(...) itâs a knee jerk response, one heâs sure junhai will probably take advantage of, too. but it doesnât feel, necessarily, like they ever have. every snarky word of how heâs never tried hard enough, has never done enough is a testament to that.
fighting fire with fire was useless. wise. yet, exceptionally hard to follow when venom was the norm. it was second nature to complain. to react, press each otherâs buttons. nit-pick words and occasions to fit repetitive arguments. there was a plethora, after all. it all rounded up to blindness towards one another. a refusal to accept othersâ opinions because no one can surpass the lyrical i. they all might have been a bit ego-driven. but thatâs survival, even if it leads to damage that couldnât be fixed.Â
it didnât have to be that. looking through the past, junhai might have questioned it, too, whenever silence was slicing through the air of waiting rooms as neither one of them bothered to engage. why do we hate each other? hate was a strong word that could only fit after patience ran thin. it never felt like they were given room for a healthy amount of respect towards one another. maybe they were just too different. or maybe each of them were too busy figuring out the ropes individually instead of giving a chance for the group to naturally grow into the industry. how couldnât they think for themselves after being pulled from the competitive trainee environment? ultimately, it still was a survival of the fittest, just on different grounds. a sample of the mighty in which junhai fell under only due to pure luck.
he tried his best to get a spot between the strongest. there was a time when the rule he lived by was to eat and sleep in the practice room, time in between spent spilling sweat in order to find organic movement. back then there was hope to improve. but trainees that sometimes wandered into the same dance studio with respectful bows out-danced him, showing a level of skill he wasnât close to after overall thirteen years. it felt like time wasted. any attention he got ended up a burden, as he felt too undeserving to be appreciative towards any part of olympusâ achievements.Â
youâre alright. ok, not perfect, but fine enough. there was always something off, junhai and san were similar in that way. sometimes the wording was just enough to keep him trying. lately, hearing how average he was only drew more darkness over him. it was discouraging. he was exhausted of giving his all towards a goal he could never reach. there were many moments in which the want to give up was overwhelming, most of them lingering after conversations with his parents. but he held back. a feeling of responsibility towards the group nagged at him. junhai felt like he had to make the schedules work and respect olympus as colleges for the time being. thus, when jealousy mixed with diplomacy, it wasnât surprising why junhai was ticked off by san choosing to rest. putting himself over the group. understandable, yet it remained ignored.
âtell that to the staff that worked to put your schedules together,â truthfully, junhai wasnât even aware of what sanâs schedule was. it was blind anger, one that made a frustrated hand rub on his eyes before digits pulled right at the base of his hair. the little conversation they were having was going nowhere. not surprising. it never did. both of them were too prideful.
âi really thought that at least youâre in check with reality but he more i listen to you, the more i find that doubtful,â sanâs response hits a button in him. the one that triggers his native-tongue. a throaty hiss in cantonese trickles past his lips, a sign of a successful bite. itâs the right amount of irritating to have junhai flying off the small couch to pace around the studio. pages with lyrics become a distraction, the paper he reached out for hitting his thigh purposefully. as if it helped him to think, eyes jumping around the room before coming back to lift the weight of sanâs stare.Â
âcongratulations, you donât give a fuck. so what? what does that change? in the end, weâre a team whether you like it or not. weâre just as equally olympus, despite of who apparently works his ass more. a miserably dysfunctional group. if one of us crashes and burns, it affects all of us.â he feels his next words before they come out. they have been bubbling inside him for a long while, threatening to spill. commonly known between olympus. it was only a matter of time when they came out. âah, but why do i care. please, keep on playing with fire. crash and fucking burn to the ground with all your might. itâs not like iâm gonna stay to feel the consequences, anyway.â by the way his voice calms it almost seems like an end of a conversation, an end of him trying to speak his reality into sanâs mind. but the content was too heavy to be left alone, which junhai failed to realize.
it makes him scoff, fume all over again. respect. âkeep- what? i- please, enlighten me about your apparent respect towards me because it seems to me our definitions donât match,â he wants to go off further, finger pick occasions. the vivid ones, painted in the darkest tones of the colour palette. the only ones in his head. but heâd rather not search for more fuel to the distress that reflected in his eyes.
