nighthawks

[remrse]

hey, hey! cal here with what i'd like to call the less boring version of nate archibald — seo jaerim, also known as the golden boy who falls in love way too easily (but is it really love?) because he needs to fill this void in his life. he's also the moneybags skeleton in the gossipgate subplot. he's very much still a work in progress but i'd love to plot with y'all and come up with some fun stuff! i currently only have his dossier up but everything you need to know about him is under the cut. like this post and i'll come sliding into your ims, i'm also available on discord if that's what you prefer!

(trigger warnings: teenage pregnancy, coercion into abortion)

message: saw seo jaerim in seoul. they were volunteering at a children’s charity organisation. i think they’re a/n museum curator now? a lot of people say they’re kinda apathetic but they seemed super generous to me, tbh. they really look like nam joohyuk and remind me of nate archibald though wtf. thought you might want to know because i remember your post about them that said when he was in high school, he had gotten someone pregnant and coerced her into an abortion. still can’t believe that happened 8 years ago.

ask him why he’s a museum curator and he’ll tell you it’s because he has an eye for pretty things. paintings. women. art. that, and he’s the only heir to seoda museum of contemporary art—the louvre of seoul. seo jaerim was born with a silver spoon in one hand and a paint brush in the other. in his world of art, human beings are merely subjects of artworks; characters of his story. does he really love you or are you just pretty enough to look at, like the artworks displayed in his museum? set to inherit his family’s museum business, he has been working as a museum curator since he graduated snu with a degree in fine arts. everything in life is laid out for him, yet there’s a void impossible to fill; a loneliness in the shape of a monster that doesn’t die. does it stem from a long time guilt of destroying his very first creation before the world got to see it, or the constant chase for love and comfort in a world so brutal? some call him a playboy, but others say he’s too tender to be one.

summary:

only child and heir to his family's museum (think of it as the louvre of seoul; only the most prestigious and renown artistes can showcase their work there)

his family is very influential, especially in the arts, every other relative is an artist, curator, collector of some sort

every child born in the seo family would be sent for art classes, it is as important as learning the korean language

his family is very image-focused, often portraying themselves to be polished and sophisticated, people with refined tastes

they also think they are superior to others because they are "cultured" on top of their wealth

there were always only two pathways for him: to be an artist or to take over the family's business (it was always a career in the arts or risk being the black sheep of the family)

he had been painting since he was a child but figured he prefers the power of deciding who was good enough to earn a place in his museum, to have people cowering before him to exhibit their work at his museum

also he kind of just stopped painting after the whole abortion thing, because everything he created then was just a reminder of all the guilt and regret he had (might be the real reason he switched over to art curation)

he graduated from snu with a degree in fine arts

before that, he was from a private boys' high school near gyeonggi girls' high school

that is also how he got acquainted with the og's from the gossipgate video

the video did not affect him very much, or at all (his family paid off media outlets to keep his name out of the gossipgate news so while you could kind of make him out in the video, there is no real confirmation of him being in it)

what had a greater impact on him was gossip girls' post about him getting someone pregnant and coercing her into an abortion (his family were also the ones that had insisted on the abortion) — it's something that still weighs heavily on him till this day (i've left a lot of details undecided in hopes of someone taking on this connection!)

he never had issues with college acceptances because his family name guarantees him a spot in any art program (probably also due to nepotism because he has relatives who are art professors)

he has been volunteering at children's charity organisations but no one knows if it's his way of fixing his reputation or if he's doing it because he feels a sense of guilt towards his unborn child, or what could've been

he is really good with kids though (could be why women love him)

does not mean to be one but could be a little bit of a playboy, only because he has no fucking clue what love looks like so he's on a constant search for it

but is so sweet and gentle you gaslight yourself into thinking he isn't one

honestly really empty on the inside; desperately looking for that something that would light up his world, whatever it is

wanted connections:

gossipgate people! i'm here for rich kids fucking up each other's lives

lots and lots of exes: ex-girlfriends, ex-flings, ex-crushes, ex-almosts, whatever (basically, nate archibald's dating history)

an ex he had just broken up with would be fun too

fresh/new, ongoing love interests

the girl from his gossip girl post 8 years ago; the one he had gotten pregnant and coerced into abortion (i'm open to any interpretation of this — they could be ex-lovers, friends that hooked up, nothing is set in stone!)

someone who volunteers or has volunteered at one of the children's charity organisations he volunteers at

artists who has or wants to have their art displayed at his museum (he will not make it easy for you though)

the person that leaked his abortion secret to gossip girl

unexpected/unlikely friends (an opposites dynamic maybe?)

neighbours (he's currently staying alone in his bachelor's pad but i imagine it to be at some fancy apartment)

some sibling figures? he'd probably appreciate it, being the only child at home

[latibule-e-deactivated20231012]

Do you understand the violence it took to become this gentle?

