#beginning of the club as in conversion from performing arts club to school idol club

[mihotose]

the hasu anime shouldnt be 103 or 104 or even 102 or 101 it should be 93 and be about the beginning of the club but whatever

[ncardaesthetics]

Shinonome Trivia

All info is pulled directly from the Shinonome idols side stories, home screen dialogue, etc. Not really trivia but more of a collection of little fun facts, hopefully it’ll be helpful to anyone who wants to write fanfiction or make art of the Shinonome idols! Sorted alphabetically by last name, things related to relationships between the idols are at the end!

Note: Some card stories are still missing! This post will be updated if/when I find these.

Christina:

She comes from Trento, Italy.

She prefers to be called Chris.

She appears to be Christian/Catholic, ex. "May the blessing of God reach everyone"

Her hobby is cats cradle.

She mentions having panicked on stage before.

She refers to the sun as "Mr. Sun"

She took up sewing because she wanted to help make outfits.

She writes lyrics for the group sometimes.

Uses "-san" for her friends.

Kasane Hasekura

Her hobby is cosplaying.

She's very proficient at sewing, and often makes her own clothes.

She likes cotton candy.

Kasane made all the costumes herself at first, but learned to let the others help her over time.

She often forgets what she wants to talk about, and has decided to start writing down the conversation topics she thinks of throughout the day.

Kasane insists on taking measurements for the others.

Uses "-chan" for her friends.

Rika Kamiya

She became an idol in order to research how a single stage can move the hearts of so many people.

Refers to others as her "test subjects" sometimes.

She isn't easily scared, as she claims that if you have knowledge, you won't be afraid of many things.

She is very knowledgeable about nature and plant species.

She would like to meet "all the school idols" someday, as she believes all the school idols meeting would result in an amazing chemical reaction.

She doesn't seem very flattered by compliments on her appearance, and instead takes the opportunity to begin researching what exactly "cute" is and how it moves others.

She seems insecure about her performances, saying she knows they're "boring".

She also seems interested in neuroscience, as she's investigating how the brain reacts to performances.

She uses "-kun" for her friends, or at least Kasane.

Mizuki Kikkawa

She enjoys basketball, and wants to participate in the inter-high school tournament.

She decided to become a school idol because she thought it would help her improve in basketball as well, although she realizes this has nothing to do with the sport after joining.

She hates giving up, which is part of why she stuck with being a school idol.

Another game she enjoys is shadow tag.

She gets nervous performing in front of children, or at least when she's acting in a play.

There's another girls' basketball player she's been admiring and watching for years.

She really likes millet dumplings.

People often misread/mispronounce "Kikkawa"

Mizuki doesn't use any honorifics for her friends.

Haruka Konoe

She's her class representative.

At first, she thinks that everyone in the idol club is weird, and states that she has to "fix this".

Haruka is very bad at cooking.

All of Haruka's classmates come to watch her performances.

She uses "-chan" for her friends.

Kanata Konoe

She only became a school idol to help her sister out.

She's a member of the health committee, but she spends most of her time sleeping in the nurse's office.

She's very attached to her pillow, and says nobody else is allowed to use it.

She tries her best because she doesn't want to mess up and make her sister sad.

She brings her pajamas to school.

She's good at cooking, and claims it's the only thing she's good at.

She refers to the infirmary as "the school's paradise."

She refers to her friends with "-chan"

Yuri Mido

She doesn't like frilly/fluttery outfits, and refuses to believe she looks good in them.

It seems like she became an idol because of Coco, and refers to idol club as "weird" at first.

While she had no interest in idols at first, she liked creating her own music and performing with the club.

She seems to like rock music, and thinks it's cool.

She plays guitar, and is apparently really good at it.

She hates being told what to do.

She doesn't think she's cute, and doesn't like being called cute.

She says she doesn't really have likes or dislikes.

Yuri doesn't use any honorifics for her friends.

Coco Miyashita

Her hobby is volunteering.

She became a school idol because she wanted to be of use to more people.

She's a bit embarrassed of her performances at first.

She does a lot of volunteering because she wants to make people happy.

One of the places she volunteers at is a nursing home.

She often goes "hawawa~"

She returns money when she finds it on the ground.

She refers to her friends with "-chan".

Sana Yuki

Her hobby is listed as "none in particular"

She claims that she didn't really want to be a school idol, but she joined because the club wanted her to so badly. She seems to try her best out of spite, at least in the beginning.

She seems to dislike it when others goof off, and claims that she's extremely busy.

She refuses to wear a clown outfit at first, and insist they should be wearing more elegant outfits, but eventually gives in and does her best to wear it properly.

While practicing juggling for the aforementioned outfit, she gets frustrated and throws the balls at the wall, only to have them bounce back and hit her in the face.

She plays tennis as well.

She has a hard time expressing herself, especially when it comes to gratitude, and says that singing helps her say the words she can't usually bring herself to.

She gets embarrassed when she's called cute unexpectedly.

She insists she's amazing at tennis, though when she tries to demonstrate, she accidentally "hits a home run" instead.

She's trying to learn how to sew, but is having a hard time.

She doesn't use any honorifics for her friends.

Relationships:

Christina taught Haruka and Kasane to play cats cradle.

Christina states that Haruka and Kanata treat her well, which makes her want to visit the infirmary more.

Christina volunteered at a community center with Coco.

Kasane has met Koyuki and Himeno, and calls them cute.

Kasane and Mutsuki are the only people that Rika has mentioned, with Kasane being the only one mentioned by name.

Mizuki gets the other girls to play basketball with her during their idol practice breaks.

Mizuki thinks that Yuri is amazing at playing guitar.

Mizuki says that the other girls in her club give her a fuzzy feeling, and she wants to protect them.

According to Mizuki, Coco and Yuri are always together.

Haruka is always cleaning up after Kanata, and says she "has no appeal as a girl". Despite her annoyance with her sometimes, they are very close and have a good relationship.

Haruka and Kanata sometimes wear matching outfits, which makes Haruka extremely happy.

Coco helped Haruka make chocolate for Kanata.

Rika and Kanata get along well, according to Haruka.

Kanata says that Haruka gets angry with her a lot, and wants her to be nicer to her, though this is likely only said because Haruka wakes her up often.

Kanata's pajamas were made by Haruka and Kasane.

Haruka helps Kanata study.

Yuri thinks that Coco is tricking her when she says she looks good in her idol outfits.

Coco and Yuri practice together.

Yuri is somewhat annoyed that Coco prioritized a teacher over her, but knowing that Coco is likely upset about breaking her promise to Yuri, she goes to help her.

Coco was, in fact, very upset about the possibility of not being able to practice with Yuri.

Yuri and Coco go shopping together.

Coco thinks Yuri is both cool and cute, and seems to admire her a lot.

Yuri, Coco, and Kasane make outfits together.

After hearing that Yuri got a love letter in her locker, Coco decides to put one in her locker as well.

Christina and Coco study up on Japan together.

Sana claims she can see right through Rika's insistence that she's simply researching school idols.

Mizuki gets flustered while Kasane is measuring her.

Kanata has prayed with Christina before, but fell asleep.

Yuri buys Coco ice cream for doing a good deed.

Rika met Mutsuki at the beach.

[glassbangtan]

Jungkook is Typing... {Jungkook x Reader}

Words: 21.1k

Summary: You and Jungkook met online when you were only fourteen years old. Neither of you thought meeting up would be a possibility, until you’re hired as Big Hit’s new editor. 

Genre: mild smut, angst, fluff. 

Warning: sexual scenes (but nothing graphic)

Notes: masterlist 

---

You and Jungkook met online.

   This is where most people roll their eyes, close the book and move on. It's this little pinprick of information that makes people turn a blind eye and assume the absolute worst.

   In truth, you never really blamed them for this mindset.

   You were only fourteen when you started getting into online gaming, and it wasn't like it was some massive deal at the time. Everyone was doing it; World of Warcraft, Dungeons and Dragons, Minecraft Online were all common topics of conversation amongst your year ten class, with people sharing server pins and usernames in a similar way to how they used to share sweets when the teacher wasn't looking. It was no surprise to you – or anyone else – when you asked your parents for a computer for Christmas, and quickly got hooked on the game Prisons of Terror.

    It was all you ever talked about, because – in truth – it was all you ever did. You got home from school, threw your bag on the floor and darted to your room. Some days, you didn't even bother saying hello to your mother in fear of someone logging onto the online server before you and getting all the weaponry you'd stashed away in an unlocked chest. You simply could not let that happen. Over one hundred and twenty five hours of hard work were not going to waste just so you could make idle chat with the woman who lived downstairs.

     Your parents never questioned it – as stated, this wasn't some new phenomenon, and you didn't have a problem. You were quite capable of logging out of the game when the server was quiet, and you only spoke about it when someone else was willing to engage in conversation. Other than that, most people saw you as a fairly capable, intelligent fourteen year old – normal.

     But this little passing fling with Prisons of Terror grew when GoldenJeon entered the server for the very first time. You remembered the date, remembered flicking your eyes up from your homework with the game still running in the background – hardly anyone was playing, so you'd decided to at least be a little bit productive as you waited for some of your other friends to come online. Never before had you seen GoldenJeon written across the bottom of the screen.

    You narrowed your eyes, leaned forward and quickly typed into the chat: Who are you?

    He didn't reply. You left it at that. He was probably just there to try it out, too nervous to speak to anyone until he found his footing in the game and was finally able to open up a little bit more.

  A few days later, he appeared again.

  You were quicker with your curiosity this time, barely letting his name disappear from the chat before you were repeating your previous question.

    GoldenJeon is typing...

   But then he stopped, and there was no response given.

  Maybe it was this constant game of back and forth that piqued your interest, that had you pondering over the person behind the strange username. His characters skin consisted of the gear of prisoners, which has always been a strange thing to pick when playing this game. Most people are drawn to the powerful looking players, the guards, the people with swords and crossbows slung across their backs – your own was a person in a guards uniform, your weapon consisting of two circular blades strapped to your shoulders.

  Your curiosity heightened to levels you could no longer control, and you opened up a new, private chat with GoldenJeon and started texting.

  Innocent questions at first; asking him who he was, how long he'd been playing the game, who the hell gave him the password for the server you were so familiar with at this point.

  And he texted back.

  He gave you answers, the conversation flowing so much easier than you'd ever expected it to. His silence in the beginning had unsettled you to the point where you'd ridiculously convinced yourself he didn't like you – even before he'd spoken to you. He was ignoring everything you said, so what else were you supposed to believe?

  But the two of you texted like best friends outside of the ring of the game you'd grown so addicted to. He sent emojis, and after a few months of constant back and forth, he started sending you little pictures of his dog and the doodles he did during class, and you granted him the same thing. You were never much of an artist, but you put a lot of effort into the drawings you sent him, and also put a lot of effort into making them look effortless, just like he did.

    GoldenJeon: got bored in class again. Teacher nearly caught me this time. {ATTACHED IMAGE}

   He was talented. There was no denying that. Even at fourteen, there wasn't a sense of jealousy that came with this acknowledgement, but a simple sense of pride. You often tilted the phone to your friend, Yul, and let him see the fresh, simplistic art work GoldenJeon had sent you that day, and Yul would hum and compliment him, and you'd sit there smugly as if to say yep, he's my friend.

   After a few weeks, GoldenJeon became somebody else. He became Jeon Jungkook, a student in Busan – miles away from where you lived, but close enough to startle you. Both of you lived in Korea – that had to count for something.

     The start of it all was a bumpy road, but looking down at your phone now, you can't help but grin at the realisation that it really was all worth it. Though you and Jungkook are yet to meet in person, not a day has gone by in the past four years where he hasn't sent you some bizarre song, or some scribbled doodle on the back of his notebook. Not a day has gone by where he hasn't sent you a good morning text and asked you how you are, what you've eaten, what your plans are for the day.

     He's your best friend, but telling people that earns you a few confused glances, so you tend to refrain as far from that conversation as humanly possible.

    Jungkook: I'm bored. Please cheer me up before I walk out and fail this entire class.

   Y/N: tough day?

   Jungkook: The worst day. I forgot we had a test.

