— On the clock.
Schedule: Practice for an upcoming concert 2018 August
ft. @idohsan
There has been multiple times in which Sungyeol was told he lacks proper time management skills. Truthfully, he just doesn’t look at the time anymore when it comes to following a group agenda that doesn’t involve their manager knocking at his door. Sungyeol doesn’t have the energy to concern himself with the long hand of the clock. It’s been like that for a while, every minute spent away from the group, schedule or not, progressed into the classic tale of ignorance becoming bliss until it was addicting. The calm, the quiet. As long as the hour was right, the minutes were unimportant details whether he showed up where his agenda led him to five or forty minutes late.
At least his sports bag hit the ground at a timing that cloud be labelled as somewhat appropriate after having laid out multiple excuses of why he wasn’t on time to practice for a concert that was only twenty-four hours away. No one really believed him, Olympus’ manager calling out Sungyeol for a talk during which he swore on his truth. Needless to say, it lead nowhere and it only took a minute or two for the man to approach the remaining group.
“So.. Where are we?” It’s annoyingly nonchalant. As if he hadn’t been almost an hour late, gaze light and moving between members until it set on the youngest. They always had their differences, San and him. Spouted from a seed of age difference, neither their characters nor the environment they worked in gave them a push at a right direction. Almost like faith was stone set on a dysfunctional group, any positive or neutral relationship crumbling as time passed. Sungyeol couldn’t exactly pin point when his feelings for San flipped for the worst. After all, some years of his life were blurrier and more disrupted than others. But he was sure it was in midst of uncalled fits and the child living up to his title in Yeol’s eyes.
His hands went up to stretch, sleepy back deliciously cracking at the movement. Almost as if he had rolled out of bed fifteen minutes ago. Public knowledge begged to differ, dead eyes and expressionless features speaking for themselves. “Any changes in the choreography? Arrangements?” He huffed out directly at San and let his hands free fall back to his sides, taking solace in the pockets of his apparel.
It was one of those days that felt like a ticking time bomb would go off at any moment. Life felt too heavy and weighed his shoulders down too much for the man to believe in a positive day amongst the members of Olympus. Then again, it was never really that in the first place.
