No title available
PR's Tumblrdome
One Nice Bug Per Day
Origami Around
No title available
Mike Driver
tumblr dot com
titsay
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Andulka
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Sade Olutola
Kiana Khansmith
ellievsbear
Jar Jar Binks Fan Club
Cosmic Funnies
Noah Kahan
if i look back, i am lost
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
seen from Japan
seen from Colombia
seen from Spain
seen from Sweden
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Kenya
seen from Sweden
seen from Chile
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Bangladesh
seen from Belgium
seen from Panama
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Australia
@ycvnjun
" All the memories got stuck. I'm tired of the past. I want to break away. " - star by colde.
name: yeonjun group: txt age: 25 born 09.13.99 playlist: 7 songs - link to spotify playlist sexual orientation: bi more info of yeonjun listed below
The third sip should have been the end of it. Instead nothing moved, not the cup, and neither the wrist caught between warm fingers. Not even the breath held from one heartbeat to another. Grey steel. White light. Cold coffee. Nowhere for attention to escape. Five... maybe six. The whole thing in exchange for a favor. Bright gaze lowered first, not toward the straw. Much lower. To the mouth resting around it. A slow tightening of fingers around the cup, condensation gathering beneath the palm, cold slipping across skin already far too warm.
Nothing else feels particularly cold anymore.
No attempt made to pull free, the cup lowering slowly, straw slipping from between lips with the faintest drag across the lower one, plastic bending back into place. Four had not happened yet. Five remained an insult. And six, a fantasy. Free hand lifts again, two fingers settling beneath the chin, a gentle pressure upward. Just to guide.
❝ Six? ❞
Closer now, one careful step into that narrow space between polished shoes and bent knees.
❝ That seems excessive. ❞
Words spoken, landing only inches from his mouth. Close enough for warmth to touch, almost becoming contact. Another fraction closer, the fourth sip is granted without warning, cup lowering another angle beneath the pull, straw settling once more between those waiting lips. Briefly. Barely enough to taste and then gone.
❝ Are you sure it's the whole cup you want? ❞
the proximity was dangerous. the way her voice curled around the word "excessive" even more so. his pulse hammered against his ribs like it was trying to escape. the fourth sip was a tease, barely enough to wet his lips before it was gone again. his tongue darted out to catch the lingering taste, eyes darkening as they locked onto hers.
"pretty sure," he murmured, voice rough. his grip on her wrist tightened just slightly, thumb brushing over the delicate skin there. "but maybe i've always been a greedy man." he should pull back now that she was much closer than before. he knew he should. instead, he leaned in closer, nose almost brushing against hers. "or maybe you just like making me work for it." the words came out softer than intended, almost vulnerable beneath the usual playful tone.
the elevator hummed around them, forgotten. all he could focus on was the warmth of her skin under his fingers, the way her breath mingled with his in the scant space between them. he didn't move to take another sip. just waited, watching her, wondering which one of them would break first. patience wore thin and cracks began to form when his fingers tugged down on her wrist just a fraction, his head tilting upward, finding it frustrating to wait a moment longer. his lips locked with hers before either one could pull away.
"'All you did was dance.'" The words leave Mingi with a short, disbelieving laugh. He looks down into his drink for a second before shaking his head. "You really don't hear yourself, do you?" His jaw flexes. "I. Didn't. Want. You. There."
He crosses his arms while he relives the night though his mind was occupied elsewhere. Plus, at the end of the day, he didn't give a fuck who was there when he married the love of his life.
"I don't really care if you came for the music, the alcohol, or because half the industry was invited. You knew I didn't want you there." That alone had been enough.
He'd spent hours...ok, perhaps minutes of making sure the guest list was exactly who he wanted surrounding him that day. Family. Friends. People he actually wanted celebrating with him. Seeing Yeonjun in the crowd had been like spotting a stain on an otherwise perfect picture. No scene had been made. No fists thrown. He'd swallowed it because the day hadn't been about him.
"So yeah," he says with another shrug, "I'm still gonna call it crashing." He takes a slow sip from his glass before setting it back down. "And for the record... I'm not asking you for anything either. But don't expect me to suddenly laugh about it because a few years have gone by since the fight."
