save face.

[woongxrk]

N E W   V I D E O   U P L O A D E D . . . !

zombie (day6) cover. by ace is wild

date: 09 october 2020 length: 6:21

there’s things that don’t make the final cut. woong adjusting his camera once, twice, three times just to be absolutely certain that nothing above his nose is in the shot. it’s batman logic; if they can only see his chin, they can’t tell who he is. never mind jonah seemed to figure it out on his own. never mind the fact that he told daniel. woong has to forget about that in order to have the confidence to press record, and the strength to make the upload public.

maybe it would have been more topical to cover the song when it first came out. maybe it would have helped woong’s channel in the algorithm or something. but this is a hobby, not about getting famous, and passing a thousand subscribers is more than he ever expected. in some ways he thinks it might’ve been better to wait on this, to do everything he wanted to do before releasing it. zombies are perfect for halloween, right? not to mention the song’s slow, melancholy vibe; much better suited for autumn than spring.

it’s woong’s voice on the track, only three and a half minutes. but there’s other shots in between those of his mouth and the microphone. somewhat inspired by the original music video, but also his own experiences. a long shot of woong, face obscured (of course) by law books. a pan of red pen marks on a long report. one quick flash of a camera, another of drum sticks, the sense of longing for something and being pulled in another direction. the video becomes autobiographical, or maybe just the story of what his life might be right now if he had never picked up the camera. buried in pre-law coursework, probably still living at home, working hard toward a solid, predictable future.

he has to come to terms with what’s happened somehow, and maybe this is it.

following passion rather than stability has cost him. there’s no stable roof over his head, no comfortable family’s embrace when he comes home from work or school. sure he has daniel, who so graciously gave him a couch to sleep on when woong had no idea where he would go, but it’s not the same. maybe it never will be. woong doesn’t know if he’s okay with that yet.

how desperately he wants to say it was worth it; how he wishes that there was some sort of payoff for his choices already. but the truth is that woong has absolutely nothing to show for his change in major, for his decision to foster his creativity. the truth is that he had a shot to join one of the best entertainment companies in the country and he blew it before he even got inside the building for an audition. maybe it’s all for nothing. maybe he’ll have to come crawling back to his stepfather’s house, tail tucked between his legs, finishing a degree he no longer has any passion in. just like the woong in the video he’s made.

the video ends with instrumental of the song that had just come to a close, a few bloopers and mistakes just to bring the mood back up. his camera falls right off his makeshift tripod. he drums idly on a table with his fingers, forgetting what scene he’s supposed to be filming. a bunch of short, silly little mistakes. of course, still hiding his face.

[woongxrk]

@rkjonah

⇀woongstar🥁// that cover you just posted is dope we could lay down a track tomorrow if we wanted

⇀woongstar🥁// do you write at all? i have to turn in an ep at the end of the semester, fully produced, if you want some studio time or feedback or anything lmk

⇀woongstar🥁// also wyd thursday night? i have a homie who djs at some new club in hongdae, he said we can skip the line

[ msg to: jonah 🐋 ] stop stalking my youtube channel no one is supposed to know it’s me and i don’t trust you to keep a secret [ msg to: jonah 🐋 ] not really. [ msg to: jonah 🐋 ] i’ll get back to you on the studio though i’ve had to get creative with how i record for videos [ msg to: jonah 🐋 ] idk. homework probably? thursday is almost the middle of the week.

[woongxrk]

day one.

jxnsoulrk​:

jinsoul has always been faithful- perhaps even sometimes to a fault in social scenarios. but when it came to the workplace, jung jinsoul was more than the ideal employee. (all the years of etiquette and presentation training had to go for something, she figured.) and since moving to seoul, she had remained one of the best employees at the cafe, quickly proving herself capable of managing, and, to her protest, training.

jeon woong is only the second employee she’s ever been tasked to train, the first one having quit within a month. so far, she has hope that he’ll stay,and somewhat set what jinsoul saw as a tarnished record straight. so far everything has progressed somewhat perfectly in spite of what jin felt was a little bit of an introverted nature that woong had.

“hmm,” she pauses her mixing for just a moment at his question, one she’s really never been sure of herself. “no, there’s nothing like that,” she laughs. “if you had the guy that trained me, he would’ve made you taste everything on the menu so you knew how to describe it, but that’s way too much caffeine and sugar.” a half answer, jinsoul shrugs.

“you can recommend what seems to be the most popular order for the day or recommend a favorite,” she concludes, “as long as you recommend it in a friendly manner with helpful tone it doesn’t really matter- at least i think.” the latter part of her statement is lower in volume than the rest, as if she’s revealing something she shouldn’t “ultimately they’ll buy what they want anyway, but it will get you better tips.”

woong’s stomach hurts just thinking about having to taste every single drink on the cafe’s menu. and that doesn’t even account for all of the options and adjustments that people make; whole milk, skim, or almond milk? sugar-free or regular? with or without whipped cream? god, he doesn’t want to imagine any further. he almost pities jinsoul for what the person who trained her put her through. though who knows, she might have a larger passion for sugar and coffee than he does.

“i’m sorry,” he decides to say, almost mock-solemnly but not quite committing to the bit enough for it to truly be funny. he’s not sure how much he can joke around with jinsoul yet, not that he’s a very joke-ey guy to begin with. he doesn’t quite believe her though. not that her trainer made her drink everything once, but that there’s not some sort of pushed menu item. surely the pumpkin spice craze didn’t come out of nowhere?

still, he listens attentively. he’s always been a good student and even if this is his first part time job, he’s determined to do well. or at least well enough. jinsoul seems to tell him a secret, and woong gets so caught up in the moment that he almost feels like he needs to whisper his response as well, even if he’s pretty sure none of their other coworkers will care. 

