafts, how they work tirelessly to improve their talents in an attempt to make performing their job, and he used to hope that all of that competitive energy would rub off on him somehow, but it's been a long time now and he's still just as lost, and as miserable, as before. it's created a dejectedness in him that he tries so hard to combat with undiluted sunshine, but even that's becoming too cumbersome for him.

what's getting him by lately is surrounding himself with his best pals, and tonight, he's hosting hangyeol for a slumber party. they're dressed in matching satin pajama sets, sipping on something sweet, and their faces are draped in hydrating masks; keeping their complexions moisturized and plump through the winter, of course.

turning over, sarang rolls onto his stomach on the bed; sights set on on his longtime pal. "do you think i'm selfish?" he asks, frankly, but in a tone that's still delicate. "as in, like, selfish for being where i'm at, but not really wanting or loving any of it?" if there's one thing sarang knows about hangyeol, it's that he'll give him an honest answer. it's one of the things he adores about him.

"maybe selfish isn't the word... ungrateful? i don't know. every time i encounter lee nayoung, i'm plainly reminded how much she hates me, and it's because she knows i don't wanna be at the company... and yet, it seems like they cater to me. at least in her opinion." pausing, he lets out a sigh. "do you think that's true?"

[hangyeolbe]

there is a cognitive dissonance hangyeol faces now, on the daily, of being ecstatic at the opportunity to achieve a once-buried dream of idoldom butting heads with the stalactite of heartache that lodged itself in his chest the minute he knew yejun was on a plane taking him across an ocean. he knows, feels in his bones, how lucky he is to see his talent and perseverance pay off in such a tangible way, of getting to wake up bright and early every morning to cart himself through shiny glass doors onto freshly waxed floors and spend uninterrupted hours honing himself into the best performer he can be. and at the same time there is the chill of an empty bed looming over him and the dread that sets itself in his bones every time he walks home after practice because he might, at any moment, encounter his ex.

hangyeol can't help but wonder if things might've been different if yejun had been offered a contract alongside him. would yejun have found happiness in pursuing his dreams at delta or sr? they would have been lucky to have him, his talents lying dormant and coy behind an eggshell that only hangyeol had managed to penetrate so far. but fixating on that what-if for too long only serves to worsen the icy pang behind his ribs, and he can't afford to allow that feeling to last for too long. after all, he's not the only one relying on his own steadfast determination staying intact.

"hmm?" he glances up from his aimless instagram scrolling, lips pursed curiously, surprised by sarang's sudden inquiry. it certainly seems more intense than their normal conversations about everything and nothing, all of the things they have in common and all of the things they soon will.

"mmm," he hums again, this time with brow furrowed in thought, then sets his phone aside to give his labelmate his full attention.

"i think," begins his naturally caring, almost mentoring tone, as he settles against sarang's extra bed cushions and lightly taps a flap of the face mask to adhere to the tip of his nose, "lee nayoung has a lot of strong opinions that ultimately have nothing to do with you."

he knows that's not the main point of sarang's loaded question--sarang has expressed similar concerns in the past, hasn't shied away from how he really feels about his place in sr or his goals as a trainee--but it feels important to address as much outright.

"i don't think you're ungrateful or selfish," he continues, reaching down to gently move a piece of sarang's fringe away from sticking to his mask, "maybe a little misguided..."

he smiles warmly, so his friend knows he is only joking, before adding sincerely, "you've put yourself in a good position for what you want out of it all, and you've made yourself a valuable asset in the process. i think now that you're in such a secure spot, you have to learn how to find your own pleasures in it. if somebody handed you the world on a silver platter, would you look at it and go 'hm, i'm bored'? or would you find something new and exciting in it you've never seen before?

"and before you ask," a rapid addendum framed with a knowing smile, "i don't mean going and flirting with every man in the company until you find a new favorite."

[hangyeolbe]

hark! there goeth the rizzler

@beyinuo

"alright, that's the one hour mark lady and gents," hangyeol announces, swiveling around on his barstool and raising the bastardized server notepad and its accompanying pen in his hands with a flourish.

"our current tally is: siyoon, two; jinwoo, with a sad, sad zero, step it up jinwoo; yinuo, reigning champion, with four; and little old me with one and a half, because siyoon is a cheater~"

"who's cheating?" comes a baritone retort from the other side of the bar, attached to a hand pouring a large series of cass pints, "you don't even like girls."

