#hdharu

[hdseungho]

gold on the shoulders —

written for hasegawa haru (@hdharu) ♡

seungho's all stretched out on the sand, towel crooked under his shoulders. somewhere up the beach, distorted through a portable speaker, son dambi's "saturday night" is playing (looped, a little too loud) and it's the kind of song that shouldn't fit this quiet and somehow does. the song floats over the sand and water, nostalgic in a way that sneaks up on you.

he didn't grow up like this. hardly any beach weekends, or salt in his hair, but trot/pop music did drift from your local noodle shop so there's that. but god, he wishes he did. the taiwan wave rolls in easy, forgiving laps and his mind goes blank.

haru's nearby, new member in name only, long-time bromancer in every other sense. seungho watches him absently. the cameras sit back, pretending they're just scenery. the chorus hits, echoing off laughter down the shore. seungho exhales, turns his head toward haru, one eye closed against the sun. "you hear that?" he says, nodding toward the music. "that song makes it sound easy. like all you gotta do is show up and move together."

[hdyeonseok]

soir bleu and the art of tilting just so. for @hdharu 🌿

THREE WEEKS AFTER MOVING INTO HYDRA’S DORMS, GU YEONSEOK DECIDES THAT HE WILL TENTATIVELY TRY TO LIKE HASEGAWA HARU.

there are a lot of things to like about him. as a housemate, haru is neat and trim, considerate and even-tempered. yeonseok’s sister calls and asks about him every week with a clockwork sort of regularity, and yeonseok can’t say he doesn’t understand why she does. haru reminds him of the dark waters of the coast back home. measured and tranquil. moonlight thrown cleanly upon a glassy surface that mirrors the sky. and it’s nothing like yeonseok’s own tempests and tumults, but even so— there’s something more to it than that, isn’t there? if yeonseok plunged his arm beneath the waves of the sea, watched his skin disappear inch by inch, swallowed mouthful after mouthful of its water and salt, he’d still never be able to comprehend its depth. so too, does it seem to be with haru. there is an abyss between them.

but he’s interesting, is what yeonseok concludes, when asked how things are going. seok-ah, i think you’re learning to make friends, is what his brother says back.

( … is that what it is? )

yeonseok repositions himself so that his head hangs upside down off the couch. he waits for the blood to rush down to it. friendship— much less, a friendship with haru— feels like a concept too faraway to yet fathom. yeonseok loathes living anywhere but the present. he hears the door to haru’s room click open ( speak of the devil ) and, despite himself, feels one end of his lip twitch upwards.

“... running errands again? you ever feel like taking it easy?”

[hdchaeyeon]

café booth conversations vol. 1 —

written for hasegawa haru (@hdharu) ♡

it's been seventy-two hours, and the meeting is still stuck in chaeyeon's brain. she's currently haunting a corner booth in a café near the company, and her sunglasses are propped up in her hair like a plastic tiara she's too tired to wear. the planner in front of her is a wasteland of blank pages, save for a few frantic doodles: cute cakes sliced down the middle, crooked crowns, and two stick figures standing close enough to be a threat, labeled with massive, neon-pink question marks.

she doesn't look up when the seat across from her creaks. the air brings a specific, dry-wood warmth, santal 33, chaeyeon thinks. it's the olfactory equivalent of a vintage leather jacket: a cult classic that's been over-exposed by every cool guy in seoul, yet somehow, on haru, it still feels like a secret. it's understated. it's "i didn't try this hard" in a bottle. a flush creeps up her cheeks, but it's buried away for some time five years from now.

she finally meets his eyes, letting out a breath that's parts sigh, parts exorcism.

"so… are you actually doing this?" she gestures vaguely at the air, as if she could conjure the agency execs and their powerpoint dreams back into the room. "the whole co-ed experiment. shared dorms, which, no. absolutely not! i draw the line at communal bathroom schedules." she slides her sunglasses onto the table with a sharp clack, leans in, grabs his hands, and watches him, searching for a crack in the calm. "please. tell me you're spiraling. i need a spiraling partner."

[hdtalent]

HYDRA LABELS @HYDRALABELS

HYDE ACADEMY 학원 HYDRA Next Debut Project HASEGAWA HARU

2026.04.27 10:00 (KST)

#HYDEACADEMY #HASEGAWAHARU #HDROOKIES #VARSITY #NETFLIX ⓒ All Rights Reserved Hydra Labels Co.

[hdriyan]

FT. @hdharu 🦁

Backstage at Yonsei University is total chaos. Cables snake across the floor, staff brush past without apology, hands appear out of nowhere with towels, with bottles, or with instructions that dissolve the second they're given. Everything is too immediate, suggesting the performance hasn't ended so much as it's followed them in. Riyan takes a water bottle without looking, twists it open, and drinks like he's been underwater for three minutes too long but make it demurely. He taps the back of his hand across his lips gently, eyes cutting sideways toward Haru like he needs to confirm it happened outside of himself. He's still carrying the grain of the stage, but loosened underneath now, uncoiled, or unguarded in a way that feels close despite their minimal interactions.