“really?” he’s yet to receive his first tip, probably because he’s not yet manning the machines or register by himself yet. in the coming weeks as he learns more, get more confident in his job, he’ll probably see some reward for his time. “are you sure they aren’t just tipping you ‘cause you’re pretty?”

maybe it comes out a little bit rude, or maybe it comes across like flirting. woong doesn’t really mean it either way, it’s just a question.

[woongxrk]

if you thought i was losing sleep;

@danielxrk; slightly backdated but i didn’t look up the exact date

it’s taken no less than two weeks for woong to start to get used to staying in someone else’s home. it’s been fourteen nights of tossing and turning, not yet used to the new nighttime sounds heard from the futon in daniel’s living room. woong can’t call this place his home, not when every time he enters the door he still feels like he should be ringing the buzzer instead of punching in a passcode and entering as he pleases. it was incredibly kind of daniel to allow him to stay here during the strange in-between time since his stepfather asked him to move out and not yet having the means to truly support himself on his own. woong can’t help but be haunted by a vague sense of ungratefulness whenever discomfort hits him here. and yet he can’t seem to keep it from happening.

a particularly loud (at least to woong’s unfamiliar ears) noise from the window wakes him from his sleep. it doesn’t startle him awake, not exactly, but his eyes do slowly blink open. he rolls over to grab his phone. 1:58 am. he lets out a low grumble to himself, and pulls the blanket over his head. after what feels like an eternity of laying there and listening to alien sounds, woong looks at his phone again. 2:19am. the groan he lets out this time is a little bit louder and a little bit longer. it’s not the first time he’s experienced this; any hope of getting more sleep is thrown away, at least for now, and he kicks his blanket off to sit up on the futon. he has to pee.

only on his way back to the couch from the bathroom does he realize that there’s a dim light coming from the kitchen. woong knows better than to assume an intruder; it’s daniel, probably trying to be considerate of his supposedly sleeping guest. woong can already guess why he’s awake. if it isn’t homework, it’s anticipation for his trip tomorrow. he’s already heard all about it. a music video shot in busan, daniel chosen out of all the sphere trainees to make an appearance in it. woong didn’t have to pretend to be happy for him. it was easy this time. 

instead of going back to bed, he tiptoes into the kitchen area, confirming his suspicions that daniel is there and far too awake for this hour of the night. he’s quiet when he approaches, pausing for a moment just to assess before making his presence known.

“can’t sleep?” he already knows the answer, but what else does one say at this time? woong slips into a seat across from daniel, folding his arms on the table and pillowing his head on top of them as if he were more tired than he’s currently feeling. “you better be able to sleep the whole way to busan tomorrow. don’t want to make your sphere music video debut with bags under your eyes.”

he studies daniel’s face instead of saying anything else, gauging the emotion and reaction he can find there. maybe he doesn’t want any company right now, maybe he’d rather be left alone with his nerves. woong would understand, he’s too often the same way. but if he knows daniel, which he thinks he does, he’d say that his friend would prefer company to solitude in times like these. he can only assume that any amount of anxiety that comes from what’s promised to happen can only be the good kind, the bubbly sensation that fizzes over and has to be shared with anyone who will listen. well, woong can listen. he’d almost say he’s happy to, at least when it comes to daniel.

[woongxrk]

day one.

@jxnsoulrk

he feels awfully out of place. maybe it’s because he’s the only one who doesn’t know what he’s doing yet, the newbie who hasn’t really had a formal part time job before. when his father left, it’s not that woong’s mother was able to cover that financial loss all on her own; at that time, young teenager woong would walk dogs, sweep up leaves for his elderly neighbors, run errands around the neighborhood for whoever would give him a couple hundred won after school. but working in a cafe? the title of barista? this uncomfortable new uniform? that’s all new to him.

at least the girl that’s training him seems nice enough.

her nametag reads jinsoul and woong can admire that she’s an objectively pretty girl; if he were daniel from a couple years ago, he’d probably have a crush on her. but woong doesn’t give his heart out half as easily as his temporary roomie, never mind the fact that she’s not his type at all. but this train of thought isn’t entirely appropriate for a work situation, so he doesn’t think on it too much. instead, woong tries to follow her with his eyes as she shows him how to prepare another drink that has far too much milk and sugar to even taste the coffee.

“what do i say if someone asks me to recommend something?” he hasn’t bought his coffee here before; as frugal as he is, he’d rather make it at home and carry around a thermos than pay for an overpriced bad brew. “just the most expensive thing on the menu? or is there, like, something that’s literally addictive that’ll keep them coming back?” he’s not stupid, he knows how business works. but the specifics are still a bit new to him.

[woongxrk]

open plot !

hi guys i’m just getting off an unexpected hiatus and i’ve had this connection for woong hanging around in my head since writing a solo.... months ago.....

anyways, woong needs to get a job. something part-time to accommodate the fact that he’s still a student. rather than just sticking him in some random retail store or coffee shop and letting him suffer, i’d much rather use this to make some new connections and hopefully friends! woong’s a bit (a lot) guarded so it’s been difficult for him to make friends in general.

so if your muse has a part time job that might be hiring, please let me know! maybe we can get a group plot out of this too? exasperated coworkers? nothing helps bonding like shared suffering!