[remrse]

plushvibes

(...) instead she makes her way to the bottle of champagne that sits upon the desk, inviting, "but let's just make the most of it, i guess. just," and she flips dark tresses over her shoulder rather dramatically as she looks back at him, silly, "don't fall in love with me. i know it's gonna be so hard for you because i'm just that lovable, but please. make a valiant attempt." laughter spills from her lips but it's a little more forced than earlier on, an attempt to lighten the mood that surrounds them as she works on opening the bottle. "do you want some? we could have some while you tell me what in the hell was up with that gossip girl post. seryung, seulki, and raon in one day?" she exasperates, ignoring that twinge deep in her chest that always comes when bringing his escapades up. it's nothing.

jaerim’s idea of avoiding his girl problems: spending the weekend with a girl. it’s different, though. it's not just any girl, it's shiah. at least, it should be different. right?

so, tell him why his heart skipped a beat when the hotel receptionist told them there weren't any single rooms left and they had to share a honeymoon suite that was just cancelled earlier that day. or why his palms got all clammy at the mere thought of sharing a bed with her, like he was nineteen again; his world pitch black, the only light in sight being shiah's reassuring smile.

(or why he didn’t bother correcting the receptionist when she mistook them for a couple, a recurring misunderstanding neither of them had the habit of correcting all these years. were they just used to this harmless mistake and saw no point in setting things straight or did they perhaps, enjoy having a taste of what could’ve been if either of them were honest to themselves all those years ago?)

he hopped into a car with her, nothing but a weekend's worth of necessities packed into a duffle bag, in hopes of avoiding all problems that revolved around the women that have a place in his heart, forgetting that shiah had once taken up a huge portion of it too. he likes to believe that she no longer makes his heart swell the way she used to when he was a young boy struggling to find his place in the world, but the truth is hidden in the way he looks at her.

a part of jaerim is convinced that he wouldn’t be who he is today if not for shiah. if they hadn’t found each other while they were sinking, they might’ve never grabbed onto each other and made it to the surface again. it was her stretched arm, her comforting embrace, her very presence, that kept him afloat. it's why she is his most important friend; she's seen him at his worst and celebrated him at his best.

"don't be silly," he jests, "anything for my wife." his emphasis on the last word was completely ironic, playing into the hotel staff’s misunderstanding that had landed them in this situation, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy playing pretend with her. "i can see what you mean about the view, though." he cocks his head in the direction of their balcony. "stunning, really."

he grabs two champagne glasses from the minibar, setting them on the table, leaning against it as he watches her open the bottle. usually, this is when he offers to help, but shiah doesn't need it. it’s what he’s learnt from being her friend for all these years. "yeah, we might as well. it’s not everyday we get to stay in a honeymoon suite. most people just experience it once. lucky us, we’re getting a taste of it first."

the idea of shiah ever having her own honeymoon is weird to think about. not that he’s a bad friend who never wants her to get married, it’s just a concept he doesn’t like dwelling too much in. not sure why. or maybe he knows, and doesn’t like the reason why.

jaerim shoots her a playful look of disgust, as if the sheer idea of falling for her was too abhorrent to even think about. in reality, it was his way of masking the truth hidden in his eyes; the truth about how nineteen year old jaerim knew exactly what it was like to fall in love with her, and that she’s absolutely right—it is hard not to.

"you wish. if anyone’s falling for anyone, it’ll be you falling for me. the bed’s big enough for three, don’t let me catch you on my side." funny how he’s saying everything he doesn’t mean, it’s something he’s noticed happens a lot around shiah.

he groans at the reminder of the benefit and all the chaos that had ensued. "okay, i’m definitely gonna need some of this champagne if we’re going to be talking about that." not that he wants to, at all. he’s never liked talking about his girl problems with shiah and he could tell she didn’t particularly enjoy it either. something tells him it’s not just because she didn’t like the idea of him making bad decisions.

"to be fair, i did not plan for any of that to happen." not the date, not the confrontation, and certainly not the hook-up. everything just magically fell into place, something that never happens for him and shiah. "maybe things would’ve been simpler if i had just spent the day with you."

[remrse]

dare: share one thing about yourself that everybody knows and one thing about yourself that nobody knows.