  Y/N: what a Jungkook thing to do.

    Jungkook: Fuck off and cheer me up. I'm keeping you around for one thing and one thing only.

   Y/N: to cheer you up?

   Jungkook: Exactly.

   Challenge accepted. Standing in line at Starbucks, you shamelessly lift your phone high above your head and take a selfie, sticking your tongue out and throwing up the peace sign for added effect. You hit 'send' to Jungkook and stuff your phone back in your pocket, turning round to retrieve your coffee and head back to work.

    Jungkook goes to a weekend performance club in Seoul. This much you know, as you get updates from him on the daily about how his classes are going and how life is now that he's basically an independent man who can do whatever the hell he wants; as well as being a student, he's also a trainee.

    He told you about his dreams of becoming an idol on multiple occasions, but you'd heard it all before. Growing up, every single person in your class wanted to be an idol at some point; rising stars like Big Bang and EXO inspired the youth to strive to become as rich and famous as possible – but it always died away, and that's what you thought was going to happen with Jungkook.

    You really should have known better.

  He was only fifteen when he texted you saying he'd passed his audition. Confused, you'd asked him what he meant, only for him to send you a picture – “photo credit to my mum!” - of him standing in front of a sign with the words Big Hit plastered across it. You leaped out of your chair, squealing with happiness, immediately pressing 'CALL' to continue your freak out with him on the line; he'd started crying, you'd started crying, and that phone call will forever go down as the one that cost you the most money as it lasted for over four hours.

    He was still working hard. You got the updates. You comforted him when it all got too much. You helped each other out.

    Your phone chimes, signalling Jungkook's response.

   Jungkook: Okay good. I think I can push through now. Wish me luck. Love you loads and all that.

  You grin.

   Y/N: love you too. Don't kill anyone. Xx

   The conversation disappears and you are finally able to sink yourself back into reality – work.

   Whilst Jungkook is a thriving trainee, you're an intern at a publishing house. Whilst Jungkook spends his days singing and dancing, you spend your days going through unedited manuscripts and marking them up with red pen.

     Your boss, Mr Grey, is standing by your desk when you walk in, which is already the first bad sign of the morning. His arms are folded, his grey (yes, grey) moustache freshly waxed. You swallow back a laugh, giving him your best grin as you walk past him to your desk, pretending that his presence in your office is a normal, everyday occurrence.

   You already know you're in Big Trouble. Mr Grey never steps foot outside of his office unless someone is in Big Trouble.  

  “Are you sure you need that caffeine this morning?” is the first thing he asks, as it usually is. Mr Grey is on a health kick. Even though you know it's temporary and he's been through this with you a million different times before, he will still chastise you for any and all unhealthy lifestyle choices you make in his presence whilst he is trying to slim down.

  You take a small sip of your hot beverage, clap your lips together and say, “Definitely.” You set your folder down on your desk before turning to him fully. “How may I help you this morning, sir?”

   “I need to speak with you about an important matter,” he replies. You pause, waiting for him to elaborate, but his eyes have suddenly turned shifty and there is not a single hint in his posture to reveal whatever riddle he has just spoken.

  You look around cautiously, half expecting Soobin from the next office to jump out and spray you with Silly String, or perhaps throw a can of paint in your face. You honestly wouldn't put it past Mr Grey to want to poison you somehow.

  When nothing seems out of place, you turn back to your boss and say, “Okay. Do you want to sit down?” You gesture towards the seat he is stiffly standing behind, and he nods before slowly lowering himself onto the worn out cushion. You follow his lead, shuffling a few papers around because that's often all you need to do to look busy around here. You then intertwine your fingers over a thick folder and glance at him, waiting for him to usher the conversation along.

  He inhales and rubs a single finger along one of his bushy grey eyebrows. “There has been an opportunity given to me recently that I unfortunately cannot take for myself, so I've come here to ask if you would like to take the chance in my place.”

   He says it just like that. The previous silence, the drawn out dramatics just look stupid now, and you can't help but stare at him blankly as the words settle in. You haven't been there for very long, and you're still barely full-time. You're still considered an intern by most people, and still have a lot to learn – so why is he offering you something like this when there's hundreds of other worthy colleagues who would know what to do with this opportunity so much better than you?

  “Right,” you say slowly. “I'm gonna need a few more details, I think.”

  “It requires travel.”

  “I don't really think I can aff-”

  “All expenses will be paid by the agency. They'll organise a flat and transport when it's needed. They've been very generous with this offer, which is why I think it would be a shame to let it go to waste.”

   Your heart is thumping. This is real. This is serious.

  “What is this offer?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady but failing miserably.

  “A well-known company is writing up a catalogue for future employees and they want an editor flown out to make corrections on hand if they need it.”

  You blink. “That's . . . Unheard of. Why don't they just send the manuscript out?”

  “Because that takes too long, and they don't have that amount of time,” Mr Grey explains. “Plus, they're already in partnership with another editing agency, but this agency doesn't have enough staff free at the moment to take on the job. That's why they came to me.”

  “So you'll be shipping me off to another editing agency? I'll become part of another team?” You raise your brows, slowly lean back in your chair. “You could have just sacked me, Mr Grey. It would have done the same thing.”

  Mr Grey rolls his eyes – he never has any time for comments like these. It's part of the reason you find it so difficult to find even ground with him. “You'll be coming back eventually. This is just a temporary job, a favour for a friend.”

  You sigh. “This is a lot to take in, sir.”

  “I understand,” he replies, before he starts standing up. “I'll give you time to think about it, and when you-”

   You launch yourself over the desk, grabbing his wrist and dragging him back into his seat before he can get much further. “Jesus, Mr Grey, slow down. I never said I wouldn't take the bloody offer.” You grab a pen from the Worlds Worst Drinker mug on the corner of your desk. “What do I sign and when do I leave?”

  ---

  The train station is bustling with people, but you had been expecting nothing different when you were told you'd be shipped off to Seoul.

  Seoul, South Korea. A place you'd once only dreamed about stepping foot in. As you'd grown older, the idea of visiting the capital became more and more intimidating, and you've since grown quite fond of your tiny little area. You'd heard the stories, seen the pictures of the crowded streets and the smoke that always fills the air, but hearing about these details and being amongst them are two very, very different experiences.

  You step off the train at long last, shoulder immediately shoved by a passer-by who is too busy looking down at his phone to notice you standing right in front of him. You frown, quickly pull your timetable out of your pocket and look down – you're meant to be meeting your colleague. According to the timetable, this mystery person was meant to pick you up in their car and drive you straight to the building you'd be working at – which, at this moment in time, you have not yet heard the name of.

  You look around for any sign of somebody professional looking – sadly, that seems to be the majority of Seoul. You're surprised to see that half of the people bustling around look like they're on their way to work, wearing nice suits or long coats that hide whatever professional gear they're wearing underneath.

  “Y/N L/N?”

  Your eyes shoot up, heartbeat thumping because you know, just from the sound of the unfamiliar voice, that things are finally starting. There is no backing out of this. You can't just turn around and get back on the train – you've taken the offer, and you're stuck.

  You turn on your heel, placing your professional grin on your face. Standing behind you is a fairly small man with a tiny black moustache, wearing an oversized grey hoodie and a beanie. Little black hairs trickle from the edge of his hat and poke him in the eyes, but he does nothing to shift them out the way.

  He certainly wasn't what you had been expecting. He's shorter than you by a few inches. He's wearing casual clothes, even on a Wednesday afternoon. He looks like any normal human being, even a little laid back.

  “Mr Son!” you exclaim. “It's a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Please, call me Sungdeuk,” he says. “I hope the train ride wasn't too bad? I know they can get a little crowded and uncomfortable.”

  As he speaks, he grabs for your suitcase and starts down the platform. You blink, ponder over whether or not to follow him before you're nearly tripping over your own feet trying to catch up.

  “Uh, yeah. It was a – uh – experience,” you reply. “I'm just glad I got here on time.”

  “I assume you know all about the kind of work you'll be doing?”

  “Mhm!”

  You cringe even as the noise leaves your lips, because in truth, you have absolutely no idea what it is you'll be doing. What little you've been told barely seems to cover the surface, and you're still carrying around many questions in which you know will need answered eventually – when you get to that point, you'll make sure to ask, but for now, it's safer to just pretend you're prepared.

   You and Sungdeuk make your way into a large Range Rover that is parked outside the station. Sungdeuk gets in the front seat whilst you clamber into the back, and immediately a cold bottle of water is passed to you over the back of Sungdeuk's seat.

  “Kept chilled, just for you,” he says, winking in the rear view mirror.

  You smile and grab for the drink, but your stomach is reeling with nerves and you know for a fact you won't be able to keep anything down, liquid or not. And so, you mess with the lid, curling your fingers around it until the clasp bites into your palm, until the condensation is sinking into your jeans and making the leather seats damp.

  Neither of you speak for the majority of the drive, and Sungdeuk seems perfectly fine with that. He barely even glances at you, too busy leaning his head against the headrest with his eyes closed, like he's living in his own fantasy world. Even the driver is perfectly content with the silence, but it itches at your skin. You should be talking. You want your first impression to be chipper, friendly, curious. You want your new boss to think you're actually interested in whatever it is you've been signed up for.

  Cautiously, you lean forward and poke your head between the passenger and driver seat. “Uh, hi.”

  Sungdeuk creaks open one eye. “You alright?”

  “I was just – uh – I have a question.” You may as well slip a question in now.

  Sungdeuk turns to look at you. “Go ahead. I thought you were told everything.”

  “I was told most things,” you lie. “Except for – you know – who I'll actually be working for.”

  Sungdeuk stares at you, waiting for the non-existent punch line. You suddenly want to curl up in a ball, perhaps throw yourself out the window.

  He purses his lips when you stay silent, features completely straight. “You don't know who you're working for?”

  “I'm sure it was in the contract,” you hasten to say. “I might have just missed it. You know what, sorry for bothering you.” You wave a dismissive hand, already leaning back in your seat and pretending you didn't even speak up in the first place. “You carry on doing what you're doing, and I'll just sit back here and-”

   “We're here anyway,” he says, grinning at your sudden flustered state. You don't even have a chance to be embarrassed, as you lurch forward and look out the window, just as the massive gates open into the car park behind a large grey building. Lights are on in almost every single room, and there's a sign on the door that reads, in big, bold letters:

  BIG HIT ENTERTAINMENT.

  And you want to scream.

  There's no way. There's absolutely no way this is real life. You've decided. You've come to the conclusion that maybe you hit your head on the train and now you're actually dreaming this entire thing. You're in a coma somewhere. A doctor is poking at you this very minute, but you won't wake up because-

  “Y/N?”

  Your eyes snap up. “Hm?”

  “We going in?”

  You swallow thickly and gather your wits, trying to calm the race of your heartbeat. Your phone burns a hole in your pocket – you want to text Jungkook so bad, because you can already guess his reaction. He's going to be mortified. The safe little friendship the two of you have is going to be destroyed as soon as he sees you walk in them doors, because he can no longer hide behind the distance that was always such a comfort blanket between the two of you. Sure, it was a pain in the ass sometimes. Sometimes Jungkook would just go on huge rants about wanting to cuddle you because he couldn't sleep, and its them moments where the distance can honestly just fuck off – but at the same time, you have a pimple growing on your forehead that Jungkook would never be able to see.

  Not until now.

  Nonetheless, you know you can't just set up camp in the back of the Range Rover, so you gather your bags and follow Sungdeuk into the lobby of the building. He's chatting away, giving you a brief tour of the area you can see, but you're not even paying attention.

  On the wall, the posters glare at you.

  “Who is Bangtan Sonyeondan?” you ask, not even realising you're cutting the man off.

  He lowers his hand and follows your gaze to the poster you're currently inspecting; it consists of seven men, all of whom you recognise because Jungkook idolises each and every one. He texts you about their daily runnings almost every single day, and you find it kind of strange that you know Namjoon's favourite cereal to have in the morning, as well as the fact that Seokjin shrunk his favourite pink socks the other day.

