crossed wires.
jinhwan asks daein’s advice for something that daein can’t answer, and jinhwan starts to see that the person he looked up to isn’t like he thought he’d be— with @idaein.
jinhwan meanders down the hall of the company building, slow but purposeful, peering into every practice room window as he looks for a familiar face. he gave up on practicing not too long ago, set his guitar down roughly and abandoned his things in one of the rooms. it’s not something jinhwan is used to doing— jinhwan is usually the type to be glued to his guitar, always carrying it around with him, even at the airport when they have managers and staff to help him with his equipment. now, the sight of his guitar is enough to make him sick. it was no longer a way to freedom, of expressing himself— it was a shackle. it was the guitar he used to play songs he didn’t want to play, songs that weren’t his own, pressing him into a mold he would never fit into that grows more and more uncomfortable every day. the guitar he couldn’t even play for the public, to make things even worse, chaining him to a reputation of an unprofessional musician that jinhwan knows he could break if he was given so much as a chance. jinhwan was sick of it, the itch under his skin unbearable. he needed to break out of it before it broke him.
but there is the whole problem of it all, in jinhwan’s eyes. how is he supposed to approach the company about something like this? how does one ask their captor to let them free, even if only for a minute? jinhwan doesn’t know how to approach the situation, how to barter with management for some more freedom, some more control over his fate. he wasn’t asking for the world, just a bit more of a say in what xlnc does. jinhwan went out of the way to prove his abilities time and time again, learned to rap for them, improved his singing for them, perfected his guitar skills for them, even showed he could dance for them. what more can he do to convince the company, show them that this was a good idea? jinhwan hates to admit it, but he needs help with this. he couldn’t face this alone, unprepared, at risk of screwing things up even more for himself— he needs someone to guide him.
jinhwan is grateful when he finds daein alone in one of the practice rooms, knocking on the door before opening it quietly. daein has always been someone he looked up to— daein was personable, well-liked, in a well-established group. he was steady, stable, gave good advice to jinhwan in the rare case he asked for it. he was probably the best person jinhwan could go to in this situation, and daein rarely minded giving advice, so jinhwan doesn’t feel bad opening the door.
“hey, hyung, sorry to bother you,” jinhwan says, peeking his head around the frame. “i need some advice on something, do you mind?”
