Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
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Not today Justin
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Xuebing Du
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KIROKAZE
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let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
titsay
Keni
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@jeongjamal
「 #JEONGJAMAL 」 ━━ ❛ We're unconditionally timeless. ❜
Mood: 🪩🐮
𝐴 𝑠𝑡𝑢𝑑𝑦 𝑖𝑛: peach boy™ with dangerous dimples. valentine warmth and quiet ambition. prince image. polished in public, ridiculous in private. boyfriend-coded, but not saint-coded. golden boy syndrome. the fear of being forgotten. velvet voice, red ears. outfit repeater with zero shame. sneezes like a natural disaster.
A private roleplaying blog featuring JEONG JAEHYUN Managed by Sohee | Signed with @seoulessrp
JAEHYUN ʚїɞ The Smoky Night J - The 1st Album 2024.08.26 6PM (KST) ♡
He pretends not to notice. Plastering that casual smile on his face, too bright for the time that it is, Chris pretends not to notice and flexed his hand to try and ward off the pain that comes with split knuckles.
He's had worse, done worse, during boxing training but this is different. This is... a sign that he lost control.
Chris takes a seat, his order at the bar delayed in arriving gives them time to talk. It allows him to be present for a moment before old, dangerous habits come into play and distract him. Chris isn't an alcoholic, he doesn't usually drink especially not when he's busy but it doesn't mean that Chris won't use it to dull his senses enough to switch off. The constant need to stay in control, that pressure, weight on his shoulders can become rather suffocating and sometimes — he needs to switch it off.
For now, he can keep to facade going until that whiskey arrives.
At the mention of the chaos that he created on his Instagram, Chris chuckles and leans back in his chair. "I saw. You caused quite the uproar for a bit, I'm surprised it took that long for management to step in." The hat he's wearing is taken off his head and placed on the empty chair beside him. He knows better than to put his hat on the table, regardless of whether they were eating or not. "You must have known that was going to happen."
Because doesn't it always? Mention a girl, mention anything to do with dating, to do with romance that is outside of the realms of what fans deem acceptable and it's a career hazard.
"She doing okay, though?" It's genuine, his question, the worry that lies underneath. He's seen firsthand what can happen when fans find out who she is and decides to attack her over nothing.
Jaehyun's words aren't an accusation, they aren't much of anything really, a mere observation and yet, Chris stiffens. Looking down at himself, he tries to play it off, a teasing jab at the other's appearance to divert attention away from himself. "Well, unlike you, I didn't just get off a flight. I could shower."
It's the action that causes Chris' eyes to lower to his hand, moving his fingers and watching the knuckles move beneath the reddened skin. "You gonna ask?" It's not an offer for him to, it's not even an acknowledgement that there's anything to ask — as Chris accepts the ice, placing it on his knuckles, the words linger in the air as if they're a warning to not ask.
But, he knows his friend better than that.
Eyes watching the ice as it settles over Chris' knuckles, not the wound, the ice, making its own small weather between them. A quiet melt into paper. Dampness of the cocktail napkin darkening slowly, water gathering within creases, the small pressure used as though could turn pain into obedience if pressed hard enough. Managing damage instead of plain admittance. Contain. Clean. Cover. Making it presentable before anyone notices the room has teeth. The sheer acceptance of it, already wrapped in warning. Even wrapped within the question, a line drawn on the table with a bruised finger.
Like trying to decide whether an armor is needed before its receiver even reaches for the blade.
❝ No. ❞
Simple.
Bereft of any performance in that single syllable.
Server's passed somewhere behind, carrying two drinks balanced carefully on a tray. Ice chiming against glass. Laughter rose from another table and died quickly, seemingly embarrassed by its own volume. The rooftop took all of it in without comment.
❝ If you wanted me to ask, you would have answered differently. ❞
Lips moving faintly, almost amused, though the expression did not climb high enough to become anything careless.