[woongxrk]

idiot sandwich

rkyjun​:

he watches expectantly as woong eats the kimbap he makes, waiting to see any general reaction from him that could get out of him. sure, he was prepared to get his feelings hurt, but he didn’t seem to mind it. yeonjun has seen woong be honest with him before and though he’s blunt, he appreciates it. he thinks he’s told the other about how he appreciated his pure honesty, especially considering the fact that yeonjun had never been the most honest with himself. it was nice to see, especially with how yeonjun was never honest with himself. (of course he’s going to change that… hopefully.)

it wasn’t like he knew he did bad. he honestly was proud that he could actually make something edible for both of them. it’s been a while since he had talked to the other and not knowing how his life had been going, he thought it’d be polite to make the both of something friends could eat together. sure he didn’t really use a recipe until later on. and sure he didn’t really have all the ingredients that his mom would use. but hey! he made it! that’s all that matters… right?

that’s what he wants to think until he watches woong’s chew slowly and grabbing some water to get it all down his mouth. big oof on his part and his smile falters a little as he sees that. but!! yeonjun needed criticism on his cooking. after all, in order to get better, he needed to know where he needed to improve in. so though it may hurt his feelings a little, he’ll at least be able to see where he went wrong and learn how to be better. because hey! improvement!

“yes. i do,” he answers with a firm nod. “lay it all on me. tell me what i need to do better!”

he sets the kimbap down. away from his mouth, where it will surely not be entering again. woong wouldn’t call himself particularly picky; he’s learned to be resourceful and grateful for what he’s able to get thanks to that rough patch in his childhood. but there are lines that he draws, and literal mush wrapped in seaweed crosses it. maybe it’s fine for yeonjun, but woong’s got a thing with texture. he’s pretty sure it’s more rude to hurl than to stop eating the dish entirely.

“everything is overcooked,” it’s the best way to describe it; rice made with too much water, veg over-steamed (or boiled, it’s so soggy woong can’t tell the difference at this point), over-seasoned with sesame oil and whatever else yeonjun decided to throw in there. woong takes another slow sip of water, taking his time to wash the feeling and taste out of his mouth without making a show out of it. “it’s got the consistency of... baby food.”

woong wonders at what point yeonjun decides that the criticism is too much. he keeps his words short, just in case. but he does make a promise to himself that if they ever picnic like this again, he’ll bring the meal. he’s never trusting this to the other guy again.

he’s as generous as he can be, though. not entirely blaming yeonjun’s lack of ability on idiocy or laziness, he simply says, “i think you need more practice.” it’s true of most aspiring chefs. woong wouldn’t call himself a gordon ramsey, but maybe he’s had a little more practice than yeonjun. maybe he made himself sick enough times with his own failed attempts that he’s a little more sensitive to this one. “but i don’t want to be the person you practice on. you’d have to pay me more than you can offer to get me to do that again.”

[hyunin]

MOONDANCE MV MAKING FILM

[woongxrk]

hold it steady.

danielxrk​:

daniel wants to make this go away, and there’s some degree of panic that blooms, people pleaser daniel that wants to fix everything and make everyone happy. he worries he said something wrong; he worries there’s nothing he can possibly say that could be the right thing for woong. he doesn’t know what he needs, so he prays quickly in his distress: please show me how to help him. 

daniel doesn’t know if any of this is comforting or not. he hears his failure in this in woong’s maybe– how shaky it is, how skeptical. he tries to imagine himself in this situation, but it doesn’t help. he doesn’t know what he would want out of any of it. he doesn’t understand what it feels like to so deeply fear an audition that you can’t even step in the building. was it fear? or did he just decide he didn’t want to go? no, surely it was fear. daniel couldn’t imagine anything else leading to this reaction. this is shame, grief and regret all wrapped into one, a result of the perfect storm of tribulation.

it’s so much to go through at once. even if the situations were different, in some way, daniel understands. he likes to think so, anyway. his life was a whirlwind last spring: haknyeon on sn project, kissing ricky, sungwoon confessing, getting kicked out all in a three month period (see: namely, getting kicked out and a sexuality crisis.) at least it gave him good inspiration for empty enigma’s album they released after daniel finally moved off his bandmates’ couch. part of him wants to tell woong this, in an attempt at empathy, but he doesn’t want to make it about himself. he wants to give woong all the space he needs for his sadness. maybe the opportunity will present itself later, once daniel is certain woong is done talking, or a little more grounded.

he sees woong’s trembling hands and he feels them in his chest. he hesitates for a moment, afraid of potential backlash, but he pushes past fear he deems selfish and scoots over to woong. first, he reaches for one of his hands, then holds it in his own. he stares down at them, and decides it isn’t enough comfort for the situation, so he wraps his arms around him from the side, an unconventional hug, but a hug nonetheless. it’s a tight one that he hopes will smother the sadness for a moment. “i know it feels like shit,” he mutters to him, knowing he doesn’t have to speak loudly with woong so close. “but you’ll be okay. i’ll help as much as i can.”

daniel moves closer and woong doesn’t look up. daniel holds his hand and woong still doesn’t look up, but he also doesn’t pull away. the warmth there is comforting, at least minimally. daniel reaches over, wraps arms around his shoulder, and squeezes tight. woong’s wrapped snugly enough in the embrace that a tear escapes from his eyes, runs down his cheek and drips wetly into his lap. it’s only then that he moves, twisting to hug daniel properly as if finally realizing that this is what he really needs right now. not company, not words of comfort. just a shoulder to cry on.