His expression settles somewhere between tired and irritated before he glances over at Yeonjun. "Some people you just don't like. I've made peace with the fact you're one of mine."
the words settle heavier than yeonjun expects them to. they hold truth, and he doesn't want to argue. doesn't tell mingi he was overreacting. doesn't insist he'd done nothing wrong. even the irritation building beneath his ribs can't quite drown out the fact that, from mingi's perspective, none of his reasons actually mattered.
his grip around the glass becomes just a little too firm before he forces his fingers to loosen again. "okay." his voice nearly quiet, almost swallowed by the music around them. "you're right"
he lets out a slow breath through his nose, dragging a hand across the back of his neck before looking away toward the crowded room. for a second, he thinks about saying he was sorry. but what was the point? and if yeonjun were being honest, he didn't want to be the first one to claim defeat. not yet. another silence stretches between them.
yeonjun reaches into his pocket, pulling out a few bills before setting them beside his untouched drink. "hate to break this reunion of ours, but i have important matters to tend to" he stands, grabbing his jacket from the back of the booth. "and for what it's worth..." he starts before stopping himself. whatever had been about to come out dies there.
his shoulders rise with a quiet inhale before he shakes his head once. "never mind." because he can already feel it. that familiar heat settling in his chest.
the part of himself he'd spent years trying to bury whispering that if someone was going to think the worst of him anyway, then maybe he should stop trying so hard not to be that person. he hated that voice. hated how easy it still was to hear. without looking back, yeonjun slips his jacket over his shoulders. "see you around, mingi." it's the closest thing to surrender he knows how to give. and if he leaves a little quicker than necessary, it's only because he knows staying another minute would end with him saying something he'd spend the next several years wishing he could take back.
A soft whine escapes her as she pouts slightly when looking at him, "when you say it like that..." She mumbles before picking up her drink and taking a sip.
He's right, she won't admit it, but he is. Usually, the others know how to have fun or what to do. They always had a plan and Shuhua was more the princess who went along with the plan and enjoyed it all. She had come here to try and channel their energy, to see if she could be the one who made the plan and see it through but all she's manage to do so far is... well, sit and look pretty.
When Yeonjun speaks, she glances over at the men before looking at him and giving her head a small shake. "Not really... they weren't... my type." She gives a small shrug of her shoulders but truthfully, she didn't give them a chance. "They always say the same line, men like that."
They always do the same things, too.
Shuhua wasn't sure if Yeonjun would be interested, especially since her idea of crazy wasn't the usual — however... "Hmm," she pretends to think as she looks around the bar. "We are in a bar, right? Why not lose the image for just one night and... do something we wouldn't usually do?" As if planned, Shuhua downs the rest of her drink, placing the empty glass on the table before grinning at Yeonjun, "shots?"
"ouch." yeonjun placed a hand over his chest in mock offense. "you almost sounded disappointed in men for a second." his smile lingered as he glanced toward the group she'd turned down. "guess they should've come up with something more original." his eyes returned to hers. "can't blame you, men suck." he said, acting as if he wasn't guilty.
when she pitched her idea, though, the amusement on his face shifted into something a little more curious. he watched as she finished the rest of her drink in one go, his eyebrows lifting.
"there she is." the shy girl who'd been carefully nursing the same cocktail all evening had disappeared somewhere between that sentence and the empty glass now sitting on the table. he couldn't help but grin. "i'll admit," he leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice despite the music surrounding them, "i wasn't expecting you to be the one trying to corrupt me tonight."
he held her gaze for a moment before pushing himself out of the booth. "alright. let's do shots" the grin returned, just a little more crooked than before. "but if we're doing this," he offered her a hand. "then no backing out halfway through."
yeh.shaa: coming!
Fixing her hair, Shuhua gives herself a small nod of confidence before heading out the door. Her sundress, pretty and colourful, flows with her as she makes her way downstairs to meet Yeonjun. Her hair is tied up in a high ponytail, shoes sensible for walking around in, and she carries a cute handbag that holds everything that she needs for the outing. She has the locations of the light shows on her phone, the little shows they have going on are circled on the pamphlet in her handbag, and of course, she knows where all the food stands are and which one is the best to check out.
As she sees the man, she waves with a sweet smile on her face before practically skipping over and getting into the car. "Hey! Thank you for coming and picking me up!"
yeonjun waited in the car. music that was once blaring through the vehicle now left on a low hum as he waited for shuhua to come down. his outfit was nothing special but his usual black jogger pants and simple t-shirt with a punk jeans jacket. his thumbs played to the beat of the song playing in the background against the wheel. after a few minutes he could spot her sundress from the rearview mirror. yeonjun adjusts in his seat to correct his sitting posture by the time she opened and slid into the car.
