#Even Iljin

[phantoms-nocturne]

Die eisige Luft biss dem achtjährigen Jungen in die Wangen, während er vor dem düsteren Betongebäude kauerte. Die Nacht lag wie ein schwarzes Tuch über Moskau, und der Winter hatte die Stadt in eine tödliche Umarmung gezogen. Zusammengerollt wie ein frierendes Tier harrte er aus und hielt Ausschau nach Fremden, vor denen er die Männer im Inneren warnen sollte. Schnee wirbelte in feinen Spiralen um seine schmalen Beine, legte sich wie eine zweite Haut auf seinen verschlissenen Mantel und taute nicht – die Wärme seines Körpers reichte nicht mehr aus, um ihn zu schmelzen. Sein Atem stieg in kleinen Wolken auf, die sofort in der Luft zerbrachen. Es war nicht nur kalt – es war so eisig, dass die Welt selbst wie erstarrt wirkte.

Doch die schlimmsten Qualen spürte er in seinen Händen. Tausend kleine Nadeln bohrten sich in seine Haut, nur um kurz darauf einer lähmenden Taubheit zu weichen. Jede Bewegung schmerzte, jede Regung fühlte sich an, als würde sie ihn zerbrechen. Der Wind schnitt durch die Gassen und zerrte an seinem ungekämmten schwarzen Haar, das in Strähnen auf seine Stirn fiel. Even wollte sich bewegen, aufstehen, doch seine Beine fühlten sich an, als wären sie aus Glas, bereit, bei der kleinsten Belastung zu zersplittern. Sein Blick wanderte immer wieder zu den vereisten Fenstern des Hauses. Dahinter wartete Wärme – und Gefahr.

Dumpfes Gelächter und raue Flüche drangen durch das Glas, gefolgt vom Klirren von Flaschen, die zu Bruch gingen. Die Männer tranken, wie jede Nacht. Es war ihr Ritual, das meistens in Bewusstlosigkeit endete. Heute vielleicht auch.

Die Minuten dehnten sich quälend, doch schließlich wurde es still. Vorsichtig linste Even durch das Fenster. Kein Schatten bewegte sich. Sein Herz schlug schneller. Dies war seine Chance.

Zitternd richtete er sich auf. Der Schnee knirschte unter seinen dünnen Sohlen, jeder Schritt fühlte sich wie ein Vergehen an. Doch die Kälte war stärker als die Angst. Noch eine Nacht in dieser eisigen Umarmung würde er nicht überleben. Die Konsequenzen waren ihm klar, doch sie zählten nicht mehr. Mit zitternden Fingern drückte er die Tür auf. Sie gab nach und schwang mit einem leisen Knarren auf. Doch bevor er eintrat, hielt er ein letztes Mal inne und lauschte. Nichts. 

Die Wärme umfing ihn sofort, ein fast schmerzhaftes Gefühl, als tanzten winzige Flammen auf seiner Haut. Blut begann durch seine klammen Hände und Füße zu pochen, und die kleinen Stiche wurden zu einem stechenden Schmerz. Vorsichtig schlich er durch die schummrig beleuchteten Flure, während ihm dumpfes Schnarchen aus den umliegenden Räumen entgegenwehte. Der Geruch von Alkohol, Rauch und Schweiß hing schwer in der Luft, ein beinahe erstickender Dunst.

In der Küche blieb er stehen. Auf dem Tisch lag ein halb gegessenes Stück Brot. Es war hart und trocken, aber für Even war es ein Schatz. Hastig griff er danach, schob sich das ganze Stück in den Mund und kaute. Die Krümel kratzten in seiner Kehle, doch der vertraute Geschmack erfüllte ihn mit einer Wärme, die er nicht erwartet hatte. Während er kaute, fiel sein Blick auf das Piano in der Ecke. Halb im Schatten stehend, war es ein trauriges Instrument: vergilbte Tasten, abgestoßenes Holz, ein Lack, der in Schichten abblätterte. Doch für Even war es eine Offenbarung. Erinnerungen drängten sich wie Wellen in seinen Geist. Sein Vater hatte gespielt, so oft, so wunderschön, dass selbst die Stille danach wie Musik klang. Aber das war ein anderes Leben. Ein Leben, bevor sein Vater starb. Vor dem Kinderheim, das ihn zu einem Schatten gemacht hatte, einer Ware in einer Welt aus Gewalt. Seine Füße hatten ihn unbewusst dorthin getragen. Es war, als führe ihn eine lang vergangene Erinnerung wie eine unsichtbare Hand. Seine Hände zitterten, als er sich auf den Schemel setzte. Nicht aber vor Kälte, sondern vor Ehrfurcht. Seine Finger schwebten über den Tasten, als hätten sie nie etwas anderes gekannt. Er sah sich noch einmal um, lauschte. Die Männer schliefen. Langsam ließ er seine Finger sinken. Die Tasten waren kühl und glatt, und in seinem Kopf erklang die erste Note, klar und rein. Chopins „Marche Funèbre“. Lautlos tänzelten seine Finger über die Taste. Es ertönte keine Note, doch in seinem Inneren erhob sich die Melodie, melancholisch und kraftvoll.

Die Musik zog ihn in einen Strudel aus Erinnerungen. Er sah seinen Vater, wie er lächelnd die Hände über seine führte, die ersten Akkorde des Stückes. „Musik“, hatte er gesagt, „wird aus Schmerz geboren und dennoch ist sie stärker als jeder Schmerz.“ Even hatte immer an dieser Aussage gezweifelt, aber er klammerte sich an diese letzten Worte, als könne er sie durch die Tasten zurückholen.

Die Melodie wuchs und verschlang ihn. Jede Note, die in seinem Kopf erklang, war ein Moment, den er wiederfand. Der Schmerz der Kälte, der Hunger, die Angst – alles wich der Musik, die ihn wie eine schützende Decke umgab.

Die Noten des Stückes hatten ihn in eine vergangene Welt entführt, bis eine Berührung die Melodie jäh zerbrechen ließ. Das warme Licht des Raumes schien dunkler zu werden, die Wände enger. Evens Herz schlug so heftig, dass es schmerzte, doch er wagte nicht, sich zu rühren. Die Hand auf seiner Schulter war rau, schwer wie Eisen, und hielt ihn fest an Ort und Stelle. Langsam drehte er sich um, jeder Millimeter seiner Bewegung wie ein Verrat an sich selbst. Sein Blick glitt an der massiven Gestalt hinauf, und dann sah er ihn. Den Kopf der Bratwa. Der Mann war wie ein Schatten, ein Gebirge aus Kälte und Gewalt, mit kantigen Gesichtszügen, die so unnachgiebig waren wie Stein. Seine Augen, eisblau und erbarmungslos, schienen Even zu durchbohren.

„Was glaubst du, was du hier machst, Junge?“ fragte der Mann mit einer Stimme, die tief und rau wie brechendes Eis war.

Even wollte antworten, doch seine Kehle war wie zugeschnürt. Worte wären ohnehin sinnlos. Der Boss zog eine Pistole aus seinem Gürtel, langsam und ohne Eile, als wollte er jedem Moment Gewicht verleihen. Even spürte den kalten Lauf unter seinem Kinn, eine gnadenlose Berührung, die ihn zwang, den Kopf zu heben.

„Du hattest eine klare Anweisung“, zischte der Mann, sein Atem ein Gemisch aus Alkohol und Zigaretten, während seine Hand unerschütterlich blieb.

Evens Blick hob sich, bis er direkt in die Augen des Bosses starrte. Da war keine Gnade, kein Zögern, nichts, was ihn an die Möglichkeit eines Entkommens glauben ließ. Die Kälte des Pistolenlaufs durchdrang seine Haut, doch in ihm war es ruhig – eine seltsame Stille, wie der Moment vor dem Fall eines letzten Schneeflockensturms.

Dies war das Ende, das wusste er. Er fühlte keine Angst mehr, nur eine schmerzliche Erleichterung. Die Kälte draußen, die ständigen Schläge im Kinderheim, der Hunger, die unendliche Einsamkeit – alles würde mit diesem Moment enden.

Er dachte an die Melodie, die in seinem Kopf gespielt hatte, an die Hände seines Vaters, die einst gezeigt hatten, wie man aus Stille Musik erschafft. „Musik ist stärker als Schmerz“, hatte sein Vater gesagt. Aber jetzt erschien ihm das wie eine ferne, unwirkliche Wahrheit – eine, die vielleicht nur in einer anderen Welt existieren konnte. Hier, in dieser Welt, war er Schmerz das Einzige, das blieb. Still und unaufhaltsam hatte er sich in jedes Eck seines Lebens geschlichen, bis nichts anderes mehr Platz hatte. Selbst die Musik schien ihn nicht mehr zu erreichen. Alles was blieb war die Endgültigkeit.

[minastras]

dear stranger, do you remember me too? // sunghoon

When you were sixteen, you betrayed Park Sunghoon. Or he betrayed you. Whichever it was, you knew two things for sure: 1) kids were cruel, and 2) you would spend the rest of your life trying to make up your mind. Well, until you saw him again. It was a strange feeling, meeting him in the flesh even though his ghost had been haunting you for three years.

at a glance: childhood friends to strangers to lovers, reformed bad boy! sunghoon, university au, pure angst (i received High Level Clearance from @end-hyphen to put him through the wringer sorry), ft. hyung line

words: 12.3k

warnings: swearing, mild mentions of blood, sexual harassment, and fights (nothing serious), alcohol and cigarette use

——————————

For as long as you could remember, Park Sunghoon had been the centre of your solar system, the axis around which your universe revolved. You’d known him since the day you were born. You lived on the same street, four houses apart, and as the only two kids in the area you naturally bonded instantly with each other. He was your best friend, your confidant, your partner in crime.

As soon as you both were no taller than his coffee table, you spent nearly every day together at the playground behind your street, running through the neighbourhood blowing bubbles and chasing butterflies.

“Do you think we could both fit on the same swing?” You could still hear your voice, light and flowery back then, asking.

“Let’s find out,” his equally childish voice rang back, before he yanked you into his lap and struggled to get enough leverage with his feet to push you both off the ground.

That ended with you tumbling out of the swing and onto the tarmac just by the playground, scraping your knee. You both must’ve been only five years old then, but you didn’t cry, instead stubbornly getting to your feet and ignoring the blood trickling down your calf until you were back in the privacy of your living room.

He had carried you home on his back, even though you could walk just fine, and sat you down on the sofa while he cleaned your broken skin with a tissue.

“You can cry if you want,” he had said simply, in that innocent manner only kids have.

You were with him all the way through kindergarten to middle school to high school. Neither of you had many friends; you were both quiet and shy and somewhat rough around the edges. But that didn’t matter, because you had each other.

As you grew from toddlers to precocious children to teenagers, you continued spending nearly every day together. When you weren’t glued to each other’s sides in school, he was spending the night at your house after class, or you were playing video games in his room on weekends.

You always looked forward to Fridays. Sunghoon finished school an hour after you did and he would wait for you in an empty classroom. Afterwards you would take the bus into town and waste away the rest of the afternoon at the movies or in the arcade. You’d buy fried chicken for dinner and eat in your room, and he would spend the night. In the summertime, you’d climb up to the roof and stargaze and eventually fall asleep beside him, only to be rudely awakened by middle-of-the-night summer showers.

You had never known anything else but you and Sunghoon against the world.

——————————

When you were sixteen, things began to change.

“Do you want to do something special tonight?” Sunghoon asked. You were hanging out in your bedroom, him lying on your bed and you sitting on a bean bag on the floor, listening to music and studying.

“Like what?”

He grinned excitedly and handed you his phone.  “Jeongmin invited me to join him and his friends. He asked me to bring you, too.”

You read the brief text exchange and frowned. “Jeongmin? As in, iljin and leader of that gang of dickheads, Jeongmin?”

“He’s actually nicer than he seems, you know,” Sunghoon told you. “He said he wants us all to hang out.”

You gave him his phone back, incredulous. “Hoon, the four of them beat up Ahn Jinho so badly last month that he’s still in hospital. You can’t seriously be considering taking him up on his offer. He’s going to drag us out into a park and kill us.”

“I think he just wants to show us how to have fun. You know, live a little. Why else would he invite two nerd loners like us?” he asked.

“Because we’re weak, lonely, and easy to take advantage of?” you pointed out. When he didn’t respond, you sighed. “Do you really want to go?”

“I do.”

“Fine.”

He shook his head rapidly. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“And let you get killed all by yourself? No thanks. We die together.”

——————————

You knew it was a mistake the second the conversation ended, but, as you said, you weren’t very well going to let Sunghoon go alone. And he was adamant, longing for friends, and desperate for an adventure. He clung to your arm as you walked from your house to the abandoned car park, thanking you repeatedly the entire journey.

