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."














