The chaos and craziness after the group performance had somewhat subsided, and Jae was keener to enjoy some recreational time. Back home, he was a part of any athletic club he could sign up for and have the time for. Playing soccer and softball for the better part of his younger years strengthened his stamina, proving handy for dancing and performing in general. Fortunately for him, his energy grew in other ways as well.
Yiseul doesn't really do sports—at least not team ones. Where's the fun in throwing a ball around and relying on other people to help you win. If Yiseul's going to win something, he's going to rely on himself, and himself alone. Other people will only drag him down. The closest Yiseul gets to exercising, outside of dance practise, is skateboarding, and he'd not call that a sport with the way he does it. So, he can't fathom why some of the other guys willingly spend hours at a time getting sweaty by running around after a ball, kicking or throwing it at each other and trying to get it through a hoop, in a net, or to one end of a field. That doesn't, however, mean he doesn't enjoy watching them do it from time to time.
To him, this activity is somewhat akin to going to the zoo, except his motivation for watching them is less idle curiosity, and more a desire to see some attractive men get all sweaty and breathless. There's something in it for him, at least. Today, however, he'd sadly not been watching the jocks of Hydra tire themselves out, he'd been attempting to see what all the fuss was about when people said 'exercise is a great remedy to most ailments'. They had, in his opinion, been lying, as he'd spent an hour running on a treadmill, getting woefully sweaty, only to find he felt no better, though he wonders if 'foul mood' had been an ailment that whoever had bullshitted about exercises benefits had been including in their statement. Whatever it was, he wasn't pleased with the wasted time, the slightly damp hair and clothes, and ache in his legs.
At least he knew his stamina was holding up.
He'd retreated to the shower room, in hopes of drowning himself in the shower instead, when a much more promising mood boost appears, in the form of a tall, handsome acquaintance. Jae was someone Yiseul had admired during the times he'd watched the guys playing a variety of sports in the gymnasium. His height caught everyone's eye, of course, but there was something about him that made Yiseul oh-so curious about him. He wanted to get to know him better than he already had, find out what made him tick, and whether Yiseul had a good chance at visiting him in his dorm room sometime for a different kind of exercise, or not. They'd had moments where he thought he might have a chance, and yet Jae hadn't propositioned him yet, and Yiseul was wondering whether he'd have to make the first move.
"While this incredible figure of mine was God's gift, and takes no effort to maintain, I like to keep my stamina up." He replies to the taller man, not bothering to hide the fact he's devouring him with his eyes as he sheds his shirt. Yiseul pauses to admire the view for a moment, before he does the same. There's a flirtatious undertone to his reply, as though he'd implying something (which he definitely is). Yiseul had never been shy about his body, so with confidence, even in the face of a much more muscular man, he quickly sheds the rest of his clothes and strides over to the cupboard where fresh towels are kept. "You better have won whatever game it was you were playing with the guys."
𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐓, Campsite, Hyde Academy
May, 2023
w. 𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐀𝐄𝐆𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐌
“How you holding up?” Yiseul holds his stick out over the fire and watches as the tip of it catches fire, the wood glowing orange and splintering as the heat slowly travels down the long, thing length of wood. Beside him, on another fold-out camping chair pulled up to the side of the fire pit they'd made, Taegyeom sits. By the light of the fire, he looks just as handsome as when Yiseul first met him, and yet his looks are no longer what Yiseul sees first when he looks at him, much to his own surprise. Typically, people don’t mean much in general to Yiseul unless they’re attractive, and even then he only cares about them for the aesthetic pleasure they bring him.
Or at least that’s what he tells himself.
“Think I'm gonna win this.” His eyes remain on the fire, licking it’s way up the small branch towards Yiseul’s fingers; the spread slow, and steady. His lips quirk up into a flat kind of smile—he wonders if Taegyeom will even notice how obvious that lie is. Fire had always been somewhat of a comfort to Yiseul, and had become a way for Taegyeom and him to bond over the time they’d known each other. Of course, bond was a generous word when it came to Yiseul, but, at a stretch, he might be inclined to describe Taegyeom as a friend. Friends, Yiseul always thought, were merely weaknesses, and people were only there to be used for his benefit. Taegyeom, while definitely used at some point, had seemingly grown out of that, and slotted into a little hole in Yiseul’s armour that he’d forgotten to patch.
