cry for me

min haera / the wild things / i had a marvellous time ruining everything

[candicepattxns]

person: what do you want to be when you grow up?

me: worshipped

[ughaera]

ugdohyun​:

(...)

“hey,” he chirps in to interrupt, giving junseo a playful nudge in the side as he joins this conversation – with great reluctance and trepidation, unlike what the good-natured grin on his lips would suggest to a third-party. “what’s so interesting over here?” his brows raise convincingly as he asks, despite having overheard enough already. he’d love to deny being ‘kind of an asshole,’ if he could do so wholeheartedly. his eyes lock with hers briefly, and it reminds him that he’s not quite as impervious as he’d like to be. “if you’re gossiping, i want in.”

there are different soundtracks to her life – that one song that sent her spiralling into the blackhole of the underground music, the pulsating heavy-metal screams that she’d blasted through her headphones after the final tear-streaked argument with her family, the first cover she’d played on stage in hongdae. as for nam dohyun, there’s a whole separate album for him. after all, short-lived tales of daydreams are what the best music are made of. it opens with a soft, dreamy-pop song; pastels and cheesy lyrics about fluttering hearts and shy smiles and innocent kisses on cheeks, almost too good to be true, almost perfect. (haera has always drowned in imperfection, so maybe, she should’ve run the first chance she could but nam dohyun felt like quicksand and so, she’d let herself sink in – a mistake she never stops regretting.) then, it takes a painful turn with some melodramatic angsty ballad, overdone and cliché, about heartbreak. there are a few filler tracks along the lines of forgotten memories resurfacing during the heat of spring.

(but there are none about forgiveness.)

now, the track switches to pure loathe and fury – a rare type of melody for her. the volume swells as he approaches her with that god-awful smile on his face, the bass picking up its pace before finally exploding when he speaks. yet, it’s paired with an almost uncanny sensation: a spark. when his eyes meet hers, it almost feels traitorous. reminds her of the one incident in the club where she’d gotten punched in the face by some girl after she’d made a disparaging comment about her boyfriend – only this time, she never saw it coming.

yet, it seems almost unfair that dohyun is never the one caught off guard; always ready and strategised with a winning smile and laidback, amiable comment. haera wonders how she ever found that attractive. “i was just telling our friend here about how i heard that you’re an asshole,” she replies sardonically, a lazy drawl as she emphasises the word, asshole as if it hadn’t been said enough to dohyun already. (in haera’s eyes, it will never be enough. she will repeat those two syllables until they replace every other quixotic memory she has of him.) 

she gives him an insolent smile, licking her glossy lips. spite burns through her eyes, but she knows that only dohyun will see that, the rest would probably disregard it as just your typical dose of min haera’s mischief – after all, only he’s been the lucky recipient so far. junseo exchanges a glance, his gaze shifting nervously from haera to dohyun to haera again, as if trying to decipher this peculiar air of tension. spite, mischief; hate, love; lines easily crossed and confused way too often. she doesn’t blame him when he excuses himself, citing some fairly unbelievable excuse about having to check on the practicalities and the instruments and god knows what.  “be careful,” she calls out to his resounding back. “you never know when he’s going to run off. might even break something and apologise only a few years later.” potentially, the statement’s a little too pointed, but as evidenced from her past behaviour, subtlety has never been one of her strengths. plus, what can nam dohyun do? stare at her with those puppy eyes as if she was another girl in the crowd who would fall straight to her knees for him once again? give her another insincere apology - all the words that should be said but not the ones she needs to hear? she’s seen those scenes before and she most definitely does not need a rerun.

she places a hand on his shoulder mockingly, a dramatically exaggerated sigh leaving her lips. “god, this must be so difficult for you – first, seeing me at my show and now, playing one with me? damn, dohyun, if you missed me, you just needed to say so. i even gave you a chance to do it!”