Regret set in almost instantly. For you, anyway. Sunghoon seemed to be having a blast.

Jeongmin was already there waiting for you, with a case of cheap alcohol in his hand and his three lackeys in tow. You sat in the car park watching as Sunghoon drank and smoked with them, pretending to enjoy himself even though you knew he despised the taste of both of those things.

Jeongmin respected your assertion that you wouldn’t smoke (a shocker), but continued pushing you to drink the entire night. You fidgeted under his leering gaze, only growing more anxious as the minutes ticked by and he kept trying to ply you with alcohol, kept sitting closer and closer to you, kept returning his hand to your thigh no matter how many times you shifted away. Sunghoon didn’t stop him.

At the end of the night, you dragged Sunghoon back to your house and managed to get him up to your room without waking up your dad. He was wasted and reeked of smoke, incredibly lucky that his parents would just assume he’d spent the night at yours like always. You dumped him on your bed, aired out his clothes, and mixed honey and lemon juice into a glass of warm water for him to try and stop his cough.

“Did you have fun?” he asked, already changed into some of his sleeping clothes he kept in your room. His words were slurred and his cheeks were red, but he was coherent enough. “God, my throat feels like shit.”

“Because you smoked half a pack in one sitting like you were cosplaying as a forty-five year old weathered truck driver. Drink your honey lemon water,” you ordered, opening your bedroom windows so the cigarette smoke wouldn’t linger. “And no, I did not.”

He pouted but complied. “They’re not that bad.”

You took the empty glass from his hands and pulled the blankets up over him, touching his forehead. His skin was warm and flushed from the alcohol. “We’ll agree to disagree,” you said, heading downstairs to wash the glass.

“Lie down with me,” he whined the second you came back, somehow having managed to tuck himself into your bed like a sushi roll.

You switched off the lights and climbed into bed beside him, close but not touching. “I really don’t think you should be mixing with them, Hoon. They’re bad news,” you said quietly.

He’d fallen asleep before you ever got the chance to finish your sentence.

——————————

Over the next few weeks, Sunghoon started going out on more of these ‘adventures’. You stopped tagging along, but he still relied on you to shelter him in your room so his parents wouldn’t find out where he was disappearing to. And you continued to keep your phone right by your pillow while you slept so you could go bring him home if and when he called you.

He kept smoking around Jeongmin and his friends, even though he hated it and it made his throat itchy. You had started doing your own grocery shopping so your dad wouldn’t notice how fast the lemons and honey ran out nowadays.

When you and him were together, he acted exactly the same. He was still sweet, thoughtful, and just a little bit snarky. He still stuck to you in school, still waited for you every Friday afternoon, and still followed you to whichever new restaurant you wanted to try out on the weekends. He still lit up with a smile when you came by to his figure skating practice to cheer him on, much to the chagrin of his coach.

But whenever he went out to get wasted with Jeongmin and his gang and you had to go pick him up, you caught glimpses of the person he was becoming. He was picking fights and losing his temper at the smallest things, aggressive and hot-headed and dripping in machismo. No longer charmingly sarcastic with a gentle side, now he was just mean.

As soon as you two were back in your room, however, that all melted away. He would cuddle up to you, apologise, and thank you for always bringing him home no matter how ungodly the hour. If he woke up before you, he would tidy your room as a way to return the favour and leave a snack on your bedside table.

The snack was always accompanied by a yellow post-it note which he took from your desk (you didn’t even use those, but you kept them around specifically for him) with a dumb doodle or lots of hearts or both.

You weren’t happy about this development, but you didn’t do anything to stop it. It was his life, not yours. And you weren’t really in the business of speaking up about things that bothered you anyway. You kept your head down and your mouth shut, and stayed out of Jeongmin’s way.

Until one fateful Tuesday, about two months after the first invitation.

Sunghoon rarely talked to you about his newfound friends; he knew you didn’t approve of them and he didn’t want to upset you. This particular piece of news, though, was just too exciting to keep from you. After all, you were his best friend. He wanted you to be a part of his new life.

“Guess what the guys and I are doing on Sunday,” he said. You nodded for him to continue, somewhat distracted by the cinnamon rolls you were baking together in his kitchen, not entirely sure when ‘the guys’ had become a thing. “Jeongmin’s cousin is in town, and he has a fancy new car. We’re gonna hotwire it, drive it down to the cliff, and set it on fire.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, your jaw dropping open. “What? Sunghoon, that’s too dangerous.”

“That’s why we’ll do it at the cliff. There’s nothing around there that could burn down,” he explained, like that made it okay.

If it weren’t for his completely serious tone and expression, you would have thought he was joking. You set down the mixing bowl you were holding. “No, you could get hurt,” you said, adding, “And what if you get caught? That’s grand larceny and arson.”

“The guy’s an asshole anyway,” he said nonchalantly, not listening to you.

“That doesn’t make it legal, Hoon. Or safe. I’m serious. You can’t do that.”

He folded his arms across his chest, scowling. “You’re just jealous,” he said.

“I don’t want you to go to jail,” you corrected.

“No, you’re jealous I finally have friends other than you. Like, cool, normal, friends,” he snapped, angrier than you’d ever seen him.

Never in your life had he raised his voice at you. You pretty much never fought, aside from short bouts of time when one of you was upset for one reason or another, but you always smoothed things over through calm, measured conversations. Not arguments like this.

You paused, stepping away from the counter, from him. “Is that what this is about? I’m not good enough for you?” you asked, your voice soft.

He had never once indicated he was unhappy with your friendship, with your relaxed hangouts in each other’s houses and comfortable outings to cinemas and restaurants and bookstores. But clearly he wanted something else: to be cool, normal, and have friends that weren’t shy recluses.

You trusted him. He was your whole world, and you’d always assumed you were his too.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said, pulling back his words as you turned to leave. He followed you, pleading, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

“I’m going home,” you stated firmly, rushing out of his house and slamming the front door shut behind you.

——————————

By Sunday evening, you cracked. You had been avoiding Sunghoon for the last two days, and both of your families had noticed. You couldn’t stop thinking about that night, if he would be caught, if he was going to be okay. There was no way you’d be able to talk to his parents without him finding out unless he was out at figure skating training, so you confided in your dad. And he called Sunghoon’s mom right then and there.

“You did the right thing, Y/N. I’m proud of you,” your dad said after he hung up, patting your head.

“It doesn’t feel like I did,” you mumbled, your insides twisting and twisting away.

“I know, honey.” Your dad rubbed your shoulders comfortingly, before offering, “Do you want to go out for ice cream? Take your mind off it? I can call off work.”

You clung to him for a few more seconds, then let go. “I just want to be alone for a while, if that’s okay,” you said, retreating to your bedroom while your dad left for his night shift at the plant.

You weren’t sure how long you lay in your bed staring at the ceiling in complete silence, numbed by guilt, before your bedroom door swung open and Sunghoon barged into your room. In your state, you hadn’t even heard him enter your house. You scrambled to your feet.

“Did you fucking snitch on me?”

He was in all black, with a graphic t-shirt over a long sleeved polo, ripped jeans, and boots. With his hair styled and jewellery on, he must’ve been ready to leave the house, because that was how he normally dressed to meet Jeongmin and his gang.

“Hoon-”

“I told you that in confidence,” he snapped, shutting your bedroom door. His eyes, narrowed in hatred, glowered at you. You walked over to him and reached for his hand, but he slapped you away, recoiling at your touch like you were a hot stove. “How could you do this to me?”

“I was worried about you,” you said, your tone begging, mollifying. You rarely saw him this angry, and never had that anger been directed at you.

“Bullshit. My parents just screamed at me for two hours. Jeongmin’s gonna be pissed at me,” he fumed. “You weren’t fucking worried about me. You didn’t want me to be doing things without you.”

You dug your nails into your palms, trying to stop yourself from crying. It seemed to work, for a while, anyway. “Is that how you see me? As a needy pest who won’t let you go?” you asked, each word a chore to get out, your eyes already stinging. Not from his words, but from the sheer contempt in his expression.

Had he really spent the last sixteen years so desperate to get rid of you, like you were a persistent barnacle on a ship that refused to leave? Did he hate you that much? How had you never known?

He took a step towards you. His eyes were cold, his jaw was clenched, and you couldn’t even recognise him. You stepped back cautiously.

“Oh, like you’re some perfect angel,” he spat through gritted teeth. 

“I’m not. I just don’t want you to throw away your future. I-”

“You know what your problem is?” he shouted, cutting you off. He took yet another step forward, and you again stepped back. The backs of your knees hit your bed frame. “You’re a hypocrite. You hold everyone to such a high moral standard that no one is ever good enough for you. Not me, and not yourself. That’s why you fucking hate yourself so much.”

You couldn’t speak. Your heart was firmly lodged in your throat. For several agonising seconds, the only things you could hear were his furious breathing and your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

“I think you should go home,” you finally said after a long pause. Your voice was shaking as you held back tears. “We can talk about this when you’ve calmed down-”

“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down!”

Sunghoon raised his hand to push back his fringe, but you didn’t know that. Because when his hand came up, you flinched. 

He lowered his hand immediately, only then noticing that he’d backed you into a corner. Instead of shock or anger or hurt, there was nothing but pure, unadulterated fear in your eyes.

“Did you think I was going to hit you?” he whispered, stepping back.

You squeezed your eyes shut and turned away, walking to your open window and resting your hands on the windowsill. “Please leave,” you said simply, fighting to keep your voice stable as tears began to roll down your face, not looking at him.

He stood and waited for a minute, watching you. You could feel his gaze. But when you refused to turn back around, he sighed and left. You heard your bedroom door close, and then your front door a few seconds later, and then it was so, so quiet.

——————————

You and Sunghoon avoided each other like the plague after that fight, although that torture hadn’t lasted long. Within two weeks, he’d withdrawn from school and vanished. His parents told you he’d gone to a boarding school in a different town, but they didn’t say where or why.

You never saw him again.

Being in your hometown for those last two years of high school was difficult for you. Having to live just down the road from his family home, constantly surrounded by all of your old haunts, made it hard for you to get him out of your head.

After high school you’d gone to a small university to do your first year with a conditional offer from your dream school in your back pocket. You needed time to save up money, and you were hoping to secure a scholarship with your first year grades.

You’d been lucky enough to make a new friend, Heeseung. Like you, he was only in that university temporarily to work his way into a scholarship. Your relationship was initially one of convenience and comfort — neither of you were particularly keen on mixing with the other students you never planned to see again after your first year — but you quickly became genuine friends.

You kept each other motivated, and both managed to secure transfers before your second year started. In fact, you’d done so well that your then-university had begged you to stay, offering you scholarship after scholarship and full fee remissions. But you both turned them down. You had loftier ambitions.

Once you moved away to university, things got better. Of course, the vestiges remained. You still had Sunghoon’s Spotify playlists in your account, your shared arcade membership card in your wallet, and some of his socks mixed in with your own. Before you fought he’d borrowed your favourite pair of red shrimp socks, and now you were never going to get them back.

But you didn’t think about him nearly as often as you used to. He was no longer a ghost living in your head, but a will-o’-the-wisp that occasionally caught your eye when you saw something that reminded you of him.

And now you and Heeseung were standing in the foyer of your new dorm with nothing from your past but a small suitcase each, in the university you’d been chasing your entire lives, ready to start your second year. 

“We made it,” Heeseung whispered to you, still not fully comprehending it all. You were really here.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous in my life,” you whispered back.

“Me too. If we weren’t roommates I’d be shitting bricks by now.”

The school had been gracious enough to allow you and Heeseung to live together in a small apartment within the music students’ dorm, since you were pretty sure at least one of you would have gone bonkers if you were separated. You would be sharing the floor with another similar apartment housing three students who would meet you in the foyer to help you move in.

Right on time, one of them (you presumed) came bounding down the stairs excitedly. He broke into a broad smile the second he saw your suitcases, his originally stern-looking features softening instantly as he did.

“Are you the transfers? Nice to meet you! I’m Jay. We spoke on the phone.”

You spoke up first when it became clear Heeseung was far too anxious to talk. “Hi! I’m Y/N, and this is Heeseung. Nice to meet you too.”

“Welcome aboard,” Jay said, easily picking up your suitcase before you could object. Heeseung fumbled for his own. “My roommates are just finishing getting your apartment ready. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Shouldn’t that be the school’s job?” you asked, following him up the stairs.

“This place can be a bit of a circus, believe it or not,” Jay remarked, making you and Heeseung exchange glances. When you reached the fifth floor, not a single hair on his head was out of place even though your bag was heavy as fuck.

“Thank you,” you said.

“No problem. That’s us over there,” he said, pointing to the first door on the level, “and this is you guys.”

The apartment was modestly-sized and simple, but clean and otherwise perfect. Jay introduced you to his first roommate Jake, who was sitting at the kitchen counter when you arrived.