Filming had wrapped up for the day, so he doesn’t fear being overheard by a strategically placed microphone, or some member of the filming crew, when he says, “I dunno how I’m gonna do it—some of these people drive me absolutely nuts.” While others, he silently adds on, drive him nuts in an entirely different way. A way that makes him ultimately wish he hadn’t signed up for the show. Having had encounters with many of the guys here before, Yiseul wonders just how that’s going to affect his dynamic with them in here. Or, more importantly, their dynamic among each other—that is if they even find out how much he’d gotten around. “At least Robby’s here though, right?” He comments, smirking as he glances over at his companion.
Yiseul's pretty sure he's never been as pissed off in his life as he is right now.
Okay, so maybe that's a slight exaggeration. He's standing by the wall of the practise room, watching Dictator-Sungho try and get everyone to 'drop and give him 20', like he's some sort of drill sergeant. Well, Yiseul's not going to do it. What's Sungho going to do? Hit him? Too bad for him; Yiseul would love that. Who does he think he is? Just because he's the leader he thinks he can tell them to do anything he likes? Sure, Yiseul typically finds Sungho favourable, someone he'll seek out for some fun, but right now he wants the man to fall on his face, or walk into a wall, or simply disappear.
The members of his group really should be a positive to Yiseul—Sungho, who he usually enjoys the company of, Jae, who as much as he doesn't like to admit it, could make Yiseul do almost anything he asked, simply because he's just that hot, Seb, who is probably one of the only people Yiseul would call a friend, and Kota, and while Yiseul doesn't know Kota too well, he definitely would like to. He'd have though he'd be pleased with the grouping, but somehow it just felt bad. Yiseul felt largely forgotten among the other boys, and he wasn't used to being anything other than the center of attention. Typically, he'd push himself into everyone's business, into the limelight and step on them all to get ahead, and yet something holds him back when he looks at them all standing together.
He's no fool—he can see the way they all interact, can see it so clearly through the window he's stuck behind, watching it all from afar. It's as though he's a part of it, and yet he's not. He's a ghost while they're all real. But this is how he wants it, isn't it? To never let them close, to know everything, and yet for them to know nothing at all. They're apart from him, and that's how he wants it... right?
Yiseul isn't about to do any soul-searching now, or in the foreseeable future—he's perfectly happy as he is, even if he resents the other boys for seeming so close without him. Maybe he should be used to that, considering he's never part of the in-group. He's a lone wolf; that's who Ryu Yiseul is, through and through, and that's how it always will be. Yiseul doesn't need anyone, and no one needs him, not really. People never want anything from him that they can't get from someone else far easier.
And so, Yiseul treads through the week with a scowl on his face, avoiding talking to any of them, noticing the way they touch each other, and play around, or the way Sungho takes charge, and a little part of Yiseul finds it unbearably attractive, before slapping that little part away and reminding himself that no one is in charge of him. Yiseul wonders, as he watches them all, if they notice he's there, if they care, if they want him there, if they're indifferent. He doesn't care what they think, or feel, he tells himself, scowl deepening.
But he spends an awful lot of time alone that week, when he sneaks off to a secluded corner and writes and writes in his journal, pouring out what he's feeling and hating everything he admits to the blank white paper, hoping that once it's all out, he can forget he ever felt it. Emotions really don't get you anywhere, he concludes, as he stares at himself blankly in the mirror after a furious scribbling session in a stairwell. It's easier to just feel nothing at all, all the time.
He practises what few lines he has, and yet he's lacklustre, there's no fire in his eyes, his drive had all but flickered out. He just feels empty, cold, and somewhere deep down, angry and sad, but he really had no idea about what. He's told to try harder, chastised over and over for getting the moves and the singing right, and yet his face is utterly blank. Isn't that what he's in the group for? To do some nice expressions and then fade into the background while everyone else is front and centre? Yet he can't even do that anymore.
What's the point?
Performance day comes and Yiseul barely does much better than he had in practise. The dark cloud hanging over his head lingering, and the feeling of alienation from those around him, that he's usually so quick to brush off, clinging to him like tar. He sings well, dances well, and yet his face says nothing. He's too caught up this cloud, where he can't think or feel anything. It feels as though everyone else is a figment of his cruel imagination, or that he died and he's just a ghost that no one else can see.