[ughaera]

afterparty. sometime in the past. for @ugksb​.

whatever she has going on with sungbin reminds her of that one stupid song from that one cheesy disney film about lions they’d once watched together – life of a circle or circle of life, something like that. she can’t really remember much except for that fact that he tasted very much like leftover pizza and that she left an array of marks trailing down the side of his neck just so he could flaunt it at a the wild things show the next day. it feels like they’ve just travelled a roundabout; from being friends who fucked each other frequently to being a muted, toned down (at least for haera’s standards) couple to once again, friends? exes? who still manage to end up in bed with each other. not that she’s complaining – sungbin feels good in a familiar sort of way, giving her warmth and laughter and fun in a way that no random stranger else can.

truth be told, there had been an element of unpredictability after their breakup – similar to the way she’d lingered in his house a little too long after they’d finalised things, unsure about what the right move should be. never had she experienced anything so placid; sure, they’d exchanged fairly acidic words, but none had been out to strike or grievously wound the other. it was just the plain truth, served on a cold platter. maybe that’s why he’d been the first person she texted after she got wasted a week later, after some shitty show where she’d ruined one of their sets by attempting to overcompensate with her antics, her lips craving the attention of another and no one could kiss the way sungbin could. (plus, only he answered her call at 3am on a tuesday night.) ironic, she remembers thinking the next day, throwing on one of his old hoodies, wanted freedom but still came running back to the same person she’d pushed away. there always something especially tantalising about having what you can’t have.

she shows up at the wild things show one night, partly out of boredom, partially to see sungbin on stage (even if they were over, she could still churn poetry about the way he made her feel when he was on stage) but mostly, a desire to get the rumour mill moving again. given that she’d stopped being so public with her affection, there had been speculation about their breakup circling around. even one of her band members had asked whether she was still with that cute wild things bassist. and as always, haera never gave up an opportunity to further fuel the sparks of crackling flame. (she even takes a blurry picture of the stage and captions it with a cryptic heart emoji. are they together or are they not? keep ‘em guessing.)

it’s easy to spot him once he’s off stage – boys like him are the reasons why songs are written. tall, dark and handsome with a lyrical smile; she can spot the numerous pairs of eyes trailing him as he makes his way towards the bar. by that time, she’s fairly tipsy from the free shots she’d swindled from a group of groupies, exchanging false promises of giving her drummer’s phone number for endless tequila shots. (they’ll hate her in the morning when they realise she accidentally-on-purpose wrote a wrong digit.) “hey!” she calls out to him, the edges of her glossy-pink lips curled upwards in a cheeky smile. pressing a little too close to him to be platonic, she gives him a coy glance through thick lashes. “hello, my favourite ex, you’re looking pretty cute tonight.”

[seoulities]

ig: minah320_97

[ughaera]

mirrorball. for @ugcjh​​. sometime in the past. 

it’s a tale as old as time: rockstars living for the short thrill at nightclubs that reek of unruliness and mistakes soaked with the cheapest brand of alcohol, min haera chasing any outline of fame. she’ll eat up any opportunity that’s served her way – that’s why she abandons her current princess-pop group for some punk-rock band that promises her they’ll make waves across hongdae (‘we’re different,’ they stress. haera doesn’t really care. as long as she gets to see her name up in lights brighter than the current ones) and that’s why she shows up at the club she knows jaehoon will be playing at.

the name ‘chun jaehoon’ – or better, SLØW, has been familiar for a long time, dating back from when she was still in her shitty old hometown; his music a staple on her shitty ipod that she could only afford because the ahjumma in the tonkatsu restaurant downstairs had taken pity on her. truthfully, she’s not quite sure what she’s trying to get out of him – he’s a little bit too old for her, solo acts don’t really need a supporting bass player (plus, not that haera would want to be in the background of someone else’s career), but well, it’s not like haera had ever done anything with a proper plan in hand. all that she knows is that he seems like a perfect way to catapult herself into the spotlight; maybe if someone spots them together? maybe if she posts a simultaneously ambiguous and telling picture? (in her wildest dreams, she pictures her face on his album covers or in a music video.)  

she spots him easily – it’s hard not to. “hey,” she greets, the edges of glossy-pink lips curled upwards – her ex in ulsan had once deemed it to be the most heartbreaking smile in town, although haera would argue that there wasn’t much competition. “remember me? we met a few times before! you follow me on instagram.”

(usually, there’s a set method of how haera reels them in. youth and good looks: her best arsenal. it usually goes in a set pattern of flashing them her prettiest smile, a coy glance under half-lidded eyes, a calculated place of hand on their arm. normally, she’s used to them begging for more, but jaehoon had been a little different. the details of it are hazy but she vaguely remembers saying something along the lines of “c’mon, give me your phone, you’ll regret it if you don’t, i’m a bassist in this new band, check us out sometime.”)