"no prob" he smiles back, waiting until she was fully buckled in. "you look cute. the color goes with you." he sets the car into drive. "ready to head out?"
One would think the elevator forgot to hum... or perhaps it still is. Still performing that useless little mechanical lullaby against the walls, but the sound had now gone somewhere behind the blood in her ears, behind the ice clacking once inside the cup, behind the fact that Choi Yeonjun, former idol, current elevator resident, had actually lowered himself to the floor with hands up.
On his knees.
On the floor.
Of the H Y B E elevator.
For coffee. For more than two sips.
Camera catching everything before the mind did.
Expression remains exactly the same from what it was before, a still picture, which was either discipline or system failure. Quite difficult to say. Thumb remaining along the edge of the phone, other curled around the cup. Its straw, previously innocent, suddenly looking utterly incriminating.
❝ Well, one sip was standard ration. Two was already generous. And three... ❞
Bright doe eyes narrowing slightly, gaze traveling from those raised hands to that pleading face, then very deliberately toward those knees that have kissed polished grey. The fact that such an act was done entirely on his own should have been concerning—Utterly concerning. Unfortunately, it also earned a prickle of heat to crawl beneath her skin, ridiculous and immediate. The cup turning too cold to touch against the palm as though the body had also decided it its turn to betray her in several departments. Phone now slipping back into her pocket, the evidence temporarily sealed. Free hand now lifting before the smarter rationale could object, two fingers brushing a few pieces of hair away from his forehead. Clean. Precise. Practical. Brief. Nothing.
Except it was not nothing.
The bended part of the straw angling closer, exactly close enough.
❝ Mmmm... so, how many sips do you think you’ve earned, Jjunie? ❞
a smirk hooked on the corner of his lips when her fingers brushed against his forehead. the touch was fleeting, barely there, but it sent a jolt through him that he wasn't prepared for. for a second, he forgot about the coffee entirely. forgot about the elevator. forgot about everything except the way his pulse kicked up at the simple contact.
then the straw was there, angled toward him like some kind of test. his eyes trickle down to line up to the straw then back to find her light brown eyes.
yeonjun exhaled slowly, forcing himself to focus. "earned?" he repeated, voice lower than he intended. his gaze flickered back to the straw, his head slowly seesawing as he pulls out the answer from the top of his head. "i think i've earned at least..." he exhales. "five?" he smirks. "maybe six." he nods. "depends on how generous you're feeling."
he should've stood up by now. that would've been the smart move. instead, he stayed exactly where he was, knees against the cold floor, hands still slightly raised like he was surrendering to something far more dangerous than a stalled elevator.
the corner of his mouth twitched. "or you could just give me the whole thing and i'll owe you one." the offer slipped out before he could stop it. old habits indeed. his fingers latch around her wrist, tugging down the hold the coffee another inch until his lips meet the tip of the straw. he takes a small sip then another, eyes finding hers by the third sip.
yeh.shaa: [sends address 📍] yeh.shaa: let me know when you're here and i'll come down to meet you!
yeonjun: on my way once he arrives, he sends another message. yeonjun: here
yeh.shaa: that depends! yeh.shaa: do you want to pick me up?~ yeh.shaa: i'm teasing, i can meet you there! i don't want you to go out of your way!
yeonjun: lmao i don't mind picking you up yeonjun: send me your address again?
Mingi glances down into his glass, shaking his head once before looking back at him. "That's comforting." The words are dry. His thumb traces the condensation gathering along the side of his drink. For a moment, he says nothing. The music fills the silence for him. People move around them. Somebody shouts from the other side of the bar. "I wasn't exactly worried about getting punched" There'd been a time when seeing Yeonjun across a room was enough to make Mingi immediately prepare for the worst. Not just because of the fights. Because every interaction seemed to come with some new reason to be angry.