and he does. now that the floodgates have been released, he’s helpless to close them off again. he’s vulnerable, exposed, his heart on his sleeve and dripping down his face. but he’s still quiet. he’s never been a loud child and had mastered the art of silent tears long ago; just the occasional gasp and sniffle escape him when he can’t hold his breath any longer.

part of him might be horrified at himself later for this. he might call himself a baby, unstable, selfish for taking up so much of daniel’s time and emotional energy. he’ll find a hundred different ways to hate himself for weeping in his good friend’s embrace, but for now he just savors the warmth between them. he feels nothing but kindness from daniel, nothing but light and acceptance and perhaps just a little bit of understanding. in this moment, and perhaps only for this moment, he can believe that someone cares about him. he doesn’t think that daniel could have known how much he needed just one good hug; woong himself isn’t actually sure how heavy the burdens he carries silently with him have become after all this time. how good it feels to unload, to let go. even if it’s at the expense of his pride.

it takes a long moment for the tears to stop, for the sniffles to become less and less frequent until his breathing can steady itself and the bulk of the fit is over. he still feels a little watery, like there’s still some residual darkness that couldn’t quite let itself out with the rainstorm, but it’s bearable. it’s enough that woong finally lets go of daniel, looking almost sheepishly down at his own lap again. already the doubts are starting to come back, though all of them aimed at himself. was that too much? why did he do that?

“thank you,” he manages to croak out before that little voice in his head gets too loud to remember his manners. “and, um, sorry.” he glances over, just quickly, assessing how badly he wet and wrinkled the other’s clothes with his tears. guilt finds him again, but he’d be lying if he said that overall, he feels better. sometimes one just has to go through the motions, to feel everything and scream it all out. woong didn’t scream, but close enough.

[rkyjun]

idiot sandwich

ft. @woongxrk

it had been a while since he had physically met up with woong. and if there was anything to blame for it, he’d blame his emotions! not to mention, after theo ne bet they made about their own grades during the winter, yeonjun tried to take his grades seriously. that way, if he were to ever find himself in that situation again, he wouldn’t be the one suffering… even though he’s extremely more bored than usual. 

still, yeonjun wanted to check on how his friend was doing, as it had been a while since they had last really talked to each other. not much has gone on in his life (that’s a lie, but yeonjun could lie about that. he’s good at lying.), so he feels as if woong’s might be interesting in some sort of way. a lot can change in a few months and yeonjun would know, considering their mutual friend had suddenly become a trainee under kt (and yeonjun is very much still happy for him over that.) 

so, though he’s not the best at cooking, he invites woong for a picnic, excited when the other accepts his invitation. “i’m not the best cook in the world, so feel free to criticize me on what i should change because i want to get better,” he says as he takes his kimbap (which look obviously handmade by him with no help from his mother) out of the basket onto the picnic blanket. it doesn’t look bad. if anything, they look edible and yeonjun thinks they taste good, too. however, of course, woong can be the judge of that. 

[woongxrk]

yeonjun hasn’t talked to him in months, at least not properly. so woong, naturally, decided that yeonjun finally realized he doesn’t actually like spending time with him and stopped forcing himself to. as woong does. that’s why it was such a shock when the other young man was inviting him out to yeouido hangang park for the weekend’s casual festivities. it took him aback, especially the picnic part. there’s something vaguely romantic, if not intimate, about making food for someone and sharing it outside. but woong knows better than to assume; yeonjun wouldn’t have forgotten about him for months if there was any feeling in that way.

so he tries not to make a face at his friend’s (are they still friends?) meal. woong was right around the age where parents would finally trust him to play with the stove without supervision when his father left, when his mother began working crazy hours just to make ends meet. he made a lot of meals back then. the first ones were terrible, but somewhere along the way he learned how to make things taste good. he can’t say that presentation was ever his forte though, so he tries to give yeonjun the benefit of the doubt. maybe it tastes better than it looks.

woong’s quiet at first when he takes a bite. he has to pause. and then chew slowly. the taste isn’t terrible, but the texture makes him want to vom. he’s done enough vomming in public though, so he takes his time and flushes the mouthful down with a gulp of water as soon as the choking hazard is passed. “are you sure?” he wants to clarify this first; yeonjun should already know that woong won’t hold back when it comes to honesty, “do you really want my critique?”

he wonders if he’ll have to tell yeonjun that he has very few good things to say.

[woongxrk]

hold it steady.

danielxrk​:

he simply nods in acknowledgement, because it’s all simple– a simple decision to let woong stay with him, simple to prepare for him to sleep here, at least for the night. it’s simple for now, at least. it’ll be more complicated later, tomorrow, when they have to work out details, and daniel will likely have to convince woong that this isn’t a burden. it’s not; the more daniel thinks about it, the more he wants the company, even if woong didn’t need this. it’s already nice having someone to talk to at such a late hour, even if mina agreed to come over more often after training.

woong is still sitting up, however, and daniel’s eyes drift from the ceiling back to him; he turns his head to get a better look at him. there’s more to come. he can tell. he hopes woong feels comfortable enough to talk about whatever troubles him, and when he mentions the star bright audition, daniel sits up again too, observing him, listening.

he didn’t even make it into the building. daniel doesn’t know to feel about it, because he isn’t sure what he wanted out of the situation for woong, maybe because it didn’t seem like woong knew what he wanted either. it’s not disappointment in the slightest. he isn’t sure he could picture woong as a trc trainee, and as much as it would’ve been nice to meet up with woong to practice at the seocho complex together…something doesn’t feel right about it. 