  But it's Jungkook who your focus is trained upon, because you recognise him immediately. The brown hair, the dumpling cheeks and the baggy clothes. He's staring into the camera with such a serious look on his face, and half of you wants to burst into a fit of giggles whilst the other half of you wants to burst into flames.

  “They're the group,” Sungdeuk says.

  You raise a brow. “The group?”

  “The only group Big Hit is representing at the minute,” he confirms. “They've been together for a few years now. I'm surprised you haven't heard of them.”

   You swallow. You have heard of them – probably on a much deeper level than Sungdeuk can even begin to comprehend.

  He moves on with the tour, leading you through winding hallways, explaining each and every detail as he does so. You meet a few people on the way past; a few producers, a few choreographers, a few people who are messing with broken cameras and lights. The building just seems to get more and more complex the longer you walk, and it isn't long until Sungdeuk is leading you directly to the training room.

  Thankfully, it's empty for now.

  “And this is my place,” he says, stretching his arms out. The room is only small, but it's brightly lit and there's a glowing neon sign in the corner that reads BTS. Beneath it are a pair of shoes that look as if they had been discarded not long ago; with your limited knowledge of fashion, you're able to identify them as Balenciagas.

  “This is where the boys come to learn their choreographies and practice some of their old stuff,” Sungdeuk continues to explain. “I sent them on their break so I could come and get you.”

   You smile warily. “So what is it you actually do around here?”

  “I'm the production manager,” he replies. “But I'm also the lead choreographer. I come up with the dances, teach them to the boys and send them on their way. They're quite independent that way – they don't need me holding their hand through everything.”

  You chuckle. “I heard Hoseok does a lot of the training. He tends to just take over.”

  Sungdeuk laughs. “Yeah, he's a really good-” He freezes. You glance at him over your shoulder. His eyes are narrowed, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Wait. How do you know about Hoseok?”

   Aaaaaand, you've already fucked up.

  Your brain runs at a million miles per hour, because there's a legible answer there somewhere. You can lie. You can come up with something – anything -  but god, your hands are now sweaty and he's staring at you with his head tilted and he probably thinks you're such a crazed stalker.

  You open your mouth to reply, to say anything, but the words are cut off by the sound of booming laughter and the door opening. It squeaks, and you make a mental note to bring some WD40 with you next time you're here.

  But until then, you have to calm down, because Jungkook is there and he's taller than you imagined, and he's captured your eye already meaning there's absolutely no getting out of this mess.

  Sungdeuk greets the other boys – all six of them, fuck sake – but Jungkook stays rooted to the floor. In his hand is a coffee. In his other hand is a water. He's wearing a bandanna and an oversized hoodie, and it takes everything in you not to melt into the floorboards right here and now.

  “Everyone, meet Y/N L/N,” Sungdeuk announces, one arm wrapped around Namjoon's waist, the other pushed towards you. “They're the new editor for the Big Hit catalogue.”

  “Ay, you found someone!” Taehyung exclaims, walking towards you with those long, intimidating legs that are neatly covered by a pair of striped trousers. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and tugs you tight against him. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I'm Taehyung.”

  “Nice to meet you,” you mumble.

  “Awk look; they're already nervous,” Seokjin teases, peeling his jacket off his very, very broad shoulders.

  “Don't worry. We don't mind a few typos,” Yoongi chimes in.

  You try to laugh, but it sounds forced and honestly not worth the effort. Even the boys seem to notice the dry, false side to the giggle as they all turn to look at you, a crowd of raised eyebrows turning to look at you all at once – but again, you can't take your eyes off of Jungkook for even a second.

  This is the person you've been talking to since you were fourteen. This is the person who calls you in the middle of the night because he doesn't know what to get from the fridge. This is the person who sends you countless videos on Snapchat of him trying to figure out how to fit the sheet back on his bed in the morning, most of which end with him saying, “Seokjin will do it.”

  He's standing in front of you, and he's real, and you're still not entirely convinced you're not dreaming.

  Until he speaks.

  “D-don't be nervous,” he says. “You'll do a great job. I know you will.”

  Oh yeah. You're definitely going to melt into the floorboards at any given moment.

  ---

  “I can't believe this-”

  “I swear to god I didn't know it was Big Hit I was gonna be working for.”

   “You're here. How are you here?”

  “I took a train, Jungkook. A train! Do you know how terrified I am of fast moving vehicles?”

  Jungkook closes his eyes, tilts his head back against the wall you've accidentally pushed him against in your panic. You aren't even sure how you've done it, but in your hectic panic, you've ended up basically shoving him against the wall as soon as the two of you are away from the large group of excited, older men.

  You take a step back and awkwardly rub the back of your neck. “Look, I'm being serious. I didn't even know what company had hired me until Sungdeuk pulled up outside the Big Hit building. I wasn't searching for you or anything.”

  Jungkook cracks an eye open. “You know I'm not even meant to be in contact with you.”

  This draws you up short. “What?”

  “After I joined Big Hit to be a trainee, they made me sign this massive contract thing. It said I had to cut all ties with certain people, and I signed it and said I would.” He bites his lip and looks away, as if confessing to his crimes makes him somehow not worthy to look into your eyes. “And then I texted you the same day about going online for a few hours.”

  Your chest hurts. Physically aches. “You were meant to cut ties with me?”

  “I didn't take it seriously!” he hisses, tugging at his hair. “I was fifteen, for gods sake. It wasn't until Hoseok started telling me all the things he had to do to make up his contract that I started realising I should probably be – you know – paying attention, too, but I liked texting you. It became kind of routine, so I never stopped.”

   You hollow out your cheeks. Not even a full day into business and already Jeon Jungkook is overwhelming you; you're not even surprised.

  “Okay, so we just don't tell anyone that we know each other,” you say, as if the two of you haven't already put suspicion in people's heads by basically handling each other with bubble wrap the entire afternoon.

  “But I was gonna – I was gonna ask if you wanted to go get dinner tonight,” he says. You raise a brow. He rolls his eyes, shakes his head. “As friends, you sleez.”

  “Okay, okay, I was kidding,” you chuckle. “We can still go to dinner, Jungkook. You can just tell the guys you're going somewhere else, and then we'll meet up. Although, I don't really know my way around Seoul just yet so...”

  “Do you know where you're staying?” he asks.

  You pull a piece of paper from your back pocket and shove it in his hands; written in almost unintelligible handwriting is your new, temporary address. Jungkook's eyes light up when he reads it.

  “Hey, that's not far from the dorms!” he says. “I can come and pick you up if that makes it easier. Then we can finally . . . you know . . . discuss what's going on here.”

  The way he says it makes your spine tingle, like being friends is some kind of scandal. Apparently it kind of is, considering Jungkook was meant to cut all ties with you over three years ago and just casually decided not to, as if it was no big deal. Part of you wants to be flattered by it. The other part of you wants to slap him up side the head for thinking his friendship with you was more important than living his dreams.

  “How long are you staying?” he asks, voice suddenly quiet.

  “However long it takes for the catalogue to be made,” you reply, before awkwardly stepping forward. “Jungkook, I just want you to know that I'm not here for a holiday. I have work to do.”

  Jungkook's head snaps up, eyes alert. “What? Of course. I know that. I was just – I mean, we've been friends for a long time, Y/N. I think it's about time I take you for dinner.” He raises a brow. “Unless you think this is weird. 'Cause we can always just go back to texting and sending each other stupid videos.”

  You chuckle, glancing down at the floor where your toes are very nearly hitting against his. You don't step back, simply kick a rock up onto his shoe which he kicks back onto yours almost immediately. “No. I think this is good. It's like fate, isn't it? Even the universe can't keep us apart kind of thing.”

  Jungkook scoffs. “Is this another one of them astrology things you always send to me?”

  You roll your eyes, nudging Jungkook with your elbow. “I was trying to be sweet, you idiot.”

  “You don't need to be sweet. I've seen you make a fake Instagram account to get a look at your ex-boyfriend's new page.”

  “I was fifteen-”

  He starts walking back towards the building. “I've seen it.”

  “Jungkook, I swear to-”

  “I've seen it, Y/N!”

  ---

  You shouldn't feel nervous, but you do.

  As you look at yourself in the mirror and try desperately to fix your travel-hair, you remind yourself that this is Jungkook. GoldenJeon. The boy you've known for years, the boy who knows you better than any of your real life friends do. There will be no awkward silences, because there is so much to talk about. There will be no flustered glances, because there is no reason to be flustered. There will be absolutely no tension during this dinner, because you and Jungkook have been friends for years. Just because he is now a physical form changes nothing.

  These are the rules you set out for yourself as you slip on your shoes and head for the door of your new apartment. It's small, one bedroom, a tiny kitchen and a sofa. There's a generously sized television hung up on the far wall, and a picture of a house plant hung beside it; you're half tempted to take it down and replace it with a family picture, but something about that makes this place seem a little too permanent. You don't want to be getting attached when you know full well you'll be heading home in a matter of months.

  Jungkook texts you to tell you he's outside at exactly seven pm. He's on time, something you weren't expecting considering he has a habit of being late to almost every single meeting he's invited to – he tells you these things on a daily basis, claiming he slept in or he forgot, or he got too caught up in his games.

  But he's not lying. You step outside into the chilly night air of Seoul and are greeted by the sight of his warm smile and fluffy brown hair. He's wearing an oversized coat, his hands tucked into the pockets, his shoulders bunched around his ears. When he sees you exit through the front door, he picks up his pace to a penguin-like jog before jumping in front of you and bundling you into a hug you most definitely were not expecting.

  “Do you see how early I am?” he asks. You can feel his lips moving against the crown of your head, and your face heats up.

  “You're on time,” you correct. “And apparently in a very good mood.”

 He pulls away, holds you at arms length. His brown eyes look so light beneath the yellow glow of the street lamps. It's a doe-like look, and it makes your spine tingle when it's trained on you.

  “Of course I'm in a good mood,” he says. “I've already picked out the restaurant we're going to. It's called Frapuls.”

  You raise a brow, letting Jungkook slip his hand into your own as he starts to lead you down the pavement. “Frapuls? I don't think I've ever heard of that before.”

  “It's good. All sorts of food – burgers, kimchi, stir-fry – anything you want, they have it.” He looks over his shoulder. “I wasn't sure what kind of food you liked, so I just picked the one that had the most options.”

   You smile. “Frapuls sounds perfect.”

  The restaurant itself is small, sparcely populated. Part of you thinks Jungkook's decision to eat here had more to do with the fact that it isn't busy than because he was unsure of your food preferences – nonetheless, you're not complaining. Jungkook leads you into the tiny restaurant, mutters something to the man at the front desk before the two of you are led towards a table on the far side of the restaurant.

  It's dimly lit, tiny little lanterns placed all around the room being the only source of light. It makes Jungkook's eyes a little darker, making you want to rip his bucket hat off his head just so you can be given better access to the doe-like brown eyes you had seen earlier on. However, when Jungkook looks at you from across the table, there is no more wondering; you can see his eyes perfectly fine, bright and round and questioning. He looks so curious, tracing your features, trying to figure you out – you can see it in his expression. He has questions, so many questions, but he says none of them until you cough and meet his gaze.

  “You can ask me anything you want.” It's a bold statement, but you mean it.

  Jungkook pulls back, spreading his fingers across his untouched menu. He licks his bottom lip and sighs. “There's just so many things that don't make sense.”

  “Like?”

  “Like how you're here. How I didn't know you were going to be here. How we managed to meet up after years of just texting online, and it wasn't even planned.” He shakes his head. “People in our situation literally go through hell to see each other, and it just fell into our laps.”

  You bite your lip. “Would you say it's luck?”

  “I don't really believe in luck.” Jungkook leans forward, folding his arms in front of him. “But I can't really put my finger on what else it could be.”

  “A coincidence,” you suggest. “I mean, it's insane that the people from Big Hit decided to choose the publishing agency I work for to edit their catalogue. It's insane that my boss decided I'd be a good replacement for him.”

  Jungkook raises a brow. “It's not insane. You're brilliant at what you do. I've been subject to plenty of late night distressed phone calls to be able to vouch for that.”

