MISS ATOMIC BOMB,
and for a second there we’d won yeah, we were innocent and young @fteunju
there’s only a few things junho can appreciate from being from a group that isn’t constantly bombarded with overwhelming fans, and arguably the greatest thing to go along with it is his freedom of mobility. how the other more well-known idols of the industry manage to get around a city of ten million without a constant trail of fans lingering behind is beyond him — he likes still being classified as somewhat normal. sure, there are the occasions when someone will recognize him on the street, but those are rare, and most often only result in a few pictures from afar that are only posted to fan club blogs.
but he feels some pressure now, being invited out for some food and time at an arcade with jackrabbit entertainment artists that include: eunju. it’s a challenge not to let himself seem too obvious, sneaking glances, standing too close when the situation doesn’t call for it. junho has grown far too physically attracted to her in the privacy of their own time that now is their first test keeping things lowkey in the public eye — literally. so to play the part, junho dresses himself as casually as possible: hoodie, jeans, vans and a face mask to keep the attention off himself not just within the group, but to the strangers around him as well. fan rumors leaking to the executives at his company wouldn’t just be bad for their images as a whole, but detrimental to their relationship as well.
they play along with the whole charade of not being familiar with one another, using formalities whenever they had to around the other trainees. the group gathers around an air hockey table for some time before one of the trainees triumphantly throws his fists up into the air when he beats his friend, 5-4. at first it’s an organized, cohesive group one moment, and the next, slowly tapers off in different directions to play their own games in pairs or smaller groups. he tries to make it look like a casual thing, discreetly making his way next to eunju, half of her bare face saturated in neon lighting.
“so — what do you want to play?” it’s short and formal, but the connotation holds more than just its meaning at face value. nobody seems to be in direct earshot of their conversation, and despite how normal everything probably seems from the outside looking in, there’s no saying who around them might really be listening.
there’s a dance dance revolution machine tucked far in the corner, to his own slight disbelief, untouched by any patrons. he gestures to it, already knows that she loves the game down to her favorite song that they’ve spoken about before, knows her answer even before he asks in order to keep up their facade. his eyes try not to sparkle too brightly when he looks her in the eye. it’s not even really so much a question, rather, a suggestion to get away from everybody else. “how about dance dance revolution?”