[idontusethisblogthanks-deactiva]

You‘re annoying

I’m hot as fuck so it doesn’t even matter

[ughaera]

deja vu. for @ugdohyun​.​

she can recognise his laughter in a room full of strangers – doesn’t matter if she’s drunk or sober, if the music’s loud enough to destroy her eardrums or the room’s still and silent, if it’s seven years ago or six months in the future. nam dohyun is here.

this feels like a reused set on a shitty remake of some cheesy teen drama. the same rehearsal room, the same ‘don’t you wish you had me’ smile he has on his face, the same song they’d once sang in that noraebang where they’d shared a kiss under the cheap glittery disco ball. it makes haera nauseous, and she feels the bile rise in her throat. she wonders whose nightmare is she living in – dohyun’s, because he’d spent so much effort and years into devising routes that circumvented running into her yet here they are again, or hers, because just a few days ago, she’d spilled and splattered her heart to him with the thought that they’d never see each other ever again.

must be her form of karmic retribution, she concludes, to have run into her ex-something repeatedly over the course of the last few days. when she spots the person who’d drawn up this asinine plan, she immediately pulls him aside. shin junseo, some guy she’d been in a band with once. he’d let her take more bass solos than she really deserved, let her go with neither second word nor a pleading glance like the rest of them, told her that she’d be a bigger star than she could ever imagine. she’d always promised that she’d repay his benevolence back one day, but she’d never thought that she’d keep the same phone number long enough for him to actually use it.

“hey,” she hisses, her voice muffled, trying to keep it as subtle as one can. desperation perfumes the tone of her voice and the perplexed look on junseo’s face tells her that he can hear it too – it’s not everyday min haera gives off an inkling of apprehension. “why is the lead singer from ctrl here? i thought you only needed a bassist ‘cause he got hospitalised for alcohol poisoning?” (she tries to avoid saying his name, given recent events. it leaves a bitter taste in her mouth – an ineradicable one that doesn’t seem to get washed away, even with alcohol.)

he gives her some shitty excuse, but the words drown in one ear and leave the other – but the message is clear: it’s just for this one show, what’s the big deal. “i heard,” she says, raising her voice just loud enough so that she knows, for a fact, that he’ll catch it. “that he’s kind of an asshole. you sure it’s worth it?”

not like she isn’t one either, but no one has ever said that you need clean hands to play a dirty game.

[ughaera]

ugdohyun​:

(...)

“no. of course not,” voiced neither in a combative nor defensive manner; just as a matter of fact, which betrays the fact that it feels like his heart is beating in his throat. he meets her eyes for the first time in a while, thinking it’d help bolster his fortitude but realizing all too quickly that it’s having the opposite effect. his brows furrow before he heaves a silent sigh. “i don’t know, haera.” he says her name with resolve, as if it makes up for all the times he went out of his way to avoid her these past few years – which was a rather impressive feat, given how small the hongdae indie scene really was. 

“same reason as you having to… pull that bullshit on-stage.” a could’ve been snarky comment that comes out too deflated to really stick a foe. “what’d you want out of that then? for me to walk away feeling good about myself?” ironic how the result is the polar opposite. “look, this is my mistake,” he mutters with a shake of his head. he raises his arm, the one her hand is wrapped around. “you should let me go now before i make more of them.”

haera’s learnt the hard way that the past is drawn in ink; as much as she wants to rewrite it, all she can do is to paint it with different colours. and at this moment, her eyes burning fire into his, it’s when she realises that’s what she’s been doing with dohyun all along – tinted their memories with the prettiest shades of pink, ignoring all the other times he’d been shown his true colours. good god, she forgot how much of a dick he really could be. (all of the sudden, she remembers the times she’d wanted to smack him in the fucking face. right now is one of those times.)

the way he says her name ignores the feelings she’d long repressed – he’d lost the privilege to sound so defeated, years and years ago when he put in more effort avoiding her than he had in their entire relationship (or whatever you wanted to call it). sure, her exes could call her a bad girlfriend but at the very least, she never purposely scheduled practices and hangouts with the sole purpose of avoiding them. fuck dohyun for showing up out of nowhere, fuck him for acting like he still knows her. 

even though it’s been years, haera fucking falls into his trap all over again and she regrets the brief moment of softness she’d allowed him to see. once again, to no one’s fucking surprise, nam dohyun’s name is synonymous with regret. if she wasn’t so upset at this whole situation, she might have even felt embarrassed for herself. maybe he’d done the right thing when he’d expunged himself from her life. they say that you don’t know what you have until it’s gone but now that dohyun’s in front of her, with that same grating self-pitying act, haera realises it’s the contrary. (you’re not fucking special for having issues, she wants to scream amongst many other things.)