"Yiseul... What was that?" The judges begin. He knows he's in for harsh critiques, but he can't bring himself to care right now—he can't even look at them as he stares at his feet. "Your voice, and your dancing were, as usual, really nice. You have a lovely vocal tone, and you're really very graceful, but... you seemed utterly checked out. You didn't seem to be mentally here at all. You're usually so good at expressions and drawing us in, so what happened today?"
Yiseul can't answer the question. He doesn't know the answer himself. Maybe he's just broken.
MINSEON SITS AT THE BARTOP LIKE HE'S PERFORMING A PERSONAL ACT OF PENANCE, absentmindedly taking sips from an old fashioned glass of club soda and letting the sharp smell of alcohol lap at his apprehensions like a shallow tide. He's been feeling sentimental lately. And homesick. Fortunately, his companion for the night is distracting enough to deny him a descent into aimless rumination; Ryu Yiseul all but utters Minseon's name, and Minseon is already drawing closer — moth to flame — trying to catch the words that tumble from his mouth.
Yiseul asks him a question.
Tipsy or not, it's innocent and inoffensive, but Minseon has reasons for disliking alcohol beyond the edge of its acidic burn, so it's a question that gives him some pause. Yiseul has unintentionally wandered to the edge of a precipice, one that overlooks the yawning chasm of a past Minseon has more or less kept private, and... Minseon wants to come undone by Yiseul's hands but never by accident. He steers them both to safety, for now: "Not really my thing— 've got other vices. ... As I'm sure you know."
( And speaking of those other vices... )
His body is warm and yielding under an indulgent touch, wholly unprepared when Yiseul asks... something else. It's a question that's less innocent, less inoffensive, the effects of which are almost immediate. Minseon's eyelashes flutter against his cheeks, breath stalling before it's belatedly exhaled into a small scoff. His eyes narrow. He finds himself somewhat... irritated by the query, for two primary reasons: 1) There's a time and a place for it, neither of which are now or here. 2) It's a simple question, really, and it deserves a simple answer. Minseon can settle it in five words ( 'WHEN – YOU'RE – BEGGING – FOR – IT' ) — But. With reference to Reason No. 1, seeing as it is neither the time nor the place, he has to swallow it down and level Yiseul with a look of admonishment. "Play nice tonight." His eyes fall to the smooth column of Yiseul's throat. Lingers there. "... And don't test me, please. I've been so—" They skip back up. Yiseul's smile is wicked; Minseon's, now, has the trace of something lethal. "...... I've been so good."
Yiseul has toys. No, not the kind you keep in a shoebox under your bed, sinner. The kind that walk around on two legs and live their own little lives that can easily be put on hold when Yiseul wants to play with them. Sort of like Sims, he thinks. People like Sungho, or Jae, or Seb, or Taegyeom a while back (he'd set that toy aside for Robby, now), but then he has his favourites. Ones like Minseon that are always such a challenge to put down. But Yiseul knows the dangers of growing too attached to a singular toy, so he never lets himself play with just one for too long, before moving onto the next.
But Minseon always manages to hold Seul's attention, as though there's some sort of magnetic pull between them that a part of him actively resists. If he gives in to that, he won't have complete control, and Yiseul needs control, especially around his dangerous toys. His tempting ones that make him lose his footing. "Mmm, I know." But he's not entirely stupid, there's something else to it, he's sure of it. He won't pry though, not with Minseon. Yiseul expects others to spill their guts to him, let him into the little crevices of their life, while he stays entirely guarded, yet he supposes he just respects Minseon too much to push. He'll find out one day, he assures himself. No one can keep anything from him forever.
There are things Seul finds intoxicating about Minseon; one of them being the way he reprimands him, keeping some level of control held out of Yiseul's reach, as if it's a game. Tonight, he supposes, he'll let Minseon have that. He'll behave himself, even though he's not too pleased about it. It's difficult being in Minseon's presence and not being able to climb into his lap. So, Seul sighs and nods, taking another sip of his drink. "I'll go easy on you, don't worry." He replies, never one to let things be easy. But it's obvious in his posture that he's going to lay off a little, even as his tipsy brain tells him to drag Minseon off somewhere more private. For once, he thinks 'not everything has to be sexual', and the thought shocks him. He takes a quick, long drink from his cocktail to wash that thought away, horrified that he'd even think it. That's not very fruity and fiery of you, Yiseul.