"i think it's safe to say that everyone knows my dating history—no thanks to gossip girl. i'd give you the full rundown but i think you can have a look on gossip girl yourself."

it's nothing to be proud of, really, but it has definitely garnered some questions on his know-hows of dating. people seem to think that he gets with everyone he's had his eyes on and has never quite struggled in his romantic endeavours, but that is quite far from the truth.

"people think i've dated every girl that i've liked. it's actually not true. well, it is, for the most part. there's just one girl that i really liked before, but i've never dated her. she doesn't even know that i liked her. sometimes i think i never really got over her because i didn't tell her about how i felt."

[remrse]

what do you think your biggest flaw is?

"i come up with excuses for everything. and not just the small things, like why i'm late, or why i forgot to do something, but even the big things." things like, i say i find love in all the wrong places, but maybe i just look in too many places. i say i'm lonely and i'm dating all these people because i want to stop feeling lonely, but maybe i enjoy the attention, maybe i just want to feel wanted. i say i'm not sure what love looks like, but maybe it's my excuse for being a shitty lover.

i told her i wanted the abortion because we were too young, that we were not ready to be parents, that i did not want to ruin an innocent life, but maybe i did not want to give up my youth before it even started. maybe i just did not want to bear the consequences of my mistakes, because i never had to. "i come up with all these excuses that would decriminalise my mistakes, as if it would make me a better person if i had a justifiable reason for making those mistakes. and if you ask me why, i'll probably say it's because i don't want to come to terms with my inner demons, but even that is an excuse in itself. the truth is, i am very well aware of the monsters residing in me, i just don't want people to see them."

[remrse]

sevoir

(...) "why?" her mouth curves into something sweet, something so like candy there seems no other choice but to put it on your tongue. she squeezes her bottom lip between her teeth. seryung looks up at him the way she used to whenever she wanted to play a game with him or wanted him to take her shirt off. "you don't want to be friends with me? we could do things friends do."

somewhere deep within jaerim, a part of him is convinced that im seryung belongs to him and him only. that same part of him thinks he might belong to her too. it's what he used to hear growing up, that they are made for each other; it's what he grew accustomed to thinking as he got older, that she is the girl he'll marry someday; and it's what he finds himself still wondering after all this time, even after spending years apart from each other.

that same part of him still wonders if it was mistake for them to leave each other eight years ago, if they still belonged to each other even now, and if it'll always be that way. and when their lips are melded against each other's like this, jaerim finds it impossible to believe that they aren't.

they're nothing like the reckless teenagers they were a decade ago, the kids who let all rhyme and reason go out the door when they've found their way into each other's arms. they are meant to have grown out of that mindless infatuation, that tendency to make foolish mistakes in the name of love—or what they believed was love.

his parents once told him, "you're too young to know what love is." he realises now that they couldn't have been more wrong. he might've just been a teenager who knew nothing about the world outside his safe little bubble, but he's always known what it was like to be in love with her, or at least, how to love her. that's how it was when he was six and pushing her swing at the playground. it stayed the same when he was sixteen, and he fears it might still be, now at twenty-six.

he's meant to be older and a lot more mature; he's not meant to be making the same mistakes. so why did he find himself in the same situation, giving in to that voice inside him that was always responsible for him diving headfirst into seryung and all the problems that followed? that voice was the one egging him on in all his pursuits for seryung, be it ten years ago or ten years later. he's still sitting here in the same place, looking at the same girl with the same look in his eyes. seo jaerim, when will you ever learn?

friends. he didn't like the sound of that, but he knows that is probably what's right for them now, with seryung having only returned awhile ago and the hidden truths of their pasts threatening to surface. he knows a friendship is what both of them need right now, but here he was, wondering if they could ever turn back time and return to each other's side. or if that wasn't possible, then maybe there was a place for them in each other's futures.

he knows he should pull away and break the kiss already. he knows he should scoot over and create some space between them—as if that would change anything at all. as if the heart doesn't want what it wants. as if he ever listens to anything but his heart. he knows himself better than that, but he still makes a futile attempt to drive even the slightest wedge between them—anything to give them the space he knows they need right now. he takes her hands in his, gently returning them to her side.