"that doesn't mean they don't like me~" hangyeol calls back easily, sliding the makeshift scorecard across the bar for further inspection by his contestants. he takes the brief lapse in tallying to take a generous sip of his own drink, something tart and salmon-colored yinuo customized for him in exchange for his very important services.

"my question is this," he adds, pausing to stir his beverage and to scan appreciatively siyoon's admirable right bicep while he's busy serving customers. if he could admire jindallae for anything, it was how well he seemed to know his customer base, because hangyeol was certain he wasn't the only one partaking in a bit of harmless staring.

"do any of you actually do anything with all these numbers?," he glances at yinuo then, a knowing glint in his eye, "or do you chicken out before you ever actually call anyone?"

a figure enters through the side door in a well-worn hoodie tucked up over dark hair and a plain black face mask, swiftly retrieves a set of bulging to-go bags with nothing more than a murmured word and a hasty boy, and disappears just as quickly as he appeared. hangyeol's rose-colored grin falters at the same moment his heart chokes briefly on its own beating. how much he'd looked like yejun.

[beyinuo]

there was never any doubt that yinuo would be raking in the most numbers night after night. most of the girls she talks to aren't even into women, just so delighted at the idea of making a new friend and easily disarmed by yinuo's cheerful demeanor that they hit it off fast and easy, chattering back and forth while yinuo balances work and play. she'll admit, she probably has an unfair dynamic. there's a lot less stress in giving your number to another woman than to a strange man... but, honestly, it's siyoon and jinwoo's faults for not being more charming. if hangyeol can do it, why can't they?

still, the girl smiles smugly as hangyeol reads out the scores. "you should know better than to challenge me by now," she jokes with them. "it wasn't even close."

yinuo's love for women isn't necessarily a secret. she couldn't hide it if she tried, her unabashed adoration seeping out every time she sees a pretty girl. and honestly, she has yet to meet a girl who isn't pretty. she falls in love quickly and easily, but that doesn't mean she doesn't feel that love deeply.

"how dare you imply i play with a woman's feelings," yinuo presses her hand to her chest, putting on her best impression of a pearl-clutcher as she gasps dramatically at hangyeol. "i'll have you know that chaeun and i are going out for drinks after my shift is over here, jooah has been sending me pictures of her new puppy, sumin wants to meet for coffee later this week, and... well, yerin hasn't responded but she might be busy!"

the girl shakes her head, disappointed that anyone would ever doubt her. she doesn't miss the way that hangyeol falters for a moment, the way his eyes linger on someone without really recognizing them. ah, why are all her male friends dealing with heartbreak right now? she leans against the bar under the excuse of proving her claims to hangyeol by showing him her phone, instead using the closeness to whisper "do you want me to put in a good word for you with one of my coworkers, or are you not ready for that yet?"

[hangyeolbe]

"mm," he nods along, scribbles gibberish across the page as if he's diligently taking thoughtful, important notes on yinuo's confident claims.

"that's certainly admirable of you, your excellency," he continues to play along, skipping easily into his best impression of a loyal eunuch plucked right out of a historical drama, even punctuating his tone with a slight head bow and an archaic lilt to color his already present country dialect.

"but do chaeun, jooah, and sumin know they're signing up for dates, and not unfortunately heteronormative hangouts where a single lip gloss isn't smudged?" he sheds his historical caricature and belly laughs, poised to dodge anything solid and tangible that might be thrown in his direction, "because it sounds like you're signing yourself for another triple bout of pathetic sapphic longing, princess."

ah, so she noticed his shift in mood, his own pathetic queer longing worn loud and bright on his sleeves like an avant garden fashion accessory. he has to consider her question for a few long, solemn moments. maybe a distraction would help him recover, recuperate, reenvision. or would it only make him worse at moving on by emphasizing every lack he feels when he wakes up and knows yejun isn't sleeping next to him but across an ocean somewhere? would yejun want him to move on or would he be hurt that hangyeol had even tried to? it doesn't pain hangyeol not to know, but it does pain him that he cannot simply pull out his phone and ask.

"maybe," he answers honestly, not entirely lacking in his normal kind, cheerful air, but certainly colored by a tinge of his solemn contemplation, "as long as he knows that it's 'complicated.'"

for good measure, to keep the mood from plummeting too far into a cold, wintery abyss, he adds with a smile, "I've got such a big celebrity reputation to uphold, after all."