"Can I at least come to your room tonight?" This time, his voice is quieter, almost pleading as he leans closer and rests his chin on Minseon's shoulder.
𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 // 𝙼𝙰𝙸𝙽 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝙶𝙴
Yiseul performs Maverick as the Visual & Vocalist …
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1, 571 words
Fourty-eight hours feels entirely unfair to Yiseul, who spends a majority of his time during the first twenty-four hours glaring at anyone who dares criticise him. Who the hell do they think they are to comment on what he's doing? He even finds himself bristling uncomfortably any time Minseon even throws a mild suggestion his way. Survival shows, Yiseul thinks, are simply not his cup of tea. But, it seems it could be a necessary evil, if his goal truly is to debut. Many of the outcomes he'd gone over in his head, however, are undesirable. He envisions himself in a group with Minseon, Sungho, and Jae, and he can't help but chuckle to himself as he once more goes through the motions of the choreography, hating the way he's simply just not that good and he knows it. Dance has never been his forte, but he'd scrambled up the ladder, clawing his way above people, kicking them in the shins if he had to.
He's not the main vocal, or the centre, though Yiseul doesn't really mind, since he'd been given the position of 'visual'. He'd sat for a while, staring at himself in the mirror, and pondering it. Perhaps he should've been practising, but he can't help but wonder if he feels good about it not. At first, he'd loved it, the confirmation that Minseon thought him fitting for that role, and then he'd begun to think, something that he's not the biggest fan of doing most of the time. Did Minseon think him incapable of doing anything other than being attractive? Is this all down to his flirting? What was the motivation behind this decision? The question eats away at him, and he finds himself avoiding Minseon's eye, flitting between pleased, and confused.
Yiseul knows he's not as good a singer as some of the other guys here, but he's also not as good a dancer, and he certainly can't rap. So, he wonders, what are the hopes of him making it to the end? He's mediocre, and perhaps the only thing he's got going for him is his ability to put on a show. He's eye catching, but what's the point in catching eyes if he's got nothing of much merit to show them when they look at him? A constant mental battle rages as the days pass by and Yiseul does his best to keep his head down and train. He's not feeling himself, he thinks. It'll pass.
Perhaps one of the only things Yiseul has to take his mind off things during the two days they all spend working their asses off, is the odd stolen kiss in a corner out of sight of cameras, or after they finish shooting for the day, giving them a few hours of rest from being under constant scrutiny. Yiseul isn't sure how to get by in life without the attention of a pretty person on him at least once every few days. He loves that feeling of being desired, yet entirely unattainable. He's what people want, but can't have—perhaps that's the motivation behind his desire to be an idol.
With days filled with thoughts that stray far from the song he's meant to be practising, he wonders if he's going to be any good. If he's worse than everyone else already, surely it doesn't matter how hard he tries. Even so, he refuses to embarrass himself, and so he learns his lines, he learns the dance, he practise expressions, small gestures, and then goes over it all again and again and again until it plays in his head like a video on a loop, round and round until he can barely tell where the end of the song meets the start. Needless to say, he's not in tip-top form on the day of the performance, his expression stormy, his body woefully untouched. There's no privacy in a place like this, no way to sneak off as much as he wants, though perhaps it'll be a good detox, he thinks, as he distracts himself from any nerves that might dare tiptoe into his brain. Yiseul doesn't do nervousness.
Honestly, Yiseul thinks, as he stands in the starting position, he'd been given parts he rather liked. Maybe he's best suited for parts like the ones he's got right now, where his stage presence comes in handy, his voice is framed by the emphasis put on those particularly eye-catching parts. He may not be centre, but he supposes 'visual' carries a similar weight to it. It's a reassuring thought, and he finds himself looking over at Minseon's back as they stand with their heads hung. Perhaps he should've thanked him for picking 'visual' for him after all, instead of getting so lost in his own thoughts about it that he'd forgotten to reach out to him, remind him he's here with a simple touch. No, he flicks the thought away, as though it were merely a bug crawling up his leg.