"i think we both know that it's impossible for me to be friends with you, seryung." not when he's already had a taste of what it's like to be more, to have her whole heart. "but i know, a friendship is probably the best move for us right now. with you having just returned, rumours about our past resurfacing, and you probably already have someone—" he swallows, willing away the memory of seeing her with another man just yesterday. it's a reality he has to come to terms with but jaerim likes dwelling in fables and fairytales, one where seryung's still his one true love.

he gets up, pretends to glance at his watch for a little over a second and prepares to cook up an excuse that he has to get ready for a party later on. that last bit is true but nothing could be more urgent than spending time with seryung, not even these parties he looks forward to at the annual benefit. he knows that, she knows that. he just couldn't bear to hear her admit to having someone else, or to wanting to be friends. at least, not after the kiss they've just shared.

"i've gotta go, i'm meeting a friend later. you know how the last nights at these benefits are—can't miss out on that." he turns to leave and halts midway, turning back to her with a small smile. it was a poignant one, but he hopes it's enough to protect the smile she had on her face. "we can catch up again in seoul. as friends. it's not going to be easy for me but i'll try, if that's what you want."

it's not what he wants, but when has that ever mattered when it came to im seryung?

THE END

[xiaofengs]

twenty-five, twenty-one - baek yijin looking at na heedo™

[remrse]

16lies

(...) “okay,” she says, biting down on her lip as though it could physically quell the bile and fury rising. she’d sunk it into the crevices of her being, but fucking jaerim and his fucking ability to make her feel everything in tenfolds. and so, she steadies her voice as stares at him, a vengeful glint glimmering in her eyes. speaks with seething malice, each word punctuated and dripping with malignant venom. “so it’s okay when you go on a date in public but it’s not okay when i kiss you? you’re scared she’s going to dump you again? i mean, it doesn’t make a difference, does it?” scoffs snidely, blood-red lips curling with contempt. “you’ll always run back to her anyways. just another boy who would bend his back for someone who doesn’t give a fuck about him. just another toy for her to play with. wanna guess how long it’ll take before she gets bored of you?” locks eyes with him, stare bearing into his, spilling with a potent mix of contempt and provocation. “i give it two days. you?” 

as a child, his parents used to lament about how he "wasn't competitive enough". it's what happens when you grow up getting everything you want, knowing that you never have to compete for anything because it'll end up being yours anyway. in many ways, he has his family name to blame for that—being a seo meant never worrying about getting what he wants, and sometimes, it really does feel like the world is revolving around him. all of that changed when he met seulki.

she ignited a flame in him even he didn't know he had. passion, competitiveness, refusal to lose—the things his parents wanted to see in him as their only son and heir to the family business, were instead channeled into his little tryst with seulki that lasted longer than their relationship ever did. it was almost as if its secrecy and illicit nature had fuelled their passion and desire for each other, fanning the flames to a growing fire that he knew would only scald him. still, he chooses to burn.

when it came to seulki, he couldn't decide if he liked triumphing over her or letting her win. the former because it'll rile her up—he likes pushing her limits to see how far she'll go. (and as much as he likes to think he knows her well, she never fails to take him by surprise each time. jin seulki is anything but predictable.) the latter he does to see her break into that vexingly cocky smirk, one he wants nothing more than to wipe off her face, in which he usually does by kissing her. that always works.

it's complicated, their relationship. it always has been. despite all these years he's known her for, she's still an enigma he's yet to figure out. he feels like he's getting closer each time—to figuring her out, to winning her over—then things just reset and he has to start all over again. the exhilaration he gets from being just a nigh away is as addictive as it is torturous, but he finds himself on a constant chase for the pain and its brief gratification after.

here's the thing about seulki: everything she does is intentional. from the very public kiss they had just shared, to the ignorance she was doing a poor job at feigning—it was all on purpose. she's telling him something without having to utter the words herself, and if there was anything jaerim had learnt from all those years he spent sneaking around with her, it was to read between the lines and construe these unspoken nuances for himself. she might not be spelling it out word for word, but he knows exactly what this is about.

the big taboo word in their relationship? seryung. if he even so much so as breathes a word about her, happens to scroll past her picture on social media, or god forbid, look at it for longer than a second, he can expect a fight to come their way. (it usually never ends well.) of course, there were many other things they had fought about throughout the course of their six month relationship, but a topic that seemed to be more tender to the touch, to have carried more weight, often revolved around his ex-girlfriend, her old friend.

it doesn't take a genius to piece things together. she must've heard about the afternoon's events—word sure travels fast with all these watchful eyes around them. he sighs, undoing the first button of his shirt to get more air. he's not sure if it was stuffy because of the room they were in, or if it was the frustration of them going back to square one again. it's always about seryung. he doesn't need to explain himself to her, but he does, every time, almost as if he didn't want her to misunderstand. "i'm not back together with her."