(...) âlike i havenât done fucking everything for this group. like you all donât slack off. donât bother getting better. youâve been here just as long as i have. when are you going to sing better? isnât that your responsibility as an idol?â maybe heâs being hyperbolic, but he hates it. hates how everything he does gets taken for granted. hates how hard he pushes for a group that he doesnât even like. that some of the members seem intent to sail olympus toward the rocks, crash it in two years time. watch everything theyâve built up collapse, get swallows by the waves. pulled apart by the tide of newly debuted groups.
it was almost pathetic how human empathy was missing inside of junhai. a conscious decision of a flick of a wrist to spread ink on a paper. right after - an unconscious one of valuing the contract more than a person, forgetting their feelings and emotions as if they were non-existent. it was much like giving away oneâs free will after making a deal with the devil himself;Â beckoning the most selfish and egocentric parts and allowing them to surface as long as it didnât cause problems. junhai put himself first as he co-existed in lines of the group. olympus had to exist so he they could exist. the group had to be well in order for him to take his leave when time came and stop existing in the undeserved bright lights. so that the reasoning of health issues midas will likely put forward would be believable. so that no one would hold anger or point fingers towards any hint of inter-group trouble that could bring the groupâs reputation down.Â
junhai had no intention of damaging to the group even though there was no occasion in which the felt needed or necessary. how nice. there was a mild understanding in him that he held no significant importance to the group or any of the members, thus he carried no spite. most of the time junhai got just as much as he deserved with the little he had to offer when progress was minimal. eight years, yet he wasnât even close to a position that would make him feel significant enough to indulge himself in a fight with midas. he wanted to go home peacefully. a request that seemed valid only if each member behaved, a good enough reason to become selfish and obsessive. demand the same dedication back. how shameful it is to admit willingness to execute a contract that enslaved.
complete tunnel vision.Â
maybe the switch that seemed broken would turn on had he ever approached san as an adult instead of blaming and labelling. made an effort to know what lies behind explosive fits of a member that had been sucked into the industry at an age too young. however, the concept of consideration and turning the other cheek was lost somewhere in translation. not when the goal he was desperate to reach was visible in the horizon. thus, junhai never asked or considered to care about who had packed schedules and who didnât. in the end, a schedule was an obligation which had to be executed just like they had agreed upon on legal ground with the company that paid for their success. that invested into those schedules appearing under their names. âthis is my business, because in the end what you pull reflects on the group. i donât need that,â he didnât. it was always him. âi donât care if i had ten vacations and you had zero, your job is your job. try doing it properly for once. and the fact that you werenât caught doing something stupid doesnât take away from the fact that it was fucking stupid,â his tongue twists in the middle of the sentence. heâs unsure of whether the messy words had to do with the fact he was a foreigner trying to outargue a native or the fact that he could swear he felt acid on the back of his tongue as his head boiled in leveled rage.
âoh,â a scoff followed. âwell, good thing our useless, slack-off selves have you. our fucking dance protege. overwhelming talent. thank you for being so kind and keeping us relevant; dragging our asses on your shoulders for all these years because all we do is rest and slack off.â it comes out layered in thick honey-sarcasm, junhai poking his colleague after twisting the words directed at him. âstop acting so fucking high and mighty, step back onto the human ground and maybe youâll finally notice other five members in the same practice rooms as you. iâm one of them, too, by the way.â itâs hard to miss the hints of defense in the articulation of words, his hand a witness as it went to point at his own chest for a sole second before dropping back on his thigh. âi am aware that i am still absolute shit at everything i do. but with this job you have to be more than just able to hold a note for fifteen seconds. but i guess you wouldnât understand that if you decide to give yourself mini vacations instead of attending schedules. â heâs quiet for a moment, jaw clenching time and time again, gaze revealing a state in between agony and a meltdown. âi get it, you hate the group. we all do. but at least have some basic respect towards those people who will continue after we actually have a choice, â itâs implied, light and hovering. junhaiâs future. one he wanted to spew many times in the past minutes. one that he was about to admit after another button is pushed.
(...) so she decided to play it safe and not ask him anything that she was curious about. Â
a nasal hum left him, followed by a nod. despite the whole irony, junhai played his part well as he engages in myungeunâs answers. âstill, take care,â the syllables were drawn out in a manner that could be described only as olympusâ june. short and to the point as he smiled his way into ignoring anything else he should have said, had he been allowed to speak more. in that alternative universe he would have reminded the girl to care for the ones driving her. but that would be a scenario of another lifetime.
the produce project rings bells that resonate throughout his body, gaze peeling off of the girl to catch a sight of san somewhere on his left. âproduce?â itâs almost as if he didnât understand or hadnât heard of the program by the way his tone went an octave higher. except that he had heard of pro.j. it was the talk of the industry, exciting but also threatening to the ones that already had their thrones. meanwhile, junhai didnât bother to learn more about the show, having lost interest in being an idol years back but continuing due to respect for his contract. all he knew was pieces heâd heard of passing idols and trainees in his company and what he got from the olympusâ schedule meeting where a heavy role was dropped onto one of their shoulders. âiâm pretty sure our san will be a mentor, no?â it slips before he could stop it, his eyes snapping back onto the girl in wonder of whether the news were already announced. they should have been.
for a moment junhai almost thinks that ryu myungeun meant just that - his fellow member taking an important role in the project. but the more her words set, the more the interpretation did not make any sense to the idol. with a slight tilt of his head, motion remindful of a conflicted puppy, he slowly deciphers that the girl had been hinting at herself competing in it.