“Thanks for setting all of this up for us. It must’ve been a lot of work,” Heeseung said, finally speaking after you elbowed him in the side (be normal, man). “You’ve been so helpful.”

“It’s nothing. Jay and I both transferred here last semester too, so we know how hard it can be,” Jake said kindly, waving away your gratitude. “Our other roommate did the same for us back then.”

“Speaking of which, Hoon! Come out here and meet the new students!” Jay called.

A third voice came floating from down the corridor. “Coming!”

When the aforementioned roommate emerged from the corridor, your heart stopped. Your blood turned to lead in your veins. Your ears began ringing, the sound so loud it washed away almost everything else.

You could barely hear Jake as he said, “Hoon, these are our new neighbours, Heeseung and Y/N. Guys, this is-”

“Sunghoon,” you finished. His name came out of your mouth, but it didn’t sound like your voice. Your hands were numb.

“Y/N,” Sunghoon said, at the exact same time.

Although he was taller now, with a broader frame, a sharper jaw, and a deeper voice, it was still him. He was frozen in shock, looking right at you, unblinking. He had on a white t-shirt that read ‘rise above’ that he’d had since the first year of high school — you bought it for him for his fifteenth birthday. It had been massively oversized on his thin body back then, but now he filled it out nicely.

Right there, as you stood in the kitchen of your new apartment, all the guilt and heartbreak and mourning that you thought you had left behind in the child that died three years ago came rushing back to you, squeezing the air from your lungs.

And in that moment you were reminded yet again of the lesson you had spent the last three years of your life learning day after day after day: movies lied.

The real heartbreak was never the big fight. It was every time after when the other person crossed your mind in idle thoughts or memories, every time you saw or heard something that reminded you of them, every time you pulled up their contact on your phone and read the distant timestamp of your final conversation.

It was every belonging of theirs they left behind in your childhood bedroom, and everything you owned that had been a gift from them. It was every food you ever ate together and every song you ever listened to together and every place you ever went to together.

It was every time they reached out from beyond the grave and touched some part of your life and you had to lose them all over again.

You looked at him, and he looked at you. His eyes hadn’t changed at all. You were sixteen once more: standing in his kitchen making cinnamon rolls, locking your bedroom door behind him after the last time you spoke because you were scared he would return, desperately running away from him in the school halls.

He glanced down at your hands, your fingers laced together to hide the fact that they were shaking. You had a habit of doing that when you were nervous. Around your left wrist was a silver bracelet, one that he’d gotten you on a whim six years ago. You still had it. And you still wore it. And it was you.

Jay smiled cheerily, oblivious. “Do you guys know each other?”

——————————

Your first week of your second year was amazing. You were finally at your dream university in your dream major, with a full-ride scholarship under your belt and your best friend right by your side. It was everything you and Heeseung had worked so hard for.

The building you lived in was a dorm just for music scholars, a small, close-knit group of under thirty students. Most of them, like Jay and Jake, also bled money.

But your experience was somewhat soured by one thing: Park Sunghoon. He was everywhere.

Of course, that was to be expected. It was a small cohort, the only new friends you’d made so far were his roommates, and you were literally neighbours.

After the day you’d moved in, neither of you had spoken a word to each other. You ran into him constantly, and you were always going to classes and grabbing lunch together, but you’d never talked to him directly. He was just always there.

On Thursday, as the five of you left a lecture together, Sunghoon politely excused himself. “I won’t join you guys for lunch today. I need to pick up something from the shops.”

So you found yourself sitting in the food court with Heeseung, Jay, and Jake. When the conversation naturally fizzled out, it was only quiet for a few seconds before Jay clapped his hands together and asked, “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s the deal with you and Sunghoon?”

You looked at Heeseung for guidance. On that first night, you’d already told him everything. He shrugged.

“Uh- well. We grew up together, and when we were sixteen we had a falling out,” you answered cautiously.

“Then you lost touch?” Jake frowned.

“You could say that,” you said, reaching for Heeseung’s hand under the table and adding, “I think Sunghoon should probably be the one to tell you the rest, though. When he’s ready.”

——————————

At Heeseung’s insistence (listen, you’re clearly still hurting over this, and it would be good for you to talk to him, at least), you bullied yourself into texting Sunghoon at the end of your first week. With trembling hands, you asked him if he would meet you in the botanical gardens on Sunday. He replied almost instantly: what time?

Waiting for him on a park bench, chronically early as you always were, you were bouncing your leg so much that the entire bench was shaking. The last time you’d spoken to him was over three years ago, when you’d pleaded with him to get out of your room.

You had drawn up an agreement with Heeseung that morning: if things went south, you would send him an S.O.S. message so he could come by and pretend to whisk you away to tend to an Urgent Apartment Matter. You even programmed your phone to text him automatically if you pressed your power button five times in a row. He called you ‘insufferably paranoid’, which you took as a compliment.

Sunghoon was a minute late, and, by the looks of it, just as anxious as you were.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

He sat down next to you, a polite distance away. It was almost like how you used to sit in your neighbourhood park late at night after you’d aged out of the playground, eating convenience store ramen together until a concerned stranger or annoyed police officer told you to go home.

You both looked around for a while before you couldn’t take it anymore and bit the bullet. “How have you been?” you asked, stilted.

“Good. I’ve been good.” He cleared his throat and rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans, nodding at nothing. “What about you?”

“Good.” You paused too, searching your brain for something to say.

“I went to military school,” he blurted out, knowing you were too polite to ask him directly. “Um- for the last two years of high school. That’s why I disappeared.”

Military school? So the rumours floating around the town had been right.

“Madam Choi kept asking me about you,” you told him after a while. Madam Choi was the sweet, grandmotherly owner of the convenience store on the corner of your street who always asked how you were doing and chastised you for eating too many snacks even though your unhealthy diets kept her shop afloat. It was the only topic you could think of that wasn’t too painful to bring up.

Sunghoon laughed at that, a sound you hadn’t heard for years. He loosened up, and you did too. Your awkwardness gradually began melting away as he told you about Jay and Jake, about his time at military school, and about all the cool spots in the city you should check out. You told him about Heeseung, your previous university, and how you didn’t know how to navigate your new university’s portal because it was designed to frustrate.

Conspicuously, neither of you brought up the past. Reminiscing was off the table, an arrangement implicitly reached between you two at some point during the conversation. Even when you finally worked up the courage to ask what you’d been wanting to ask for the last three years, you still couldn’t bring yourself anywhere close to acknowledging what happened.

“Are you still mad at me?” you asked.

Sunghoon didn’t hesitate for even a second, which made you smile. “No.”

As he continued talking, however, it became clear that he was considering every word he said before he said it. He was careful, deliberate, holding back.

“I’ve grown up since then,” he said slowly. “I haven’t been mad for a long time. Actually, I wanted to thank you for doing what you did. I could have been sitting in jail by now.” He clasped his hands together and turned to you. “Are you still mad at me?”

You were equally as assured and quick with your own response. “No. I was never mad at you.”

“You should’ve been,” he joked. “I caused you so much trouble, always waking you up in the middle of the night and crashing in your room.”

You laughed and shook your head. “I’m happy things worked out for you, Hoon. And that you got into university despite everything that happened,” you said.

“Thanks,” he smiled. Although the rest of him looked older and more mature, his smile remained the same.

“If I’d done those things I never would’ve gotten a second chance,” you mused, more to yourself than to him, but he heard it anyway.

Instantly, his mood soured.

“Okay, so did you rat on me to protect me and my future? Or because you were jealous? Because that sounds like jealousy,” he snapped.

Shit. You reached for your phone and pressed the home button five times. But he wasn’t wrong.

Yes, you had been worried about him as you’d said back then, but you were also jealous. Not of his new friends, but of his life. His parents were rich, and he had two of them. If he had gone out that night and been caught, there was a non-zero chance that he could have gotten off with a slap on the wrist.

His parents had the money to ship him off to a private military school for two whole years at the drop of a hat, and he’d been able to come straight to your dream university. If you had joined him and Jeongmin that night, you would’ve been locked up without question.

“You ruined my life,” Sunghoon hissed, his eyes now dark and his body tense. “Do you know that?”

“You ruined your own life when you were planning to commit arson and didn’t listen to me when I told you to stop,” you countered.

He set his jaw and turned away with a scoff. “I can’t believe you.”

In the distance, you saw Heeseung jogging over to you. He must’ve been hiding in another part of the park, waiting. You weren’t the only insufferably paranoid one, it seemed.

“This isn’t how I wanted today to go, Hoon,” you sighed.

“Don’t call me that,” he spat, standing up.

“Y/N!” Heeseung shouted as he reached the bench. His face fell the moment he saw the look in your eyes. “There is an Urgent Apartment Matter. We must tend to it right away,” he stuttered, grabbing your hand and yanking you to your feet before Sunghoon even had the time to blink.

The two of you ran.

——————————

You and Sunghoon had swiftly gone right back to ignoring each other, which was pretty impressive considering you were almost always together. Jay and Jake seemed annoyingly hell-bent on taking you and Heeseung under their wing — as fellow transfers themselves, they wanted to help you acclimatise — and Sunghoon didn’t have any other friends. So he was constantly with you in classes, at parties, or hanging out in your goddamn apartment.

He spent more time staring at you than he would have liked to admit. In between gaps in conversations, or when you were distracted by one of Jay’s dissertation-length speeches about some inane topic or stupid fact, he got the chance to really look at you for the first time in years. Every time he did he felt a strange ache in his chest. You were like an actor he already knew playing a character he’d never seen before.

“Dude, why would you even say that? You called them a hypocrite?” Jake chastised, when Sunghoon finally revealed the details behind your falling out in high school a few days after Sunday.

“I just can’t imagine you as that kind of guy,” Jay said, stunned. He was still trying to picture Park Sunghoon, the would-be arsonist. 

Often, Sunghoon found himself staring not when Jay was rambling or Jake was telling you a joke, but specifically when you were with Heeseung. There was something about the way you two interacted that made his heart sting. You were comfortable with him, and he with you.

You knew he liked to sit on the inside of restaurant booths facing the door, and he knew your Subway order by heart. You kept track of the stock of his favourite drinks in your fridge, and he always had a spare charger in his bag for all the times you forgot to bring your own. You were so in tune with each other that you would tell when the other wanted to go home without needing to ask and built effortlessly on each other’s jokes. You even kind of talked the same.

“And then you said it again? Are you serious?” Jay groaned in frustration when he heard the park story. Everyone had noticed the considerable shift in mood between you and Sunghoon since Sunday, but no one had dared to mention it.

“They’re trying so hard with you, man. Why would you do that?” Jake sighed.

Sunghoon pulled hard at his hair, equally frustrated, and flopped face down on the sofa. “I don’t know! It just came out.”

There was a substantial part of him that kmew it was because he was scared he hadn’t changed. That he was still the kind of person who called their best friend a hypocrite and accused them of being jealous when they tried to protect him. That you could see that, and that Jay and Jake would realise it soon too.

The other day at the juice bar Heeseung bought you a warm honey lemon tea. When he ordered it, you and Sunghoon immediately looked at each other before turning away. Windows open to air out the stench of cigarette smoke. Your secret stash of lemons and honey. Yellow post-it notes on your bedside table. All the hours you spent taking care of him, even as he spiralled out of control.

You hadn’t even asked for it; Heeseung somehow knew you had a sore throat that day without you telling him. Apparently he could hear it in your voice, which was (according to him) slightly scratchy and hoarse. Sunghoon couldn’t hear a thing, though. You sounded the exact same to him.

It was clear that Heeseung was familiar with the person you were now, that he knew you, and he knew how to be your best friend. That was a skill that Sunghoon had lost years ago, and clearly he didn’t quite know you anymore.

At the park you hadn’t cried once, although he was sure the sixteen-year-old you would have. Perhaps you just cried less now. Perhaps you’d given up on him and no longer expected anything else from him but to be disappointed.

“You need to apologise to them,” Jake scolded.

“They won’t forgive me,” Sunghoon mumbled into the sofa fabric.

Jay threw a pillow at him. “No offence, Hoon, but from what you’ve told us I think you’re a pretty shit judge of character.”

——————————

You had the apartment to yourself that Thursday night because Heeseung had rented a studio to practise after-hours and wouldn’t be back till sunrise. Someone knocked on your door. When you didn’t answer it immediately, a painfully familiar voice rang out from the other side.

“It’s me.”

Dread was not an emotion you’d ever associated with Sunghoon, but it was all you felt when you opened the door for him. When you were kids he never waited for you to do so; he always just let himself in. You sat down at the kitchen counter together, side by side.

“Since when do you watch Queer Eye?” he asked, noticing your laptop screen.

“Heeseung introduced me to it,” you said, pushing a glass of water across the counter to him. His face darkened at the name, but you chose to ignore it. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Sunghoon bit his lip. “I wanted to say I’m sorry,” he started, wooden. While he’d seemed guarded and on edge on Sunday, now he seemed scared. “For what I said to you. And for- for everything.”