"You saying your fighting days are behind you doesn't automatically erase everything" The words leave quieter than expected. Mingi lifts his glass for a sip before continuing."Don't think it works that way." The words tasted sour in his mouth since he knew of another that tried to sweep everything under the rug instead of putting any effort into fixing what was broken. The only difference was that Yeonjun and him were never friends prior to their fights. Leaving them no ground to stand on. "Besides, last time I saw you, you crashed my wedding. I specifically remember putting you on the do not invite list."
the mention of the wedding earns an immediate look. yeonjun exhales through his nose, leaning back against the booth as his fingers curl around his glass. "crashed is a strong word. showed up? sure." his gaze drops briefly before lifting back toward mingi. "it was a wedding. half the industry was there."
and if he was being honest, he'd barely thought about mingi when he'd decided showing up was worth the risk. there had been free alcohol, familiar faces, music, and a rare night where nobody expected anything from him. he takes another sip. "believe it or not, i wasn't sitting at home plotting ways to ruin your special day."
the irritation settles beneath his skin before he can stop it. because that's the thing. he knows mingi's right. saying he's changed doesn't erase years of being an asshole. it doesn't erase the fights. doesn't erase the things he said. the things he did, but hearing it out loud still feels like having old mistakes thrown back at him after he'd spent years trying not to become that person anymore.
"and i know it doesn't work that way. i wasn't asking you to forget everything. honestly, i wasn't asking for anything." his thumb drags against the condensation on the glass.
for a second, he considers leaving it there, then makes the mistake of continuing. "but if we're keeping score, you're acting like i showed up with a folding chair and objected during the ceremony. all i did was fucking danced."
Shuhua's eyebrows raise when he mentions her drink and blushes softly as she plays with the bottom of the glass, fingers damp as they spread the moisture around. "I— Well, I'm not used to being by myself... usually one of the girls are here and they would know how to have fun." It's not that Shuhua isn't fun, she is just someone who needs that push to let loose. To lose herself.
There's a small tilt of her head as she hears his answer, not questioning it but wondering if they escaped the dorms for the same reason or maybe that's wishful thinking. The question given back has her humming and bringing the cocktail straw to her lips, sipping slowly as if to drag out the answer but really — it's to help her settle.
"I'm here alone," she looks over at a group of guys who have approached her twice already despite being rejected. "Might not have been my smartest idea though." Her laugh is soft, innocent, far too sweet for the club.
There's a moment of silence, something easy settling between them as Shuhua looks at Yeonjun before pushing her drink away from her. "Want to have some fun? Do something a little... crazy?"
She's not known for being crazy but maybe that's what she needs.
"ah," understanding flashed across his features. the corner of his mouth lifted. "you left your partners in crime at home, and now you're stuck figuring out how to entertain yourself?" there was amusement in his voice, though it softened slightly when she mentioned being alone.
his eyes followed hers toward the group she'd glanced at. "their loss," the words came easily. for a moment, he found himself studying her. the flushed cheeks. the laugh that somehow managed to sound out of place in a room like this.
the way she kept playing with the glass whenever she seemed unsure of herself. it was dangerously cute, and he was getting suckered in. "although," he continued, leaning back into the booth, "i'm starting to think they never really had a chance."
his grin widened slightly. want to have some fun? do something a little... crazy? his eyebrow rose immediately. "that's a dangerous thing to ask me." he pauses then continues, "what do you have in mind?"
yeh.shaa: by any chance, do you like going sight-seeing? yeh.shaa: you can say no yeh.shaa: but i was wondering if you wanted to come check out the new lights they have going on at cheonggyecheon stream
────── @ycvnjun
yeonjun: i'm down yeonjun: am i meeting you there?
Huh Yunjin, vocalist, songwriter, unwilling elevator citizen, crouched slightly above the gleaming screen, cup in hand, trying to look like this was a documentary instead of a hostage situation generously directed by the HYBE building's maintenance department. Then, Choi Yeonjun, former idol, co-star, sitting on his hoodie like a fallen prince of Floor Unknown...
Former idol.
Ridiculous. Immediate. Delivered oh-so-solemnly as though announcing one's exile from civilization after four minutes without elevator movement. Something that shouldn't have earned or deserved a laugh, yet the corners of the lips betraying every ounce of discipline before it can be even schooled back into place. Metallic walls had become too attentive, reflecting both of them back in dull, distorted versions. Phone screen held, maintaining a cleaner copy, a smaller world inside the broken one, framed in fluorescent cruelty and bad angles.
Don't finish it all. I might get thirsty.
A reasonable sentence.
A normal sentence.
And yet...