No time for thoughts like that. The music starts and Yiseul's instantly glad he's in the back for the beginning. He feels as though he can relax a little and warm himself up a bit before he's fully focused on. His first line, he likes to think, is the perfect opportunity for him to show some personality. There's a mischievous tilt to the corner of his lips as he delivers his line, projecting his whisper with a raise of his eyebrows.
'I'm about to play.'
Then, he slips into the background again, going through the motions of the dance, trying his best to actually do it well. As much as people might think Yiseul doesn't care about anything or anyone, he's not here for no reason, he's got as much hope for his future as anyone else here, and if anything, he's got much more fight in it. He's willing to step on a few toes to get where he needs to be. He's not held back by desires to debut with friends, or the worries of someone he cares about wanting a position he has. This is about him. No one else. Yiseul doesn't owe anyone anything, and he likes to think he never will.
His next line has a slightly different energy, and he gives it his all, making sure his movements are tight, sharp, powerful, yet graceful, and his voice is steady. Perhaps his dancing lacks a little, but he feels like his expressions make up for it, always able to capture a judges eye and play like he's performing for no one but them. Yiseul knows how to capture attention, if nothing else. He feels a little like a human wave, as he moves in and out of focus, settling in the back until he;s tugged up to the shore and leaving behind his residue, making the sand glitter with his delicate touch.
Again, every line he has he gives it his all, and he thinks, as they near the end of the song, that he'd done well, put in his all and performed his lines without a single slip up, and hadn't messed up a single move. All in all, he thinks he's done well, as he settles into the finishing pose, trying to not to look too out of breath, though he's not sure he's doing a very good job of hiding the way his chest heaves and his legs tremble with the effort of keeping his upright. Mentally, he pats himself on the back for a job well done. Maybe it wasn't perfect, but he likes to think he showed as good as he'd done during practise.
Yet, it's not over yet—the critiques soon come flowing in, one after another, everyone receives their pinch of praise, and their heaping of criticism, and Yiseul can already taste the bitterness of an unexpected defeat on his tongue. Even those who he'd begrudgingly accepted were better than him were receiving criticism, and he can already tell his is going to be brutal. There's a moment of quiet once they reach him, and he wonders just how bad it is, until they begin by praising his ability to capture attention, and hold it on him when he's at the front, or singing a line. He can already hear the but approaching, though.
Approach it does, and slams into him, knocking the last of the air out of him. 'You disappear when you're in the background, and not singing a line', they tell him. Disappearing is perhaps the last thing Yiseul ever wanted to hear in reference to him. They tell him he could be really good if only he kept his level of energy and attention to detail consistent throughout the song, even when he thinks he's hidden in the back. He's still visible, and at least one person may have their eyes on him at all time, he's reminded, and he has to admit... they're right, as much as that pains him. Once they finish, he bows, his posture stiff with displeasure, expression almost cold, though his gaze is fixed on the ground at the edge of the stage. He can't meet anyone's eye, not yet, not until he'd found a way to pretend he didn't care about the critiques.
Because he can't have anyone knowing Yiseul cares about anything enough for it to upset him. He mustn't show weakness. Under any circumstances.
The week-long break before the big competition had Sungho on edge. He wished they would have given them a task beyond mindless dancing. Sungho wasn’t a very patient person and he’d rather focus on things with merit. An uneventful day passes and he found himself with the other boys on the hotel’s rooftop, mingling about. He wonders why the company gave the lot so much freedom, giving so much emphasis on bonding when they’ll be at each other’s throats in a few coming days. Then again, the thought teasingly calmed him. Peering from his glass, Sungho spotted Yiseul looking out into the sky. He could only see the outline of his jaw, and it made him tempted to draw out his thoughts at the moment.
Yiseul made Sungho pause, the words that were usually ready to ooze from his throat drawn up and knotted, and he wondered why. He reminded him of someone, but couldn’t pinpoint the resemblance. “You look pensive, everything alright?” He approached the other like they’re old, but distant pals, keeping his expression cool and simple. “Some of the others were asking for you to join, but I can keep them off of you… If you’d like. Mind the company?” The last bit is an afterthought, not sure where it came from.