❝ Or you would have lied worse. ❞
Only then bearings lean back, a shoulder settling against the chair, the dark fabric still catching a little too much light for someone who looked like sleep had been chasing across three countries and losing out of spite. Milan still sat in strange pieces. Airport collar. Tired eyes. An expensive absurdity of a man who had worn fashion into humidity and survived by pretending suffering was styling.
❝ And for the record, I did shower. In Milan. Before the plane. Several time zones ago. So technically, yes, you're winning. Congrats. ❞
An almost-smile returning for merely half a second, small, useful. A match struck only long enough to prove the room was not entirely dark. Now reaching for the glassware, not drinking just yet, letting the fingers settle around it while the saxophone drags one whole note across the room. The sound as though stopping near their table and stays there, leaning in without being rude.
❝ My cousin is fine, I think. Annoyed. ❞ Mouth twitches. ❝ She said, next time I post her, I should caption it properly so she doesn't wake up as my secret girlfriend. I told her my dearest cousin was very clear. Apparently not. Management was faster than usual, honestly. I think they smelled disaster from across the lake. ❞
A breath leaving, another laughter almost forming, then quiet again. Now taking a sip, slow, measured. The whiskey landing bitter and clean, grounding by the second before setting it down in its exact same place as before. Ring to ring. Circle to circle. Proof to proof.
❝ I'm not going to ask. Not like that. You can tell me whatever you want to tell me. Or nothing. We can sit here and talk about Milan being humid. We can talk more about how the internet tried to marry me to my cousin. And I'm not going to make you explain a bad night just because I noticed you had one. ❞
A door unlocked without being fully opened.
❝ But I am going to ask if you ate. ❞
yunho: HA. no i meant we make eye contact and one of us can nod their head to the other so they can answer. yunho: whenever i am unsure of things i look at my hyungs for help or jongho. yunho: so what have you been up to lately hyung? anything fun?
jaehyun: okay you're onto something here jaehyun: we'll establish the official jeong nod™ jaehyun: one nod means 'thats you' jaehyun: two nods means 'good luck, brother' jaehyun: i'm on my last fancon here in taipei jaehyun: what about you? anything exciting lately? jaehyun: also congrats on the comeback, man jaehyun: been seeing you guys everywhere
JAEHYUN TIMELESS
entry 02: just keep smiling :) date: 2026년 7월 5일
i think people assume i don't like heavy conversations.
not true.
i just already have them with myself.
a lot.
maybe too much.
when i'm alone, i can go very deep into my own head. sometimes without meaning to. one thought becomes another, then another, and suddenly it feels like i'm sitting at the bottom of something, looking up, trying to reach the end of the surface, only to realize it had already become another horizon.
so when i'm with people, i like when they smile. i like random conversations. small questions. trivial nonsense. stupid jokes. someone laughing because of something that didn't even make that much sense.
i find comfort in that.
not everything has to go deep just to be real.
maybe that’s simple.
maybe that’s enough.
maybe that's how i rest too.
pop mart and lock it | @wonyum
The problem with blind boxes was that they were not supposed to look accusing. They were supposed to sit there. Harmless. Colorful. Tiny cardboard squares of manufactured probability, stacked neatly under too much fluorescent lighting with cartoon faces printed bright enough to suggest innocence. The kind of innocent that asked for money first and then with consequences later. The kind of innocent that made perfectly grown adults stand in the middle of a store trying to pretend they had not already watched three unboxing videos before coming here.
The man standing before them now had absolutely not done any of that.
Unfortunately, the unknown had its own kind of thrill.
❝ Hmm. Last one. ❞
A murmur under breath.
Ears turning warm.
What a bunch of traitors.
A last box remains on the shelf, strategically tucked slightly behind the display sample, glossy corner catching light every time the automatic door opens. Plastic keychains swaying near the shoulder. A row of tiny figurines staring forward with bright, soulless patience, waiting for whichever potential adoptive parent the great RNG of Pop Mart had decided to humiliate next. Then another hand appears, elegant, familiar. Too pretty and alarmingly well-manicured for war, which somehow made this whole situation worse.
