#idbelair

[idxnoah-blog]

sirens.

( detail your character training/practicing (vocal) ; noah shows up hungover to a vocal practice with @idbelair. )

noah can illustrate a timeline of all the mistakes he’s committed. he’s cursed to remember every detail, agonizingly so. there are memories that never solidify themselves as such. there are nights of too much booze he can’t recall, and it’s probably for the best. does he want to know who he disgraced and disrespected? no. the halloween party already serves as a constant pain in the ass. he made an idiot of himself. fought with others he deemed as friends once. again, probably for the best. he’s always been shit at everything. keeping friendships unscathed, of course noah’s trash in that department.

yet he drags heavy feet to one of 99’s many dungeons—practice rooms and doesn’t knock when he enters. with sunjung, noah doesn’t find the need to fake manners or a wholesome personality. he can’t be bothered. she knows him, anyway. knows the shit he gets himself into. sometimes, she’s there for the ride. as horrible as he is sustaining relationships, he can make friends easily. casual at best, though. ones that don’t dwell into the deep end until they’re both lost in blue secrets.

hungover, noah forces his body to an empty chair and collapses, head lulling back as a headache penetrates his sanity. “was i with you last night?” he doesn’t regard sunjung with greetings nor a smile. he gets straight to the point. “i don’t fucking remember anything. all i know, i had too much to drink.” what’s new. it doesn’t come as a surprise to him, waking up and feeling like he was dropped kicked by a MMA fighter. (maybe he was. who knows.)

so much for proper training. so much for utilizing both their times efficiently. he asked for this, the vocal lesson and the hungover. now, noah is paying the price. his throat is hoarse, his ears are sensitive, his lips crack and bleed as he talks. noah’s a fucking idiot, but he’s there. even if his body is recoiling, he’ll make the most of sunjung’s expertise. recovering from a night of hard liquor then training, he’s thrown back to the days of training all over again. another error he so vividly remembers. “go easy on me today, will you.”

[idsungyeol-archive]

— Missing pieces.

Belair’s apartment building. September 2018, 3.41 am.

ft. @idbelair​

It’s almost funny how much an exhausted mind can achieve. There was no plan of action. No warning given. It was just that one minute Kim Sungyeol was sprawled across his couch, heat of his laptop lulling him into a daze in which his mind was half asleep as the last of his concentration was on the content he was watching. Next thing he knew he was out of his apartment, rushing to get to the familiar location. As if somehow plausible speed or a decent hour would make him forget the connections he’d made. 

Objectively, maybe it was his fault. Partially for being rather stupid and overlooking many hints that surfaced when they were in each other’s presence. Partially for never looking over the evidence Sunjung herself handed him. There was so much context in those videos. Yet, he stored them in a folder on his computer, hiding behind his schedules and the Midas tyranny instead of watching them when received. The small clips piled until there was enough to produce a short film. Until he was exhausted enough to fall into a pit of the wrongs he might have done. In other words, he fell into missing his friend. 

At first the videos felt like closure. But the editing that came with each picture. And the words that cut trough ending scenes. The damn words narrated over the clips. That’s when the fruit of Sunjung’s hobby flipped into clues. Ones that he had to arrange and rearrange multiple times to get the order and the significance right, his last attempts consisting of Sungyeol clicking randomly on thumbnails until the chain made sense. In a way, that was the joke of the entire situation — he didn’t even need a properly working mind to outline the main idea. All his educational background taken into consideration, he really was nothing but book smart. The most hilarious part of the whole ordeal was the fact that he had deluded himself, too. For who knows how long, he had talked himself into giving her a title the girl did not deserve. Believing she was family. And she was. Maybe just not the kind of family he thought of.

That’s what led him to ringing her doorbell at an hour one would consider ungodly. After almost a month of silence from both sides, Sungyeol failed to consider that disrupting his friend’s (?) rest wasn’t reasonable. In fact, there was no reason she should even open the door for him. But hope is fool’s gold. Having been under that title for a while, there was no reason for him to stop. So he rang the doorbell a few more times before shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket and pacing around the hallway in front of the door. Exhaustion still filled his limbs, but his priorities were resorted.