“I swear, I come with pure intentions.” He felt a shift in the air the moment the boys boarded up the buses. The rough two hours spent together offered a glimpse of camaraderie and though Sungho tried to snuff it out, they were all weaved together now. So, no point in denying his initial interest in Yiseul. He wasn’t part of the task and yet he felt compelled to stay idly put, eyes taking notice of the subtle details. His dark brown eyes, and heart-shaped face, were warm in comparison to his more defined features. Lips Sungho figured to feel soft on top of… Well, he was getting side-tracked.
This is ridiculous. There's no way in hell that Yiseul's telling that twink anything about himself. Perhaps its hypocritical to call him that, when Yiseul himself is a proudly self-proclaimed twink, but something about spitting the word into the night feels therapeutic. Who the hell even is Park Haneul? He seems so meek, like a little bunny being stared down by a wolf, and yet Yiseul can practically smell that that's not all there is to him. To figure him out, though, he's going to have to talk to him, and the realisation is enough to make Yiseul need a stiff drink. Thank god he already knows Robby; that's one less problem to deal with. Get to know each other, they'd said. Well, Yiseul would rather gauge his own eyes out than let anyone know anything about him. Fuck that.
In truth, he's worried. This show is going to put him under a spotlight in a way he wasn't sure he'd mentally prepared for yet. It's different to simply debuting—he doesn't have to prove himself to the general public in the same way as he will in a survival show. He's not sweet, like Mason and Jamie, or breathtakingly talented like Minseon or Robby. He's not even the hottest guy here, as much as it pains him to admit. Speaking of hot guys, Sungho's voice draws him out of his thoughts, and it takes a second for Yiseul to hurriedly pull down the shutters on his emotions. "Everything's always alright." Yiseul answers with a forced smile, his insides writhing at the thought that Sungho had captured a glimpse behind Yiseul's mask, even if for a mere second. "You can stay." Yiseul simply answers, reaching out to tug on Sungho's wrist, pulling him right up next to him.
"Pure intentions?" An exaggerated pout adorns Yiseul's lips as he looks up ever so slightly to meet Sungho's eyes. "What a disappointment." And he turns back to look out over the lights dotted around beneath them, as if mirroring the sky above. "But how about you? How are you holding up?" Does Yiseul care? He's not really sure. Asking people about themselves is just how Yiseul works—if they're talking about themselves they're too busy to ask him about himself. Glancing sideways at the other man, Yiseul's mind turns over. There's always rumours flying around about this person, or that person, who's kissing who, who hates who, and Yiseul listens to it all because if he doesn't know everything about everyone, how can he ever possibly have the upper hand? But the little birds do talk, and if they're to be believed then Sungho's definitely someone interesting. Someone Yiseul wants to reach inside of, poke around in, figure out all about him and take the bits that could be of use to him.
𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐅𝐓𝐎𝐏 𝐁𝐀𝐑, Paju, SK
Mid February , 2023
w. 𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍
Alcohol might as well be Yiseul's best friend. Nothing else makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside, well, apart from cats. Cats definitely make him feel warm and fuzzy inside. At least it makes him feel something, something he can control, for the most part. In his hand he holds a tall glass of something fruity and fiery, with a little umbrella sticking out of the top. Fruity and fiery. A giggle erupts from his lips as he realises he might be described the exact same way, and he turns to his companion. His woefully sober companion.
"Seonie~" He draws his name out as though he can't get enough of the taste of it on his tongue, rolling the syllables around in his mouth for far too long. There he sits, that fucker. With his pretty mouth, and his pretty nose, and his fucking pretty hands. Had the bar stools not been attached to the floor he knows full well he'd have a leg over Minseon's right now, ever unable to keep his hands off the man. "Why don't you drink?" He's probably asked before, but in his alcohol addled mind he can't manage to locate the knowledge. Typically, Yiseul prides himself on knowing everything about everyone, and knowing for a fact that not a single person knows anything about him. Ever an enigma, the mysterious Yiseul.
He reaches over, trailing his fingers up along Minseon's forearm, until he lets his hand rest on his bicep, taking a long, deep inhale, as though contemplating something terribly heavy. "When are you going to choke me?" He asks as though he's merely asking the weather, then laughs and turns back to his drink, taking a long sip through the hot pink straw he'd requested. Yiseul likes to watch Minseon when he says stuff like that. He can't get enough of seeing the effects of his own words written so plainly on the other mans face. So, he glances over, well aware that his signature impish grin is tugging at the corner of his lips, giving away that he knows exactly what he's doing.