❝ ...Please don't tell me you're here for the same one. ❞
Words coming out low, muffled slightly behind the mask, polite enough to pass as casual and dry enough to expose someone who had already accepted defeat in at least its first three emotional stages. Thumb pressing once against the seam inside the trouser pocket. Once. Twice. Smallest rhythm. Body already doing what the face refused to admit.
❝ Because that would be very unfortunate.... ❞
A pause.
❝ For me. ❞
JAEHYUN ♡ MOMENTUM LOG: CONCERT VCR BEHIND
not staff, just namjoon hyung | @rkvcs
Vinyl Seongsu—making silence amplified in such a way every small sound feels very intentional. Plastic sleeves whispering against fingers. Rain tapping lightly against the front window. That familiar low turn of a record behind the counter, static first, then piano, then a voice old enough to sound like it had survived several lives before arriving here.
Standing near the divide between jazz and alternative rock section, cap pulled low, one hand resting on the edge of a record bin, thumb moving along the worn cardboard separators as though reading braille from a city that's been left for too long. Blue Note. Impulse. Vocal. Korean Indie. Used arrivals. Each tab passing by under fingertips with quiet permission.
❝ Ah, excuse me. ❞ Holding the record with both hands, polite smile always prepared. Armed and loaded. ❝ Would you know if this one has the original pressing, or is this just a reissue, please? ❞
A pause.
Not that long, but long enough for it to be felt before it was understood. Registering in that slow, terrible arrival of comprehension. Mind walking into the room five seconds late with coffee in hand.
Kim Namjoon.
Not staff.
Definitely not vinyl shop staff.
❝ ⸻Oh. I'm so sorry, hyung. ❞
💨 smoke
Jk: Do you not know me? Ofc I ate Jk: Gonna eat again tho Jk: Wyd bbyboy??
jaehyun: i'm just making sure you did, bbyboy jaehyun: currently taking a break jaehyun: seoul is quiet without you jaehyun: finally some peace
entry 01: 쿵쿵 & 마진 date: 2026년 7월 2일
bought a grafted kumquat tree before getting discharged.
at first, i wanted to grow a lemon tree. it just sounded nice. so many things to do with a lemon too. very clean. very refreshing. also kind of romantic, right?
but then after some research, i learned a lemon tree is difficult to take care of.
so i chose kumquat.
i think it sounds more realistic of me.
it's smaller, but it still feels bright. the leaves are cute too. i did not think i would become the kind of person who checks on a plant this much, but these days i keep looking at it like, "are you okay?" "did you drink enough water?" "are you getting too much sun? not too much?" it's a little embarrassing, honestly lol. after discharge, i thought i would be better at routines. turns out i'm good at routines when someone tells me what time to wake up, where to stand, when to move, when to stop.
plants don't do that. they just sit there and quietly ask if you remembered.
recently, it grew fruit.
small, round, very orange. i picked it and held it in my palm for a while. i thought it would feel normal, but it felt kind of strange. like proof. i don't know which proof or proof of what exactly. maybe that i can take care of something properly. maybe that time is passing. maybe that something can grow like that while i'm busy running around everywhere.
i didn't eat it right away. just looked at it since it worked hard to become a kumquat, so i felt like i should respect it a little.
i also now have a dracaena marginata. i know, took me a while before i can move on from sophora. the name is serious. the plant also looks serious. it stands near the window. very tall. very calm. a little cooler than me. maybe.
쿵쿵 (kungkung) feels like a pet and is doing well.
마진 (majin/margin) feels like a roommate and is also doing well.
i'm doing well too.
Lost by JAEHYUN
Heaviness sits in his chest as Chris places the last of the mess is put in a bag. There's cuts on his hands from the shards of glass, the pain a reminder of his mistake. Knuckles bleeding from having slamming his fist into the broken coffee table to let out the frustration he's feeling. Maybe he should have gone to the gym. Maybe he should have gone home.
