@lgchanjoon
lgc family dinner, manager table.
he’s a familiar face. a familiar face she’s spent almost three years somewhat awkwardly not-quite avoiding. it had been another story once, one of shy glances and choroegraphed intensity, working at her brother’s studio, dancing together. and then it had been first kisses and held hands and dorky snaps sent back and forth.
and then it had been, i’m moving to seoul. and then it had been, i’m auditioning, and then it had been, i’m training. and then it had been, i don’t have time for this, long distance doesn’t work. that should have been the end of it. had she regretted ending things with him? of course. but she’d been on a new path now. she had to move forward, commit to her dreams, to her passion, to something she hopes will become a career. signing with lgc had been the change she needed, thee starting point for her new step forward.
only, a year later, she’s leaving the building and almost walks straight into him. still the same. maybe taller, maybe colder. his satoori grating a little rougher now, than it had back at home. she’s almost used to be surrounded by the supple smooth seoul sounds. so his boisterous exclamation surprises her in that moment.
it takes them years to become even okay in passing, letting the awkwardness thaw out a little more, bit by bit. but they’re not ready for this. he takes the last remaining seat at the table and of course, it’s right next to hers. of course, when it’s time for a smoke break or what have you and most of the table is gone, to return only later, circling the room as one does, the two of them are left in a frigid limbo beside one another. there are only inches between them but it feels like a gulf, wide and deep.
“so....how’s training been going lately?” she questions, stumbles over the words. they come out in a garble of seoul and busan sounds that don’t fit together. like she’s trying to absorb the people around her and reflect back what they’ll like best. maybe she is, maybe she’s insincere. a fake.