That accusation of hoarding, such an absolutely insane thing to say inside a stalled elevator. Eyebrows lifting, slowly transitioning into a kind of expression that had ended worse arguments than this in practice rooms, dressing rooms, studios, group chats... A blink, vision and cup angling as the ice shifts inside again, the straw tilting, sliding toward him—looking exhausted, amused, annoyingly also looking good enough for the light to have failed at its one job.
❝ You might get thirsty? Mmm... I can offer a ration. One sip. Maybe two, if your former idol pension is really that tragic... ❞
Lips curving into such a sweet crease, slow, as though arriving with its shoes already off, less publicist-safe despite the unknown status of the elevator's security camera. The danger had claws. Barely there. Still looking very polite.
❝ Or.... if you really want something from me, you can just ask me properly. ❞
for a moment, yeonjun forgot they were filming. it happened somewhere between the offered ration and the look that accompanied it. a dangerous combination that messed with the chemistry in his head. his gaze dropped briefly to the straw she'd angled toward him before drifting back to her face.
"wow." the word escaped before he could stop it. "that's how you're gonna be?"
for someone who'd spent years talking his way through interviews, variety shows, awkward conversations, and situations significantly more complicated than this, he found himself unexpectedly short on material.
old habits die hard, though. that old personality of his that he thought he kicked into the grave now itching to poke out.
"would getting on my knees suffice?" the question left his mouth before he could reconsider it. immediately, he regretted absolutely nothing. which was probably the bigger problem.
eyes briefly dropping toward the floor like he was debating whether to do it. don't, he tells himelf. the smarter part of his brain offered the warning. unfortunately, that part of his brain had never been particularly good at winning arguments.
"please," knees already made contact with the floor, hands held up like someone asking a god for a favor. "allow me more than two sips."
the impact is barely there, more brush than collision, but it’s enough to make her stop. his apology hangs briefly between them, swallowed almost immediately by the distant noise of the building. her gaze lingers for a second too long to be polite.
a harden expression clear on her face when the words tasted like venom when she said, ❝it’s fine.❞
she reaches up to adjust the strap of her bag against her shoulder, attention already shifting elsewhere, as if the interaction has taken exactly as much from her as she intends to give.
❝excuse me.❞
yeonjun’s hand tightens briefly around the strap of his own bag before he forces it to loosen. “right,” he says, voice even, though it takes a second longer than it should. “sorry.”
his gaze flicks toward her shoulder where they brushed past each other, then away again just as quickly. there’s a dozen things that could be said here; explanations, jokes, something easier than this stiff hallway silence, and he reaches for none of them. instead, he steps back half a pace to clear the space between them.
“go ahead.”
the fluorescent lights hum overhead, indifferent to the moment stretching thin between them. yeonjun waits just long enough for her to pass before turning in the opposite direction, jaw set tighter than before, expression settling back into something unreadable by the time he starts walking again.
Shuhua didn't plan to go out, she's not really the type, especially not by herself but there's many reasons as to why. She needed something different, something fun, something to pull away the funk that she seems to have found herself in after binge watching her favourite k-drama again.
The sweet drink, a fruity cocktail she can't remember the name of, sits on the table, a ring of moisture forming underneath it as the ice begins to melt; she's taking her time, too busy watching people dance and have fun as most people would in a bar. Shuhua knows she looks out of place, if anyone is to see her. While she might have a drink, be dressed to party, and look like someone who knows how to have a good time — her isolation and lost stare shows she's not where she should be.
Or wants to be, really.
Her eyes settle on a familiar face when his voice meets her ears and that soft, sweet, easy smile forms in recognition. "Yeonjun-ah!" Shuhua shuffles along in her booth to give him some space, "I didn't know I'd be here either but, a girl needs a night off!" A laugh, barely heard over the music, makes her features radiate with the gentleness that she's known for.
"What are you doing here? Are you here alone?"
the grin that appeared at the sound of his name came easily. "perfect way to enjoy your time off" he slipped into the newly offered space without much hesitation, one arm draping across the back of the booth.
his gaze flickered toward the colorful cocktail sitting in front of her before returning to her face. "although i'm starting to think you're doing the night off thing wrong." he nods to the drink in front of her. for all her talk about needing a break, she'd looked more like someone watching everyone else enjoy theirs. "doesn't look like you've done too much damage."
at her question, he leaned back against the booth. "yeah, alone. needed to get out for a bit." which wasn't entirely a lie. schedules had been relentless lately. and sitting alone in his dorm with his thoughts hadn't sounded particularly appealing. his eyes drifted around the room before settling back on her.