You sat rigidly on the bar stool, self-conscious, not knowing what to say.

“I had a lot of time to think over the last three years, and I realised I was insecure. I was so desperate to be seen as ‘cool’ and Jeongmin knew that. You were right; he was preying on me because he could tell how much I wanted to be a part of his world. You saw right through me because you knew- you know me better than anyone. So I lashed out at you.

“I tried so hard to put that part of my life behind me — I never told Jay or Jake about it, even — and when you came back I panicked. It was a reminder of all the fucked up things I did and the person I used to be. I didn’t want to have to deal with it, and I took it out on you again.

“I’m sorry. And thank you. For always being there for me to pick up the pieces. I never deserved that sort of kindness.”

He watched you nervously, waiting for a response. You reached for the rubber band around your wrist and snapped it. It didn’t hurt, but it helped to distract you. He glanced down at your hand, recognising another of your old habits.

“Stop doing that,” he chided, his eyes watering. At that moment, he sounded just like he used to when you were younger. You remembered him saying those exact words in that exact tone. Of all the things he had said, that was what made you want to cry.

“I missed you so much,” you finally admitted after a long pause, inhaling shakily. “I felt like I ruined our friendship. I never stopped wondering if I made the right decision, I- I thought I’d lost you forever.”

He wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tight. His hugs were just comforting as they had been when you were growing up. He was much stronger than you remembered, although perhaps you should have expected that. He’d changed his cologne since.

“You have nothing to feel guilty about,” he told you, stroking your hair gently. When you separated his eyes were shining with tears. He laughed, sniffling, holding your face in his hands.

“Can we be friends again?” you whispered.

“I’d like that,” he said, letting you go and hesitating for a few seconds before he next spoke. “Do you know what motivated me to change when I was in military school?”

“What?” You hugged him one last time before unconsciously reaching for your rubber band. Catching this, he raised an eyebrow and glanced pointedly at your wrist. You stopped, feeling scolded.

“The last time we talked back in high school, you thought I was going to hit you,” he began carefully. He took a deep breath, suddenly unable to look you in the eye now. “Seeing how scared you were, the fear on your face, I- I never wanted to make anyone feel like that again. Especially not you. I’m sorry.”

He’d started crying. He hardly ever cried when you were kids. You wiped away his tears with your shirt sleeve.

“Don’t be a stranger, okay?” he begged, clutching onto you with a vice grip. Between you and him he had always been the calm one, but now he was shaking and you could feel it.

You squeezed his hand. “I won’t.”

——————————

Something in you was repaired that day.

You were telling the truth when you said you had never stopped feeling guilty about what you did. Not being able to speak to Sunghoon after, not even knowing where he was or what he was doing, it had wrecked you.

For years you’d lived with the thought that the only person you’d ever trusted had always secretly resented you. Maybe everyone did — maybe you were a pest, a hypocrite, a loser. It made it hard for you to form new connections. Heeseung had chipped away at your defences for months before you felt safe enough to call him your friend.

But now you were sitting on the floor of Sunghoon’s living room, sharing a vodka Sprite with Heeseung while you watched the others play Mario Kart, and everything was fine.

You hadn’t spent too much time with Sunghoon alone, although the five of you were constantly together. Jake had even joked about blocking off the fifth floor from the other scholars and just leaving both of your front doors open to form one big apartment for the five of you. Functionally, it wouldn’t be that different from how you were already living.

“I’m hungry,” Heeseung piped up, pouting and nudging you. “Go buy me some chips?”

“Why can’t you go?” you asked.

“My head hurts,” he whined. If he was dehydrated, the smallest drop of alcohol could give him splitting headaches. “Don’t kick a man while he’s down.”

Before you could retort, Sunghoon handed him his Switch controller. “Hee, you play. I’ll go with them,” he offered.

“Thanks, man. Use my rewards card,” Heeseung said, handing you his wallet instead of just taking the rewards card out and passing that to you.

You used to joke that you could so easily max out all of his credit cards if you wanted to, but he swiftly pointed out that you also had a habit of giving him your entire wallet when he asked to borrow money or your transport card.

“I still can’t believe we've been in this city for just over a month and you already have six rewards cards,” you laughed, putting on your shoes.

As you and Sunghoon were walking out the door, Heeseung was still shouting, “Think of the points, dude! The points!”

The convenience store was just across the road from your dorm building, which was, as its name suggested, pretty convenient. Not as good for your heart health and nutrition, but whatever. It was drizzling slightly, but not enough for either of you to have bothered with an umbrella.

“Heeseung is so obsessed with collecting rewards points,” you joked, fiddling with his rewards card.

Sunghoon chuckled. “Is he always like that?”

You nodded. “Since I met him. You like him, though, right?”

“Yeah, I do. He’s fun,” he said. He wasn’t lying; he did actually like Heeseung. But he would be lying if he said your closeness to him didn’t bother him at all. Sunghoon didn’t want to think too much about the possible implications of his jealousy.

“I’m glad. I really like Jay and Jake, too,” you told him, pushing open the convenience store door. “I’ll go get Deungie’s chips, because he likes some weird obscure flavours.”

“I’ll get the normal stuff for everyone else,” Sunghoon said, asking, “the usual for you, yeah?”

You thought of the convenience store in your hometown, of Madam Choi, of your regular weekend sleepovers back in school. Rehearsed and practised, you two were in and out of the store in under two minutes. What did that say about either of you, that you were so skilled at buying snacks that you worked together like a well-oiled machine?

The drizzle was marginally heavier when you left. It was a short walk, but Sunghoon took off his white baseball cap and fixed it atop your head anyway.

“Thanks, Hoon,” you smiled. You never bothered fighting him when he did things like that for you; you hadn’t as a kid and you still didn’t now. He wouldn’t do it unless he wanted to, and he wasn’t the type to accept your refusals of help.

But it felt different years later, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, amused.

You quickly averted your gaze, not having noticed you’d been looking at him. “It’s just weird to have you back,” you said.

You’d had this conversation with him at least a dozen times over the last month. It still hadn’t quite sunk in yet that he was back in your life and you were back in his. That you hadn’t destroyed the life of your best friend by being a hypocrite.

Since then, you’d spent a lot of time thinking about the person you used to be: full of self-loathing and insecurity and fear that you would eventually ruin every relationship you had. Heeseung had been slightly hurt that you hadn’t told him about Sunghoon when it all happened. You admitted to him that you were scared he would think of you as a bad person.

Sunghoon smiled. “Is it a good weird or a bad weird?”

“It’s a good weird. I missed this,” you answered, holding up the bag of snacks in your hand. As was your usual routine, you carried the snacks and he carried the drinks, having immediately fallen into step.

He playfully bumped into you as you walked, though not nearly hard enough to knock you off balance. “I missed you,” he said, before reaching for his keys.

The conversation was the same, but the butterflies in your stomach were definitely a new development.

——————————

Since you reconnected, Sunghoon hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you.

“Dude, are you jealous of Heeseung?” Jay asked him one night, out of the blue, after you and Heeseung left their apartment to head back to your own. Well, it wasn’t entirely out of the blue; even he couldn’t deny that.

“Can’t I be jealous of my ex-best friend’s new best friend?” Sunghoon replied, already defensive.

“That’s not why you’re jealous, though, is it?” Jay pressed. “You’re posturing around him and you can’t stop looking at Y/N.”

“Shut up.” He was right, and deep down Sunghoon knew it.

He was never going to be your best friend again, and he wasn’t trying to be. Neither of you were the same people you had been three years ago, and you were different enough that if you met now, you probably wouldn’t have been close. You both had new friends, people who suited your current selves better.

He wanted to be something else.

“You need to tone down the staring, man. It’s getting a little too obvious,” Jake said. “Even Heeseung mentioned it to me the other day.”

Sunghoon swore under his breath. “He did?” Heeseung, of all people, noticing — had he mentioned it to you?

“For what it’s worth, I’m pretty sure they’re just friends,” Jay added, trying to be comforting.

Sunghoon sighed and finished his drink. It was a gin and tonic which he’d made so strong that it was basically straight gin with a drizzle of tonic water. He winced.

“I know, but they do everything together,” he mumbled, just barely self-aware enough to realise he was whining. “That used to be me.”

“They’re happy, you’re happy, and you guys are friends again. Isn't that what you wanted? Why focus on the past when you could be focusing on right now?” Jake asked.

“Because they trusted me for sixteen years and I basically told them I’d secretly hated them the whole time,” Sunghoon said, his voice rising. “I ruined them, and I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

Jay scowled and crossed his arms, kicking Sunghoon’s foot with his own. “You didn’t ruin anyone. They’re fine. You’re not the only thing that’s ever happened to them, and if you keep thinking like that you’ll never fully repair your relationship.”

Sunghoon stared at his empty glass. He needed another drink.

——————————

“It’s been two months since we moved here,” Heeseung told you randomly one day. You were at a ramen bar for dinner with him and Sunghoon to celebrate getting through the first half of the semester. Also, you were all out of food at home and neither of you were in the mood to cook.

“Has it?” You checked the date on your phone. Sure enough, he was right. You hadn’t even realised.

“It doesn’t feel like it,” Sunghoon said. You’d started looking at Sunghoon differently.

Firstly, he looked different. He towered over his former self, his shoulders were much wider than you recalled, and he’d lost some fat on his face, making his cheeks and jaw more angular. He wore his black hair longer than he used to and he didn’t have nearly as many dark colours in his wardrobe.

He’d always been good-looking, but you had never really recognised that before. Now, though, it was always on your mind. Now, when he smiled at you or fixed your hair after he put his cap on your head or leaned over you to plug in his laptop in lecture theatres, you got nervous.

His gestures had always made you feel warm and comfortable, but now they were also starting to make you feel shy. You’d never been particularly touchy with him even as kids — you shared beds with a wall of pillows in between you two — but now you couldn’t even bear the thought of holding onto his sleeve in a crowd so you wouldn’t get separated.

“Oi.” Heeseung kicked you hard under the table and pointed at your nearly empty bowl. “Earth to Y/N. Are you done?”

They were both staring at you. How long had you been zoning out?

“What? Yeah, I’m done. Did you say something?” you asked.

Heeseung laughed and pressed his index finger to the top of your head, pretending to push you down like a button, which he always did when he was making fun of you. He definitely knew what you’d been lost in thought about (do you know how much Sunghoon stares at you nowadays? I think he hates me).

“Heeseung said he’s meeting Jay and Jake at the studio,” Sunghoon filled you in, much more helpful. “So we can go home, or if you want we can walk around some more.” He sounded expectant, like he was hoping you’d agree to the latter. You did.

——————————

Once you saw Heeseung off at the bus stop, Sunghoon brought you to a run-down building four streets away from the ramen bar. In the hip, fashionable district of the city, amidst the trendy shops and cafés, the mould and peeling paint and water damage of the building made it stick out like a blister. 

You looked at the building, and then at him, and then back at the building. “Is this an assassination attempt?” you asked.

“Trust me,” he said, pushing the rusty steel door open with his foot.

“That’s not an answer. And your refusal to touch the door with your hands doesn’t exactly inspire trust,” you laughed, but you followed him with no hesitation.

It felt almost like when you used to go exploring the outskirts of your hometown by yourselves, far too late at night for kids your age. But this time, you didn’t have any snacks with you, nor games to keep yourselves occupied.

Sunghoon made a face at you and ushered you inside. “Shut up. I’m the city native here.”

“You’ve only been here a year longer than me,” you pointed out, looking around. The building wasn’t so much a building as it was a stairwell. Stuffy, dark, and dingy, it made you feel suffocated. “I’m going to die here,” you declared, sighing in resignation.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh my god. It’s not even that bad.”

As if on cue, the door slammed shut behind you, the sound echoing ominously in the tight space. What little light that had been coming in from the street lamps outside disappeared, except for a sliver of amber forcing its way through a gap in the door frame. He cursed under his breath.

“Hoon,” you called, desperately trying to spot him in the darkness, the rising panic clear in your words. “I swear, if I die tonight I’ll never stop haunting you.”

His reply came immediately, calm and measured, reassuring. “I’m right here. Give me your hand.”

You turned around at the sound of his voice and reached out blindly in front of you, hitting his shoulder. He found your hand and took it in his, the feeling of his palm against yours somehow soothing and stressful at the same time.

“You’re still scared of the dark?” he asked, joking, trying to ease your fear.

He used to scold you all the time for always sleeping with your light on, but no matter how many articles he sent you about why sleeping in the dark was important for healthy melatonin production, you never listened. Whenever he slept over in your room, he used an eye mask.

“Shut up, please.” Your voice was quiet and unconvincing; actually, you wanted nothing more than for him to keep talking. You couldn’t see anything, and all you had to ground you was his voice and his hand in yours. 