The reception was the best they've ever had. And that made Riyan think Haru might be the missing variable in an equation he didn't realize he was solving. Up close, everything is louder in a different way, the echo of the crowd still ringing in his ears, the faint hitch in his own breath, the way adrenaline lingers like a second heartbeat. "You felt that, right?" he asks, not demanding, but not quite casual either. Riyan tilts his head slightly, studying haru with an attention built out of shared exhaustion and the particular intimacy of surviving the same cut. "I ask because I didn't feel this during debut. Maybe it's because of you joining," Riyan adds, cheeky because he doesn't like to hide the truth, yet he is testing how much of it he can get away with.

[hdmiru]

𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒓, @hdharu

right when miru felt like she was finally getting the hang of this whole industry, hydra throws her a curveball. "a co-ed group? do those things even work out anymore?" she recalls whispering to haru as soon as their secret mini meeting ended. of course, not loud enough so the staff can't hear her. nevertheless, she's a little doubtful of the whole thing.

however, she's also miru, which means that she chooses to weigh the benefits and risks of everything before making a choice, and the lists she made seem to heavily lean toward this being more of a positive than a negative. more exposure is always positive in this world, isn't it?

that's how she finds herself sitting across from haru in the company building cafeteria, eating away at a pasta salad that she's convinced herself is the best choice for dinner, sharing her thoughts about this whole thing. "so, what do you think?" she says before taking a bite from her salad, looking up at him with intrigued eyes.

out of everybody in the room, she would've actually guessed that haru would be the first to say no, solely because the aesthetic didn't seem like his thing. but then again, it's not like girlnextdoor's debut was completely her thing either, yet she pulled it off. "it's a little risky, don't you think so? i mean, if it works out, i can see it being pretty sensational, but if not..."

[hdjaeyi]

human behavior / for @hdharu

she walks into the practice room the boys are in and they know who she’s expecting. they hoot, holler, nothing new. it comes with being friends with someone as perfect as haru, she supposes. it’s good practice without the repercussions if they continue to be close when they’re both in the spotlight. jaeyi’s gotten used to their teasing since the first time she’s held conversation with him, but it still manages to make the blood rush to her cheeks.

the instructor wraps up and dismisses them. jaeyi watches haru get his bag, stands by the wall stiffly as she waits for him. “hey,” she greets him, and wonders to herself if she should walk with him all the way to the elevator or to just stay here. she hears the practice room door close shut, signifying the last of them being gone. jaeyi sees their knowing smiles through the glass door, and knows that the redness on her face isn’t helping.

“are you hungry? do you have anything lined up after lunch? i was wondering if it’d be better to just stay here and get a meal later or something. away from their eyes and all that,” she says, dipping her head like they have something to hide.

they don’t, but people have a way of making their own assumptions.

it’s nice having a friend who thinks the same way she does, reserved in the same way she is unlike ken or yeonseok. it’s nice to have his reassurance. “i had something i wanted to ask advice about, actually.”

[hdyeonseok]

appetite, observed. for @hdharu 🥀

NOH YEONSEOK WAS RAISED TO BE A YOUNG MAN OF PRINCIPLE.

before the black-and-white photos of his face were taped on every utility pole within a one-and-a-half kilometer radius from his apartment, he’d been nothing short of a hometown hero, a neighborhood darling. the sort of boy who went out of his way to walk older pedestrians across the street, carry armfuls of grocery bags for overzealous shoppers, split twin pops with the snot-nosed kid who lived next door. sure— his high school teachers would argue that he didn’t think far enough ahead into the future. but what was the point of that, when the future was just one, tremendous chasm of indefinite scope?

( would his teachers have guessed, after all, that in just a little over a year, it would be teachers on the menu, the last course of the meal? )

yeonseok blinks, and he’s staring at the gentle curve between haleron’s neck and shoulder. The Passenger is quiet and has buried itself somewhere underneath his ribcage to avoid the cold. somehow, its silence is worse. it makes yeonseok feel like the feral urge to sink his teeth into haleron’s flesh is exclusively his own. ( is it? ) his eyes flit upwards to assess the professor’s face, and he finds that the hunger does not relent. food is food is food is food. where are your principles now, yeonseok?

“… if your research hits a dead end, i’ll find another way,” he says. a statement, but the end of it is lifted in uncertainty— a question, then. “feel like i might have to. don’t know if the recent changes we’ve been seein’ are a good sign or not.”