her words stung, because a part of him knew she was right. classic jaerim, always available whenever seryung needs him. even when she had stood him up to be with another man; even if she is at the other end of the world. it's almost like a cursed affinity he can never seem to rid, one that was set in stone the moment he met the eyes of six year old seryung. he knows, with every fibre of his being, that seulki is right, but she doesn't get the right to say these words to him when the same could be said about their own relationship. "don't you think it's a bit hypocritical of you to say this?"

seulki should know better—she should know whose door he shows up at whenever he's asked for, who he drops everything to go see when he receives a text from. it sure as hell is not seryung, who had spent the past couple of years abroad. he sees her one time, and he gets all this flak for it? "i haven't seen her in years. besides, she isn't the one i go running to every time i get a call. if anyone is toying with me, i don't think it's her." he spits back, staring her dead in the eye. it's you.

"why does it matter to you, anyway?" he inches forward, cornering her against the door. "it's not like you'd care if i got my heart broken." knowing seulki, she might even revel in his pain and tell him, ever so arrogantly, "i told you so". knowing seulki, she should be enjoying the show, making fun of him and acting like she was above him. "unless..." he cocks a brow, words dripping with provocation, "you still have feelings for me?"

[remrse]

SAINT / eros, god of love. @rpxoxo who else could embody the god of love better than loverboy himself?

OUTFIT— he’s clad in an all-white suit with silk and pearl detailings—one that is to be ruined with lipstick marks later that night. his mask is pearlescent white, framed with angel wing elements, reminiscent of the greek god he’s channeling. he has on a pair of white wings, but what really makes eros is his bow and arrow, which he loses halfway through the party. some say he’s given it to a girl—maybe cupid took matters into his own hands this time? here’s hoping the arrow landed on the right heart.

GIFT— his gift is too big to fit on the gift table, so it’s propped up against it instead. it’s a large painting he had done up with the children at the orphanage—large enough for them to hover over the canvas he had laid out in the backyard. they worked on it on the days she didn’t come in, painting an image of her at the garden, standing amidst the flowers they had grown together. every child had contributed to the painting, full artistic control given to them. of course, he had polished it up and worked on its skeleton to guide them, but everything else came from them. at first glance, you’d only notice the splashes of bright colours, but if you looked closely enough, you’d find messy handwriting scribbled at the corner saying, “daddy jaerim ♡ mommy aera”.

[remrse]

i know i have a backlog of replies to do (which i promise i’ll get to soon, will prioritise event01 threads to complete them too!) but i’m here with a plot call for the third event — i'll leave some ideas below the cut but i'm open to brainstorming as well! my drafts are also fixed (finally!!!!!!) so i'm hoping to be more productive now. i'm down to plot with anyone and everyone, whether we have ongoing threads or not! i ramble a lot but we can try one para threads if we already have ongoing threads, or if you'd rather just plot for a gg tip, i'm down for that too! hit me up if you'd like to plot, i also have discord if that's better for you!

in true nate archibald fashion, i’m gonna need him to kiss the wrong person when they have their masks on LOL (ref: gossip girl season 1, episode 6)

i’d also love for someone to ruin his all-white outfit by leaving lipstick marks on it at the end of the night. i’m down for anything that could lead to this, could be a dare, they could’ve made out and/or hooked up (i see that there are private rooms? 👀) or even did it on purpose to create a scene for whatever reason

his date/plus one to the party (does not have to be romantic, could just be a friend! maybe your muse found the party intimidating or they're trying to avoid someone there so they needed his support, or maybe they didn't want to go and he convinced them to?)

this might be crazy but maybe your muse and him got into a physical fight when they had too much to drink? could be over a girl or anything big enough (he wouldn't risk ruining the party over something petty)

a friend he plays wingman for and hooks them up with someone they're interested in (what better time to do this than while he's dressed as eros/cupid lol)

someone he finishes their drinks for because they seem to be pretty drunk already/peer pressured into drinking, he could end up even more wasted than them so they take care of him to return the favour

[remrse]

ra0n

(...) she leans in instead, gaze still on him because she likes to watch the way his rationality melts away whenever they're close like this. raon knows her eyes look the same, darkened with the same desire they've spent the past three years ignoring for a friendship they clung onto despite knowing it was doomed in the first place. her mouth skims over his lower jaw lazily, up until it's on the curve of his ear. when she speaks, they can both hear the smile in her words. "and then i'd tell you that you should do something about it, because i'm impatient."