âaaah,â drawn out is a noise of understanding, low and purposeful to keep the conversation between them. he might have been a little slow, but common sense remained. midas hadnât revealed who theyâre sending in, or maybe it was junhai that didnât pay attention to it. he learned a few names only trough whispers. thus, he was sure myungeun wasnât supposed to tell anyone either. âyouâre gonna be..â instead of finishing the sentence the man chooses to make a vague gesture in the air with his index finger, eyes skipping around her features to familiarize -- somehow it brought him pride to think that he was trusted with that information, the feeling leading to genuine want to watch the show. âthatâs very exciting! i canât imagine how youâre feeling now, though. are you nervous?â
(...) âtheyâll believe anything we say.â maybe. arguably. theyâre not one of the more well-known ships. ryujin hates coining that term but truth is hard to unsee. he and junhai are a random pair. âwe can say that. and we can say we missed them and wanted to check up on them. ask if theyâve seen the car safety video we did. tell them to stay cool and hydrated. all that bullshit that makes them think we care. and weâre sweet. and weâll get posts on pann or tweets on twitter. the whole she-bang.â the tricks of the trade, really. too long in the industry, and ryujin knows them too well. manipulates them even better.
hiatus was a word that weighed a ton to the fans. the small amount of free time olympus had after âtell meâ promotions was labeled that, dividing them into groups of supporters and groups of opponents. nothing a small comeback announcement and a few teaser pictures couldnât fix. but that also meant promoting before anyone even heard the song or saw the video. a vlive is one way to do it. a platform idols could use for anything their mind carried. in legal lines of contracts, of course.
a vlive was great, indeed. especially with someone like ryujin - he understood what they had to do, understood that playing pretend had to be done. doing business with the older was easy after accepting the mask he supported for what it was and getting used to his idol antics. though, the problem was that junhai had some deep-set issues with his own played character. he was tired. the type of exhausted no amount of spas or physical therapies could fix. whenever he smiled into the camera, it felt like the sides of his mouth were pulled by hooks, torturing him. yet he did. time and time again. just like he did once more as he pressed the âgo liveâ button. the smile was nothimg more but an attempt to showcase remains of a âconversationâ the members of olympus were having before turning the camera on.Â
how pathetic.
âoh,â a gasp. animated expressions were effective and appreciated by clueless onlookers, a lesson learned early on by a people pleaser. âhyung, i think itâs working,â itâs all barely a murmur, an attempt to create a bond between them before showing it into anyoneâs faces. âisnât it? i donât know..â junhai leaned back, squinting at the screen and naturally moving a bit closer to ryujin while trying to settle in his spot. they werenât going to be moving much, might as well settle in. âeveryone, do you see us? can you hear us? this is our third attempt to start a broadcast....â at what point did junhai learn to blatantly lie without blinking? he wasnât sure. the progression was lost within the constant pretending.
then heâs quiet, swaying carelessly from side to side, lightly brushing shoulders with ryujin. the number of people watching increased within seconds, yet, ignoring the number and pretending to be lost is what he was thought. itâs cute, a vpick moment, they said. âeveryone, are we laggy? ah... we should have done this at your place, my internet is a joke.â
(...) âwe all talk to each other, giving little ideas here and there with the producers. thereâs plenty of things we havenât done yet, but you all just gotta wait and see what we have up our sleeves.â smirking slightly. keep it short and sweet, nothing more and nothing less.Â
observing roman was a foreign experience for a person tied down like junhai. there was a certain level of calm in him, seemingly making the environment his home despite the awareness of fans behind the tinted window. just the right amount of excited to make the radio mc smile and nod at his first remarks. involuntarily, a similar upturn of lips reflected in his own face, a few mandatory nods to compliment the fiction of cooperation between olympus and producers. a bitter laugh bubbled within his chest, as he felt ridiculed by the fact that even his movement was unnatural, controlled by forces watching their backs. he had to wash the petty snort away with a gulp of water before it surfaced or started burning his chest.