He squeezed your hand, softening his tone. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise it would be this dark. It’s worth it, I promise.”

He led you up three flights of stairs by the hand and walked face first into what you assumed to be a locked door. “Ow. Motherfucker.”

You cackled at that.

The room (if you could call it that, since it was barely bigger than a cupboard) was lit with a single filament light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Aside from a couple of cardboard boxes, some pillows, and a bean bag, it was empty.

“That’s your old bean bag. The one you had in your room,” you said, recognising the green fabric immediately. You tensed when he brushed past you to shut the door to the room (supply cupboard?), but you tried your best to ignore it.

“Yeah, I brought it with me. I get homesick sometimes, so it helps,” he told you, sitting down on the small pile of pillows. You took the bean bag.

“It smells worse than I remembered,” you said, patting it. He pushed you in retaliation, laughing at you when you lost your balance.

“I have snacks and drinks in this box, and comics and books in that one,” he explained. “I wanted to get a mini-fridge in here but there isn’t an outlet.”

This was exactly how you used to spend your weekends when you didn’t have to study: snacks, drinks, and reading. Except now he handed you a can of hard seltzer instead of his yoghurt drinks of yore. 

“Is this legal? Does the building owner know you’re here?” you asked, somewhat sceptical. But you opened the can anyway and took a sip. It was warm, but not unpleasant.

“Of course. I’m a law abiding citizen.”

“You just jaywalked about ten minutes ago.”

“I’m generally a law abiding citizen.” He dug around in the box some more and produced a can of sangria (you despised sangria), gesturing to the room. “What do you think? Pretty cool, right?”

“Very,” you nodded, making yourself comfortable in the bean bag. You felt like you were in high school again, although you didn’t recall your spine hurting nearly as much then. Perhaps you were getting old. You needed proper back support now.

He kicked off his shoes. “Fuck off,” he laughed.

“I wasn’t being sarcastic!” you yelled, before you noticed- “My red shrimp socks!”

“Oh, right.” He glanced down at his feet and started casually taking the socks off. “Do you want them back?”

You gagged. “Not right now, dumbo!”

He used to be able to detect your sarcasm perfectly, always reading your tone with no margin of error, although it was probably unfair to expect him to still be able to after so many years.

“Come home with me,” Sunghoon said suddenly, still looking at his (your) socks. You looked at him, puzzled. “After the semester ends. We should go visit our families,” he added.

You thought for a minute and agreed. “I think my dad misses you.”

“My parents miss you too.” He leant back against the wall behind him, closed his eyes, and rested his head on your shoulder, declaring, “I’m tired.”

The room was so dark and small and quiet. His black hair tickled your neck, even though you could tell he was trying not to move around too much. You prayed he couldn’t hear how fast your heart rate had become. He’d always been a sleepy drinker, and you’d all been drinking pretty liberally during dinner earlier.

You tried to relax, as much as you could with his body pressed against yours, and closed your eyes too. So you didn’t see him reach for your hand until you felt his touch directly. He took your hand and pulled it into his lap, interlocking his fingers with yours and fiddling with your silver bracelet. You froze, your breathing shallow and your muscles tense.

“This is from that old charity shop behind the fruit store,” he mumbled, running the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. You could feel the vibrations of his throat against your shoulder as he spoke. “I bought it for you.”

“Hoon,” you said softly, your eyes now wide open. He hummed in response, still playing with your hand. “What are you doing?”

His reply was a non-answer. “I miss home.”

Tentatively, you lifted your hand to his head, stroking his hair in what you hoped would be a comforting gesture. He stayed quiet. His closeness was simultaneously the most nerve-wracking and most comforting thing. In all your life, you couldn’t ever recall sitting like this with him.

“Are you okay? Do you want to talk?” you asked, pulling your hand away, worried now.

He grabbed it and returned it to his hair, moving even closer to you. “That feels nice,” he sighed. His breath was warm against your neck, while the tip of his nose was cold. It made you shiver. “I’m fine. I just haven’t been home in a while.”

You felt terrible for never really having thought about what his two years in military school, being ripped away from his family at such short notice, must’ve been like. As far as you were aware he didn’t get to visit his family until he graduated, and you only knew that because you spent your own high school graduation period locked up in your house to avoid running into him.

Against your best efforts, the guilt came rushing back. You closed your eyes again and continued playing with Sunghoon’s hair, just how he liked it.

——————————

Two weeks later, you still didn’t know what to make of that night. You told Heeseung everything and asked him if you were going insane.

“Do you like him?” Heeseung asked as you two got ready to leave the house. You were going out to get drinks with the others.

“I don’t know,” you groaned, yanking the windows shut much harder than you had intended. He jumped at the sound, and you winced. “Sorry. I hate this, man.”

“Do you want my opinion?” he asked.

“It depends on what it is.”

He snorted. “I think you do like him and you don’t want to admit it. Why is that?”

You rushed to put on your shoes as he waited for you. “I just- what if this fucks up our friendship a second time? There’s too much history between us, right?”

“Well, your heart doesn’t seem to think so,” he said, opening the front door. The neighbouring front door opened too, at the exact same time, and out stepped Sunghoon. He broke into a wide smile the second he saw you.

Heeseung lowered his head and said quietly, “Clearly, he doesn’t think so, either.”

——————————

You were far too nervous to drink even after the forty minute journey to the bar. Heeseung’s words hadn’t left your head for even a second, and he could definitely tell from the way he kept grinning at you.

“Are you sure you don’t want any?” Heeseung asked for the third time, offering you his glass. You had the same taste in drinks, so you usually shared.

“I don’t feel like drinking tonight,” you said, again for the third time.

“Guess who else isn’t drinking tonight,” he teased, way too loud, nodding to Sunghoon and his glass of water. That didn’t even make sense.

“Shut up,” you hissed. Heeseung giggled, already tipsy, and leaned on you. Sunghoon caught your eye from across the table and smiled. If he’d heard what the other man said, he showed no indication of it. You smiled back.

Jake returned to the table, tapping Heeseung on the shoulder.

“I can’t do it anymore. It’s your turn,” Jake sighed, exasperated, collapsing into his seat. He’d been on wingman duty for Jay, and (apparently, because you’d never been unlucky enough to witness it yourself) Jay was a terrible flirt.

Heeseung picked up his glass, downed what was left in it in one gulp, and set it back down on the table with a loud thump. “Alright, here I go,” he declared. You watched him carefully as he walked over to the bar, but he didn’t seem too drunk yet. He’d be fine.

At the booth behind where Jay was, however, you saw someone else who made your blood run cold.

“Hoon, don’t turn around, but Jeongmin is here,” you began. Jeongmin was staring intensely at you. Sunghoon sat up straight in alarm. Maybe you looked familiar to him and he was trying to place you. 

Jake, ever the quick thinker, said, “You guys should leave. I’ll stay and let Jay and Hee know what happened.” Sunghoon was still frozen.

“Thanks, Jake. Pass these to Heeseung for me.” You fished your keys (Heeseung hadn’t brought his own) out of your pocket to toss them to Jake, grabbed Sunghoon by the arm, and dragged him out of the bar.

“Aren’t you sober? Why don’t your legs work?” you grunted, trying to shake him to attention and pull him down the street at the same time. A passing car revving its engine snapped him out of it, whatever it was.

“Fuck, yeah. Sorry,” Sunghoon mumbled. Before you could even ask him if he was okay, what you’d been trying so hard to avoid happened.

“Park Sunghoon.”

You could pick out Jeongmin’s voice anywhere. It was low, rough, and sharp. He somehow looked identical to how he looked back in high school, if only slightly thinner and more tired.

“You. You called the cops on us that night,” Jeongmin hissed. jabbing an accusatory finger at Sunghoon.

“I didn’t,” Sunghoon stated calmly, but you could tell he was on edge. He subtly pushed you behind him.

“Yeah, right. On the one night we get busted the new kid just happens to not show up,” Jeongmin scoffed, taking a step towards you. 

Sunghoon held up his hands. “Look, man, I don’t want to fight. I didn’t call the cops on you.”

Jeongmin squared his shoulders and punched him hard in the jaw without warning. The silver ring he was wearing drew a deep red gash across Sunghoon’s cheek.

As if on auto-pilot, like it was second nature to him, Sunghoon immediately returned the blow with a punch of his own before you even had the time to think. You gasped, Jeongmin’s nose cracked, and Sunghoon took advantage of the distraction to kick him hard in the knee, knocking him to the ground.

Then he grabbed your hand and ran.

——————————

The walk back to the dorm was silent. Sunghoon’s lips were pressed tightly together, his eyebrows were furrowed, and his fists were clenched like he was trying not to cry. You remembered the days when you, not him, were usually the one who needed comforting.

It reassured you to some degree, though, that he wouldn’t hide his sadness from you like he used to. You reached for his hand the second you were out of Jeongmin’s line of sight and threaded your fingers between his. His knuckles were bruised.

Wordlessly, he handed you his keys and you unlocked his front door.

“Do you have a first aid kit?” you asked.

“Under the kitchen sink,” he said flatly, sitting down on the sofa.

You pulled it out from the back corner of the kitchen cabinet with great difficulty, joined him on the sofa, and started cleaning the cut on his jaw. He winced when the alcohol swab made contact with his skin.

“Sorry. I’m almost done,” you promised, tossing the swab aside and covering the cut up. It took all of twenty seconds. “Do you want to talk?”

Sunghoon closed his eyes and sighed, dropping his head. “I shouldn’t have hit him. I thought I was past that behaviour. I don’t-”

He stopped talking. You put your hand over his and waited. His bottom lip started to quiver as he held back tears.

“I don’t want to be that person again,” he sobbed, and the sound broke your heart.

Through the school grapevine you heard about fights with kids of neighbouring schools, breaking and entering, the like. But even now, so many years later, you didn’t fully know what he did with Jeongmin and his gang. You never asked, and he never volunteered that information.

He was crying. “I let my parents down. Every time I see them I just remember how angry they were at me. I’m a terrible son. Nothing I do will ever be able to erase that I humiliated them, I failed them, I brought shame to the whole family, I-”

You pulled him into a hug, feeling how his body trembled as he fought to speak.

“You’re not a terrible son, Hoon,” you whispered, as he sobbed into your hair.

He shook his head and pushed you away. “I shouldn’t have hit him. I think I broke his nose,” he repeated, almost frantic in his insistence. It wasn’t a state you’d seen him in before.

“But he hit you first,” you noted.

Finally, at your childish response, he cracked a small smile. “Weren’t you always the one who said violence was never the answer?” he laughed. His eyes were still glistening with tears, but at least he’d calmed down.

“Usually it isn’t, but I don’t subscribe to universal codes of human conduct anymore,” you told him. “Do you?”

He paused for a bit, staring at you, unable to find the words to reply. You smiled, swiped the tears on his cheeks away with a gentle hand, and got up to put away the first aid kit. It was late, and you were both tired.

“I love you,” Sunghoon said over his shoulder, his voice still thick with emotion. He said that often nowadays, although it wasn’t something he did previously. Neither of you ever felt the need to declare that when you were younger; it was a given.

“I love you too, Hoon,” you replied, still busy trying to make room in the cluttered space under his kitchen sink for the kit.

All the traces of his crying vanished when he next spoke. “No, I’m in love with you.”

You dropped the package of sponges in your hands. Your mind went blank.

There was something about the phrase ‘in love’ that you had never really understood. It implied love was all consuming, like a physical swallowing whole of your being. You felt love for others, but you’d never felt it so much that you were in the state of love.

Until you heard it from him. And then you realised you were already there.

“Say something. Please,” he begged, panicked by your silence.

“Hoon-”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” he mumbled, cutting you off, leaning back against the sofa with a hand over his eyes.

Sunghoon was not an interrupter. In all the years you’d known him, the only time he’d ever interrupted you was during your big final fight in your bedroom, when you’d snitched on him.

You left the first aid kit on the floor and sat down next to him. He didn’t move. You tapped the back of his hand to get him to look at you. Reluctantly, he did, but only through the gaps between his fingers.

“I’m in love with you too,” you admitted.

He was speechless at hearing his words echoed back to him, frozen for a good ten seconds before his gaze flickered down to your lips.

“Can I?” he asked, his voice quiet.

You nodded, and he kissed you. He placed one hand on the back of your neck to pull you closer while his other hand, bruised knuckles and all, grabbed one of your own. He laced your fingers together tightly, like he never wanted to let you go.

Your free hand ghosted over the line of his jaw, past the bandage you’d just put on his face and down his neck to his chest, warm and solid. He shivered under your touch.

“I love you, Hoon,” you breathed when you separated.

He gave you one last quick kiss on the tip of your nose. “I’ll never get tired of hearing that,” he whispered giddily, brushing his thumb across your bottom lip.