raon underestimates the power she has over him. or maybe she's just downright ignorant, oblivious to how the ball has always been in her court. the minute she crosses the line between them, the very second she makes a move on him, he would not hesitate, even for a split second, to do as he wishes with her. he's never told her that, but if she looked closely enough, she might be able to read between the lines and decipher the look in his eyes.

the way she was caressing him, so tender and inviting, made him wonder, amidst his inebriety, if that was her way of tiptoeing over the line they had so haphazardly drawn years ago. both of them knew that the line could be easily washed away like it was drawn with chalk, but neither of them had the guts to kick the bucket of water over it, for fear of losing more than just the title of friends.

jaerim watches her cross over to his side, reducing the unwanted distance between them. is this her way of crossing the line? all that alcohol in his system was starting to heat him up, but he doesn't complain about the extra warmth radiating from her. it was as comforting as it was perilous—it warmed his tormented soul on a lonely spring night, but it also made him want to undo some buttons on his shirt.

it's hard to tell if it was just the alcohol speaking or if it's the alcohol that gave them the courage to be honest about the unspoken truth they had both tried to suppress. he hopes it's the latter and that the next morning's sobriety wouldn't translate into regret and awkward explanations of how they "weren't thinking straight" and that they are "better off as friends".

jaerim might be intoxicated, cheeks tinted with a flush you can only get from too many drinks in a night, his mind a whirlwind of how he's never gonna fall in love again and how he wants nothing more than to make out with raon right there and then, but he's certain he wouldn’t regret this the next morning. if anything, he might have been waiting for her to slip up first this whole time.

as if they weren't already skin to skin, jaerim hooks his fingers under her chair, pulling it towards him. the gentle force lunges her forward into him, his free hand undoing the first two buttons of his now unkempt dress shirt—he knows it's only going to get hotter from now—before taking her lips in with his. he kisses her a little more aggressive than he had intended (her fault for all the prior taunting), his own swollen lips taking dominance over hers.

his hand leaves the edge of her chair, slithering his arm around her waist, encaging her in his arms, almost as if to say, "no back-outs". he could go on and kiss her all night, with no regard of whomever could be watching them (gossip girl or not), but pulls away from her to relish in what he expects to be a look of defeat on her face (he wants to see in her eyes, that she wants him just as much as he wants her). he hovers his lips against the shell of her ear, whispering in return, "does that mean we're back to fooling around again?"

[remrse]

playing it cool never works for jaerim. he's not the kind of person who could act like he didn't care, or walk past someone he cared about pretending he didn't see them. even if he tried, it’d be a pretty lousy attempt that would only betray his façade and reveal the truth about how he really felt. he's always been someone who wears his heart on his sleeve, despite the countless times he had gotten hurt from that. just as a leopard never changes its spots, jaerim is the fool that never learns.

he had expected raon to avoid him after that night at the benefit. they had, after all, crossed the line they had sworn off all these years. there was a lot to unpack with that change in dynamic (he wouldn't want to call it a mistake, unless she thought of it as one) and he understands that it could've been overwhelming for her. he had called her a few times, all of which went to voice mail. maybe she was just busy. (he was too, with the gallery's opening, but why was she on his mind during every pocket of free time he had?)

after a couple of unread messages and a very incriminating gossip girl post, he finally understands why she was avoiding him. this is when he should've sent her another message, explaining all that was possibly running through her mind, but he realises that he had reached a roadblock himself too. if even he didn't know the answer to this quandary, how could he explain it to her? he misses her and contemplates showing up at the bar she works at, knowing she couldn't turn a customer away, but never plucked up the courage for that.

it was a reflex, showing up by her side when she had gotten wine all over her clothes. he had forgotten the cold war they were having (or at least, a war she had commenced and a poor defence on his end) when he swooped in to put his jacket around her, taking her away from the prying gazes basking in her demise. they left yutnori and he leads her into a staff lounge at the museum, where he had left an extra set of clothing and some toiletries to freshen himself up between breaks.

"i only have an extra suit, but i think the pants would be far too long for you. this should be enough, though." he hands her his white buttoned down shirt and the towel he had gotten from the trunk he came with in the morning. "most people had left for the refreshment party so the museum is pretty much empty. don't worry, just change into this."