   You scoff. “You of all people are not allowed to talk about late night distressed phone calls. I think I received at least one a week from you – I marked them on my calender.”

   “I'm not that bad!”

  “You definitely are. I have the receipts-”

  Jungkook's hand snaps out and curls around your wrist before you can grab your phone.

  “Alright, I believe you,” he says. “But that's not the point.”

  You grin, twisting your hand out of his grip. “Look, maybe it's better if we don't question why we were lucky enough for this to happen. Neither of us know how long we've got together, so we might as well focus our attention on other things.”

   Jungkook nods, looking down at his menu. “I agree. For example, you never told me how short you are.”

  You very nearly choke on the air you're breathing.

  Your eyes snap open, darting across the table to where Jungkook is now grinning down at his menu, pretending like this conversation starter is oh-so-normal, and not at all totally ludicrous.

  “I'm average!” you argue. “It's not my fault you're a complete skyscraper of a human being.”

  Jungkook raises a brow, still yet to look up from his menu. “I'm not even that tall. You're just taking the piss.”

  “Is this your way of charming me?”

  “I didn't know you wanted me to charm you in the first place.”

  You grit your teeth, shifting your eyes back to your menu.

  Jungkook, however, is on a roll. “Did you notice that I could put my chin on your head when I hugged you earlier? Is that not adorable?”

  “I'm average,” you repeat.

  “You're small. The sooner you realise it, the better. Then I can give you more chin-to-head hugs.”

  It sounds promising. That single hug outside your apartment had been enough to fill you with so many butterflies that you were convinced you would float off like a balloon pumped with helium. His arms had been warm. You had convinced yourself that he'd hidden hot packs in the front of his coat, because nobody's chest could be that warm and welcoming in two degree weather. He'd even gone as far as to press his lips into the crown of your head, and you remember that vividly, because it was that very movement that-

  “Can I take your order?”

  You look up, cheeks heating up with the realisation that you had just completely zoned out, remembering Jungkook hugging you. Looking over, you can see Jungkook staring at you, his cheeks a vivid red colour and his eyebrows furrowed. You bite your lip, looking back up at the smiling waitress who is waiting patiently at your table with a notebook in her hands.

  You order the pasta carbonara and a water, whilst Jungkook orders the steak and rice with an iced Coke to go along with it. The two of you don't mention the lack of alcohol – you don't trust yourself to get drunk in front of him yet, and if your thoughts are anything to go by, you need to keep your brain in check tonight.

   Jungkook's look of confusion does not leave his face throughout the meal, even as the conversation develops a life of its own. The two of you bicker like an old married couple, Jungkook complaining about the amount of times he has to revive your character in Overwatch and you complaining that you always have to give him extra supplies in Minecraft, even though you've totally, one hundred percent outgrown Minecraft and only play it because Jungkook still likes it, and his character would definitely die if you were not there to make sure he keeps his inventory full.

  You're not even surprised with how easy the conversation flows; it's like your texting, but with your mouths. The banter, the teasing, the sly jabs that are always so present in your text conversations do not take the back seat even when you are in front of each other – the only difference now is that you can see his expressions, can hear his laughter, can hear his scoffs of disbelief, and it makes your insides melt with each and every thing he says.

  It's so much better than texting. It's so much better than patchy Skype calls. It's so much better than you could have ever imagined.

  You speak for hours even after your meal has finished. You place your napkin over your empty meal, place your bag in your lap but neither of you move from the table; you just keep talking, shifting into a debate on whether Billie Eilish or Justin Bieber have the best new song out – Jungkook admits that he's taken a liking to Billie Eilish, but hastens to insist that Justin Bieber is, and forever will be, his ride-or-die.

  You only leave the restaurant when the shy waitress glides over to you and tells you that the table you've been over-occupying for hours is needed. Jungkook has paid for the entire meal (plus a tip) before you even have a chance to find your purse.

  You shoot him a glare once the two of you are finally outside again, subject to the cold winter air and the surprisingly busy streets of Seoul – back in your home town, the streets were basically empty at this time, but Seoul is different. Seoul is always alive, always bustling with people and chatter and entertainment. Even at this time of night, there are buskers seated on the pavement and dancers twirling through the streets, lights on in every household. It vibrates with an energy you've never known before, and it sends a ripple of excitement coursing through you.

  Jungkook ignores your glare and continues walking, a dull smile playing on his features that you find difficult to miss.

  “I don't wanna go back to the dorms yet,” he says without turning to look at you. You are forced to pick up your pace just to catch up with him, and when you do, you latch onto his arm so you don't lose him amongst the ever-thickening crowd. If it bothers him, he says nothing.

  “What else can we do?” you ask. “It's getting late.”

  “So?”

  “So all the shops are closed.”

  Jungkook raises a brow, glancing down at you as if your logic is extremely flawed. “Again, so?”

  “Jungkook, we can't just-”

  “Watch this.” He shrugs out of your grip and marches towards a nearby busker before you have a chance to even register what he is doing. You pause in the middle of the street, pulling your coat tighter to your body and watching as Jungkook and the young man with the guitar talk in hushed tones. The busker's eyes eventually light up and he shakes Jungkook's hand before the song he was previously playing is forgotten and replaced by a soft, melodic tone that you've never heard before.

  When Jungkook turns back around to face the crowd, he looks nervous. You immediately know what he's going to do, and your heart races at the idea of it; you've heard him sing before. Some mornings he'll call you just so you can keep him company as he goes through his daily routine, and you sit back and listen to him hum as he brushes his teeth, belts out solos as he picks out his outfit for the day. You've heard him sing, but never like this, and you aren't sure why the idea of it excites you so much.

  He doesn't bother with an introduction to the song. He just looks at you once, closes his eyes and starts singing, and suddenly the rest of the crowd no longer exists.

  The little girl crying over her fallen ice cream no longer exists. The bickering couple beside you no longer exists. The dog barking in impatience no longer exists, and the only sound you can hear is Jungkook's soft voice flittering through the busy crowd, meeting your ears as if he's singing for you and only you.

  The lights bring it all together. They shine behind him, illuminating the gold streaks in his hair, the outline of his jaw that has absolutely no right to be as sharp as it is. His body sways back and forth, and even though he's wearing the worlds biggest coat, zipped right up to his chin, you can still imagine his Adams apple bobbing every time he stops for a breath.

  This is Jungkook in his natural element. This is where he's meant to be, where he worked so hard to be. For years, the both of you had always joked that he was a video game obsessive, that he was most comfortable in front of the computer, or PlayStation, or xBox just losing himself in a world that wasn't this one – but now you feel ridiculous even pondering over such a crazy idea. This is where he belongs.

  Your throat closes over as the song does. Jungkook's voice fades away, and the eruption of cheers brings you back down to Earth. Everyone fizzles back into place, and you're suddenly overwhelmed with the unexplainable urge to break down into tears.

  Jungkook's eyes meet your own almost as soon as he opens them. You grin brightly, clapping along with the crowd and he blushes before he turns, thanks the busker and makes his way over to you. Almost as soon as he is in front of you, he takes your hands in his and pulls you close.

  “You look freezing. I should have kept us moving.”

  “What song was that?” you ask, pulling away to look up at him.

  He frowns. “You liked it?”

  “I loved it,” you reply. “What song was it?”

  “It's called Promise. My friend Jimin wrote it.”

  “It was beautiful,” you say before you can stop yourself. Jungkook's blush grows more prominent, looking down to the floor in his attempts to hide it, but you can see right through it. You grin, place a hand on his neck and say, “I'd like to hear you sing some more.”

   His eyes meet your own. For a moment, you think you've gone too far. His brows are furrowed, and he's silent for a moment longer than you're comfortable with, but he eventually grins and nods. “Of course.”

  ---

  The first day of work is a hectic one.

  The first few pages of the catalogue arrive on your doorstep at seven am sharp, followed shortly by a frantic phone call from Mr Bang Shi Hyuk, who you met a week ago and have still yet to hear talk in a normal tone. He's always busy, always bustling round his office, and you're certain you've never gotten through a phone call  without him having to put you on hold to scold someone. This morning, his frantic call has an undertone of desperation to it as he asks you to get the freshly edited pages back to him by five pm – definitely not an impossible goal, but you know you won't be taking any breaks today.

  And so, you set up camp at your kitchen table and get to work as soon as the coffee kicks in. Bundled in your fluffy dressing gown and a pair of slippers, you sip idly on different beverages, red pen in hand, glasses perched on the end of your nose. You order some food from a nearby delivery place, dig into it with one hand whilst the other continues to glide across the pages, correcting typos and sentences until everything sounds smooth.

  You reach an area of the catalogue that describes Bangtan Sonyeondan, and put it to the side for later. You don't want to think about Jungkook right now – well, you do, but it probably won't be for the best. Any time you see something that reminds you of him, you want to stop, snap a picture of it and send it to him via your stupid little Whatsapp group – that is time wasted, and you can't afford it right now.

  Seven am turns into four pm, turns into five pm, and you're stuffing the catalogue pages into the return envelope at the same time you're pulling your jacket on over your shoulders and sprinting out the door. You don't bother saying hello to the friendly door lady at the reception desk. You don't bother to check both ways before sprinting out the door and barrelling up the street towards the Big Hit building. The only thing you can focus on is the time slowly trickling away, and by the time you've crashed into the lobby of the Big Hit building, the time reads 5:01pm and you're already planning out your new CV in your head.

  You groan, sprinting up to the front desk and slapping the envelope onto it. “Here. It's here. I wasn't late. I was just -” You pant, trailing your fingers over your rain soaked hair. “Please tell Mr Bang the pages are finished.”

  The lady at the desk eyes the envelope and raises her brows, before slowly reaching forward and slipping it into the delivery bin beside her. “Thank you, Y/N. I'll email him now.”

  “Like, right now?” you push. You stand on your tip toes and try to see over the desk. “Can I see what you write? Please tell him I was on time, I was just-”

   Hands gently grip your elbow, startling you. Jungkook is grinning down at the receptionist as he pushes you away from the desk. “Don't mind us, Gertrude. We're leaving now.”

  You shrug out of his grip, spinning around when he pushes you into a nearby hallway and closes the door. He turns back to you, raising a brow that holds so many questions, but your only concern at the minute is whether or not Bang Shi Hyuk is going to receive those pages on time.

  You try to look over his shoulder. “Do you think he'll be mad at me?”

  “You weren't even late,” Jungkook replies.

  You pull your sleeve up and shove your watch in his face. “Can you see that? Five. Oh. One. He wanted them back by five, but I lost track and-”

  Jungkook reaches up and tugs on your bottom lip. The action is so unexpected that you don't even continue speaking once his hand drops back to his side – you just watch his arm swing, eyes slowly narrowing.

  “What did you just do?”

  “Tried to calm you down,” he replies. “Or shut you up. Whichever way you wanna look at it.”

  You frown, shifting your eyes to his. “I think I'm delirious. I've been sat at my kitchen table since seven this morning.”

   “So I thought,” he says. “You weren't answering my texts, or my single phone call that I so kindly wasted my lunch break to make.”

   You wince. “Sorry. I was busy.”

  He waves a dismissive hand, but the guilt is still there; Jungkook always makes time for you, no matter how busy his life gets, and you can guarantee that his schedule is a lot busier than yours on days like this. You can see it in the way the sweat clings to his baggy black shirt, the way the ends of his hair are damp.

  “Did you eat anything good today?” he asks.

  “I had some Chinese takeout.”

  “Gross. That's not good at all.”

   “It was good.” You pat your stomach for added affect. “I had fried rice, chips, egg noodles – the whole damn heap. Ate it straight out of the bag, too.”

  Jungkook crinkles his nose, and it's the most adorable thing you've ever seen. “I swear to god, I'm going to have to keep an eye on you 24/7. You're gonna end up giving yourself a heart attack.”

  “I was stress eating,” you say. “I was burning the calories by stressing. It's like I haven't even eaten.”

   Jungkook rolls his eyes, loops his arm through yours and starts down the hallway. You follow him, a new-found skip in your step that it seems only Jungkook can rattle into your system.