listening to his colleague talking, junhai couldnât help but feel sorry towards roman. despite the later sliding trough the question and the ones following smoothly while keeping in mind his own paper of directions, it was unsettling to be thrown into a radio broadcast knowing that most of the job would have to be done by someone else. as if there wasnât enough reason to believe that the other five members were carrying junhai as it was, he found himself sitting in midst of a pile of useless he couldnât dig himself out of for eight years. or was it that he hasnât tried to do so once.
for a moment his eyes stuck on the general direction of their manager. it only took for his gaze to move towards the mc, who had been watching him subconsciously lean forward and inhale a breath. âi think,â he felt multiple eyes in the room on him, some curious and some threatening. the later was ignored. âwithin the group, weâre quite different. we each have our own taste and preference that we bring to our music the best to our ability,â a lot of words come out all at once, white knuckles of their manager a great contrast to the change of shading in his face. not that junhai could see much in his peripheral vision. âwe have been fortunate enough to be introduced to different producers that care for our intake despite our role in the group. sometimes our suggestions clash, sometimes they fit with the style of the producer... â the calmness in his voice is almost too thick, a smile prominent in the tone, colouring his words light hues of yellows and pinks.
it was obvious that such words werenât expected from him, from the way the midas representative stared him down and the mcâs eyebrows had risen curiously. nothing he said was really that wrong or suggestive of the truth.Â
reality catches up to junhai and his voice cuts out for a moment. his first instinct is to peek at roman by his side before masking the chaos within his own mind with a snicker. a mellow hum follows it as he opens his mouth again. âi guess what iâm trying to say is that in the end, you canât end up doing the same thing twice when thereâs so many different people and styles involved in the process.â he slowly leans back to rest against the back of his chair, eyes moving back on roman to blink blankly. did he just screw up?
hiiii!! please forgive me, iâve been terribly slow with messages/replies, i have been working extra this week since next week iâm travelling a little so my messages/replies are/will be... inconsistent! i promise i havenât forgotten anyone!! i will get back to you as soon as i get some replies & starters out. ^^
(...) âi wanted to say hi inside but you were on the other side of the table, and besides i was just planning on stopping by when they dragged me down to sit⊠how have you been by the way? i think the last time we saw each other was the year-end awards last year.â
the idol world functioned of on a receive what you didnât ask for basis. at least it seemed like so most of the time. want some peace and quiet? hereâs a new comeback schedule. want to keep your privacy? hereâs a bunch of fans following you wherever you go. their own personal messiah. want to be a people pleaser? hereâs someone youâre in a relationship with, despite you meeting for the third time in your life. the road of an idol always managed lead in a wrong direction. where reality was defined by what hosts and netizens were willing to talk about through implications or straightforwardly, the voice of the subject fading into the background.
trying to claw his way into reality is what lead to words harsher than intended (âtrust me, i have no intention of dating youâ). maybe the wording wasnât exactly right, causing some misinterpretation between the pair. junhai really meant no harm. sooyeon was objectively beautiful and she seemed delicate. it was that his mind was elsewhere, failing to consider the rudeness weighing down his words in an attempt to clear the air between them. at least it didnât lead into open flames and despite their previous title of a rookie couple, neither one held any negativity towards each other.
the circumstances they were under seemed mildly familiar, a bitter laugh escaping his lips before he could stop it. âsame here,â he admits while crossing his arms involuntarily - there was some discomfort in admitting the reality out loud. âthe guy praised me once like five years ago during a show and it was aired. somehow that makes me his friend or whatever,â thereâs not that much joy in his tone, the fact that he now was in debt forever to the man not settling within him right.Â
the idol reality. how riveting. at first, oneâs in debt to the company that paid for their commodities, lessons and whatever else that was considered crucial during training. after years of paying off the initial debt, idols are provided with attention. views and fans donât fall from the sky. thus, idols are in debt to the ones that give them a push, welcomed them on their shows despite the level of popularity. itâs impossible to escape it.
âno, itâs fine, donât worry about it,â his voice is much less nerved, contained and even fitting the smiles they exchanged. âi would have said hello myself hadnât the woman next to me talked my ear off,â and executive of a broadcasting station. he was painfully sure that midas would be proud. he couldnât say the same about himself. âit has been a while, mm? weâre that type of friends... iâm alright.. you know how it is,â to him the word translated to miserable on a human scale. but he was an idol, a perfectly operating doll. such words didnât exist in that world. âi dislocated my shoulder not too long ago,â a pull in the wrong direction by someone that claimed to love him too much, a crack and a painful smile trough gritted teeth was the aesthetic of the event. âhad to pull out of promotions... i think iâm fine now, though. it hasnât hurt since a few weeks back. what about you? you seem to be doing fine, i think i saw you in a telekom commercial the other day.â he musters a laugh. genuine. despite all the negativity heâs gathered towards his career, it was nice to see that someone could thrive under the pressure.