"what about you? came alone or are you waiting for anyone?"
Mingi almost keeps walking when he spots him. His eyes had caught the familiar face the second he stepped further into the bar, and for a split second it felt like muscle memory. Jaw tightening, shoulders going rigid, old irritation crawling up the back of his neck before he could stop it. Some things apparently never changed.
What had changed was that he no longer threw punches every time anger showed up. Well, he couldn't make any promises. Gone were the therapy sessions he used to take for his anger issues. He pauses near the booth instead of immediately turning around. Fingers tighten briefly around the glass in his hand before loosening again.
Of all places.
His gaze flickers across Yeonjun for only a second before looking away toward the crowded room, using the noise around them as an excuse to buy himself an extra second to decide whether this interaction was worth entertaining.
“Yeah,” he answers simply at first.
He shifts his weight, expression unreadable save for the faint tension sitting around his mouth. There’s a hundred memories attached to seeing Yeonjun’s face and none of them are good ones.
“Could say the same about you.” Then, because ignoring him entirely would somehow feel weirder now that eye contact had already happened, Mingi lets out a quiet breath through his nose.
“Seoul run out of bars or something?” That was friendly, right?
the joke hangs between them, awkward enough to acknowledge and not awkward enough to completely kill the conversation. which somehow feels worse. a quiet scoff escapes him before he can stop it. his gaze drops briefly to the drink in his hand. "apparently."
the corner of his mouth threatens to twitch upward before he smooths it away with another sip. "either that or we've both got amazing taste."
it's easier to focus on the glass than the person standing across from him. easier than remembering every conversation they'd ever had seemed to end with somebody pissed off. yeonjun sets the glass back down. around them, the bar continues on as if nothing is happening. laughter from another booth. glasses hitting tabletops. music bleeding through the speakers overhead.
normal... a word that has never seemed to apply particularly well whenever mingi is involved. his fingers tap once against the side of his glass.
"you can relax, " the words leave before he has the chance to reconsider them. "i'm not looking for a rematch. my fighting days might be behind me."
Fingers tightened around the plastic cup on instinct, ice shifting inside with a soft clack, clack, as if even the coffee knew it had become a topic of discussion. Condensation sliding down, cold and smug against the palm. It was supposed to be a caffeine-induced emotional support in liquid form during hours of recording and brainstorming, which it had been approximately thirty seconds ago. Now rendering itself with a new legal status. A liability. A cold, bitter, bladder-adjacent reminder and act of self-sabotage purchased with her own money like an idiot.
Because if they were stuck here for hours...
No.
Absolutely not.
❝ I did... but this is a future problem, Jjunie.❞ Lowering the cup slightly instead of drinking from it. ❝ And yes, low-budget. If this were a good omen, there would be dramatic lighting... maybe even a soundtrack. ❞
Pausing, the elevator just humming in return.
❝ This? ❞ Glancing around this dimmed metallic box. ❝ This is fluorescent lighting, bad ventilation, and you sitting on a hoodie like we're about to start a survival vlog⸻ ❞
The last few words echoing, rousing an idea both long enough to be possible and to actually have the thumb hover over the phone's dark screen.
❝ Actually, wait... ❞
The frozen floor numbers remaining above as if they're the audience that had already subscribed. Waiting. Encouraging whatever is about to unfold. Camera opening, front-facing by default, immediately showing both of them in the worst lighting known to human bone structure. Still, guiding it up at a somewhat respectable angle, faces appearing on-screen.
A brief clear of the throat.
❝ Day one. We have been trapped for exactly... four minutes and twenty-seven seconds. Resources include two phones with no signal, one coffee I can no longer ethically drink, my dignity, his hoodie, sling bag, headphones and... ❞ Glancing at him, lips curving into a smile before continuing their status report. ❝ Whatever he's contributing emotionally. Can you please state your name, occupation, and why was your first survival instinct was interior decorating? ❞
the second the camera appeared, yeonjun groaned. "oh, we're documenting this."
despite the complaint, he made absolutely no effort to move out of frame. in fact, the moment she launched into her survival report, he found himself fighting a smile. by the time she got to the inventory list, he was already shaking his head.
fighting the smile felt impossible the longer she gave a rundown to the future viewers. his gaze flickered toward the phone screen. the lighting was horrific. he looked exhausted. yunjin somehow looked annoyingly camera-ready despite being trapped in a metal box. unfair.