“that’s okay,” daniel assures him with a soft smile. “if you want to do this, more auditions will come.” he thinks of his own auditions, and how many he went through even without the determination to become a trainee. every failure haunts him regardless, and he’s afraid the same will be true for woong. no words fix this– fix the what if’s that come with missed opportunities due to your own failures. he thinks of his time on the fifth season of the mgas, looking at the coaches and wondering, if he succeeded on the season before, he would’ve been one of him. he remembers all the times he thought of his nova audition afterwards, before nova’s survival show, and wondered if he would be a member of per_se if he passed it.

he always reminds himself that he wasn’t ready. it took kenta and woojin becoming trainees to really want to become one too. now, with them gone…he still doesn’t know. all he knows is that he enjoys learning new things every day, and that he loves music, and sphere’s recording studios, and all of their instruments available whenever he wants them. it isn’t so bad. for now, it’s difficult to picture woong in that environment, but this audition is a start, just like the mgas were for him. it’s a new door opened and closed, but one woong got a glimpse past; daniel is certain it will open again for him again if he waits for it.

“it just wasn’t the right time,” he says, and he believes it when he says it. “god knows what he’s doing, even if it feels…like a shitty way to do it. it’s just one audition. next time, you’ll be ready, and you’ll do well.”

he wants to tell daniel to shut up, stop talking. he doesn’t want to hear his positivity, his sermon about god having a plan and all that bullshit. maybe woong wasn’t ready for a real audition, especially not one from the company with the biggest reputation for large personalities and artists. doesn’t daniel understand that woong already knows that? he’s already told himself most of this, assured himself that there’s a time and place for everything. but all signs point to him being punished for following this path, if he really believed in signs about things like this at all. sure, god has a plan for everyone. but does he really care so much about one of the billions of people in the world and his change in career plans?

woong stops his fidgeting with the sleeping bag. he's retracting, closing in on himself again with lips sealed tight. there’s a little voice in his head, the faithful doubter, who tells him he should regret coming over to daniel right now. he should just go home. but then he remembers that it was never really his home to begin with and that gaping hole rips its way into his chest again. there’s really no end in sight to this horrible cycle. woong almost wishes he would be sick again if only for his mind to focus on something else for a minute.

eyes stay downcast, focusing on the rolled sleeping bag still in his lap. he doesn’t look at daniel. he doesn’t know how to politely tell him that he regrets saying anything about the audition out loud. none of the other words coming to mind are kind enough to let past his lips when his friend is so good and inviting him to stay the night, stay as long as he needs if he wants. he takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. “maybe,” he pretends to concede, but the word still sounds like a lie on his lips. he can’t speak his doubts confidently.

there’s a longing for home, or what he pretended was home for the last couple of years, for a familiar bed and room and nighttime sounds. woong thinks he doesn’t want to sleep on daniel’s floor; he’d rather sleep under the same roof as his mother. it feels like mourning, like he’s been gone for a very long time instead of maybe an hour. it’s homesickness like he’s never felt before, knowing that he can only go back for a short period of time before the illusion is fully ripped away from his hands. he wants to cry, but not in front of daniel. suddenly he’s convinced that daniel won’t understand, that he can’t understand his pain right now.

he drops his head. he feels like he might cry, like every little failure and heartache is pressing down on him until he can’t take it anymore. stilled hands begin to tremble with the effort of keeping excess emotion buried. he tries to hide them behind the sleeping bag before daniel notices.

[woongxrk]

hold it steady.

danielxrk​:

it comes as some relief that woong hasn’t been struggling with this alone. there’s part of him that feels proud, too, that woong would reach out to someone even with his tendency to retreat into a shell in general, let alone when suffering. even more than that, he’s honored that it’s him. (but really, who do either of them have anymore? would anyone else lay on the living room floor like this, and if they did, would it feel like the same kind of cathartic unity?)

he sits up then, and says a decisive, “okay,” and he smiles, already devising a gameplan of how woong staying over will work, how they can get him back on his feet, how he can be okay again, and– he frowns down at him, then shakes his head. “no,” he insists. “i want you to stay here as long as you need to.”

he only hesitates for a single second before he says “wait here,” then stands up, scurrying down the hallway and out of sight. his destination is one of the closets. there, he swings the door open, rummages around for a moment, then pulls out his targets: two sleeping bags. he bought them for when hak came over, and when any of the empty enigma members wanted to stay over, multiple just in case. 

they come in handy now, when he returns to the living room, hands full, and drops them down next to woong. “here,” he says before sitting down. he starts unpacking one, absolutely intent on ignoring any of woong’s protests. “we can sleep right here. you’ll barely even have to sit up.” of course, there are other options too. “or you can come sleep on my bedroom floor. or the sofa, or anywhere, really, and if you want me there that’s cool, but if not, that’s okay too.”

he knows woong will probably try to refuse, so maybe he’ll need a little more convincing. daniel is a good liar, but he’s tried not to make a habit of it in the past year. when he says “besides, it gets kind of lonely here,” it’s the absolute truth. sometimes, when he isn’t so exhausted by training that he doesn’t fall asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow, or while he’s doing his classwork, he stares up at his bedroom ceiling and thinks about how much he treasures the moments he spent in the empty enigma members’ apartment after he got kicked out. there were so many songs, and there was so much love, always something happening, lively. 