  He leads you right to the training room, where the rest of Bangtan are busy doing absolutely nothing. They lounge around, some of them laying on the floor, others sitting on spinny chairs that have absolutely no reason to be there. Namjoon is leaned against the wall; if you weren't careful enough, you'd mistake him for a house lamp.

  “Look who arrived,” Jungkook announces, shoving you into the room. The other boys chorus out a “Hi Y/N,” before going back to their exhausted scrollings of social media. “One minute late.”

  Jimin fake gasps. “Fired!”

  “Don't even joke,” you grunt, slumping down next to Taehyung on the floor. He leans over and shows you his phone screen, and you immediately take over his game of Angry Birds. He lets his head drop back to the floor and his eyes promptly close, as if he had just been waiting for someone to take over his game so he could go to sleep.

  “Hard day?” Namjoon asks.

  You shrug. “Stressful day.”

  “But at least you made it. Did you edit the pages Mr Bang sent you?” Seokjin asks.

  “Barely,” you reply, and Jungkook scoffs, kicking your foot.

  “You're being too hard on yourself. One minute late isn't a big deal – Mr Bang probably won't even get to reading them before he goes home tonight.”

  “So why did the little bastard make me run down here to get them to him by five?” You raise a brow at Jungkook. “Answer me that, Oh Great One.”

  “Because.” Jungkook sits down beside you, crossing his legs. “Having a deadline looks more professional than just telling you to get them in by the end of the day.”

  “Can someone tell him that I don't care about professional?”

  Seokjin sighs. “I've been trying to tell him that for years, Y/N. So far, no luck.”

  You groan, the sound mingling with the angry chipper of a bird who has just failed to knock down a house full of tiny green piglets.

  “It's done now, anyway,” Hoseok chimes in. He's barefoot again, his Balenciagas thrown carelessly to the side. “I say you celebrate.”

  “Mm. I could always order more Chinese food-”

  “Nope!” Jungkook exclaims. “Nope, nope, no. No more Chinese food.”

  You frown. “Who made you the devil incarnate this evening?”

  “You're gonna make yourself sick,” he says. “Celebrate some other way.”

  “I wish we could join you, but I'm exhausted,” says Yoongi.

  You wave a dismissive hand. “Don't worry. I am too, buddy. I'll probably just go home and get an early night.” You shoot Jungkook a glance. “Play a bit of Minecraft.”

  His eyes light up, a tiny smile twitching on his face that he tries to hide by ducking his head down and messing idly with the drawstrings of your grey sweatpants; you didn't even realise you were wearing them. You were too busy trying to leave the house to actually pay attention to your appearance.

  “Sounds like a night made for an elderly person,” says Jimin. “Right up your alley.”

  You throw Hoseok's Balenciaga at him.

  ---

  GoldenJeon is active, and you're ready to absolutely destroy him.

  Gathering snacks and a drink of water (healthy), you settle by your laptop and start playing. The two of you agreed to meet up on a server called The Hunger Games, in which the players are put against each other until there is only one remaining player – for years, you and Jungkook have squabbled over this game, making it much more dramatic than it needs to be, but it's all for the right reasons. Jungkook will call you in the middle of the game, speaking through gritted teeth, warning you not to jump out at him because he knows you're prowling around the corner, just waiting for him to drop his guard. Neither of you even pay attention to the other players; if another player kills you, Jungkook kills them. It's how it works. You're Jungkook's only goal, and he is yours.

  Jungkook calls you after the ten minute mark. Whilst he speaks through clenched teeth, you speak through a mouthful of marshmallow.

  “Just tell me where you are, you piece of shit,” he demands.

  “Ask me nicely.” On your screen, his tiny block player is busy scrambling through some chests. It would be so easy to sneak up on him, stab him whilst he's too busy looting for gear, but you stay back.

  “Y/N, I swear to god, you're giving me anxiety,” he replies. “Just tell me where you are. I promise I won't kill you.”

  “Aren't you sweet.”

  “So?”

 “I'm not telling you where I am.” You equip your player with your new weapon. “But I just want you to know that I've just found a diamond sword with full strength still on it, so I'd watch out.”

  Jungkook groans. “I hate you. I hate this game. I hate that you're so good at this fucking game.”

  “You spend too much time worrying,” you say. “As soon as the map loads, you're trying to get away from me. Why don't you actually try and figure out where I'm going before you run off in the other direction?”

  “Because if I stay close to you, you'll kill me!”

   “That's the point!”

  Jungkook groans again, and you can imagine him tugging on the blanket he always has wrapped round his shoulders when he's on his laptop. “You need to cut me some slack.”

  “You've been looting plenty of chests recently, Mr JK. It'll be easy for you to just find me and kill me.”

   Jungkook pauses. “How did you know I was looting chests?”

  You grin. “A hunch?”

  “You son of a bitch.” His character spins around and looks directly at you. You let out a squeak of surprise at the same time Jungkook gasps, but you don't give him mercy. You dive out of your hiding place and slam the space button so many times your finger starts to hurt from the pressure; your character bashes Jungkook's character with their fancy new diamond sword until eventually the words GoldenJeon has left the server appear on the bottom of the screen.

  “Y/N!” he cries out. “You didn't even-”

  “I won, is what I did,” you holler, throwing your arms in the air, doing a little dance on your mattress. “I won again, I won again, I won again.” You put your hands back to the keyboard. “Another game before we go to sleep?”

  “No, you know what?” He sounds stern, and you're no longer sure whether to continue the teasing. “No. This is totally unfair. I'm on my way over.”

   You freeze, not sure whether you heard him right. “You're what, sorry?”

  You can already hear him shuffling around on the other side of the phone, probably grabbing his coat, or maybe a baseball bat. “I'm coming over. Get the kettle on, by the way. I have to walk, and it's fucking freezing.”

  “Jungkook, it's twelve am,” you hiss. “Stay where you are or so help me-”

  “See you in five minutes, you little traitor!” And then he hangs up, leaving you in a sudden state of panic.

  Whatever triumph you'd felt at winning the game has melted away and been replaced by an immediate sense of urgency. You jump out of bed, blankets flying left, right and centre. You don't bother going for your wardrobe – Jungkook has seen you in your pyjamas plenty of times before (thank you, Skype). Instead, you head directly for the kitchen, slapping the kettle on on your way past before you busy yourself with tidying up the mess you'd made this afternoon. Broken pens and pencils scatter the table; old takeout boxes litter the counter; your washing up basket is filled to the brim. You quickly toss a pair of underwear under the fridge and hope to God Jungkook doesn't decide to go snooping.

  You've barely emptied the bin before the door to your apartment is opening and Jungkook is suddenly there, in all of his fucking glory, with the most hard expression you've ever seen. You swivel up, drop the bag and say, “If you're here to kill me, I want you to know that it was all fun.” You pause. “But I still beat your ass in that game.”

  Jungkook rolls his eyes, and before you can process what is going on, he's crossed the threshold of your living room and is standing right in front of you. He wraps his arms around your waist and tugs you into him, startling you enough for a squeak to escape your throat.

  Jungkook leans down, his lips so close to your ear, your throat, the hinge of your jaw and suddenly you want to drag him into you and lose yourself in that warmth you were lusting over only a few weeks prior.

  “I've never been able to do this before,” he says, voice gruff.

  “D-do what? Kill me?”

  He nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck, and Jesus take the wheel, you've had it.

  “I've never been able to just come over to your house when I want to.” If it's possible, his voice is even lower. “Never been able to call you a son of a bitch to your face, because you should have told me where you were.” He nips your collar bone. If the world wasn't spinning fast enough already, it sure is now.

  You grip the counter behind you, breathing heavy. You want to continue the teasing, to make light of this situation, but your head is running at a thousand miles per hour and holy fuck is this really GoldenJeon holding you like this?

  “Jungkook, what are you doing?” you ask, breathless.

  He stops, detaching his teeth from your throat but he doesn't move away. “Do you want me to stop?”

  “No!” You're eager, and that much is clear in your words. “No, please don't. I just want to know why.”

  “As I said,” he says, leaning down to bare his teeth against your flesh again, “I've never been able to do this before.”

  “I didn't know you wanted to.”

  “Then you're very, very oblivious.”

  “Not as oblivious as you. That's probably why I was able to kill you fifteen minutes into the first match.”

  He growls. His hand snaps down and grabs the back of your thigh, hitching your leg onto his hip. You squeal, tossing your head back just as he lifts you up and props you up on the counter. You bang your head against the cupboard. Jungkook pulls back, eyes wide with that concern you know so well, but you don't let him spoil the moment. You grab onto the back of his neck and drag him forward, slamming your lips against his before you lose your god damn mind.

  Because that's what it feels like. All of this is so sudden, so unexplainable and strange, but you're going to be driven absolutely insane if it doesn't continue. Your stomach clenches. You swallow his breathy pants, acknowledge how his lips twist, how his hands hesitate before he finally clamps them on your thighs and slowly drags them up until they're teasing the waistband of your unflattering pyjama trousers.

  “Shy little Jungkook,” you whisper into his mouth. “So confident a few seconds ago, and now you can barely touch me.”

   “Where do you want me to touch you?” he asks.

  The question hits you like a ton of bricks. Your eyes flutter closed. His mouth trails hot, open mouthed kisses along your jaw as he waits for your reply, but you're not sure you can gather enough air to give him one at this moment in time.

  His grip tightens on your thighs. Your legs jerk, but he holds you down. “Tell me where you want me to touch you, Y/N.”

  “Everywhere,” is your reply, because you can't think of one specific body part this is burning hotter than the others. “Just – Just stop messing around.”

  Jungkook chuckles. His tongue darts out, dabs at the hinge of your jaw before disappearing, and you want to scream with how slow he's taking this, like he's savouring every moment even though you're trying to scoot closer to him, trying to capture his lips with yours again.

  “Do you want me to touch you here?” He curls his fingers around your leg, his fingertips moulding into the flesh on your inner thigh.

  You shake your head, pursing your lips. “Somewhere else.”

   He raises a brow, slowly lifts his hand to your mouth. His thumb scrapes along your lower lip, and you resist the urge to do that thing you've seen in movies where the girl sucks the mans thumb into their mouth – is that even considered attractive in real life?

  “What about here?”

  “Not good enough.”

  He tilts his head, starts to smirk. His hand drops from your lips, glides along your chin and disappears into the front of your pyjama top. “Here?”

  He's not close enough. Your only response is a strangled groan, to which Jungkook laughs and slips his hand lower, lower, lower until his fingers are moulding the area you need to him to be.

  You groan, tilting your head back when his hand traces the underside of your breasts. “Fucking hell, Jungkook, took you long enough.”

  He leans forward and kisses you. It's desperate. Now that he's heard your response to his hands, he can't get enough. He wants to please you. He wants to take this as far as he can, and he shows this by hitching both your legs around his waist, picking you up and stumbling from the kitchen.

  “Where's the bedroom?” he asks, breathless.

  You point in the general direction he's referring to before pressing your lips to his. No more talking. He could stumble into the bathroom for all you cared, and you'd have him in the bathtub with absolutely no complaints.

  It's your luck that he kicks open the bedroom door and presses you into the mattress. His lips detach from yours for only a second as he strips off his shirt and you strip off yours; he gawks down at your exposed chest, shakes his head and says, “No bra?”

  “It's midnight,” you say. “I haven't had a bra on since seven pm.” You grab his shoulders and pull him on top of you. “Now please stop talking.”

  He laughs, peppering kisses along your jaw that leave you squirming and warm and satisfied. If he were to just spend the entire night kissing you, you'd go to sleep in bliss. His lips work like electric shocks, startling you every time he makes contact, every time his tongue slips from his mouth and joins with your flesh. You feel hickeys burn into your skin, but you don't worry about them now because God, you're too far gone. Tomorrow doesn't exist. It's tonight and only tonight, and it's you and Jungkook and everyone else can go the fuck to hell for all you care.

  He whispers in your ear. His voice is rough. The soft spoken, excitable boy you used to talk to on the phone every night has melted away into something ravenous and hungry, and his hips are grinding into yours with only his jeans and your pyjama trousers as a barrier, until there is no longer a barrier and it's just bare skin against bare skin.