"also, for the record, that's my dignity you're threatening to sacrifice for content." the accusation lacked any real weight behind it. when she pointed the camera more directly at him, yeonjun straightened slightly and cleared his throat with exaggerated seriousness.
"my name is choi yeonjun." one hand lifted toward his chest. "occupation: currently elevator resident." a dramatic pause "former idol." his expression remained perfectly straight for nearly two seconds before it cracked.
he leaned forward just enough to address the phone directly.
"for future viewers, jennifer is currently in possession of the only known beverage resource." his hand gestured vaguely toward the cup. "she has already begun hoarding." then, with absolutely no warning: "don't finish it all. i might get thirsty." he quietly tells her.
❝ No, I understand that, but if the guide vocal is still changing, then the session time has to⸻No, I'm just saying the second verse can't come in that early because the lyrics' message intent and impact would change... it has nowhere to go, it just⸻ ❞
Static.
Signal lost.
Ugh.
Thin and ugly crackle from a phone call losing its signal between floors, flattening the producer's voice into a broken strip of sound before the line cuts off completely. Silence replacing it with such administrative efficiency, only to be met by a stare off contest at the now darkened screen, such a betrayal to company policy. The elevator lights flickered once, then twice, settling into something dimmer, still functional enough to be annoying.
Reflection against the brushed metal wall looking back in fragments, warped by the narrow seams between panels. One eye. The slope of cheek. The corner of lips held too still. Iced drink in one hand, condensation already gathering despite it being newly acquired, still untainted, cold slipping beneath the curve of her rings. Blazer slightly too warm for the tired ventilation seemingly breathing recycled air from some hidden gap above, white tank top beneath already carrying the faint chill from her beverage, dark denim sitting low at the hips.
Schedule folded somewhere at the back of the mind, a filing cabinet—recording session in forty minutes, guide vocals still raw and unfinished, lyrics still arguing with themselves in her notes app, and now.... this. Eyes lifting at the numbers above the door, frozen and unmoving, pretending not to be involved. Then toward the emergency button that had been already pressed, twice. Then, finally, toward him whose standing near the back wall with one side of the headphones pulled off, irritation tucked like part of his ootd.
❝ Yeah, I was actually thinking this feels strangely targeted... You think this is some kind of a prank? There were literally no maintenance announcements. ❞
Now leaning back carefully against the cold metal, leaving a reasonable distance between her shoulder and the wall, because, again, the idea of relaxing fully in this stalled metallic cube felt like losing an argument to architecture and machinery. Phone stayed in hand, drink in the other. Too composed and too still for someone suddenly aware of how small the space was... How close his voice sounded without the music between them. That's the most unfortunate part, even the jazzy music stopped. Yet, how strange it was being forced into pause beside someone who usually moves through rooms like someone was allergic to being left unread.
❝ Feels like an omen, to be honest. A stupid one. Very low-budget. But unfortunately, I was also just calculating whether I could still make it to recording instead of whether we were going to die in here, so… I guess we’re both messed up. ❞
a laugh escaped him before he could stop it.
"okay, that's actually concerning."
his head tipped back against the wall once more.
"we're stuck in a broken elevator and both of our first thoughts were, 'damn, i'm gonna be late.'"yeonjun shook his head.
"not sure that's a good thing." the irony wasn't lost on him. if anyone had told him to slow down, take a break, stop obsessing over schedules, he probably would've ignored them. still would, honestly. his gaze drifted toward the frozen floor numbers overhead before settling back on yunjin.
"a low-budget omen?" he repeated with a grin. "low-budget cause we're not good enough for the good stuff?" he folded his arms tighter across his chest before glancing at the drink in her hand.
"at least you managed to get a coffee before getting trapped." for the first time since the elevator stopped, some of the tension had started to leave. cause it could be worse. he could be trapped alone for hours. that thought frightened him more than whatever possible omen there could be.
he deepens a sigh in his chest, glaring down at the door like that could cause it to open. "should we set up base?" he asks. he removed his hoodie and placed it on the ground, sitting on it after. finally allowing his legs to rest.