and that pisses san of for inexplicable reasons. just settles like resentment in his gut. âdonât push me, hyung.â itâs a thinly veiled threat. they both know it.
maybe the words left his mouth because the spite for rebelling was underlined with jealousy. one that hid deep under junhaiâs refusal to accept such act from a fellow member. after all, he was a puppet. perfectly obedient at all times, living by the rules of the contract that felt no less than a leash or a harness. but what does he know, he was the one willing to play along. junhai played by the book, too afraid to deviate from stated and implied rules. consequences frightened him enough to refuse friendships and ruin relationships. all for the sake of midas media. all for the sake of his career. one that he didnât even want to continue in the first place.Â
junhai grew very sure of his future with every year that went under the spotlight. regret was overwhelming whenever he was forced to bite on his tongue under the watchful gaze of their manager, whenever a gift from a fan was received in a private setting, whenever he was given filler lines or called an âokâ dancer. full to the brim, junhai still managed to stay in lines. he told himself he was just diplomatic by nature, completely and utterly respectful of any formal documentation that had his signature on it as a sign of compliance. it was proper reasoning. repeating it over and over made the man believe it enough to let himself complain when others took steps of freedom from the slave contract. meanwhile the one complaining about it could only wish to direct a fuck you to midas media before his contract came to an end.
âyou do stupid shit and everyoneâs just supposed to watch? canât you handle a little conversation?â the only part of his contract junhai hasnât been careful around is the members. the piece of paper implied a bond, no one specified of what it should have been. thus, the look junhai had on his face while taking san in from head to toe was unflattering distase and judgement. as long as no one witnessed it outside of the company, it was fine. âafter all, you did come back from a vacation, fresh faced and rested. you can handle a few words.â
it felt like a competitive game of ping pong, blind threats and spite bouncing back and forth in healthy doses whenever they were in one room. maybe they would have affected one another more or drew conclusions hadnât they been accustomed to the bickering. now all the words did was ignite level one rage, sanâs tone that held a message reflected in the rise of the elderâs brows. it didnât take much for junhai to nerve. the little patience he had with the group he unfortunately was a part of giving him no space to step back. he only knew how to attack, losing filters and thoughts along the way. âyouâre acting like a child,â the start isnât even a direct response to sanâs words, a murmur underneath his nose accompanied with a deep exhale. âitâs not about whether iâd care or not. itâs about you forgetting that the way you act reflects on all of us,â as if that should even matter to junhai in the long term.
âiâm not pushing you, iâm just suggesting you finally grow up and take your responsibilities like a person your age should,â his tone is present under the heavy gaze he received. âi get it, you want some freedom. no matter how much you hate the idea of being in the same boat, we all signed our names under the same contract. you should consider that before going through with stupid ideas that could sink all of us,â could a few missed schedules really do that much to olympus? maybe. maybe it would bring their overall reputation down, maybe it would start some more rumours. nothing that they and their army of followers couldnât handle. yet, it was easier to think that it will than admit that junhai wasnât just a background member. he was also a coward.
P R O M P TÂ ( + 5 exp, + 5 dance )
â detail your character training/practicing
the ground was cold.Â
cold was the ground.Â
was the ground cold? who in hell knows. maybe it was. or maybe it was just junhai; an empty stomach clawed his insides, sharp pain pulsing from his ribs and sending signals to the length of his developed lean muscles. âitâs for you, itâs for youâ, a message send trough every half a second as a new wave of pain numbed his body to the point of oblivion, like an open would exposed to the environment of dance studio no. 4 in midas media.
did he see fog form at the tip of his lips or was it really that freezing? maybe. maybe it was actually freezing. in no way, shape or form could it have been a delusion one someone might encounter seconds before passing out and forgetting about the concept of time and atmosphere. in fact, itâs quite a calming one, as white fog embraces the entirety of oneâs vision. itâs almost nurturing, familiar. vision turning white was all he knew beneath the same lights, walls and mirrors.Â
junhai couldnât move. or maybe he just wasnât willing to try, he realizes as the fog clears and heâs suddenly met his own eyes in the mirrored wall. when did he start looking at himself? he couldnât remember. rightfully so, as prior minutes were a tragic lullaby of static and his own deep breaths. result of losing balance while dancing. and maybe the diet. surely, the diet, as his body chose to use up the last bits of his energy for the evening to warm him up, causing his legs to give out. not that it work, shivers running along his back.
he stared into the mirror where hollowed out remainings of a man glared right back. he was see-trough. almost ghost-like, much like the men in the scary movies his parents let him watch every other friday ever since he turned eleven. he looked sick, like he belong in a hospital room, lighting of which would stress the contrast between colourless skill and the black bags he supported underneath his eyes.