pure ire simmers under her skin, flushing away the adrenaline and hurt and sadness and nostalgia that had been present just a few minutes earlier. she drops her grip on his hand forcefully, irritation extending even to her fingers. “is it really the same reason?” there’s a biting edge to haera’s voice. with no reason for her to remain civil, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. and a woman with nothing to lose and loose lips in the form of min haera? a show of chaos that haera would’ve revelled in, if she’d been an audience member and not the leading act. acerbity piercing her every word, she snaps at him. “i did it for the crowd. you talked to me for them, too?”

this is one of those rare times where she’s the one furious, and not the one, goading and striking matches. haera wonders if dohyun realises what he’s doing. she also wonders whether it’d be wrong to resort to violence; she’s always relied on razor-sharpness of her words to inflict the most damage but right now, all haera wants to do is punch him. “i just wanted you to say you still remembered, that you missed me and that you messed up. to say that you’re fucking sorry for what you did when we were in that fucking band together. but guess i was asking for too much.” she lets out a scoff of disbelief. all men do is have the fucking audacity; case in point: dohyun calling whatever she’s doing ‘bullshit.’

“no, dohyun,” she shoots back, eyes darkening, never once taking it off him. she’ll make sure he remembers her words and that they’ll haunt him late at night. “it was my mistake this whole time. i shouldn’t have wasted my time on you – back then and right now.” she leans forward, closer and closer, until she can feel the heat radiating off his skin, until there’s only nothing but a trifling gap separating them.

“fuck you,” she spits. “find your own way out, asshole.”

stepping back, she gives him a final glance, the disappointment and anger splayed for the world to see. doesn’t matter if the backstage crew’s looking at them, doesn’t matter if her bandmates are looking at her with some sort of morbid curiosity. at least, this time, she’s the one leaving him.

(end.) 

[ughaera]

ugsebin​:

(...)

If she were better with directions, they could’ve probably met up then and there, and saved themselves the trouble. Alas, Sebin remains directionally challenged. 

“Or, if there’s anywhere else you’d rather go…” She rubs the back of her neck, unable to think of anything else that would be worthwhile. Suppose anywhere is better than standing around here. “I’ll trust your direction, so go ahead.” 

haera likes things that remind her of herself: messy chaos, feeling too much or nothing at all, unrestrained laughter. sebin is none of those things. instead, sebin reminds her of her classmates from ulsan: prim, proper, professional. the overtly keen bow that she receives further accentuates her point and it sends a brief jolt of annoyance through haera’s spine. any reminder of her past is never welcome – although, she has to admit that her fervour does stroke her ego (but only in the slightest). this time, they’re coming to her for help; and she’s not the one who has to keep her head bowed down because her mummy and daddy couldn’t afford the settlement fee for whatever nonsense haera had gotten herself into this time.

so, she kind of means it when she says, “it’s nice to meet you too.” her eyes flitter, taking in sebin as a whole. she’s much taller than what haera would’ve expected her to be; her hair a fancy shade of gray that haera always wished she had enough money to pay for. (“then stop fucking spending on takeout and shitty alcohol,” kaito says, to which haera tells him to shut the fuck up and then, spends her money on yet another bottle of peach-flavoured soju.) her appearance is almost deceiving; the enthusiastic demeanour a mismatch with the entire look going on.

“to be honest, i don’t really go into the studio sober,” haera muses. it’s a bit of a lie, but no one ever said she couldn’t embellish her insouciant persona with harmless overstatements. after all, it’s their first time face-to-face encounter and as what the old sayings go, first impressions matter. “i’d offer to take you to a bar, loosen the nerves, but i heard you don’t drink.”

she loops her arm around the girl, a little too casual for their first meeting but haera’s always joked that social norms are for losers anyways. “so,” she drawls, a twinkle of mischief glimmering in her brown-lined eyes. “you can tell me why you don’t on the way. tell me everything about yourself. don’t leave out any details!”