  He asks if you're ready. You say you are. He asks if you're sure, and you say you've never been more sure about anything in your entire life, and in that moment, you mean it. He kisses you, and it isn't the kiss you give someone on a one-night-stand. It's soft, holding memories and feelings and his body slides against your own and your groans contaminate each others mouths. You get loud; Jungkook gets greedy. You beg for more, and Jungkook tells you you're doing so well, so, so well. You unravel in each others arms. Jungkook falls to the side of you, nuzzles his head in your sweaty neck and you hold him so close because you don't want this moment to end.

  “Tomorrow isn't real,” you whisper into his hair. He nods his agreement, panting against your flesh. His breath tickles your new hickeys. You reach up, press your fingers into the forming bruise.

  Jungkook presses a soft kiss to the skin. He's loopy. You look down and see that tired smile playing on his face, the sweat drenched ends of his bangs hanging in his eyes. He shuffles up the pillows, wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest.

  You don't think he realises what he's saying when he whispers “I love you,” into your hair.

  You look up. His eyes are closed, his breathing even. Jungkook is peaceful, but his words play on a loop in your head for the rest of the night.

  ---

  When you wake up, Jungkook is nowhere to be found.

  Your heart immediately lurches into your throat; this can't be happening. You know Jungkook well enough to know that he would never just use someone like that before taking off – so he's either parading around your house, or he's dead.

  You slowly sit up, tucking the quilt under your arms in a pointless attempt at sparing your dignity. The sheets are stained with sweat and . . . other stuff, and you internally groan at the idea of having to wash them; your new washing machine is complicated enough with clothes.

  You make a promise that you'll deal with them later before slipping out of bed and tugging your dressing gown on. You slip into a pair of slippers and head downstairs.

  Immediately you are greeted by the welcoming scent of cooking bacon. It's only when you walk into the kitchen and glance at the clock do you realise what time it is.

  “Six am?” you mutter, startling Jungkook. He stands by the hob, swaying his hips to a song that is playing softly from his phone.

  He spins around, face lighting up at the sight of you, even though you're certain you look nothing short of bedraggled right now. Whilst he looks fresh as a daisy in a black shirt that is tucked lazily into a pair of belted blue jeans, your hair is knotted and your breath stinks, and you have absolutely no qualms about any of it.

  “Apparently,” Jungkook replies. “I was hoping to make you breakfast in bed.”

  “Sorry to disappoint,” you say. “But also, you're a guest. You shouldn't have to make breakfast.” To prove your point, you grab the tongs out of his hand and nudge him with your hip. He chuckles, giving you the benefit of the doubt by over dramatically stumbling out of your way. You roll your eyes and start poking at the mostly cooked bacon.

  “At least now you'll be able to say you helped,” Jungkook says.

  You grin. “I'm nothing if not completely useless.”

  “Only sometimes.” He presses a kiss to the back of your neck, and it is this movement that brings you back to last night; the kissing, the sex, sharing a bed.

  The I love you.

  You'll be damned if you bring that up to him, though, because judging by the look on his face, he doesn't even remember saying it. He sways around the kitchen like he's lived there his whole life, a goofy smile on his face that has your chest constricting, because you're fairly certain it's you that has put that smile on his face. He grabs two plates from the cupboard above your head and lays them on the counter, before he goes back to watching as you poke the bacon.

  “How do you know when it's done?” you ask.

  Jungkook blinks. “It's been done for a good two minutes. I thought you just liked yours crispy.”

  You hiss, quickly turning the hob off. “You could have said something!”

    “Give it here.” He takes the pan from you and starts scooping the bacon onto the plate. You follow suit, grabbing the bowl of scrambled eggs he'd prepared earlier and adding a decent amount to each plate. Jungkook then spoons the beans and adds the toast to the side, and the two of you are prepared.

  You eat on the sofa, because of course you do.

  Jungkook eats bent over his plate. You don't know why you notice this, or why you're so intrigued by something so small, but you struggle to take your eyes off him. He presses the edge of the plate into his chest and bends forward, his eyes not leaving the TV as he struggles to rip a bit of fat from his bacon.

   You watch his Adams apple bob, remembering the feel of it beneath your lips. You regret not trailing your fingers along the column of his throat. You regret not unravelling him, completely taking over in the way you so desperately want to now; you had been so caught up in the logistics of what was happening that you didn't take a moment to focus on what you wanted to do; you realise now that you want to watch his eyes roll into the back of his head. You want to see him come apart.

  You swallow thickly and turn back to the TV, cheeks burning. You need to remind yourself that you have other things to worry about besides what happened last night; the work hasn't just stopped because Jungkook decided it was a good time to show up and completely ravish you.

  Jungkook finishes his breakfast before you. As he nibbles on the last remaining bites of his toast, he turns and glances down at your plate; it's nearly empty, and yet he still raises a brow. “You feeling okay?”

  Your eyes shoot up. ��Yes. Why wouldn't I be?”

  Jungkook stares at you for a moment longer, urging you to tell him the truth. When you look back down at your plate and ignore his seemingly endless gaze, he sighs, sets his plate down on the coffee table before shuffling closer to you. “Is this about last night?”

  You let out a breath. “I really thought you weren't gonna bring that up.”

  “Do you want me to leave it?”

  “No!” You grab his arm. “No, Jungkook, of course not. I really think we need to talk about it, but I just . . . I wanna know your feelings on it first.”

  Jungkook narrows his eyes, tracing the lines of your face, the same trail he traced with his fingers last night. “I thought I made my feelings pretty obvious, considering I was the one who initiated it in the first place.”

  “That doesn't mean anything,” you murmur, looking down. “I could have been bad at it, you know.”

  A noise not unlike a croak escapes Jungkook's throat. It slowly morphs into a laugh, his hand coming down upon your knee and squeezing.

  When you don't join the laughter, his smile fades and he stares at you. “Wait. You're not serious, are you?”

  You throw your hands up in frustration. You hadn't even realised this train of thought was so prominent in the back of your head, but there's no denying it now. “Look, all of it was very unexpected. I didn't have time to – like – practice my strategy or anything.”

  “You didn't need to-”

  “Yes, I know that, but it would have helped,” you hiss, before groaning and slumping back against the plush sofa cushions. Your plate remains abandoned on the coffee table. Jungkook looks down at it, picks up a piece of bacon and takes a bite.

  “I definitely came.”

  He says it so casually that you very nearly miss what he's said at all. Your eyes burst open, cheeks burning with this news that isn't really news because you know what happened – you were there. You made it happen.

  “You made it happen,” Jungkook continues, as if reading your mind. “And you definitely came.”

  “Oh god.”

  Jungkook grins. “I think I have the qualifications to vouch for that.”

  “You're a dick.”

  His grin only grows. He leans over and presses a kiss to the space just below your ear; you hiss and pull away, hand snapping up to trace the edge of the hickey you'd forgotten was there. Jungkook pushes the hair from your shoulder and lightly touches it, biting his bottom lip to fight off the smile that is surely threatening to show on his face.

  “Lovely,” he says.

  “I'm gonna have to cover this now,” you grumble. “Do you know how difficult it is covering a hickey?”

  “No, considering you didn't give me any.” He shakes his head. “I feel like I'm missing out.”

  “Poor baby.”

  He shrugs, swings his legs round and stands up. He grabs the plates off the coffee table and starts towards the kitchen, but not before saying a casual, “We'll try again next time,” that hangs in the air even as the sound of the tap water shatters the delicate silence.

  You grin, biting down on your bottom lip. Butterflies are attacking your stomach. Memories of last night are lodged in your brain, and you know for a fact that there is absolutely no way in hell you'll be getting any decent work done today.

  ---

  Jungkook leaves for the dorms at seven. On his way out the door, he bends down and picks up a thick yellow envelope, handing it to you.

  “I think that might be the new catalogue pages,” he says.  

  You hollow out you cheeks, taking the envelope from him and tossing it carelessly over your shoulder. “Tell Mr Bang I'll get it to him as soon as possible.”

  “Mm, no,” he says, pressing a kiss to your lips. “Then the old man will know I've been here overnight, and that is awfully suspicious.”

  Despite knowing this would be the case, your heart still quivers a little. You hide it by rolling your eyes and ushering him out the door. “Fine then. Leave the hard work to me. You go and prance around your practice room for a few hours, and call me as soon as you get a chance.”

  Jungkook spins, planting his hands on the door frame. “One more kiss?”

  You narrow your eyes. “You're gonna be that guy.”

  “I believe this is called the Honeymoon Phase.” He kisses you, small and soft but it ignites something in you you've never felt before. Jungkook feels it, grins against your mouth before slowly pulling away and clicking his forehead against your own. “I'll see you later, yeah?”

  “We'll see,” you whisper, before you grip his waist and spin him round. “Now go! I'm not being the reason you're late.”

  “Alright, alright. Tell me how you really feel.” His voice and laughter fade into nothingness as he disappears down the hallway. You watch him leave, gripping the collar of your dressing gown like some kind of wife sending their husband off to war. You only turn and head back into your apartment when you hear the lift ding closed.

  ---

  You love your job. You really do. There is a power that comes with correcting other peoples mistakes, and you are not ashamed to admit that you have been thriving off it from the moment you picked up that red pen and started slashing marks into the pages.

  But this is a whole different ball game.

  You're hunched over your kitchen table, your third cup of coffee half-empty beside you, doing nothing to help the exhaustion. Your body is slowly beginning to realise that you were not made for being woken up at six am. Your muscles are sore, and your eyes are getting tired before you've even gotten through the fifth page of edits.

  You lean back, scraping a hand through your unwashed hair that is still sweaty from last nights mishaps. You told yourself you would take a break to clean up and pull yourself together, because going another day in this state is going to drive you to breaking point, and yet three pm is rolling around and you have yet to move from your kitchen table.

  The pages are littered with images of Jungkook. With Bangtan being the only group involved with Big Hit at the minute, they're using their maknae's adorable smile and doe eyes to the best of their abilities. It makes your job ten times more difficult, as you have to stop every few seconds to send a picture of Jungkook's face to your Whatsapp group with a teasing caption that Jungkook always chooses to ignore in favour of asking you how you're getting on.

  Not good, you want to tell him, but you don't. He's working just as hard as you; it would be cruel to distract him with your own pointless stresses.

  And so you lose yourself in the world of literature for a few more hours, until the last page is glaring up at you and your hand is cramping, and you're refilling the ink on your sixth red pen. Five pm rolls around, and once again you're shrugging your jacket on and bolting down the street towards the Big Hit building.

  Mr Bang is standing in the lobby.

  You freeze, one hand braced against the glass door, the other clutching the envelope tight to your chest; well, this is most unexpected. Though you and Mr Bang have spoken on numerous occasions these past few weeks, most of those conversations were had via phone call. You had convinced yourself that the small man in front of you lived in his office.

  He turns when you enter, immediately smiling an oddly cute smile that lights up his whole face and crinkles his dark brown eyes. He nudges his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and steps towards you.

  “I was just about to call and ask where you were,” he says.

  You shove the envelope in his direction. “All done!”

   “Great, great.” He tucks the envelope into his coat pocket. You resist the need to wince; he better not crinkle those god damn pages, or so help you- “The edits aren't the only reason I was looking for you, though.”

  Your brain short circuits, and you aren't even sure why.

  Today has honestly been the day from hell. Your head aches, and your hand is cramped, and all you want to do right now is curl up on your sofa with a glass of wine and drink everything away. Instead, you place a smile on your face and say, “Oh?”

  Mr Bang sighs, looks around as if checking for anyone eavesdropping before he steps closer to you and lowers his voice. “Have you and Jungkook fallen out?”

  Okay. That certainly wasn't what you'd been expecting.

  You raise a brow, flicking a glance over the big boss's shoulder. Gertrude quickly lowers her head, pretending she hasn't heard anything, but it's obvious in the tilt of her head and the shy little smile on her face that she knows exactly what Mr Bang is asking about.

  You look back at him. “I don't – I don't think so. Why?”

  “Well, I told him I was going to offer you a job in one of the offices here so you don't have to keep running back and forth from your apartment,” he says. “Jungkook told me not to.”