lively may not describe woong, but he’s company. he’s a friend, and a newly discovered kindred spirit of a sort, even with all of their differences. it’s something daniel never really had among the empty enigma members, even with all of their energy. one isn’t any better than the other; any of it is welcome. 

life is looking up for him again now, but it’s still a stark realization when he thinks about training all day, out of reach of all of his close friends, only to come home to an empty apartment. 

he finishes opening up the second sleeping bag, lays it over woong, then lays back down on the one he claimed for himself, staring back up at the ceiling again. “i want you to stay. really. at least tonight, and then we can talk about what you should do tomorrow…?“

daniel sits up suddenly enough that it startles woong from his thoughts. it’s a welcome distraction, though he’s confused by just what his friend is up to; his mind was getting ever darker and stormier the longer he was allowed to stew in his own self-pity. but daniel’s getting up, insisting woong stay exactly where he is, and woong doesn’t have a moment to even think to resist it. he can’t find it in himself to tell daniel that he still doesn’t really believe him, that he’s struggling to believe that anyone would want him to stay anywhere right now. but maybe daniel knows that. maybe that’s why he doesn’t give woong room to protest.

he sits up and watches daniel run down the hall, brow knitting together in puzzlement. he can hear the opening of a door, of rummaging around. he doesn’t know what to expect out of his friend right now; part of him has the ridiculous fleeting thought that daniel’s about to pull out an elaborate hand-puppet show or something.

and then he comes back, arms full of sleeping bags, and woong sorta gets it. this is a temporary fix, a one night sort of thing. maybe daniel’s not really serious about him staying here, which woong would understand and forgive immediately. he’s not sure he’d want to stay here and ruin their friendship as he’s currently convinced he’ll do eventually, inevitably. but he can sense that there’s still no room for protest, at least not for tonight, and his thoughts are silenced by the dismissal he knows he’ll hear. “oh,” is the only syllable that drops from his lips for a long moment. eventually he follows up with a weak “thank you.”

they’ll have to talk about the logistics of this later. is daniel actually allowed to bring another person onto his lease? woong’s pretty sure he can’t sleep on the floor in the living room indefinitely. but those are tomorrow’s worries; today has enough of its own. and even daniel understands that tonight is just a bandaid on a much larger wound that they’ll treat properly in the morning, when everyone is a little calmer and able to think clearer. it’s silently that woong agrees to spend the night, reaching for one of the sleeping bags and fiddling with one of the straps that keeps it rolled up.

he stares down at his own fumbling fingers for a while. he’s already said his thanks, already accepted the invitation. but he’s sitting up now and his world still feels too heavy on his shoulders. woong breathes a deep sigh. he wasn’t going to tell daniel this, but maybe it’s inevitable that it would come out eventually. it’s still humiliating, still disheartening in a way he struggles to find the words to explain.

“i had a callback from the star bright auditions. for trc. i didn’t even make it into the building.” he can’t elaborate any further, can’t explain that the pressure bit into his anxiety, causing the beast to roar with a power woong has so rarely experienced before. he can’t admit that he threw up in the company’s landscaping and ran away the moment he felt eyes on him. daniel doesn’t need to know all of those details, but maybe he deserves to know what happened in the vaguest way woong can tell him.

[hyunin]

WOONG | surreal ; music core ( 200801 )

[woongxrk]

hold it steady.

danielxrk​:

daniel hopes the carpet against his back is as comforting for woong as it is for him. there’s something strange about it, like it’s grounding, or metaphorical. maybe it’s the power of being able to get up from down so low, or maybe the floor is just better suited for wallowing– more relatable in some way. the moment feels less fragile down here, like daniel won’t shatter it just by breathing. 

when all else fails, daniel tends to default to silence. for as much as he babbles and fumbles over words sometimes, he was trained to be quiet, not to speak unless spoken to or with something carefully crafted and polite. in this moment, there’s no use in daniel’s words, even if he had something reassuring to say (he doesn’t.) all he has to do is listen, and be here, or at least he hopes so, because for now, it’s all he has to offer.

somehow, he’s still surprised when words start pouring from woong’s mouth, likely because the vulnerability from this friend in particular is so rare. he tries to appreciate this moment, and treasure it, even: this trust and this faith in him. he could so easily put himself in woong’s shoes– imagine if he switched his majors, and his father’s support but disappointment, and his mother’s inevitable rage. he doesn’t humor the train of thought for long, however, because it isn’t about him, and woong deserves his full attention in this unfamiliar venture into shared emotion.

what doesn’t surprise him is the actual problem. what he’s heard of woong’s step-father has never been good, but he never made the connection that woong’s choice to switch majors may have similar consequences that daniel’s had for him. strangely, he doesn’t know what to say, other than what seems absolutely obvious to him: “do you have somewhere to go? you can stay here as long as you need to, if you want.”

he looks over at woong, equal parts gauging his reaction and checking on him for some indication that he’s okay, and might feel better from opening up. all he really gets is that this probably isn’t the end of it.