[ughaera]

ugksb​:

(...)

she surprises him with her request, but even when he should’ve expected it, it forces a smile on his lips. “i’m pretty sure we’ve been nothing but friends for a while now, haera.” maybe those words are harsh, but there’s truth in them. “we could be. but you need to want that.” otherwise they’ll be right back again where they are now, as friends rather than lovers but with the same problems nonetheless. from what she’s been showing him, sungbin isn’t sure she wants to put in the effort; his doubt is bound to be audible in his voice.

there’s a moment where haera’s heart cracks – it doesn’t break but his words and actions are piercing enough to leave a delicate fracture. it’s not when he says that she made good decisions because that phrase makes her question whether he really did know her at all; no one’s ever complimented her judgement, only the very contradiction of that and so, it puts a small smile on her face. even until the end, sungbin has a way of surprising her, offering his own brand of affection that she never felt like she deserved. not then, not now, not ever.

it could’ve been when she notices the hollowness in his expressions, the emptiness in his actions when he mutes the television screen, a background noise that she’s managed to drown out. (god, she’s not sure if she’s ever able to watch reruns of glee ever again without being haunted by the ghost of this breakup – it’s weird, she’s able to listen to her childhood music without once thinking about her family but she can’t listen to ctrl’s music because of dohyun and now, it seems like everything associated with sungbin is, too, going to be tainted. is this what attachment feels like – would she go as far to call what they had… love? a worry for another day.) his movements are seem contrived, unnatural, strained – as if he’s going through a routine process, as if this breakup is part of a step by step recovery program. but sungbin’s always been the more rational of the two, the calmness to her storm and so, it’s a fitting response.  

no, it happens when he tells her, ‘don’t do it again.’ the sentence hangs in her mind, hazy and thick like the inflection he spoke it with. the realisation she’ll no longer call sungbin hers ever again sinks in that and it prickles – it’s not a scorching pain that engulfs her entire being, demanding vengeance and building an army of hurt. instead, it stings; a peripheral sort of grief that she’d never expected. there won’t be anyone after you, are the words that lie on the tip of her tongue. there’s no point saying it – nothing would come out from it and he wouldn’t believe her anyways. when she’d accepted that they were ending, it’d come with the resignation that she wasn’t meant for long-term relationships. maybe she was meant to die alone, a life filled with memories of wild romance whose flames continued burning in her memories. for a brief moment, haera lets herself be vulnerable; a rare kind of melancholy flashing through her dark orbs – sungbin’s always made her feel comfortable enough to retire the blasé performance she puts up most of the time. so, those words – the thought that he believes that there might be another person, who isn’t sungbin and his careless laughter and calloused hands that fit impeccably with hers, nips at the jagged edges of her heart.

however, what doesn’t hurt her is the doubt in his voice. given her track record, it’s completely valid; after all, she knows best that a promise for anything in her far-sighted future is nothing but a fallacy, barren words that fall through more often than not. but at the very least, friends don’t have boundaries as tight as a relationship, friends mean sungbin still remains a comely sight, friends mean their memories remain intact. friends mean he’ll still be close enough for her to touch but not to hurt again – and that’s good enough for her. “yes,” she says softly, her voice coloured with a vulnerability and sincerity that she knows only sungbin is able to pick up on. “yes, i want us to be friends.”

[gotham-daily]

[ughaera]

ugwoong​:

(...)

in an attempt at masking his nerves from the way she was looking at him, he takes another chug of his soju, avoiding her gaze as he tries to put together a reply that didn’t outright scream, “I have the hots for you”. an awkward laugh sure doesn’t play well into his narrative but he’s not the best at acting, he’ll admit. “good point.” he lowers himself onto the grass, back hitting the prickly leaves as his gaze fixates on the evening sky above. while he thinks the stars pale in comparison to her eyes, at least he doesn’t have to worry about his heart racing or cheeks reddening, whenever his eyes find their way to hers. “if that’s the case then, what do you think about spending every friday together?” 

it's the way his breath hitches and the way his eyes linger a second too long on her lips that divulges his unspoken insinuations of his words. he’s telling the truth and his heart wrapped in a pretty bow, presented to her in the form of a callous statement. (but, as with everything that petrifies her) she pretends as though she doesn’t catch the underlying desire that laces his voice – because haera’s life has been a chronological series of pretences and nam kiwoong may be special right now, in the moment, but he is not an exception. chills run down haera's spine and for a moment, she wonders whether she should do it. steal his breath between her lips - just like the way they had that one faithful day, years and years ago, the blaze that started this whole goddamn fire. she's never prided herself on making good decisions (quite the contrary, in fact; her trail of people she should not have kissed but still did is frighteningly long) – so, the very fact that she’s hesitating, instead of taking the immediate plunge is alarming.