  It takes a minute for you to untangle what all of this means. It's the most absurd thing you've ever heard. It doesn't make any sense, because you and Jungkook slept together and he held you, and he said he loved you and there's no way in hell all of that changed in the space of a few hours.

  But Mr Bang is serious. His eyes shift to the floor when you stay silent, and you watch as he slowly sucks in a breath.

  “I don't like it when my employees go against each other,” he says. “I asked Jungkook if everything was alright and he refused to tell me anything. He's young, so I didn't push him, figured I'd let him figure it all out on his own. But I just want you to know that whatever this feud is – you can't let it get in the way of your work.”

   “There is no feud,” you burst out. “I mean, not really. Nothing you need to be worrying yourself with, anyway.”

  Mr Bang's eyes light up. “Really? That's fantastic, Y/N. How about you come and join us for dinner then?”

  Before, the idea would have lit something inside you. The idea of sitting beside Jungkook and laughing with your friends would have excited you to no end, but you replay Mr Bang's words on a continuous loop and find yourself unable to gather that same excitement.

  You stuff your hands into the pockets of your jacket and say, “I think I'm gonna have to pass. I'm exhausted.”

  Mr Bang nods as if he understands. “Of course. I'll send the next few pages over tomorrow, then. Get some rest, Y/N.”

  You turn on your heel and exit the building. It feels permanent. You want it to be permanent. You want to walk to your apartment, pack up your stuff and never come back. You feel like a teenager, moping over some boy, suddenly willing to change the directory of life just because this certain someone slipped up and hurt your feelings.

  But that emotion is there. You grip the material of your pockets and inhale the cold air of Seoul, ducking your head down in case anyone were to notice your gritted teeth.

  ---

  It's nearly eleven when the knock echoes through your apartment.

  You're draped across the sofa, a glass of wine in your hand, the TV blaring re-runs of Friends. You've been sneering at Ross Geller for the past three hours, and quite frankly, you are in no mood to be disrupted.

  You stay silent and hope the visitor takes the hint.

  It's never that easy, though.

  The knock sounds again. And again. On repeat until you eventually throw your head back and push yourself off the sofa. You slam your glass of wine down and barrel towards the door, throwing it open to reveal GoldenJeon in all his glory.

  Your drunken state wants to spit on him.

  He's grinning from ear to ear, hands in his pockets, hair a tussled mess. Even in your state of tipsiness, you still reach out and flatten a strand against his temple; you pull your hand back just as quick, tucking it under your armpit as if to restrain yourself from touching him further.

  He frowns when he sees the state you're in. You have no idea what you look like, but you're purposefully scowling to the best of your ability, arms folded, the glass of wine bright and full on your coffee table – it wouldn't take a genius to figure out just what is going through your mind right now.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Why are you here?” you demand. “I didn't invite you.”

  Jungkook's frown deepens. A crease forms between his eyebrows. “Since when did I need an invite?”

  “Since you started showing up uninvited and interrupting my relaxation time.” You try to slam the door on his face, but he wedges his foot between the frame and pushes it open again.

  “Hey, hey, hey,” he says, poking his head through the tiny gap he's created. “Are you gonna explain to me what the hell is going on?”

  “No. Go away.”

  “I'm not leaving until you tell me why you're mad.”

  “I'll literally call the police.”

  “No you won't.”

  You purse your lips, turn on your heel and B-Line towards your cell phone. Jungkook shoves the door open and follows after you. You pick up the phone, but Jungkook is quicker; his fingers curl around your wrist and it is with barely any effort that he plucks the phone from your hand and tosses it onto the couch. He keeps your wrist in his grip, staring down at you with a set of eyes that – any other day – would have you pouncing on him in two seconds flat.

  “Let go of me,” you say.

  He does.

  “And get out.”

  “I'm so confused right now. I thought we were okay.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Is this about last night?”

  You groan. “For crying out loud, Jungkook, I'm drunk. Why can't you just take the hint and piss off?”

  He flinches. There's a tiny glimmer inside you that wants to apologise, wrap your arms around him and tell him you didn't mean it, but then you hear Mr Bang's voice in your head and your senses draw back to you.

  “You didn't join us for dinner,” he says. It's almost a subject change. Again, you want to spit on him.

  “I don't think you'd have been too happy if I showed up,” you reply. You take another swig of your wine. “Apparently you only really like me when I'm underneath you.”

   Jungkook's eyes widen. His hands twitch by his side, and he reaches up to deftly rub at this throat. “What are you talking about? You know that's not true.”

  “So why don't you want me working in the same building as you?”

  There is no way to make that sentence sound intimidating, no way to get your anger across without sounding childish and needy; you and Jungkook spent one night together. If he thought it was a mistake, you would respect that – but he didn't need to cut you off from your work, didn't need to come crawling back when he was in the mood. If he found regret in last nights endeavours, it would be so much more merciful if he just left you alone.

  His face softens. It's an expression of realisation, the fact that he's been caught out dawning on him. It's enough to make tears rise to the surface, and you blame the wine but it builds in your chest, grabs at your throat. Jungkook sees it – he lurches forward. You don't even fight when he wraps his arms around your waist and tugs you into his chest, his chin taking perch on the top of your head.

  “No,” he says. “No, I didn't mean it like that. Y/N, I didn't mean it like that. I said it to protect you.”

    “Protect me?” You jump away from him, stumbling but managing to catch yourself on the sofa at the last moment. “How could that protect me?”

  “We're not meant to have what we have,” he says, running his hands through his hair. He's trying not to touch you. You're trying not to throw yourself into his arms.

  “What is that, Jungkook?” you ask. “What do we have that is so special? Because last time I checked, all we've done is slept together and played a few rounds of Minecraft.”

   “That's not true. We've got more than that. You're more than that.”

  You grit your teeth, turning on your heel. Your wine sloshes, drenches your wrist but you don't even care. It triggers you to take another swig, then another, and another until the glass is empty. “You know what? I don't think I wanna play this game. I've never let a man dictate how a relationship works, and I'm not about to do it now.”

  Jungkook groans. “I'm not dictating-”

  “Telling your boss to keep me off the fucking premises so you can keep our friends-with-benefits subtle-”

  “And we're not friends-with-benefits!” Jungkook steps forward, grabbing your wrist before you can reach for the bottle of wine. You glare at him, hoping and praying that your eyes look menacing enough right now; you want him to know how angry you are. You want him to see how bad he's hurt you.

  His eyes trace your own. He's looking for forgiveness, but you won't give it to him. His lower lip trembles and he sucks it between his teeth.

  “I don't want us to be friends-with-benefits,” he whispers, fingers still curled round wrist. “I got carried away last night, but I didn't show up just to have a quickie and then leave. I want – I want more.”

  You stare back at him, unsure of what to say. There are so many responses that are playing on the tip of your tongue, but none of them seem right. Not when his eyes look like that. Not when he slowly leans forward and presses a kiss to the flesh just beneath your ear – right over a hickey he sucked into your skin the night before.

  You shiver, wrist sliding out of his suddenly slack grip.

  “Tell me if you want more,” he whispers.

  You close your eyes, tilting your head to the side. Your drunk and angry and turned on, and at this point it's too late to turn back. You do want more – you want it all. You want everything he is offering, but you know better.

  You step away from him. He looks at you, analyses the way you're standing, the way you fold your arms over your chest because you're so scared you'll crack again, so scared you'll reach out and touch him and lose yourself entirely.

  “I want you to leave,” you croak out. The words are acidic. They're a betrayal, but you have to say them.

  Jungkook's features harden. He looks down at the ground, brushes his foot against the carpet only once before he nods and says, “So that's it then? There's nothing I can do to make this better.”

    “You can't expect me to like this arrangement,” you reply. “I'm not sneaking around with you. I've got too much going on as it is without stressing over being caught with you.”

   Jungkook nods, but you're not entirely sure he understands. Maybe he hides a ton of stuff from Mr Bang. Maybe sneaking around is his forte, but you haven't had as much experience as him in this line of work. You're not ready to put your entire career on the line to be with someone who clearly doesn't care about you enough to want a real relationship.

  And god the thought hurts. The realisation hurts. Before, you failed to realise just how much of an integral role Jungkook played in your life, but looking at him now and knowing it will be the last time you'll ever be able to talk to him like a normal human being – it breaks something inside you. Little fourteen year old Y/N L/N is screaming in the back of your head, asking you what the hell you're doing.

  You push them away.

  Jungkook says nothing when he turns and walks out the door. He doesn't look back at you, barely utters a goodbye. He certainly doesn't apologise. He leaves you numb, watching the door swing closed behind him. You listen to the lift opening, closing, going down. You force yourself to stay rooted to the spot, resisting the urge to scramble to the window so you can watch him cross the car park.

  You have to let yourself believe that he is nothing more than another chapter in your life – necessary for your story, but you have to move on to know the conclusion.

  ---

  The pages are getting few and far between.

  Months have passed. You still see Jungkook everyday, but it's not how it was. He doesn't smile when he sees you. He doesn't text you to find out if you got home safe. If he can avoid looking at you at all, that is exactly what he does.

  In the beginning, you didn't want things to be awkward. You smiled at him, asked Yoongi if he was okay, made sure to check up on him when you could, but it got tiring after a while and you lost the motivation eventually. Jungkook wasn't giving you the same enthusiasm, so you no longer saw a point in trying.

  It's your last few days in Seoul. You can feel the end approaching, even though none of the Bangtan boys nor Mr Bang himself wants to admit it. Mr Bang lengthens the deadlines on your edits just to keep you around that little bit longer. The Bangtan boys invite you out for dinner, but you decline because you know Jungkook will be there and you don't want that kind of hassle.

  All in all, you are disappointed to say your last few months in Seoul have been terrible. Full of stress and avoidance, life truly did not give you an easy time of it.

  But your days are coming to an end. You stand by your bed now, looking at the packed bags. A lump grows in your throat; you swallow it down, swiping a hand beneath your eye in any attempt to hide the tears that are threatening to rise to the surface. No one is with you – it would be easy to just break down, because God only knows when you'll next get a chance, but you don't want to. Not even within the comfort of your own company. Crying means admitting you've been affected by the sudden shift in your life. Crying means admitting you got attached.

  Stupidly, obsessively attached.

  To a boy who was meant to be nothing more than a few texts on your phone screen.

  You busy yourself by reorganising everything yet again. It's the fifth time you've done it, and each time has been completely unnecessary. Your clothes are folded beautifully, your toiletries packed away, your sheets and work gear all tucked away neatly; you just need to do something. You finished the last few pages of the catalogue yesterday evening, sent them out and fled the Big Hit building before Mr Bang could make you emotional with any kind of farewell speech. You just needed out of there. Once you get back to your actual office, back home, you'll be fine. You'll be able to start over.

   It's as your reorganising that you realise you've missed something.

  How you missed it is completely beyond you, considering you've been through this five times already. You shoot up, spin around and glimpse your laptop on your desk, untouched for three days now. You've been too busy to even think about logging on and catching up with your gaming; besides, you didn't want to game. Not if Jungkook wasn't on the phone, yelling at you for the most trivial of things.

  But now seems a good a time as any.

  You slowly open it up, press your password in and wait for the Minecraft game to load up. It's ten at night, so nobody you talk to will be active; the game will be full of complete strangers, will be no fun. You'll sign out of it in a few minutes and go back to moping round your apartment, but at least you can say you've tried. It's a step in the right direction, a sign that maybe the spell Jungkook cast over you has melted away a little bit.

  You click on the server you so frequently play on, and look through the list of people active.

  GoldenJeon.

  You should delete it. The whole game, just get rid of it. It's no fun without Jungkook, but after the fight you had, it's no fun with him either. You don't want to play at all, so what's the point of even having it on your laptop?

  Despite these thoughts, the sense of them, you're unable to do anything but stare at his name. Your little character waits for the timer to start, signalling the beginning of the game, but you're not even preparing yourself for it. You're just staring at his name, blinking in gold letters.

   And then your phone chimes.

  Even though he hasn't texted you in weeks, you know it's him. You glance over, catch sight of his name, and you ask yourself why you even kept his number in the first place.