(what happened to his starbright audition? clearly he’s not a trainee. daniel wonders if that’s bothering him too.)

he stares at the ceiling, lets his eyes unfocus until he starts seeing shapes and patterns that don’t really exist. and he lets silence fall between them again in the wake of his confession. it sits uncomfortably in the space around them, feels like it’s pressing woong even further into the floor, reminding him of how low he actually is right now. and it’s his own fault, because he doesn’t feel like he can open his mouth again without releasing a sob.

would daniel understand? to some extent, maybe. daniel was kicked out of his home by a mother who hated music, he’d understand what he knows from that at least. but woong doesn’t think anyone in the world will truly get how helpless, how scared he feels right now. his real father left him without so much as a good bye. his step-father is now kicking him out at the first excuse he could get. woong wonders what it is about him that’s so unlovable, why the people that are supposed to parent him don’t want him in their lives.

tears do well in his eyes, just a little bit, enough to make them burn, when daniel offers his own home so immediately. woong can’t help but doubt the sincerity; it’s impulsive pity and nothing more. no one wants to live with him, that’s obvious enough by this situation in itself. but he shakes his head, silently admits that he has no plan. maybe he’ll have to stay here, at least until daniel also realizes he hates him.

“it just happened. i texted you... not long after he talked to me.” and he’ll admit what’s on his mind, just because he’s in the sacred space of daniel’s floor, and there’s no secrets to be kept here. “i don’t think you really want me to stay here. but it’s nice of you to offer.”

none of his other relatives live in seoul. he’s not quite sure where he can stay and continue his studies.

there’s more on the tip of his tongue, just barely held down by the more recent sadness. there’s the certain feeling of dread every time he recalls how he felt standing in front of the trc building. he doesn’t know if he can admit how he lost that chance solely by the fault of his own poor nerve. maybe he knows it will come up eventually, inevitably, but in the meantime he’d like to mourn one personal tragedy at a time.

[woongxrk]

hold it steady.

danielxrk​:

when daniel pictures woong in his head, it’s always tied with honesty, so it doesn’t surprise daniel when he admits he isn’t okay. ideally, they could have a friendship where woong felt comfortable enough to ask to come over under different circumstances, but they don’t. he tries not to think too long about it– tries to quiet the growing buzz of anxiety that they will be twinged with a certain sadness from now on. maybe, if that were the case, it would be okay. they both have plenty to be sad about, and it’s better to be with someone else in it, isn’t it?

“it’s okay,” daniel says without really thinking about it, then has to backpedal and wonder why on earth he would say such a thing. “i mean…it’s okay that you’re…not. i want to see you happy, but you don’t have to feel bad if you’re sad.”

daniel knows the guilt that comes with sadness, though, and daniel knows woong, so he can feel the inevitability of it secondhand. he hopes his words don’t just make the feeling worse. (they might if it were him, but he hopes woong doesn’t have the same penchant for feeling guilty over everything that he does.)

he’s at a loss for how to help, and about to ask woong if he’s eaten yet, when woong asks if they can lay on the floor, and it moves him for a reason he can’t explain. so it is a lay on the floor type of night. if they can’t be happy, daniel will take this for them instead. “yeah,” he answers simply, and he leads the way to the living room. 

bad summer. in comes the aforementioned guilt, because daniel didn’t know. he doesn’t know any part of woong’s bad summer, and maybe if he wasn’t a trainee– wasn’t so busy, or tired, or inaccessible –he would. has woong talked to anyone about it? it would be better if the answer was yes, even if he wasn’t able to be the someone he talked to. it still makes him wonder, briefly, if he’s a bad friend.

he makes the first move and flops onto the floor first, staring up at that familiar ceiling, somehow far more comforting than the one in his bedroom.

“do you want to talk about it?” he asks.

he can’t help but feel bad about it. he’s sorry to daniel, who has enough going on and probably can’t really handle woong’s problems on top of his own. he’s sorry to his self of the past who swore that he would never need anybody, never rely on anyone who may not always been there. he still feels like he shouldn’t be here, like he should be able to deal with all of this on his own. but he's pretty sure he would’ve ended up here anyways, one way or another. when he’s being asked to leave his mother and stepfather’s home, who else is he going to reach out other than his friends? who else could have been there for him like daniel is right now? yeonjun, maybe, but woong still holds him at an arm’s length. he hasn’t quite accepted that he’s not going to suddenly leave like he’s started to believe with daniel.

trust is a scary thing to give, and woong doles it out so sparingly. he doesn’t think that it’s lost on daniel how poignant this moment really is; it certainly doesn’t go unnoticed by woong himself.

it’s with great care and gentleness that he follows daniel onto the floor, stares up at the ceiling until his eyes go crossed and blurry. even here, it takes a while for the words to come to his lips. he feels shame; he’s not sure why. maybe it’s the vulnerability, the vague sense of failure. maybe he really does believe he’s somehow become lesser for not following his original plan exactly as he had imagined it in his youth. it’s almost too much to think about, too much to make sense of.

so he just starts confessing. he’s never been catholic a day in his life, but he wonders if this is how confessional feels like. maybe they were onto something with that.

“i told my mom i changed majors. she was a little disappointed, but supportive. she always is. her husband told me i can’t live there if i’m not studying law. which i guess i’m technically not anymore.” he’ll start with just that, the largest and most obvious problem weighing down on his chest. maybe the others will start floating out later, once the heaviest has been relieved. but for now he lets that sit, ugly and out in the open. he knows daniel will understand what he’s feeling; he doesn’t have to say anything more for now.