as much as she wants to deny it, haera knows the fear of taking another step forward is because of how everything with woong feels exceedingly intimate – too close, too real, too much of everything haera has sworn off. he feels like commitment and permanence; a tattoo inked on her skin when all she’d expected was a detachable sticker. woong lives beside her, woong feels like home when the walls are too cold and the thoughts are too loud, woong plays at the same shows she does. (and at those shows, there's already sungbin who – very understandably – pretends they never shared a year together, dohyun who looks away as if he never broke her heart. she doesn't need nam kiwoong to look at her like that too. someone else who doesn't matter can.)

the just kidding falls flat and for a brief moment, haera contemplates asking him the question that has beleaguered her for the past few months. “do you want me?” she’s asked this question a thousand and one times in her head. never aloud because she’s not sure whether she’d like any of the possible answers.

(some things are better left unsaid. this is one of those times.)

his eyes meet hers. haera wonders if she really likes him or the validation he feeds her. for a moment, she lets herself live in a fantasy; she’ll tell him she likes him, she’ll call him hers, they’ll laugh and hold hands and watch silly movies together and she’ll cheer for him the loudest at his shows and maybe, a year or two from then, she might even tell him she loves him. but then… what next? the inevitable boredom and heartbreak? the attention that was once revered smothering her? the end to their friendship? another person in the crowd who won’t look her in the eye? another name to feel regret for? nothing safe is worth the drive, but admittedly, haera doesn’t know if she’s ready to follow him home.

fuck. when did she turn into the kind of person to think about anything beyond the next few hours? in an attempt to stop the thoughts (that’s what she says – she knows it’s an excuse because she just wants to do it: give him a silver of her attention. not too much, but just enough for him to cling onto the hope of something more. it’s what she’s done a million and one times at her shows; and now, he’s just a boy in the front row), she leans over, gives him a quick peck on his cheek, leaving a visible pale-pink mark that gives his skin an incandescent glow. haera knows it’s wrong; but she’s done worse for the thrill (has she? another question she doesn’t want the answer to. requires too much self-reflection and always just end up making her sadder. ignorance is bliss and so, she will live in the dark with the consequences of all her misguided actions.)

a light, teasing laugh leaves her lips at his next request. “woong,” she says his name, the familiar syllable rolling off her tongue like her favourite word. “you might need to pay me for it – i’ve never done a weekly show for free. and as cute as you are, you know i don’t deal well with promises and long-term things.”

[ughaera]

youngblood. for @ugsebin​

sometimes, haera wonders how can seoul be so big yet so small at the same time. she'd thought that leaving her small town meant opening the door to a never-ending rotation of faces, different names that she’d forget after a week, a variety of bands to listen to. yet, little did she expect that she'd see the same people week after week, watch as those who had once been closest in her life evolve into her worst enemies. some endings had hurt more than others but most of the time, they’d just felt like a fleeting phase in life – she was ready to let them go, and so, they left.

so, when rising star park sebin reaches out to her about something to do with playing the bass for one of her tracks and learning some from, haera doesn’t have to think twice before she says yes. she’d always found it nice to meet new people; it’s fun to discover new ways to detonate ticking time bombs (all musicians are the same, regardless of they rather believe), fun to etch her name in new person’s life, and fun to see who ends up staying and goes. (she plays this game a lot with whichever promoter has time for her during smoke breaks. they bet on soju shots and shitty cigarettes on whether that band will be out the door by next week or whether they’d stay for another seven years.)

frankly speaking, haera has little to no clue to why sebin chose her - out of everything she’s been known for, her bass skills are close to the bottom of the list. she’d never even been professionally trained; the closest thing she ever had to a mentor was sungbin years ago, him teaching her some the wild things song in their pyjamas, waiting for the popcorn to go off in her shitty microwave. admittedly, though, those sessions never lasted long; haera always wanted to do something else or the neighbours would complain.

she really doesn’t know what to expect. all she’s heard about sebin is that she’s from a bumfuck town out of nowhere (haera knows about that all too well. god, she shudders. ulsan was a nightmare that she does not want to relieve). they call her an up and coming talent, pretty girl with good voice - all that boring shit and none of the "oh she moved to seoul because she set a house on fire" gossip that haera devours. (the fact that she doesn't drink, shared by that promoter who always lets haera get a little bit more of the spotlight than she really deserves, is fairly fascinating - sebin seems a little too put-together. controlled. makes haera briefly wonder what kinds of skeletons she’s keeping in her closet.)

she lets the thought settle as she arrives at their agreed meeting spot five minutes late (already beyond early in haera's watch), her miniskirt a little too short and her top a little too tight. "hello," she greets, a cheeky smile tugging on her lips. "you must be sebin? i'm haera."