( you donât seem like youâre eating much, honey. iâm eating. what about sleep, do you sleep enough. would i be smiling right now if i didnât? relax! )
except that he was trained to smile. thatâs what he did in front of fans. thatâs what he did in front of parents. and thatâs what he did in front of himself, the dimple associated with joy suddenly becoming another black hole, one that perfectly matched his eye-bags. three black holes formed a bermuda triangle on his face. it seemed fitting, considering how lost he felt after years of dead ends in the maze junhai so desperately tried to beat.
there werenât enough fingers on his both hands to recall every event that quite literally pressed him to the ground. year by year, title track by title track, dance lesson by dance lesson, it remained the same progression:
âokay, but could be betterâ
do they mean they see potential in him? okay, heâll try. heâll spend the next few days in the dance studio, the rubber of his shoes squeaking in protest against the wooden floor. as if they had him a message (donât even try).
âitâs alright, you can switch between corner positionsâ
do they mean they are willing to have him closer to the center? sometimes he moved up a spot or two, it was his own type of progress that wasnât worth all the time spent in the dance studio. at least it didnât feel like it was. but it sparked false hope. next time his shoes made contact with the floor chanting âabove average?, above average!?, above average...?â
âyouâre in sync with the others, that counts for somethingâ
do they mean his moves seemed smoother and more fluid? heâs in his own bed, yet he doesnât sleep that night, monitoring his own movements in midst of ones of the fellow olympus members. the light coming from his little device juneâs squinting at burns his eyes ( the olympus stylist lightly smacks him in the cheek with the end of a make-up brush and shoves eye drops into his hands how will you look on camera!!!! )
âjust focus on putting on a performance and no one will noticeâ
they only mean that heâs enough the way he is - a performer over a dancer, small mishaps concealed by flirting with fans and cameras. maybe that could be enough. maybe he could just smile and stare his way trough any move that looked messy and out of place.
but he was so sick of being average. maybe he should try again? this time a little harder?
âfine, fine,â words float in the chilly air as the exhausted man laying helplessly on the floor speaks to the one mimicking him in the mirror. âiâll try again, after five more minutes.â
a deal is made while his cheek is pressed against the light wood and eyes shut tightly, his own reflection disappearing into nothingness.Â
(...) she wanted to ask if he would vote for her, or at least keep her dreams in his thoughts. but that all seemed like too much, especially now and especially as there were many others waiting their turn to talk to him.
yet, sometimes the routine of meetings and greetings wasnât all that bad. maybe it was that the event had to do with safety that it felt incredibly mellow despite there being minimal security around. a thought flashed in his head - was it too much to say that it was the irony of olympus becoming advocates for security let reality catch up with some of the faces he recognized in the crowd. made them rethink their actions (no, he found out later). maybe the ones that followed closely on a casual day would finally start choosing their lives over olympusâ.
it was almost enjoyable, the conversations held with different characters and personalities as fans kept moving, rushed by an intimidating man that could barely hurt a fly behind closed doors. maybe the path he chose at thirteen wasnât that terrible. at least not during the moments smiling didnât strain his muscles or end with a pounding migraine. respect for a person, one that he as a member of olympus seemed to have lost was resurfacing on a warm summery saturday afternoon.Â
âwe were just laughing backstage that weâre a very interesting group to promote it, donât you think?â a thought of his own weaved into a silky lie of a community within the group is openly raised. a white lie for the sake of the imaginary bond, which their manager didnât find that amusing as he made his presence known with a chuckle somewhere behind junhai. midas media was listening, always. âbut now that we are..â reaching out to gently place his hands on her shoulders, head tilting to catch the girlâs gaze was all in character of the man li junhai had created for himself. a delusion that appeared due to the restraints handed by his own company, as midas tried to save itself from embarrassment ignited by nonsense that escaped the lips of a foreigner. âyouâll have to promise to always wear a seat belt, never text while driving and stop anyone from doing so, too. every olympian now carries this mission. weâre now responsible for all of your safety,â the tone of his voice is almost too serious for the grin pulling at the tips of his lips. it was a way to charm, offer attention to fans in vibrant colours while he spoke only words relevant. no more, no less. that wasnât allowed in the midas ten year plan of economy.