For the first few weeks after you reconnected, both of you had tried to return to what you once were. But it quickly became clear that that was never going to happen. Even after you had paved over the road, underneath the new asphalt the old potholes were still there, and nothing you did would ever fully correct them.

You had to look forward. Sunghoon was never going to be your best friend again, not like before. You would never get back your old relationship, full of childlike innocence and void of conflict. But that was okay. You were here, and he was here, and that was enough.

“Then I’ll keep saying it. I love you, I love you, I love you,” you repeated, leaning into his side and laying your head on his shoulder.

“I love you too. So much,” he said, putting his arm around you and letting you tuck your head into the crook of his neck. “You have no idea.”

He was tired of running and hiding from who he used to be, and going on the defensive and lashing out every time he was confronted with his past. He was done torturing his sixteen-year-old self.

You and him had something new. It wasn’t better, it wasn’t more. It was just different. You had your whole lives in front of you — an endless stretch of even, untouched, fresh road — waiting for you, and it would be stupid to focus on what lay behind you. You still had so much left to explore together.

——————————

thanks for reading <3

-minastras

[futurewriter2000]

Ugh, how I hate that Native Americans didn’t win the war with Cortez because I am reading this book about human evolution (by M. Iljin and Segal), in which chapter 5 talks about the conquest of America (“New world”) but how it is the same world as ours just a bit behind because evolution was in different pace in each continent. It says how grateful and kind, generous the Native Americans were but it all turned to be naivety for Spanish conquistadors and if it wasn’t for natural fast pace evolution in the “old world” perhaps it wouldn’t have come to slavery of Native Americans. I don’t know. It’s just, I learn something every day (and I learned of this back in high school but my brain is more evolved now and I see things differently plus I got more in depth with more books about some historic themes that teachers don’t teach you in school). Like Native Americans had matriarchy which makes so much sense because the babies came from the mother, therefore they are hers, therefore they belong to her tribe not her husband’s tribe (and trust me I’m the one who would prefer my kids have my husbands last name) but it just makes so much sense, doesn’t it. Europe evolved so differently from other continents, yet somehow it overruled other worlds traditions with her own even if it doesn’t make sense. Native Americans did not know the concept of slavery, they believed in equality yet they were the ones killed and enslaved and that is what still rules the world. Why didn’t they win the battle and perhaps slavery wouldn’t exist anymore?

I don’t know… somehow I just wonder about these things.

[elix8r]

also another rant but this is genuinely more serious but i am absolutely disgusted by the way sunghoon was treated like the lack of basic respect was absolutely baffling especially because korea is a country that is built up on respect like he genuinely got bullied and idk if yall understand fully because of cultural context but the way they acted was very much 일진 (iljin)-like with the group of girls that were laughing and mocking him and its very much upsetting not to mention the fact that they went on to call him A SLUR like?? idols are not your friends and they are human. they deserve basic respect it’s embarrassing and its so bad that its even blown up on like theqoo with so many people commenting on their behavior and raising their sympathy towards him honestly if i was sunghoon i would have cried or thrown hands also why didn’t the staff literally protect him 🙄 either way this whole situation is horrible and i hope he knows that he’s loved by many and doesn’t deserve any of that  :(

[sscarletvenus]

Pushing my FemDaniel agenda by asking for Fem Danny hcs 🙏

fem daniel headcanons!!!

i think it would be really fun to see the other students guess daniel’s s/o after her identity reveal… like just gossiping about who the j high goddess is with.

is it that architecture department alleged-gangster weirdo, who keeps hanging around her and buying her chocolate milk? is it that ex-bully boxer? (some say that he already has gf… others say that after meeting hyungseok, his heart melted and he stopped bullying cuz the power of true love… we’ll never know.) is it the fashion department prince, who’s so cold and intimidating and aloof in general, but behaves like a literal golden retriever when she’s around? there’s also a rumour about this tall dark handsome guy in ray bans picking her up in a white corvette after school… lots of bets being placed.

daniel somehow becomes zoe's bi-awakening

crystal and daniel end up becoming besties tho

like there’s also lot of pervs hitting on big daniel, and she’s just too nice to kill them even if she could in a heartbeat. crystal, who has a similar shitty experience with men sees one particular incident that crosses the line and beats the guy’s ass all while saying something like “ughhh this annoying bitch. kick his balls or something why’re you just standing there.” and BOOM bffs. (crystal doesn’t realize her beloved bodyguard oppa is perv-in-chief all the while lmao)

i headcanon big daniel and mitsuki having the same hairstyle, or big daniel’s hairstyle being like lee jihye from orv. smol daniel’s hair’s short bob and bangs with a range of super cute hairclips!!! (horrible descriptions here we go)

big daniel’s wardrobe is literally all fashion week collections (thank you jay we luv u), while smol daniel would probably dress like na jinsol from loser life (another ptj webtoon lol)

also johan and daniel would be such an iconic duo in this au. like they’re sort of each other’s ride or die (johan reluctantly comes around). johan is also weirdly protective over her which leads to a storm of gossip that “oh. did you hear? the gangbuk goddog has lost it over some pretty chick. i bet she’s something, having tamed that dog.” it’s safe to say they’re both fighting for their lives against this untrue rumor, and johan also rises up the ranks on several ppl’s hitlist… (ahem gun, that is)

WHAT IF YAMAZAKI YOUNG MASTER GUN HAS A RYUHEI MOMENT? like he tells crystal something like “behave properly, your sister-in-law’s here” at school and she’s like WTF???

sadboi hours but if big daniel didn’t hide her identity, zack would’ve still been hostile towards her when they first met. probably cuz u know, he would assume that she’s one of “those” ice-princess iljin popular kid who will hurt and bully mira if given the chance. mira would also be constantly compared to her and get a lot of shit… (there’s really no universe where zack and daniel are meet-cute sigh)

lmaooo also dg gets asked a cliche interview question — what’s your ideal girl? And he just. describes daniel (the smol one bcz the tall one's actually famous? and that would cause quite a scandal) in excruciating detail. cut to weeks later and there’s somebody posting on facebook about the employee at their local convenience store… who exactly fits dg’s ideal type description.

i’m also gonna take some liberties and make jake a girl in this au to push my fem!jake agenda. because WHAT BETTER THAN 2 GIRLBOSSES MAXIMISING THEIR JOINT SLAY??? The only thing better than a pretty girl kicking ass is 2 pretty girls kicking ass.

i can totally see jake and daniel being like dabin park and na jinsol from loser life… like the contrast? jake in her form-fitting suits, 9 inch heels and sinu’s coat, and daniel in an 80’s tennis skirt, tank top, and an oversized jacket. i want them to slander the men in their lives over some soju and fried chicken. club vivi arc would also hit so much different altogether omg

ALSO RUNWAY ARC would be so much different to see if daniel was a girl, because some asshole would’ve uploaded her pics on sns too. would love to see her and mary team up. also that one scene after jay saves danny and zack from chuck and justin, and danny asks “why’re u here jay? oh, for your sister right?” and jay would be mortified and flustered… just red all over because he CANNOT admit that he’s here to avenge his uhhh crush? loml?

in conclusion i have fem daniel brainrot, yeah. I’ll continue later because I HAVE LITERALLY SO MUCH MORE LEFT TO SAY.

[mountphoenixrp]

We have a returning citizen in Mount Phoenix:

                         Blair Kim, who is known by no other name,                                  a 30 year old daughter of Freyr.                              She is a bartender at Dr. Feelgoods.

FC NAME/GROUP: Kim Taeyeon / SNSD CHARACTER NAME: Blair Kim AGE/DATE OF BIRTH: 30 / 9 March 1992 PLACE OF BIRTH: Jeonju, South Korea OCCUPATION: Bartender at Dr. Feelgoods Rock n’ Roll Bar HEIGHT: 157cm WEIGHT: 45kg DEFINING FEATURES: If you’re graced by her smile you might notice the faint lift of her lip ends and the slight dimple in her chin - so pretty, so feminine as her appearance is deceivingly sweet. She has multiple small tattoos on her body: the pisces symbol behind her ear, an ‘F’ along the inside of her middle finger, and ‘Serenity’ along the back of her arm.

She has two piercings on her right ear and five on the right (three lower, one helix and a tragus), as well as a tongue and belly piercing.

PERSONALITY: Strong willed, independent and sarcastic are three words that are generally used to describe Blair. She’s straight forward and doesn’t like to beat around the bush, as years of working hard to support her and her mother have taught her not to waste time on pointless matters. Although not the most sociable, there is no denying that the daughter of Freyr is beautiful and her skill as a lover exceptional, but that is where the similarities between her and her father end.

She looks like her parents - sweet, serene and youthful faced, the type that would radiate even the dreariest of days - but the moment she opens her mouth there is so doubt that there’s a chip on her shoulder.

Being the daughter of her father, she is a naturally skilled and sensual lover. There is a wildness and a hedonistic desire that comes from her mortal side, in perfect synchronicity of her father’s blood, though the fact that she has a tendency for addiction doesn’t help. When she starts, she doesn’t stop, easily becoming hazed in nights - weekends - of pleasures.

It is the only weakness to her usually hard working attitude.

HISTORY: Blair and her mother never had much, but it was no different to the other people who lived in the modest Jeonju. Raised by a single parent, there were a lot of older people who - closed minded as they were - seemed to look down on her upbringing. That girl was ‘trouble’, they would say, and that there was a reason her harlot of a mother had never managed to marry. Still, she knew that that wasn’t really the case.

Her mother worked hard, selling street foots nearby the Hanok Village, and often came home with sore feet and tired eyes. She did what ever she could for her child, feeling that it was her fault that Blair has been raised a fatherless girl. The gentle woman blamed herself for the cruel eyes that looked upon their little family, blaming herself for that one week with a stranger, for listening to her body’s lust instead of her logical mind.

Regardless, Blair never blamed her and the girl grew up to be strong, albeit with a rebellious streak. Her ‘friends’ were all from the wrong side of town and, whilst she never had a hand in actually hurting anyone, developed an iljin reputation by association. She played in a rock band with her friends and helped out her mother after school and on weekends. However, there was always something circumstantially strange when it came to her.

She and her friends played at the local school festival and the sunny afternoon started out brilliantly, with the band playing a lively band cover. However, the moment they hit their last song - a self written grunge-rock ode to her missing-in-action father - and the difficult strains of the lyrics tightened in her chest, the thunder struck. A storm on what was previously a bright summer’s day.

She and her mother went home baffled that night, the sun slowly peeking back out once the song was over, and neither of them truly understood what had happened until her homeroom teacher showed up on their door step the next morning. He had been keeping an eye on her, promised by the Gods, and had offered her a place to understand not only her powers, but the father she never knew.

Though hesitant to leave her mother, she did so from the older woman’s insistence. Although she had moved to Mount Phoenix for the past twelve years, she still had nightly long phone conversations with her parent and sends back money to help her out financially when ever she can.

PANTHEON: Norse CHILD OF: Freyr POWERS:  In moments of immense emotion - whether it is brilliant joy or desperate pain - her feelings can affect the weather. Though, since becoming much better at controlling this power over the years, this doesn’t happen so suddenly anymore. When it does though, these manipulations come in bursts and it is highly draining for her to sustain it for more than a couple of minutes. Overexertion makes her mentally exhausted and more prone to emotional unstableness.