──── 𓆩*𓆪 𝑳𝑶𝑨𝑫𝑰𝑵𝑮 … Hello again !! It's 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐑 (he/him, 21+), @hdjamie mun, and this is my nightmare child 𝐑𝐘𝐔 𝐘𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐋 (21, Behigh Lab). He's like... a huge problem, apologies in advance. Yiseul initially comes across as a rather quite (but not shy) person. He's 'mysterious' to most people, as they typically figure out after telling him their entire life story that they barely know anything about him, even that his sister is Starlight trainee 𝐑𝐘𝐔 𝐌𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐍. He's unpredictable, and hot and cold a lot of the time, can snap at the smallest things and get very catty, and doesn't forgive easily (or at all). He's a big believer in 'revenge is sweet'. Primarily, he’s a singer, but is a very strong performer, and writes songs (which he will never show anyone—at least not for a long time). He loves playing the guitar, long night walks, and ruining lives (joking... or am I?). Here you can find his 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 (here I am slacking on another background... but it'll come ! promise ! ) and under the cut I’ll leave some general info about him to kickstart any plotting ideas. I also have a discord, given upon request !!
──── 𝑻𝑹𝑰𝑽𝑰𝑨
Yiseul is the older brother of @hdmolan , however they do not get along, or well, Yiseul doesn't get along well with her, but he won't ever give the real reason why
He grew up in Manhattan, NY, with all the high-expectations that successful parents usually put on their kids resting on his shoulders. But Yiseul wasn't anything like Molan, who arrived not even a year after his birth—it was as if they knew he was faulty, not perfect like they wanted
While not stupid, Yiseul wasn't a successful as his sister, in school or acting things he was pushed to do, only complying because he wanted to please his parents. He got great grades in English, Art, and Music, but his Math, Science and PhysEd grades were worryingly low
Young Yiseul wanted nothing more than to make friends and have fun, but he was naive and far too trusting, and would end up buying things for his 'friends', until he overheard them talking about how pathetic he was, and how if it weren't for his parents money they'd not keep him around. After that he didn't make friends anymore, at least not for a very long time
Due to people using him when he was young, he's incredibly private, and doesn't talk about his family, or home life at all, and tends to keep people at arms length, however he's nosy, and loves to have the upper hand, so he'll take and take and take, and give nothing back information wise—you can feel like you've told Yiseul your entire like story, and then realise you barely know a single thing about him
After the 'friend incident' when he was about 10, Yiseul began turning inwards, and realised the only person he can trust is himself. This tends to make him a little heartless and inconsiderate of other people, and when he's angry, he can be outright mean. It's safe to say he's got a lot of enemies
Yiseul doesn't talk about how he feels, so most of his emotions either go into his journal, or his lyrics—he's always writing, or doodling, but he absolutely will not share anything he writes with anyone
As 'turned inward' as he is, he likes attention, and being desired, admired, idolised—guess that's why he's in this line of work. He wants everyone to want to know all about him, and yet never be able to know a single thing. He wants to be an unknowable enigma (pretentious, honestly)
While he used to refuse to make friends (his early to mid teens were spent mostly alone) he's a little more open to it now, though he still keeps people at arms length, and does a bit of a 'push and pull' with people—pushing them away when he feels they've gotten to close, and pulling them back in when he decides he wants their attention again
During his solitary teen years, he focused on music lessons, writing songs, playing in the rock band he'd fallen into, and going for long walks (to the point he was almost reported missing a couple times when he failed to come home until the early hours of the morning)
He'd never thought of being an idol until Molan got signed and while he didn't want to copy her, he realised he didn't really have any idea of what he wanted to do, especially having just graduated and started college with an undetermined major, so he auditioned in the fall of 2020, and began training December 2020
He mainly focuses on singing, performance skills (like facial expressions and small gestures—born to be a center tbh) and songwriting, but he won't share his private lyrics with anyone, he writes separate less personal stuff if he has to show stuff
Yiseul loves old things—antiques, old music, old tech, etc. Nostalgic vibes (even though he wasn't around when most of the stuff he likes was made). Very much a 'tortured artist/manic pixie dream boy'