SCANDALOUS ft. @ra0n

[remrse]

sevoir

(...) and though she wants to try and not ruin everything this time, it feels too much like ten years ago. she looks at him like she knows what he wants. (it's usually an easy guess for the seryung's of the world, but she still says a secret prayer.) "it's okay," her eyes soften, lashes flutter, kiss me, and she bites her lip when she smiles something playful but sincere. she sounds surer than she is, "we'll still be friends."

seryung reminds jaerim of both the happiest and lowest points of his life. on one hand, she had given him a fairytale-like first love, a cherished memory he'll keep with him for as long as he exists. she taught him what love is and has shaped the kind of love he looks for in all his subsequent partners. in every girl he meets, there's always a part of him that looks for a seryung in them.

on the other hand, she's also the person that reminds him of a mistake he wishes to forget. just looking at her poses him the biggest 'what if'. what if they had kept the baby? what if he wasn't such a coward then? would he still be on this futile search for a love wide enough to embrace his lethargic soul and deep enough to fill the pitless void in him? would he have already found his happiness?

it's impossible to deny that seryung, and all firsts they've shared—from the first time they held hands when they were six, their first kiss at the awkward age of eleven, to their first time together as reckless teenagers impassioned with curiosity-fuelled lust—has an irrevocable impact on him. for as long as he loves, there remains a shadow of her.

it's not necessarily because he isn't over her, or that he never will be, it's just what happens when you've spent all your vulnerable, growing years loving someone more than yourself. it sounds frightening, when he puts it like that, but he would do it all over again if he had the choice.

as if the heavens had read his mind, a frail cherry blossom falls onto her head. a wistful smile fans across his face as he watches her speak on, unbeknownst to the pale pink petals decorating her hair. she looks just like she used to a decade ago. still as ethereal, just a tad bit more mature. in a good way. it's how he had imagined she'd look when they talked about their futures together. he had always known that she would be just as beautiful, but there would be this mellowness to her that fervid sixteen year old seryung didn't have.

"it's true, though." he utters so tenderly it came off a whisper. he leans in towards her, closer than they should be, at least in public. their newfound proximity sets his heart racing in a way he's forgotten it was capable of. their eyes locked onto each other, darting away only to steal glances at the other's lips. it's clear what she wanted. it's clear what he wanted. "do you really? just want to be friends, i mean."

he contemplates plucking the cherry blossom out of her hair and setting it off to the wind. he knows if he had to look at her like that just a second longer, he'd do the unthinkable. he runs his fingers through her messy tresses (only she would look this good without trying), but instead of doing what he had set out to do, he leans in and presses his lips against hers. her lips are just as soft as he remembers, melting into his like she was made for him. and maybe she was, but only god knows the answer to that.

[remrse]

dare: send a sext to the last person on your messages

jaerim would send a naughty text to the last person he messaged—he has, in fact, multiple times. that isn't the challenging part of all this. it would be the easiest, really. 

this is the part where things get complicated: they had just gotten into a fight (and an embarrassingly petty one at that), so if she didn’t already think of him as a psycho, she definitely would now. (to be fair, she balances him out on that. by a lot.)

it should also be mentioned that they have quite the preference for emotionally-charged bedroom circumstances—angry sex, to put it simply. so really, none of this should be much of a challenge for him.

it’s just embarrassing, if you saw the last message he had sent her.

“are you sure? if i send this, i'll probably have to leave early.”

to: seulki whatever i’m not changing my bedsheet to silk don’t come over then [read, 6:33 pm]  fine i changed my mind i just ordered it online it says it’ll deliver sometime tomorrow wanna come over and test it out for yourself then? you know, to break it in or whatever [delivered, 9:52 pm]

@16lies

[remrse]

dare: call someone close to you and tell them you're engaged

if one was to ask jaerim who his closest friend was, it would be an easy question to answer. he doesn’t even need to scroll through his contacts to find her name, it was the very last number he had called.

shiah — 54 minutes ago

it should be easy, breaking a news like this to your close friend. if they really were your closest friend, they’d know in an instant that you didn’t mean what you said. they’d know, because they would be a part of the engagement you were planning; they’d know if you were even thinking of proposing, because that’s what close friends are for. 

it should be easy, but for some reason, he finds himself hesitating as his thumb hovers over her name, before eventually scrolling past it, figuring that there would be an easier recipient for this call. it’s like how he tiptoes around the subject when he’s telling her about a new girl he started seeing, or how he avoids talking about his exes around her—it should be an easy conversation between two close friends, but somehow, these conversations always felt a little heavier with her. almost as if there was more to their friendship.

his finger lands on the next name he sees. it was a missed call, one he hadn’t bothered returning because he knew what the other wanted from him. he’ll give him the money, as he always does, he just wants to make him wait around for it. (and promise he wasn’t going to gamble it all away.) it's the least he could make him do, after everything he's done for him.

yoonsu — 5 hours ago

“i’m engaged. pick out a suit, i need a groomsman.” 