[idaroon]

stars.

with @idbelair at kcon day two, after pro.j performance

if aroon never listens to pick me ever again it will still be too soon. the song was good at first, but now the chorus makes him cringe and he still isn’t over the fact that he isn’t the center. not that it matters, he is a debut idol now

( lies, it matters, it matters a lot )

and he doesn’t need it anymore. titanium had their debut stage the previous day and aroon still feels chills when he thinks about it. it’s a strange feeling whne you want something so much and works so hard for years and years to have it and you finally acchieve it. of all the scenarios he imagined for his debut at kcon in the us was not one of them.

it makes titanium feels more important, but it puts more pressure on them, like now that they debuted in such spetacular fashion they can only go up, no failure accepted. in some sense aroon is fine with it, having big expectations dumped over his shoulders is something he grew up with, there was no moment of his life where he didn’t have to deal with pressure. first his parents, then the trainers at midas, now the public. it’s fine, he can do it.

or so aroon tells himself, it’s easy to repeat it until he believes in this mantra so he can sleep instead of spend all his time thinking about it.

it’s strange to now be officially part of this world of large events and performances when until few months ago he was just part of the audience, someone like all the others, watching the stars and wishing he was there too. well, now here is, time to make the most of it.

once they leave the stage aroon walks around until he can find some place where he can watch the girls or at least sit and relax before he goes back to his room. the backstage area is crowded and he makes his way trying to not bother anyone, but he is so lost in his thoughts he bumps into someone. “i’m sorry.” he mutters, only now realizing who the person is. “sunbae.” aroon bows down in front of the girl, trying to not let his nerves get the best of him. it’s not every day you meet belair from heaven.

[idsungyeol-blog]

❄️

—send me ❄️for my muse’s response to being underneath mistletoe with your muse.  specify whether it’s accidental or on purpose

yes, sure, christmas was silly from where he stood. yes, the traditions seemed quite cheesy and unnecessary in every sense of the words. however, sungyeol engaged in the holiday in modestly measured doses. ones that made him high and were in his favour, of course. simply because selfishness always defeated all odds. even the logic he tended to bask himself in so loudly was left behind.

because, logically speaking, why would people kiss under some kind of a fauna. why was it even a necessity? there are much more excited places to kiss in than under a small branch of some sort. sungyeol could name a few off the top of his head, like on the roofs of buildings late at night or in a rushing street right at midday to stop time for a moment or two. why a branch?

however, he wasn’t going to profusely say no after ending up under the mistletoe while shopping for a christmas tree that would suit his apartment. why would he. it was a win only situation, after all. thus, after an elderly man that had been taking them around the selection pointed out their position, he acts to tradition.

“this is very stupid, just so everyone knows,“ he points out just to seem like he hadn’t completely lost his stance before his attention turned to her. there was an undying feeling of pressure in his chest as he fell under her gaze. round, dove eyes seemingly expectant despite sungyeol pulling his mask down. there’s no rush in his push, as he came half a step closer. the pads of his fingers brushed along her cheek to her jaw until the digits hooked onto her neck. for a moment, the reasoning behind the actions disappeared and only the action itself remained. a man focusing on a woman dearly loved and engraved into each particle of him. that’s how he looked at her as he drew closer, as if she was everything, gaze narrowing until all that was left in focus was a pair of cherry lips. and then they disappeared out of view, but he could feel them on his own, sparks igniting under closed lids. immediately, a need to step closer rushed trough his blood, begging him to react further. however, he chose to pull back. because some sanity still remained despite however crazy he might have been for the delicate woman.

[idsungyeol-archive]

— Missed Call.