STRENGTHS:

Can mostly control (and calm) her emotions, something that was learnt out of necessity

Writes her emotions into her music and is therefore able to conjure up these emotions when needed through music

Hard-working and persistent

WEAKNESSES:

Stubborn and difficult to reason with

Tends to avoid deep relationships because of the unpredictable nature of emotions

Cannot sustain weather manipulations for longer than ten minutes without becoming mentally exhausted and emotionally unstable

Tendency to become addicted to sex and lose sense of reason and logic

[hyuckth]

finally getting around to writing an intro woohoo!!! thanks to those who already sent their welcome messages, by the way. i’ll get to them soon enough, but hiya! the name’s eula (she/her, gmt +9, 23) or eul if you want it a letter shorter. it has been a while since i made an oc, so what better way to stage my “comeback” than to portray my ultimate fave best boy person in the world as raging fuckboy romantic serial dater ryu hyuck! yay! very fun! i’ll try to make him as interesting??? as possible??? i hope. i have all his pages set up, including his profile, bio, and a plots page, and we’ll arrange something on private messages (unfortunately am not a proud owner of a discord yet). if you’d like to plot and haven’t shot me a message yet, give this a like. anyhow! let’s quit my little chatter and let’s get to knowing him a little better!

his dad is a really genius tech engineer and his mom is a former actress who retired to follow her husband to the us.

so yeah! he’s an actor primarily because of his mom. he and a lotta people like to think he’s got the talent too, but connections takes you places. just throwing it out there!

his secret? “stole his siblings significant other.” just to keep with the brand, ya know? naturally, this would mean he has a sibling! one younger brother by the name of ryu yong (someone please please be his brother it’ll be fun ABEG)

anyway, they move to south korea because his dad got this really big promotion. the company he worked at planned to expand their tech empire and, well, now his dad leads it!

now that all the family stuff is out of the way! hyuck is on the extreeeeeme spectrum of extroverts. if we were to compare him to an animal, he’d probably be a (giant) puppy, always very excited. that’s why he doesn’t really seem like the type to do any wrong.

since he was extremely friendly, he got along with people well. his dad kind of saw this as his biggest asset so as a kid, he was the favorite son. very very spoiled too.

he likes the attention! very much born to become a star!

however what seemed like a harmless little thing grew and grew into greed, so now he can’t stand not being the center of attention, which ultimately led him to collecting girls (and eventually, boys) like funko pops.

a little something about his secret: of course he hates hates hates how he’s being compared to his brother. to him that’s equivalent to not being the center of attention. at the time, his brother had this blooming relationship with a classmate (he seemed real whipped). to distract him, he swoops in and tries to steal the girl, and actually steals her. very petty reason? yeah, cause he’s naturally petty LOL.

his status as an actor right now: he’s one of the biggest rising star known for his face and physique. he started out modelling too, so he was a very familiar face to many.

he’s not actually scared of his secret being exposed, per se. he’s more scared of his past (and present) as a player and an iljin being exposed. very harmful to his career!!!

well, i think that’s it for now! any questions can be directed to me if i ever left out a detail. i know the available plots i’ve prepared are kindaaaa very restricted to his skeleton, but we’re flexible here! brainstorming is welcomed. so in case, here’s some facts??? that might be useful to plotting. (tw: underage drinking, smoking, drugs)

more guys and gals he’s given emotional trauma to, cause he’s an asshole

he’s biiiiig on parties. always present even during high school. drinks? yeah. smokes? yeah. drugs? sometimes.

some basketball friends heyyyy and theater/artsy friends too. 

more high school friends in general because he’s a friendly lil social butterfly.

[fmdyiyeon]

hello, everyone! i’m vi, and if that name is familiar to u... das right babey. daddy’s home. to those of you who have had the pleasure of avoiding me thus far.... good for you! unfortunately, i’m here now and we Will be plotting. (if you hit the like button expect me in your ims within 1-3 business days.)

the background tldr:

ex-professional figure skater... if we’re using the term professional very, very loosely. it’s more likely that your muse wouldn’t have heard about her than not. gave it up at 14 to simply vibe.

lived in chicago from 14-16-- birthplace of her dark past. fans and non-fans alike are enjoying the predebut stories, pictures and even videos that are all coming out of the woodwork. at least she wasn’t an iljin 🤷🏻‍♀️ pays to live well.

auditioned for, and became a trainee in bc ent. around late 2018. decided to go all-in and took a year off school... and never went back <3 and her diving in headfirst was (thankfully AND luckily) rewarded with a debut.

the here & now:

chroma’s main spitter of barz who is doing it only because no one else fuckin will, like every other idol rapper out there. is she good at her job? that’s to be determined. is honestly better at dancing and singing than rapping but what’s a girl to do, right? catch her around bc mumbling incomprehensibly with a pen in her mouth!

has spent so much of her time and energy working towards debut that she doesn’t know what to do with all her free time, and is honestly kinda just vibing right now. bought a coffee grinder and has hand-cranked more than her body weight in beans.

part-time studying for a diploma, but it’s a very on-the-side thing, because tbh fuck school do drugs. 

the wanted connections are very sparse, but. if you’d like, take a peek! i’ll definitely be updating w more plots (famous last words, mb???) i would definitely prefer to figure out something personalised out, though!

also very sleepy and will probably be conked out when this is posted ok gnnnnn <3

[syfsunan]

@syfmason​

Some people might have expected that Sunan was a slacker. After all, he was only the lead rapper, a sub-vocalist, and a former iljin. People sometimes expected he would slack off or work less hard than the mains in the group. Nothing could be further from the truth, considering Sunan himself was a workaholic. However, people seemed to forget the fifteen years of poverty and focused on the next few years he spent basically being a chaebol. 

Of course, that meant Sunan needed to prove himself. So, he had given everything to writing. But, even he needed a break. Besides, he could never say no to his mom. He turned to Mason, who was sitting next to him.

“Want to come over for dinner? My mom is making kao ka mo. At least, I think she meant you. She said to bring over ‘the cute one’ over.” He hmphed.

[xvyunjo]

run¿away

for @xvhassel

he’s not a particularly nice person. that much has always been evident. han yunjo is—if we were to take a rough estimate—79% good. but nice? not nice. not enough to jump at the sound of any distress, human or otherwise. not enough to be “better” in his parents’ eyes. and definitely, definitely, not enough to come to the rescue of any ol’ conflict on the streets.

but sel, sweet sel and his bountiful head of curls and all things good and nice and excluding spice. sel, the idiot that has yet to learn to leave well enough alone (since when was settling high school disputes on the hero itinerary??) and went straight for the lion’s den.

picture this, real time: hassel holstein approaching a group of iljins (rough guess? by the makeup? the atmosphere? probably) with what yunjo can assume to be the best look of assertion possible for someone whose part-time job growing up was turning into adorable cuddle sized pokemonanimals. han yunjo stands a good few feet (and growing) away, uncharacteristically hopeful at 20 years for a reversal or even a sudden change of heart.

swerve! swerve!!!! yunjo thinks. “what do you guys think you’re doing??” sel says.

                                                    “and who the fuck are you?”

ah. dammit.

[idolizerp]

LOADING INFORMATION ON IMPERIAL’S LEAD VOCAL PARK HOJUN…

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: Adam CURRENT AGE: 26 DEBUT AGE: 22 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 18 COMPANY: 99

IDOL IMAGE

You are too pretty to be a bad boy.

Hojun never kept his sordid history from 99 Entertainment. It would have been foolish, considering they would have uncovered it anyways. He grew up with scuffed knees and bruised knuckles. He was not a gangster, but he was leading down that path before he decided to become an idol. However, his face never quite fit the profile of an Iljin, which was probably why no one ever took him seriously unless they saw the kind of damage he could do. It was a mark of pride for him, to be the toughest kid in the room. He had to be to survive.

It seemed natural to him that they would market him as a bad boy, as the tough one. Instead, they decided to go in a different direction. POIZN had enough bad boys for their entire company. They were not looking for that anymore. They needed him to be sweet, approachable, someone who could sell posters and make girls daydream about marrying him. They didn’t need someone who looked like him to be closed off.

Since he started training, Hojun was forced him to clean up his act. They focused on the clean cut aspects of his past, such as his attachment to his mother and the fact that he grew up singing in the church choir. Hojun was forced to smile and have people call him “honey” and “cute”, despite the turning in his stomach. He brought pastries to training practices and learned to flatter. He held doors and carried heavy packages. He became a little prince, just like they wanted. Playing the game helped gave him a sparkling clean reputation, making him perfect for comedic roles. People preferred being around this version of him much more than they ever did the real him. Only those around him in his off time are privy to his temper, to how easily he can break that facade of a good little boy.

IDOL HISTORY

Hojun was born to Park Ha-yoon, a hairdresser from Hongdae. He supposed he had a father, but his mother never mentioned him and he never bothered asking. He assumed if the man really wanted a relationship with him, he would have shown up long before and taken them out of poverty. Instead, Hojun was forced to watch his mother complete shift after shift at a job where people ridiculed her for never continuing her education.

His mother was a devout Christian woman, which meant Hojun had to spend his Sundays with a god who had clearly forgotten them. But he went. It made his mother happy and Hojun could never deny her something so simple, especially when he was a difficult son to have.

School was difficult for Hojun. He was an easy target, especially with his short stature at the time. The day he finally drove a fist into his tormentor’s stomach was the best day of his life. He went from being the one having his lunch money stolen to taking it from other kids. However, his sudden penchant for violence put a strain on his relationship with his mother. She didn’t raise him to turn into a gangster. He was supposed to be the one to attend a university, to make better choices than she did.

A number of adults tried to save Hojun from himself. He developed a variety of skills from humoring them, particularly his mother. He joined the church choir, wrote in journals, took up hopkido, baked enough cakes to feed a small nation, and volunteered at several organizations. None of it helped. He continued to get into fights and skip class. He never had a crew, as no one took him seriously with his sweet face, but he developed a reputation all on his own. When he turned sixteen, Hojun was kicked out of school. He refused to talk about the incident that lead to his expulsion. His mother was heartbroken, but they managed to find a school to take him. He finished his education there and eventually graduated.

There weren’t many potential avenues for a former Iljin. Hojun was working at a food counter at the mall when an agent approached him and invited him to come to open auditions. He had never considered a career as an idol. It was too fanciful, too unrealistic for a boy like him. He wasn’t untalented, but his experience was limited to gospel songs and not so holy songs he made about his teachers in the bathroom. They earned laughs, but he doubted that was what the industry was looking for. Still, he went to the audition and to his surprise, he made the cut.

Hojun’s mother was supportive of her son’s new career path. Perhaps the training would give him the structure he needed to finally kick his bad habits. Hojun was unprepared for the intense toll training would take on him. He quickly learned that 99 only wanted the illusion of a bad boy, not an actual one. POIZN had given them enough trouble already, even though they had barely debuted. With such a recent boy group, it would be a long time before Hojun went anywhere. He needed to shape up if he ever wanted even a prayer of debuting. During that first year he nearly left eight different time but his mother was just so proud. It was the longest period of time he ever kept his nose clean and she loved bragging about how her son was going to be an idol. For the first time in his life, he realized he could make something of himself.

Despite his distrust of authority figures and his lack of team spirit, Hojun learned how to act as was expected of him. He learned to speak properly, respectfully. He never mentioned his expulsion. He reserved his temper for his off time and if he ever did anything illicit, he was certainly never caught. However, the rumors of his past followed him around. Hojun denied it as was expected of him, but every once in a while they would pop up and act like a thorn on his side. Playing game  has paid off for Hojun though. After four years of intense training, he found his opportunity.

Hojun’s vocal skills where not as strong as they could have been (nor was his dancing), but his false persona and pretty face made him the perfect choice for their new group. He was also a stubborn bastard. With the finish line finally in sight, nothing was going to get in his way of a debut. He met every one of their challenges. The survival show was emotionally harrowing, but he was used to struggle, having been in it his entire life. Through every grueling training session, he reminded himself that this was his only option. If he failed, all that was waiting for him was his disappointed mother and serving fast food for the rest of his life. It didn’t matter whether the group got along or not or whether he had to spend the rest of his life pretending to be a saint. He would do anything to get out of trainee hell.

Debuting came and went with much less fanfare than he expected, particularly for something he had waited so long for. Imperial might have gone on to make excellent sales and was praised frequently, but every headline was focused on POIZN. Harboring some resentment for the bad boys (since they were the reason he could not be one himself and was stuck doing agyeo) and eager to promote Imperial outside of their music, Hojun began to search for other avenues. He was never going to be as involved with the production process; it went far above his head and their sound was never quite him. While becoming known for his cuteness was not exactly his life’s goal, if he had to play cleanup crew for POIZN, he was going to do such a thorough job, no one would remember them. Hojun picked up a few variety spots, mostly focusing on silly shows that seemed to lead to embarrassing himself, but made his fanbase happy. However, he truly did not strike gold until he started picking up commercials. He was used to using his fake image to sell himself, why not use it to sell other things? Sell out or not, he finally had the recognition he craved, though most of the commercials had ridiculous plotlines and involved him acting like an idiot. Unfortunately, the extra attention occasionally makes rumors of his past pop up. But who is going to believe such bad things about a boy as sweet as him?

[idhojun-blog]

if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes

@idhani

Hojun has not debuted, but he already sees beyond that, already has a plan, already has desires. It’s strange. Back when he was a teenager, he couldn’t see beyond his next lukewarm paycheck. He was a graduate living with his mother, and frankly, quite a shitty cashier. He did not expect a future back then, aside from more or less the same. Being a waste. An iljin with no purpose. He never had any passion or drive or motivation aside from getting into a hell of a brawl. Being a trainee was just another way to kill time, another way to keep him from a gang life. Now, it is everything in his life. It is his entire being, has been for nearly six years. But it isn’t going to be his life forever and he knows it. Of course, not many people know just how ambitious he has become. Hani is one of the few who is privy to such dark thoughts.

His mother never gave him siblings and he isn't even sure where the hell his father is, but he has always wanted them. Maybe that is why he is attached to Hani. She is barely a year younger than him, but he sees her as the little sister he never had. Maybe it’s because her home is somehow more broken than his, but he feels the need to look after her. And if it just so happens they are occasionally caught on camera and give Hojun some exposure before his debut, so be it.