@plushvibes @eatrun

[remrse]

jaerim still remembers that midsummer night like it was only yesterday.

he was far too drunk to be remembering it as clear as day, but every detail was etched deep in memory. that was the night he had gotten dumped (this isn’t the groundbreaking part of the story), and the same night he picked up a paint brush again after years of shunning the canvas. the latter alone was something worth celebrating—he had missed painting, yearned for the feeling of wet paint gliding across a blank canvas, and wanted to feel like he was good at it again—but not when it's a product of the truth he tried so hard to suppress.

his girlfriend of five months had just broken up with him and the first person that came to mind was raon. he showed up at the bar she was working at and spent the night drowning his sorrows. the usual, it’s what he does every time he gets his heart broken. he claims it’s because no one makes a heartbreak remedy as good as hers, but he knows the cure isn’t in the drinks, but in the girl that makes them. 

it was her presence he sought after whenever he needed help mending his broken heart. at first, it was because she didn’t know him as well as shiah did, and they didn’t have as much history as he did with seulki. it made it easier, confiding in a stranger about the things he wishes he forgot the next morning. and as much as seulki does a fine job in distracting him from the pain, he needed someone to pour his heart out to; someone to laugh at him and the tragedy that is his love life, to make him feel like things aren’t as bad as he thought they were. (and they really weren’t, as long as she was there with him.) 

you would think someone who has been through this many breakups would get used to it, but seo jaerim is too much of a romantic to harden his heart and listen to his mind. it’s why he needs raon’s brutal honesty—at least, that’s what he tells himself every time he goes looking for her with pieces of his heart. 

that night, after he had gotten home in the cab she sent him back in (he wanted to ask if she could stay with him for the night, but remembers their pact to stay friends and decided against it), he finally picked up the paint brush that was lying next to the empty canvas he had spent months staring at, willing himself to create something as effortlessly as he used to when he was a wide-eyed teenager riveted by the world he knew nothing of.

maybe it was the alcohol in his system, or the innate desire for a person so close yet so out of reach, his hands moved quicker than his mind, painting a picture of what he kept hidden in his heart. he says that heartbreak is the biggest stimulant of artistic muse and that the breakup inspired him to paint, but even he knows that would be a flat out lie. as his hands danced across the empty canvas, the person on his mind was not she who had broken his heart, but she who does not know has his heart. 

she was the one person who felt further than the stars but had a warmth stronger than the sun. she was always around, dangling before him like a treat out of reach, and that only made him want her even more. (it doesn’t help that he’s once had a taste of the forbidden fruit, one he’s taken a bite out of knowing he shouldn’t have. could that be why it tasted sweeter than the fruits handed to him on a plate?)

when sunlight poured into his apartment the next morning, he swears, hungover with a pounding headache, that the painting would never see the light of day. even if he had been waiting for this day in years, for the day he would be able to pick up a paint brush and create something that did not reek of guilt and regret—the two things that clouded his mind every time he stood before a blank canvas. (he was afraid, to paint, for fear that the result would be one that reminded him of a mistake he’s yet to forgive himself for; a creation of his that never saw the world.)

the painting, along with all his age old art supplies that didn’t work as well as they used to, found its way into the back of his closet, to be hidden from the world, as his heart was from her. it’s okay, he tells himself, you’re better off deciding which artworks to display in a museum; it’s okay, he tells himself, you’re better off as friends.

but it’s not okay, he realises the night they crossed the line they had been dancing around all these years. he was drunk, again, but his mind was just as sharp as it was that midsummer night. he realised it when they locked lips again after all this time, that a mere friendship is not what he wants; that he no longer wants to hide his heart as he had hidden the painting that bears his heart.

the new gallery was still missing a center piece, one that would generate enough buzz to kick off its opening, a monumental event for his family. journalists have been asking, “why did you stop painting?”, and his grandpa wanted to see him paint again (he says jaerim was the best at it amongst his cousins and it was a pity he had stopped). most of all, he wanted to be honest, even if not to her, to himself. 

“a little more to the left,” he says, taking a step back, watching as the movers hung up the final piece that would complete the gallery. “perfect.”

midsummer secret artist: seo jaerim

[adaestra]

“I have searched for a sanctuary in the mouth of the beast and wondered why my heart got stuck in its teeth.”

— Asking for forgiveness never seemed more terrifying //  b.s.h