[woongxrk]

hold it steady.

danielxrk​:

he’s worried about woong.

well, daniel worries about a lot, and maybe there’s a small part of him reserved for worrying about woong in particular all the time, but this is different. woong is afraid of people hating him, and takes careful action to ensure it doesn’t happen, or…well, daniel can’t entirely explain woong, really. it’s hard to explain him, but he thinks he understands him well enough. maybe it just happens when someone else lays on rock bottom with you.

he wonders if they’ll do the same today: if his living room floor will be subject to two boys, each overwhelmed for their own reasons, laying on it once again– if this time he will need to be the life preserver for a woong floating out at sea.

he doesn’t mind it. if anything, it’s a good time for him to be able to support someone; mina just signed to sphere, and the summer is drying up the rain spring dumped on his life in more ways than one. he’s as busy as always, but even with having to dance again, and a more public performance, this evaluation feels lighter. 

all he really needs to worry about are his classes (and woong.)

he’s doing readings when woong arrives, or at least trying to, nerves and brain both a little fried after a long day of training and the stress of a friend, so reluctant to depend on anyone, asking to come over. he jumps a little when he hears the knock, despite completely anticipating it, and practically flies off his spot on the sofa to the hallway where woong waits. 

woong doesn’t look particularly different– a bit troubled, maybe, but woong looks a little like that most of the time. maybe he’s just reading into it, or– no, something he definitely wrong. he just knows. he doesn’t know if woong will tell him, and ultimately, daniel would be okay with that. he just wants to help. if woong needs a listening ear, he can be that, or he can simply be company if woong doesn’t want to be alone with whatever’s going on.

“hey,” he greets him, voice a little softer than usual, betraying his concern if he was trying to hide it in the first place. (maybe he should’ve, but he didn’t. hopefully he wouldn’t regret it.)

“you okay?” for once, daniel doesn’t let his mind go spinning 500 steps forward, trying to predict what woong could be upset about. instead, he resolves to wait, because woong is right here, and whatever he decides to tell him should be plenty.

his shoulders sag, defeated and sad, as he lets himself strip down some of his defenses in front of daniel. he’s tired -god he’s tired- and having to stay quiet to even his mother has made it all the worse. it’s a little easier to be vulnerable here, a space where he’s seen daniel in a truly fragile state. it’s almost a sacred space, more so than the chapel they worship in on sundays. there are no extra eyes boring through him, just daniel and all of his goodness and kindness that woong has never done anything to deserve. it almost makes him want to cry just thinking about it now.

“no,” he responds simply for now, knowing full well he’ll get into the meat of the story in his own time, on his own terms. daniel has the patience to wait for that, he knows. “not really.”

there’s a pause, a moment where he feels silly for even wanting to ask it. it’s like building a blanket fort to keep imaginary monsters out. the space and act itself don’t change anything about the world, about what he’s feeling; it doesn’t make him hurt less or easier to admit what’s going on. but in some ways it feels safer, and almost like tradition now that it’s been done once before. his voice is low, almost quiet and sheepish when he asks: “can we lay on the floor for a minute?”

in all honesty, it will take woong longer than a minute to truly let it all out, to vent honestly to daniel and share all of his current pressing worries and concerns.

he’s been thinking hard about what his stepfather said, wondered if it’s too late to switch his major back just to ensure he has a roof over his head for the next year or so. but no, woong knows better; if it wasn’t this, he’s sure the man would’ve found another way to get him out. he knows he was never welcome; he already feels more welcome in daniel’s space than he ever felt in his own bedroom there. maybe that’s why he instinctively knew never to really decorate the space, make it his own. it will be easy to pack up, at least, but he doesn’t know where he will go from there.

“i’ve had... a really bad... summer.” he decides finally; this whole summer just sucks. from the casting call to the audition and now this, woong isn’t quite sure how it could get any worse. he doesn’t want to find out.

[mxnark]

sixth flyer

handing it to @woongxrk!

having gotten through half of the flyers already, mina’s already confident in her ability in handing more. she hands them to people who walk by her with a smile and a bright, nearing fake tone of voice since she’s basically saying the same things over and over again. in a way, it was basically similar to work. the only difference was she actually liked her job this time. 

she hasn’t been able to find a super familiar face until now “yah, woong,” she calls out, ignoring how informal she sounds as she walks up to him after getting hsi attention. despite her rude tone of voice, she actually was relieved to see a familiar face and it shows from her smile. it’s probably the only time she looks friendly to him. “can you help a girl out and take a flyer from sphere?” she asks, already handing him the flyer for him to keep. “it’s got lots of information about upcoming dates for shows and other stuff. maybe you can get signed and help give daniel company, eh?” 

[woongxrk]

he knows that voice. he knows it and all of the lack of respect, the frustration that inevitably follows it. maybe mina gets away with talking to get brother like that, but it’s not something woong has learned to tolerate as an only child. he’s clenching his teeth already, but still not quite aggravated or impolite enough to ignore mina completely. even though she probably deserves it.

“i can help a girl out and remind her to mind her manners,” he grumbles, giving her a very intentional pointed look. but he takes the paper as its handed to him, looking over the logo as if he can’t quite believe it. “oh,” the syllable falls from his mouth with a dead weight. so mina, somehow, got signed to the same company as her brother. the one woong so clearly remembers writing down on a star bright form, days before losing his nerve to so much as step inside the building. of course mina was bold enough, bright enough to get where he couldn’t. he shouldn’t be surprised.

“yeah, maybe.” he replies hollowly. she doesn’t need to know that he tried and failed. she doesn’t need to know how badly he failed. “don’t get in trouble. i’ve heard that trainees get beat for talking disrespectfully to their seniors.” there’s a touch of genuine concern in his voice, but most of it is accusatory deflection from his own complicated emotions. at least someone here is happy.