Maybe he shouldn't have let himself get attached to a good thing.
Slamming his laptop shut and shoving it back into its case, he decided to call it quits for the night because there's no work getting done. There's no fucking way he's going to be able to do anything right now — he's useless. Or he feels that way. As Chris swipes his phone off the table, it lights up in his hand.
you awake?
Sighing, he shoves the phone back in his pocket, grabbing both his gear and the rubbish bag as he walks out of the studio. He can feel the messages incoming as he walks, wondering for a moment why Jaehyun would even be awake this late before remembering that he would be back from Milan.
There's the urge to ignore it, pretend like he's not awake, that he doesn't have his phone... excuses start to run through his mind with all the possible ways of avoiding seeing his friend but he knows it's cowardly. He might be fucked up but Chris is not a coward, so pulling his phone out of his pocket, adjusting his bag on his shoulder, he opens the messages.
gnabnahc: i'll be there soon.
── .✦. ──
It doesn't take him long to arrive, having gone back to the dorm so he could shower and change quickly; the evidence of sleepless nights and being locked away with his thoughts in the studio washed away to make him look presentable. Not that Jaehyun would care — he just got off a plane.
Walking in, it doesn't take Chris long to find his friend, sitting at a table with a view as if it was a common place for him to be. "Hey man," he greets Jaehyun, voice a little rough, "how was Milan?"
Already seated at a corner table. Back to the wall. View to the side. Face half-lit by the small amber lamp near the edge, airport exhaustion still sitting plainly over features no matter how cleanly it's being carried. Designer shirt still holding its shape, collar slightly uneven, sleeves pushed once at the wrists and then forgotten. One hand resting around a glass still not touched as much. Condensation gathering beneath fingers. One clear bead sliding down, catching the light before disappearing into the coaster underneath.
Now looking up as his friend approaches.
Not quickly. Not dramatically.
Just enough for recognition to establish. Eyes first. Face second. Then hands.
Observance sitting just long enough.
Long enough to see what was tried to be washed away and what water had not been able to fully fix. Long enough to notice the carefulness of that grip, the fresh-clean lie of someone who had scrubbed evidence from skin and forgotten that hurt still knew how to stand in the body. Long enough to understand that the appearance being worn is mere composure the way people wore jackets in bad weather. Not looking at those hands again as looking twice would formulate a question, and looking for too long would be translated into pity.
Instead, posture leans back slightly now, mouth curving faintly at one corner, almost a smile but not quite something sitting in the middle.
❝ Milan was Milan. ❞
A breath passed, the jazz saxophone doing them a favor, filling it politely.
❝ Hot. I wore this pink outerwear in summer and pretended I was not fighting for my life. Went to Como with family after. Posted photos. Apparently I soft-launched my girlfriend. ❞
The almost-smile stays, mouth twitching before continuing.
❝ It was my cousin. So the internet was beautiful to watch for a few hours before management stepped in. ❞
Only then the glass touches his lips, taking a sip. Slow. Measured. Something bitter and clean landing on the tongue before setting the glassware down exactly where it had been, ring of condensation meeting ring of condensation. A neat little perfect circle. A proof of staying.
❝ You look presentable. ❞
Words falling plainly, almost casually. Almost. Eyes flicking down once more, not to the hands this time but to the edge of Chris' sleeve, to the way the fabric shifted when it moved then back up.
❝ Which is usually suspicious at this hour. ❞
Reaching for the small bowl of ice the server had left near the drinks, taking one cube with a cocktail napkin, wrapping it carefully. Slow. Precise. An unnecessary amount of attention given to one small thing because looking directly at pain too long made people defensive. The napkin darkened where the ice began to sweat.
Sliding it toward Chris.
❝ For your hand. ❞
jaehyun: jungkookie @letjeonkook jaehyun: did you eat? jaehyun: are you in brussels now?
🍋 flamin' hot lemon