[newlabours]

[annemari]

|𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴 𝙾𝚁 𝚁𝙴𝙱𝙻𝙾𝙶 𝙸𝙵 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚂𝙰𝚅𝙴 <3

|𝙲𝚁 @annemari

[ughaera]

ugksb​:

(...)

“it’s not about me making the right decisions.” he has no idea where she’d gotten that impression. sungbin’s life has been nothing but a long list of awful choices strung together into something resembling order. “i’m notoriously bad at making those. but it’s about us being happy. i’m not willing to waste energy on something that doesn’t make you feel good.” and that has been making him feel like shit recently.

especially if we could be better off as friends goes unsaid, but it’s heavily implied. friends, for them, is a term with a wide array of definitions, but they both seem to be nostalgic for it, especially with how many memories have featured in their conversations.

there’s a pregnant silence that fills the room after his final sentence.

haera wonders if she should feel something more about this whole situation. wonders if a better reaction would be for her to cry. wonders if she should’ve been the one to initiate the breakup, create some big unnecessary mess – she’s always been good at making things more dramatic than they should be. maybe that would make it all easier. jesus. even she knows how callous she sounds at the moment. for fuck’s sake, she’s breaking up with a boy she’d built a home with for the past year. it’s not just a random stranger picked in club, not some fresh-faced dreamer in a shitty band, it’s sungbin. sungbin, who stayed through the dark nights and the bright lights. her (ex) boyfriend, sungbin. yet, all she feels is a sinking emptiness; as if all the emotions have been drained from her body.

“i’m sorry,” is all haera manages to say. she’s not sure if she means it, not sure what she’s apologising for, but it just seems like the right thing to say in the moment. this entire situation feels surreal – it’s almost as though she’s watching from the outside in, an out-of-body experience. she’s spent her whole life running – from her problems, from her feelings, from her family. so, to have sungbin sit across her, in this tiny space, with no escape plan at hand, talking to her so candidly about a breakup and mistakes and happiness makes her feel like the walls are closing in on her. it’s claustrophobic and there’s a brief moment where she contemplates just getting up, getting out the door and leaving. repeat what she had done with dohyun – she’d turned around and slammed the door in his face, never giving him a chance to speak.

but at the very least, she owes sungbin a conversation. after all, she knows she hadn’t been the best of girlfriends – she isn’t stupid. she may not be the most perceptive, but from the brief moments she’d let them spend together in the past few months, she could tell from the way his eyes glazed over, the barely-concealed frustration, the annoyance furrowed in his brows, that he wasn’t happy either. and the fault lied wholly and utterly in haera’s hand. (maybe that was why she apologised.)

“you did make good decisions when it came to us, though,” haera comments – it’s the first thing she’s said today that comes of a place of unabashed honesty. without a doubt, haera knows that for a better girl, one that didn’t come with an aching need for fame, one who didn’t thrive in chaos, one whose issues didn’t run like a neverending grocery list – he would’ve been amazing. (sometimes, haera wishes it could’ve been her.) 

for a moment, she wonders if it’d be appropriate to reach for his hand, take it in hers for one final time, tracing his calloused palms with her blistered fingers for comfort; but she decides against it – what’s once was hers is no one’s now.

“i’m sorry,” she repeats, this time with more conviction. “i haven’t put in as much as effort as you have, and honestly, you’re right. i haven’t been happy lately. i should’ve brought it up earlier with you rather than drag it out and make you do all the dirty work. kinda shitty of me, i’m not gonna lie.”

she takes another pause. unsure whether it would be appropriate for her to bring it up, whether it was adding salt to wound, whether she still had the right to ask for more and more and more when sungbin had given her all of him, but a part of her is selfish. a part of her wants to hold on to the memories they’ve built; after all, he was the person who indulged in her antics, who gave her the warmest hugs on the coldest nights, who taught her to play songs she could never figure out on her own. at one point, before the kisses and sex and intimacy and boundaries, they’d been friends. and for what it was worth, they were a pretty fuckin’ amazing pair of friends. “maybe we could still be friends?”

(god, haera. what a fucking cliché thing to say during a breakup.)  