Near a local restaurant. 2018 August.

 ft. @idbelair​

It was a little bittersweet. In a way, seeing her pass by him like a gust of wind was reassuring, considering that at that point Sungyeol hadn’t seen his long time friend for a time period that was a much longer than he preferred. Sunjung was alive, well and seemingly too busy to engage with him. Or at least that was one of the excuses she told him after picking up one of many of his calls to which he could only nod along, pout and furrowed brows he supported hidden behind the telephone. Of course she was busy, it was summer. The season of Heaven, supporting a silent promise of a comeback that would be replayed on the radio over and over into autumn in a gentle refusal to let summer go. Heaven weren’t summer queens for nothing. 

The thing that bothered him was that it never was an issue before. It has been many years since Sungyeol had met the girl that was a tribute to old Hollywood. He had considered them to be close if the habitual conversations, club visits and frequent meetings for lunch that were fitted in between packed schedules were anything to go by. At first he thought that maybe Belair had something new on her plate. How would he know when she barely talked to him and the calls would end in no more than two minutes after the mindless mandatory small talk was out of the way. The idea would have been something to go by, hadn’t witnessing her out and about in the middle of the day hit him the wrong way. 

Was she avoiding him? A lot of thoughts came to him late, it’s no surprise that the current one did as well. The idea hit him where it hurt, deflated his ego. It felt as if he was ignored by a member of his family. In his mind it seemed only fair to name Sunjung that, having developed very strong feelings towards the young woman. Where he cared about her as much as he did for himself. Or even exponentially more.

He’s after her as soon as he registered that it was Belair, hand extended towards the girl that passed him as if that would help him catch her. Her stage name faded in the back of his throat before he could call out. It’s only proper to address her by her real name to avoid attention in the relatively busy street. Less risky, just in case a fan with particularly good hearing passed. Thus, her name leaves his lips loud and clear while his long legs worked their way to catch up with her quickly. “Hey,” it’s not a hello, but a request for attention. The hand that tried to chase her ended up light on her shoulder while Sungyeol matched his step to hers. “I must be getting really good at choosing my masks and caps since you passed me like that.. I’m almost offended.” It’s an obvious joke, prominent in the toothy grin he revealed after the hand that was on Sunjung pulled his mask down. “Where are you headed? I called you today, wanted to see if you’d like to grab lunch.” But was ignored.

[idjinwoo-blog]

dawn.

+ Detail your character training/practicing (dance) ; @idbelair. + 5 exp. + 5 dance.

it’s not that he gets there too early.

but jinwoo doesn’t go home.

sunlight filters in through cracks of blinds, stretching across hardwood and hitting jinwoo as he repeats footsteps for the nth time. practice makes perfect. but he’s more of a workaholic than perfectionist. 

there are too many things to do: concert prep, comeback prep, whatever-else-prep he has no idea about because 99 entertainment is notorious for rushing, for telling them important news last minute. tis why jinwoo is a constant engine never shutting off, never running out of fuel but that’s relative. schedules can and will appear out of nowhere, jam itself on an ample, clogged calendar like it’s been there all along and not for a paltry few minutes. and eye roll. jinwoo’s tired, beat and the sun just rose from the east, but he wants to splay himself on hardwood, steal what he can of rest because he needs it.

knees wobbly, calves burning, his chest dramatically raises and collapses with breath akin to pants as he tries to catch up, tries to fill his lungs with oxygen as he expels carbon dioxide. thirst lines down his throat, stale breath pressed on his tongue and the roof of his mouth. he’s in no state to be let loose in public so it comes to him.

he expects belair soon enough.

so jinwoo works himself ragged, half anticipating someone to invade and half drifting in and out of reality, mind wandering, floating to be anywhere else. they travel to countries for business never for vacation; he can use one right about now but resting isn’t effecient, resting doesn’t build and dematerializes will. he can’t have that when his will is already on unstable footing, on the verge of collapse.

he wishes he can for a minute, but a minute is sixty seconds, and time is valuable. jinwoo keeps tabs on a concept constantly used. each tick is a second a gone, and paranoia hits hard, hammers against his chest. air knocked from his lungs, he loses balance and nearly collides into the mirror. only when his hands break his fall does he notice the veneer of condensation blocking his reflection.

and the person behind him.