ryu myungeun, the name is on replay like a broken record inside his head, accepted and documented with a nod. âitâs very nice to meet you, ryu myungeun,â his hands slowly leave her shoulders to linger in the air, palms up - like a silent offering of stability while he stared the girl down, gaze warm and dipped in honey. âtell me, what do you do, myungeun? are you still a student?â itâs a completely different path from the promotional one. the atmosphere feels much more personal, junhai acknowledging that himself with a drop of in his tone to keep the conversation between them.
the job of an idol, li junhai learned, wasnât all about singing, rapping or dancing. the majority of the work might have had to do with that in combination with spending hours in hands of different stylists just to look the right amount of pretty once cameras start rolling. another part was left behind the scenes. all the networking and sucking up to ones that held power in tv and radio stations just for the sake of an extra minute or two on a broadcast when the timing is right was something no one spoke of loudly. just trough implications, as new events and birthday parties ended up listed on schedules.
a work colleague was a proper term to use considering the person whose birthday party junhai had excused himself from. the term shifts to a friend in the public eye, of course, because after eight years of a group being reinvited to their show, how couldnât the line in between acquaintances and friends be crossed. while in reality, junhai never even once spoke to the man outside a work environment. discomfort laid on his shoulders the whole evening, thus, before the second round of drinks could be passed out around the table, the idol took his leave to which the jubilee could only smile and thank for attendance. nice guy, junhai thought, too bad he was following sour intentions of his company to give a second thought.
alcohol wasnât junahiâs best friend, a tendency to stray away from substance developed after the first ugly encounters. yet the drink he consumed out of shear politeness kept him warm in the slight chill of the summer night despite the lack of a jacket on his black shirt. that, and his heartbeat rising at the opening of the door he had escaped from a moments ago, the wood hitting his back in a shallow thud.Â
startled, he cusses in his mother-tongue, moving slightly to the side while patting his chest to let the person through, coming eye to eye with heavenâs sooyeon. this time itâs a genuine smile making his way to his eyes. âoh? leaving so soon?â they debuted together eight years back, which meant that they were bound to guest together in various shows. it was and is much easier to throw rookies together than mix the different generation idols up. maybe it was the fact olympus and heaven showed up the same places that kindled the rumours of there being something more than acquaintanceship between sooyeon and junhai. even though it caused some uncomfortable conversations, the past was the past and junhai would have liked to think that from it grew a friendship of âtalk to you once in six months if we stumble upon each otherâ type of bond. âdid you leave the rest of âheavenâ behind?â
P R O M P T Â ( + 5 exp, + 5 perf )
â post an edit of your characterâs public instagram
for someone portrayed as accessible, his posting was as unpredictable as the weather. sunny with a chance of forgetting that sns exists for a while until his manager asks (more like orders) him to post yet another staged picture of himself or his own groupmates, an occasional video update or two falling along into the mix. thereâs almost no random pictures on his public instagram account, all is staged to somewhat showcase his âcharmsâ. though, he did openly follow a few puppy picture instagram accounts from which he had reposed pictures once or twice. all those pictures are deleted now since their manager kept frowning. this account is for publicity, he told him.
junhaiâs apartment ; @idryujin
â detail your character doing a vlive broadcast
there only one rule junhai seemed to live by when it came to schedules with the other members of olympus. it was one that reminded him to stay back from the spotlight, let their talent do the job for the group while he remained relatively muted on stage as well as off. no matter how distasteful he felt towards the label he managed to stick on himself, the modest amount of words he spoke wasnât that impossible due to the amount of members with their own roles being a great distraction to anyone watching. the lack of them, however, pushed the idol to the front and into the limelight where following scripts was much harder task when eight years worth of words bottled inside fizzled and begged to come out. yet, junhai worried about image too much to ever refuse yet another order from their manager. playing it up friendly with one of the members didnât seem so bad, especially since practice ended earlier due to the so-called schedule that was meant to remind their fans that the rumours arenât true. there is no discord between the members.
ryujin was the one to end up in his apartment for the play date. looking back to their years of being together as a group, it made sense why the management would want the pair on a broadcast together. the silent diplomat who did nearly anything for fanservice mixed with the one who craved attention and thrived under the spotlight. itâs either a recipe for success or chaos.