The trainee dorms are lackluster at best, but it has a kitchen, decently stocked since Hojun moved in. He invited Hani over because it was a Saturday and he had a rare afternoon off. His muscles were still sore from dance practice. Improvements were happening, but theyHe pops the cake in the oven and looks over at Hani. “I hope you like chocolate cake,” he said. “Especially with homemade chocolate frosting. I guarantee at least one of us is going to lose a tooth.” He sits down across from her, figuring they have an hour before the cake is done. “So, how have you been?”

[ssportsnews]

Cosmic Girls' Seol-ah and Yoo Yeon-jung participate in 'When I fell in love with Iljin' OST... 4 days open

The first OST '100 percent' of the Yinat Media drama 'When I fell in love with Iljin' will be released.

On the 4th, Yinat Media announced that the OST '100 percent' for 'When I fell for Iljin' sung by Cosmic Girls' Seol-ah and Yeon-jeong will be released on the same day.

'100%', a synth-pop genre with a refreshing sound, depicts the romance between Kim Yeon-doo (Lee Eun-jae) and Ji Hyeon-ho (Kangyul), who started their college life in 'When I fell in love with Iljin'.

Seol-ah and Yeon-jeong's unique tones and charming falsetto upgrade the sweet atmosphere of the song. In particular, the fresh melody and honest lyrics make the love line in the play stand out even more. It was inserted from the end of episode 1 and captured the audience's ears.

'100%', which Seolah and Yeonjeong participated, will be released through various music sites at 6 pm on the 4th.

On the other hand, 'When I fell in love with Iljin' is a youth growth romance in which characters who had been classified as Iljin due to someone's prejudice became college students and started anew. It is released every Tuesday and Thursday at 6 pm on the YouTube channel 'Jong TV'. Overseas, it is being broadcast simultaneously on ABEMA TV and VIKI.

먹튀검증,먹튀사이트,먹튀검증사이트,먹튀검증커뮤니티,먹튀 검증,먹튀 사이트,먹튀 검증 사이트,먹튀사이트 검증,토토먹튀,토토사이트,먹튀제보,먹튀신고,토토 사이트,카지노 사이트,파워볼 사이트

[famedexclusivearchive]

WISH’s Vivienne wrapped up in past bullying controversy

WISH’s maknae is no stranger to the headlines. With their summer comeback “Dance The Night Away” approaching, it was an extremely unfortunate time for a post on Nate Pann to go viral. The uploader garnered attention by claiming that Vivienne was an iljin back in middle school. The original article can be found below.

“Hello everyone. I’ve been seeing a lot of posts about WISH’s Vivienne, and I hate seeing the articles and comments praising her ‘good’ personality. I moved to Canada because of my parents’ job, and I hadn’t been there for very long before I started schooling. I was in the same class as Lee Sooyeon, since I’m an early ‘01 liner. She left when she was about 14, after having been casted by BC Entertainment. I don’t think she had any work done- her double eyelids were always that prominent, and her features were the same.

The reason I’m posting this is because I was made the victim of her ostracisation and bullying. My English wasn’t very good, and she always made me the butt of the joke whenever I spoke in class. She would even swear at me in Korean. During lunch, she would throw trash at me, claiming that I was going to become an cleaner with my grades anyway. Personality-wise, she was one of the b*tches who had to have everything go their way. There was once I tried to fight back and defend myself, but she dumped her food all over me and told me to go to hell.

I’m posting this because I hate seeing someone like her become so successful and adored. Her fans probably have no idea what she did in her past. I’m not jealous, or anything. I’ll admit she’s pretty and has good music, but her personality is worse than trash. I thought of committing suicide because of her. Someone like that doesn’t deserve the attention she’s getting. I hope people will see who Lee Sooyeon really is as a person.”

The original post quickly went viral, with netizens asking for proof. The poster then attached a yearbook picture of her, and answered questions posted in the comments section. A few days later, a thread on Twitter refuting the claims went viral. The tweets have been translated and condensed for easier reading.

“i recently came across an article about wish’s vivienne. while i’ll admit i’m a casual fan, the article shocked me, because i knew of her personality to be pretty good. i’m friends with someone who used to be in sooyeon’s school in vancouver, and i only realised they were in the same school because he mentioned that someone from his alma mater had made it as an idol in korea. i showed him a picture of her to confirm that she was the one he was talking about, and he was 100% sure it was her. he said he always saw her snacking whenever he passed by her class, lol.

i contacted him again, because i found the post a little hard to believe, and asked about her personality. he said that they were in different classes, and he didn’t know her that well personally, but from his few interactions with her, she was someone who you could get along well with easily. he never heard about her bullying anyone, and told me a few more anecdotes which i won’t repeat, in case the people who may see this think that i’m a big fan of wish and writing this to defend sooyeon. he only had good things to say about her, though, which does serve to say something about her. it’s your choice as to believe me or not, but i’ll personally continue to support lee sooyeon. the op, while replying to comments, actually got the place where she studied mixed up, confusing vancouver for toronto, lol. sooyeon, fighting!”

BC Entertainment has not released a statement yet.

What do you think? Are the rumours true or not? Is Vivienne not as sweet as we all think?

COMMENTS

[+4,211, -639] honestly speaking, she’s had dating scandals, a feminist controversy, and now she was a bully? bc should cut their losses and remove her before she loses wish all of their fans

[+3, 594, -502]  the pretty girls are always bullies... why is anyone surprised?

[+3,025, -300] bullying is a serious problem. what does it say about us if we let bullies become public faces in our society? bc... please do something about her if this is true

[+2,464, -499] if that person didn’t even get the town she went to school in right, why are we believing them?

[+1,126, -221] really, aren’t there wish members with better personalities who should be getting all of the spotlight vivienne gets, like bibi or haeun?

[+614, -210] sounds like she had the celebrity disease before she was even a celebrity ㅋㅋ

[+203, -139] feminists = bullies

[+107, -88] i wouldn’t be surprised if all of wish were bullies during their school days... as a middle school student, they look like a pretty girl clique that would think they’re above everyone

[mountphoenixrp]

We have a returning citizen in Mount Phoenix:

                         Blair Kim, who is known by no other name,                                    a 30 year old daughter of Freyr.                                She is a bartender at Dr. Feelgoods.

FC NAME/GROUP: Kim Taeyeon / SNSD CHARACTER NAME: Blair Kim AGE/DATE OF BIRTH: 30 / 9 March 1992 PLACE OF BIRTH: Jeonju, South Korea OCCUPATION: Bartender at Dr. Feelgoods Rock n’ Roll Bar HEIGHT: 157cm WEIGHT: 45kg DEFINING FEATURES: If you’re graced by her smile you might notice the faint lift of her lip ends and the slight dimple in her chin - so pretty, so feminine as her appearance is deceivingly sweet. She has multiple small tattoos on her body: the pisces symbol behind her ear, an ‘F’ along the inside of her middle finger, and ‘Serenity’ along the back of her arm.

She has two piercings on her right ear and five on the right (three lower, one helix and a tragus), as well as a tongue and belly piercing.

PERSONALITY: Strong willed, independent and sarcastic are three words that are generally used to describe Blair. She’s straight forward and doesn’t like to beat around the bush, as years of working hard to support her and her mother have taught her not to waste time on pointless matters. Although not the most sociable, there is no denying that the daughter of Freyr is beautiful and her skill as a lover exceptional, but that is where the similarities between her and her father end.

She looks like her parents - sweet, serene and youthful faced, the type that would radiate even the dreariest of days - but the moment she opens her mouth there is so doubt that there’s a chip on her shoulder.

Being the daughter of her father, she is a naturally skilled and sensual lover. There is a wildness and a hedonistic desire that comes from her mortal side, in perfect synchronicity of her father’s blood, though the fact that she has a tendency for addiction doesn’t help. When she starts, she doesn’t stop, easily becoming hazed in nights - weekends - of pleasures.

It is the only weakness to her usually hard working attitude.

HISTORY: Blair and her mother never had much, but it was no different to the other people who lived in the modest Jeonju. Raised by a single parent, there were a lot of older people who - closed minded as they were - seemed to look down on her upbringing. That girl was ‘trouble’, they would say, and that there was a reason her harlot of a mother had never managed to marry. Still, she knew that that wasn’t really the case.

Her mother worked hard, selling street foots nearby the Hanok Village, and often came home with sore feet and tired eyes. She did what ever she could for her child, feeling that it was her fault that Blair has been raised a fatherless girl. The gentle woman blamed herself for the cruel eyes that looked upon their little family, blaming herself for that one week with a stranger, for listening to her body’s lust instead of her logical mind.

Regardless, Blair never blamed her and the girl grew up to be strong, albeit with a rebellious streak. Her ‘friends’ were all from the wrong side of town and, whilst she never had a hand in actually hurting anyone, developed an iljin reputation by association. She played in a rock band with her friends and helped out her mother after school and on weekends. However, there was always something circumstantially strange when it came to her.

She and her friends played at the local school festival and the sunny afternoon started out brilliantly, with the band playing a lively band cover. However, the moment they hit their last song - a self written grunge-rock ode to her missing-in-action father - and the difficult strains of the lyrics tightened in her chest, the thunder struck. A storm on what was previously a bright summer’s day.

She and her mother went home baffled that night, the sun slowly peeking back out once the song was over, and neither of them truly understood what had happened until her homeroom teacher showed up on their door step the next morning. He had been keeping an eye on her, promised by the Gods, and had offered her a place to understand not only her powers, but the father she never knew.

Though hesitant to leave her mother, she did so from the older woman’s insistence. Although she had moved to Mount Phoenix for the past twelve years, she still had nightly long phone conversations with her parent and sends back money to help her out financially when ever she can.

PANTHEON: Norse CHILD OF: Freyr POWERS: In moments of immense emotion - whether it is brilliant joy or desperate pain - her feelings can affect the weather. Though, since becoming much better at controlling this power over the years, this doesn’t happen so suddenly anymore. When it does though, these manipulations come in bursts and it is highly draining for her to sustain it for more than a couple of minutes. Overexertion makes her mentally exhausted and more prone to emotional unstableness.

STRENGTHS:

Can mostly control (and calm) her emotions, something that was learnt out of necessity

Writes her emotions into her music and is therefore able to conjure up these emotions when needed through music

Hard-working and persistent

WEAKNESSES:

Stubborn and difficult to reason with

Tends to avoid deep relationships because of the unpredictable nature of emotions

Cannot sustain weather manipulations for longer than ten minutes without becoming mentally exhausted and emotionally unstable

Tendency to become addicted to sex and lose sense of reason and logic

[fmdjaekyung]

hi hello! i’m officially off hiatus and really excited to get back into the game uwu since i’ve been gone so long, i’m gonna go ahead and message all the new acceptances to say hello and get back to plotting on jin and jaekyung! also for any new members, i’ve typed up a lil thing for jin/jaek below the cut for plotting purposes, come hmu! c:

jang jaekyung/decipher leader, lead vocal

probably one of the sweetest guys alive, really trying his best

has serious self-esteem issues due to an iljin scandal in 2013 that fucked him up bigtime; it wasn’t true but honestly he’s. A Mess b/c of it and is always afraid to say the wrong thing since he went under so much scrutiny back then

has a messed up knee that he never let heal properly, catch him limping around the bc building when he works himself too hard

an amazing singer but a mediocre dancer and his dance has always been his biggest insecurity

is chillin, usually; his favorite hobby is to make chocolate and play with his dog, queen elizabark. he’s really shook that he actually had to? do a schedule this past month? is Exhausted b/c of it since he’s basically a grandpa ngl

rather proud of his senior idol status and has officially begun to dick around since he’s realized he can get away w/pretty much anything nowadays (see: shinee playing handsies at an awards ceremony and then winning an award and they weren’t even paying attention.............. and they probs don’t even know what award they won?)

the actual living version of the (✿˵◕‿◕˵) emoji

cha jin/unity maknae, lead dancer, lead vocal

A Mess!

seriously like honestly he just wants people to like him;;; he had no friends growing up b/c he was such an awkward kid

he’s rather brash and tactless but he means well— the type to say “you have ugly on your face” when he means “you have ketchup on your face”

very obsessed with whatever is ~cool~ at the moment

he got really hot when everyone else was going through puberty and that managed to land him a spot in dimensions, and he only really wanted to become an idol b/c he dreams about popularity tbh

tho he realized it’s not all it’s cracked up to be; dimensions gave him a really cool concept that’s like ;; not him and now he’s like in the midst of an existential crisis since he spends so much time acting Not Like Himself that he realized how much he missed old jin who wasn’t popular, but at least was comfortable

he’s trying desperately to find a passion either in singing or dancing b/c he’s not ready to give up the popularity but he’s praying that if he finds a passion in either one, it’ll make up for people not liking him for him

god he’s so precious and he’s just trying to find himself pls TT