[ughaera]

ugkaito​:

(...)

it’s freedom day. the words sink in a beat too late and he almost stumbles (read: he absolutely stumbles) on his way to the closet, fixing her with a look that’s equal parts horrified and delighted. “you’re kidding me, right? i swear the last freedom day was last week.” not that he remembers anything about the last time except waking up with plastic rings on their fingers in busan, anyways. “how the hell do you have so much energy knowing what’s going to happen tonight?”

haera still remembers the very first time she realised that kaito was more than just some random producer that she occasionally worked with. it had been a few weeks after recording her second album with some shitty band she can no longer remember the name of. she’d only joined because the lead guitarist was cute, and they’d promised her a free ecstasy after every show (haera’s done much worse for much less. plus, it wasn’t like there was anything better she could do with her time.) they’d given the album some ridiculously pretentious name that haera couldn’t be fucked to understand, their music going in some eccentric, avant-garde direction with lyrics that made little sense (and haera was being generous with that comment.)  

she’d gotten piss-drunk with some acquaintances, who’d only kept her name in their contacts because she had the much-desired ability of getting into most clubs with minimal trouble – perks of being in a band. but somewhere along the fifth bar crawl, she’d gotten lost from them and she heard that first song she’d ever recorded, and it’d just filled her with longing and for the first time, in a long time, regret. the realisation that she’d be turning twenty-something soon and with no money, fame, or anything she’d ever dreamt of having. it was then that she’d turned a corner, bumping into a blackout drunk kaito. “hey,” she’d slurred, the desperation spilling, almost as pungent as the smell of soju. “you’re the producer that makes my band’s music. we’re good, right?”

(kaito’s reply: “who the fuck are you?” before he promptly vomited on the ground beside her. the start of a beautiful friendship.)

now, years later, she turns to him, shooting him a death glare that he’s seen one too many times. “fuck you, kaito,” she responds in kind, the words slipping out of her tongue easily, as if second nature to curse at him. (maybe it was; their friendship had always been wrapped up with sardonic comments and maybe their love language was telling each other to go ‘fuck yourself’ but still, running to each other whenever the minor of conveniences arose – haera whenever it came to touchy topics like her family, kaito when he was piss-drunk, on the brink of falling into a dumpster, and the easiest thing to do was press one to call haera.)

“your place is bigger and more comfortable!” she argues, absentmindedly taking in the state of kaito’s room. not that haera was one to talk, but goddamn, he was kind of a mess. “don’t ask me for rent, asshole. i bring you so much business. just think of how many bands i singlehandedly introduced to you.”

she sits comfortably on kaito’s bed, watching as he attempts to get himself dressed. her feet entangled on a loose article of clothing, she’s momentarily distracted, thinking about the time she’d stumbled across an expensive-looking shirt (one that kaito could most definitely not afford) and realised that he’d been fucking someone. she’d shown up with a similar looking shirt the next day – just cause it was funny; the shirt might have cost her a bit too much, but the look on kaito’s face? priceless. “oh.” she pauses, picking up a familiar-looking plaid skirt. “is this mine? i thought i lost it. actually, i don’t get it, kaito. do your fuckbuddies not ask about the stuff i leave here? aren’t they worried you’re secretly two-timing on them?”

(she’s only half-kidding; they all know kaito and haera come as a two-pack, the best possible combination of recklessness and fun, biting remarks and affection. to the world, the line is blurry – easter eggs of their friendship (or relationship that they tease to the public) hidden between albums and instagram posts but despite her love for chaos, the one thing she doesn’t want to destroy is what she has with kaito. if anyone had asked, and if haera were to be honest, she’d call them: platonic soulmates. a right person at the right time.)

“shut up,” she replies, rolling her eyes at kaito’s dramatics. firstly, haera just knows that if anyone were to be disgusted at them kissing, it would be him. his love life is messy enough. secondly, she knows – for a fact – that kaito’s memory has wildly disintegrated from their nights of drugs and alcohol, so there is no way he remembers what happened last week. (she’s not any better, to be honest. all she remembers is a marriage proposal, ending up in busan with their flat phone batteries and having to find a way back home with an almost empty bank account. the food was good, though. she’d give them that.) “cause that’s the only thing i look forward to, kaito. a chance to give a big ‘fuck you’ to my family. and also, why wouldn’t i like spending time with my favourite person in the world?”

(she makes sure to blow him a kiss and a wink. just cause she knows he hates it.)