âif you want something to drink, please help yourself to the fridge,â the first words that fall out of his mouth towards ryujin arenât something a great host would say, but at least heâs decent enough to offer a drink. the sentence is followed by a vague gesture towards the kitchen in the open space of his apartment before junhai could plop on the ground between the couch and the glass coffee table to frown at his phone in an attempt to set up a broadcast. that was the main impromptu mission of the evening. not entertaining his guest.
thereâs not that many words pulling at junhaiâs tongue in front of ryujin in a plead to come out. maybe because he hasnât got any opinion on the member. or maybe it was that he didnât have that much to say to any of the members. either way, a question comes up only after a few filters are changed, landscape is set and the title is filled with a âwe hope this is working because the wifi isnât great k k kâ. âso how do you want to do this?â torso shifting towards ryujin, his forearm rests on top of the softness of the couch, eyes set on the other as if he was waiting for orders. âdo we just say we decided to hang out after practice or is that not convincing enough?â
(...) what was she going to say? would she be able to act normal? to not stutter? or suddenly forget how to speak? it was too late to come up with a strategy; it was her turn.
âhello! good job today,â ah, so lame.
in junhaiâs case, meeting fans was likely a more important part of his job than all the singing and dancing heâd done. it was all a part of one big, never-ending performance used to make him feel like he wasnât constantly in the background. life was made a stage after the attention heâd given to the fans came back like a boomerang to only hit him in the head. it lead to realization that receiving an idolâs attention in korea wasnât taken with a grain of salt. meanwhile, giving attention to someone as an idol rockets one straight into the public property lane where rules and boundaries have been forgotten.Â
he didnât hate them, how could he. a certain amount of admiration towards the olympians was present somewhere in junhai. what would they be if not for the dedication their own personal army showed at any given occasion. everywhere olympus stepped, crowds followed. they were there even if it was a random occurrence, like becoming the ambassadors of traffic safety for reasons junhai himself couldnât put a finger on. even the lawful member forgot to wear a seat-belt from time to time, the van they traveled in used to a sleeping idol more than a clicks of a seat-belt.
sometimes the fans could be scary. because sometimes the doorbell to his home rang and he was met with eyes of a fan that grabbed a hold onto his hands and begged for a cup of tee, thank god for front door cameras. sometimes he came home to bags of food laid out on his doormat. he always took it in, too scared that if they come back to check, the fans might take offence in finding the food untouched. sometimes he visited china only to meet the same faces he saw in korea around his neighborhood, it was only later that junhai figured that fansites sometimes followed them around the globe. but the fact of the matter was that he brought it upon himself and should be thankful for the brooding nature of the fans.
so he smiled at each passing fan, locking gazes with various shapes of eyes and fanning their cheeks whenever they seemed to become a shade of red darker. that was what junhai did. meet some fans while you while we pack up the stuff we had and take it to the cars.Â
âoh! the nicest hello i heard today, thank you!â his hands come together to clap as he bowed his head towards the girl in front before waving at her with both of his hands. âi donât really remember what i said on stage there,â lie, he was given a speech to memorize by their manager. âbut i will take your word for it,â a toothless grin bloomed on his lips as he observed her from his spot, signature eye contact held. âthank you for coming to see us today! whatâs your name?â
 local radio station ; @idxrmn
â detail your character doing a radio appearanceÂ
in all honesty, junhai didnât know what he was doing sitting alongside roman in a radio broadcast. there was one web camera, of course, and there were a few fansites watching behind a tinted glass, but radio broadcasts overall were focused on talking. one thing junhai was not allowed to do. technically speaking, at least, as a neat sheet of paper was given to him by their manager in preparation. this is all the answers you need, please donât deviate from what is written. no threats or if you donâts simply due to june following rules well. he didnât speak from his mind for eight years, there was no reason for the management to believe he will start. though, trust can be easily broken under the right circumstances.
âthis evening the eight year old idols of olympus have joined us today, thank you for coming, guys.â
that was rather basic, he could pull it off without scripts. hellos, thank yous and confirmation of excitement was programmed in junhaiâs head under the nametag of idol etiquette. so he does just that, the mood in the tone of his voice matching the one of the hostsâin an attempt to fit into the atmosphere. there were also the nods meant to emphasize and smiles meant to charm. all completely useless on radio. junhai was already limited. now he felt completely out of his element. if one could even call the hiding between gazes and smiles that he did an element.Â
there was nothing the idol junhai could do but to sit stiffly in his chair and follow the polite conversation with his eyes as they jumped back and forth between people that were talking in the room.Â
âyou guys showed us a variation of styles. it seems like youâve done it all. have you spoken amidst yourself or your producers what else is left to show?â
thatâs not really for them to decide with the amount of impact olympus had on their music as a group. it canât slip past any of their lips on any given occasion. the lack of absence to the particular question on his paper adds to the idea, throwing him off balance. thankfully the question isnât directed at anyone in particular, so in search for a proper answer himself, junhaiâs eyes snap to roman as he blinked a few times, completely stuck between following his own image and trying to answer the question. maybe video did kill the radio star after all.
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