  Jungkook: Please don't surprise me this time.

  You bite your lip. That son of a bitch; he knows exactly what he's doing. He's prodding at your competitive side just to get a reaction out of you.

   But he's done it now.

   The timer counts down from three. As soon as the sirens go off, your hands are glued to the mouse and keyboard, and you're latching your view on Jungkook as his tiny little box character makes a dash directly for the woods; fool. He has no weaponry. Whilst everyone else headed straight for the chests in the centre of the map, Jungkook turned the other direction, thinking he would be doing something good by getting away whilst everyone else was distracted.

   However, you are not one of them distracted people.

   You sprint after him, even as your brain screams at you to just turn the bloody thing off and get back to being an Adult.

   You follow him deeply into the match, your phone chiming away at the side of you; it's Jungkook having a crisis, begging you to not follow him this time. You know he's only saying this because you will – you'll follow him, you'll kill his character and then you'll be reminded of the last time you did it, when Jungkook realised he could come over and yell at you in person if he so pleased.

    His character sprints through the map, gathering supplies and you follow him until he finally comes to a stop and you calculate your chances of survival if you were to just whack his head off now. You make your character crouch, duck behind a door frame as he shuffles around an abandoned house made out of bedrock (bedrock!).

   Your phone rings. You click ACCEPT without even thinking.

   “Where are you?” His voice his gravelly. It hurts to hear it.

   “Now why would I tell you that?” you ask.

    “I don't know why I never learn,” he grumbles. “You do this to me, you know. You make my head go somewhere else, and I can't use my common sense.”

   Your heart thunders. “It works in my favour, so I don't really mind.”

    “Are you gonna pop up out of nowhere again?”

  “Would you like me to?”

   Jungkook pauses. “I would. I really would.”

   “But then you'll be out of the game,” you tease. “Poor little Jungkook, losing another round of Hunger Games because he can't think straight.”

   He growls. It startles you, distracting you for a moment too long. Your eyes snap down to your phone, and you're positive it's only for a brief second, but by the time you look back up at the laptop screen, your character is being beaten bloody by GoldenJeon's stone pickaxe.

  Y/N has left the game.

  Jungkook doesn't laugh, doesn't yell in victory like you do every time you win. There's a single breath of humour-filled air before he says, “Got you.” And then he hangs up.

  You sit there, staring at the end credits and trying desperately to catch your breath; what the hell just happened? What the hell just happened?!

  He called you, is what happened. He had the nerve to pick up the phone and call you as if nothing had been going on these past few weeks, as if he hadn't ignored you, as if he hadn't completely ripped your heart from your chest and forced you to end things with him.

    You grit your teeth. This is what he wants. He wants you to play right into his hands so he can get the control back, and you're not about to let him get away with it.

   So you stand up, grab your coat and march right out the door.

   You know where the dorms are. You've been invited over more times than you can count, have broken Taehyung's heart by declining these invites, but you can't think of a better reason to make an appearance now. You shrug your coat on as you march down the street, turn the corner and head straight for the front desk.

  You're recognised and let inside almost immediately. You don't realise your relief until you're halfway up the stairs, heart thundering in your ears – this scene is so familiar. It's been reversed, but it's so familiar, and it makes your heart rate speed up to a rate you're pretty sure is considered unhealthy.

    You had won the game last time. Jungkook has marched into your apartment.

    Jungkook won the game this time. It's only fair for you to give him the same courtesy.

    You rack your knuckles against the door and wait for someone to answer. It takes two seconds, and there is nothing but undeniable relief when it's Jungkook's grinning face that appears in the doorway and nobody elses.

  You slam your hands into his shoulders and push him backwards. “You son of a bitch. I wasn't even ready!”

   Jungkook loops his arms round your waist and tugs you into him. You're so lost. You're so worked up and he looks so good, and he's just beaten you at a game you prided yourself on winning each and every time. He did it to tease you. He did it so this would happen, and you've walked right into his trap.

  But god, he smells so good, and his hair is slightly damp from a shower, and you're honestly prepared to make a fool of yourself if it means getting a glimpse of his toned torso one more time.

    “Sorry,” he says. “But I believe I won that round fair and square.”

  “You used a distraction tactic,” you hiss. “We never use a distraction tactic!”

  Jungkook raises a brow, tilting his head to the side. “I don't remember distracting you.”

   “You being on the phone at all was distracting enough.” You bundle your fists in his shirt, debate pulling him closer. You eventually decide against it and instead flatten your palms against his chest. “And then you kept making that stupid fucking noise, and I couldn't . . . I couldn't concentrate.”

   Jungkook's eyes flare. “I can't help it if you get distracted just by my voice.”

   “It wasn't your – Stop that!” You slap his chest and groan. “The point is, we need a rematch. That game wasn't fair, and you know it.”

   His hands tighten on your hips. You want to scream.

   “I really didn't take you as a sore loser,” he says.

   You scoff. “Don't act like you didn't come marching into my apartment when I won the last round.”

  That does it. The reminder settles between you, and you don't pull away even though you know you should. Jungkook's eyes – if possible – turn darker. Your breath hitches. The world is spinning too fast. You just want him to kiss you. You don't want any of this back and forth, teasing, talking in low voices – you just want him.

  You knot your hands in his shirt again. This time, you do pull him closer, but not by much. It's a little jerk that has his chest hitting lightly against your own, but he still isn't close enough for your liking.

   He inhales deeply. “I can't believe you're here after what I did.”

  You close your eyes. “We don't have to talk about that.”

  “I don't want to just sleep with you, Y/N.” He pulls away then, rakes his hands through his hair as if trying to restrain himself. “I told you on the day we argued that I don't just want to be friends-with-benefits. I want to be able to talk about things with you.”

    There are cotton balls in your mouth. It's hard to speak, so you just stare at him, hope that gets your point across.

  He bites his lip. “Is that what you want, too? Is that why you're here?”

   Is that what you want?

  On that first night, the first night Jungkook slept with you, you thought that was what you had. You'd never taken Jungkook as the type to have sex with someone and then just . . . leave, and that isn't what he did. Waking up to him cooking breakfast and his scent on your pillows felt almost natural.

  So of course you want it. You want him – not his body, but him. All of him.

    You swallow thickly and step closer. “If we're gonna make this work, we have to sort a few things out.”

   He nods too quickly, too enthusiastically. It rips your heart out of your chest. “Of course.”

  “I'm going back home in a few days,” you say, and Jungkook's hopeful expression fades. “I don't know – I don't know what that means for you. I don't know if that will make things easier. I don't know if me not physically being here will suddenly make Mr Bang let you date me, but-”

   Jungkook groans low in his throat. “I don't care about Mr Bang. I care about you.” He steps forward and cups your face with one large hand. “I made a mistake. I was so caught up in my contract that I didn't even stop to think about how Mr Bang would take my own feelings into consideration.”

   Your jaw drops, eyes snapping up. “What are you talking about?”

  “Mr Bang knows we – we talk,” Jungkook stammers.

   You step out of his grip. “He knows you went against the contract?”

  “In the beginning,” Jungkook says. “He was disappointed, but he's known me since I was fifteen. I guess he took pity on me, because I was a mess when I went into work that day and told him. I'd just reached my breaking point.”

   “And he was okay with it?”

   “As I said, he was disappointed. Thought he could trust me and all that.” Jungkook winces. You place a comforting hand on his arm, knowing how hard it must have been for him to have disappointed one of the people he looks up to. “I said I was sorry, and then he – he asked me how things between you and I were going, and I got really confused. He said it as if we were together.”

   You bite your lip. “Okay...”

   “I turned round and told him you'd ended things because you didn't want to be sneaking around, and he just looked at me like I was insane. He asked me what I was doing, told me to talk to you and then he let me have the day off.”

   You swallow the golf ball sized lump in your throat, not sure what to say but knowing for a fact that you are really gonna have to thank Mr Bang for this.

   Jungkook rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “So I went home, logged onto Minecraft to see if you were there – you weren't, but I waited.”

  “You waited.”

  “And then you came online and I took my chance.”

   “You did indeed.”

   Jungkook lowers his voice to a whisper. “And now you're here.” It's almost like he's talking to himself, even though his eyes are burning holes in your own. “You're here and you're not saying anything.”

    You don't need to say anything. There are no words that can possible portray what you're feeling right now, so you do the next best thing. It's straight out of a cheesy romance movie, but you've learned from the best and you launch yourself into his arms, kissing him with the need and desperation that has been building in your system for weeks now.

   Jungkook grunts into your mouth, his hands gripping your waist. The two of you stumble until the back of Jungkook's knees are hitting against the arm of the sofa and he's falling backwards into the plush cushions; he doesn't let go of you, and your body ends up right on top of his own.

   You kiss him again, and again, and again. Not just on the lips, but everywhere. Peppered kisses behind his ear, the tip of his nose, the corner of his mouth, his chin, his cheeks. Everywhere until he's giggling and trying to push you away from him.

    “You still played unfairly today,” you pant, exaggerating each word with a kiss to his forehead. “I want revenge.”

    “I'm excited to – hey! - find out how you get that revenge,” he replies, crinkling his nose up when you go to press yet another kiss there.

   His fingers are just starting to grip onto your belt loops when the door behind him opens. Jungkook's head snaps up, his hands tightening to keep you in place. Taehyung and Namjoon walk in, side-by-side, but immediately stop and raise their brows when they see the position you are currently in.

   Jungkook wriggles beneath you. You shoot upright, struggling to find your footing again. Jungkook grunts when you're forced to shove against his chest to get off the sofa. You turn to the two members of Bangtan and grin as Jungkook flops back onto the sofa and groans.

    Namjoon is the first to speak. “Hey Y/N. . . I see you took Taehyung's invitation.”

   “I did!” you exclaim, and then quieter, “I did. It's a lovely place you've got here.”

   “Apparently we've also got a lovely maknae,” Taehyung says, wriggling his brows, and Jungkook buries his head in the sofa pillows. “I always knew something was going on with you two; you're the only person I know who can distract Jungkook long enough to break him away from his work.”

   You raise a brow, flicking your eyes down to the boy in question. He peeks at you with one eye, half of his face still pressed into the cushions, and grins an embarrassed grin. You smile right back, pushing down a laugh.

   “Come on, Tae,” Namjoon chuckles. “Let's leave them alone for a bit. I think they have a lot of catching up to do.”

  Taehyung rolls his eyes, mouths Use protection before he and Namjoon turn and leave the room. You glance back at Jungkook, raise a brow.

    “He's totally lying, of course,” he assures, voice muffled.

   You chuckle and bound back onto the sofa, circling your arms round his torso and going back to pressing loving little kisses to every part of his face you can think of.

   ---

   Jungkook presses his chin into the crown of your head and sighs yet again. “You're still so tiny.”

   “I'll literally start walking home now.”

  He groans, pulling you closer to his chest. “Don't say home. You're home is meant to be with me.”

   You close your eyes and tilt your head back. It rests in the hollow of his throat. You want to live there.

   “I'll visit you,” you say, even though it's not enough. It'll never be enough. “We managed to keep in touch since we were fourteen – this isn't anything new.”

    He sighs again. “I know. We'll make it work, just like we always do.” His arms tighten on your waist. “I'm just gonna miss this, that's all. I'm gonna miss you – you in your physical form.”

  “In what way do you mean physical form, Jeon Jungkook?”

   He leans down and nips your earlobe with his teeth. “Whatever form you're offering.”

   You chuckle and shake your head, beckoning him away. He goes back to resting his chin atop your head, the two of you looking out for the train that will soon be pulling up to take you home. Your bag is packed, but Jungkook placed it a few feet away because he didn't want to admit that all of your stuff was in there – that means permanent, apparently. Packing up your stuff means there's no option to come back. Looking at your suitcase, filled to the brim with the clothes he's seen you in, the clothes he's ripped off of you, made him uncomfortable.

    “I feel like adults are meant to handle this type of thing a lot better,” he says suddenly.

   You look up; his chin slides to your forehead as he refuses to move. “What do you mean?”

  He shrugs. “Like – relationships. Love. Stuff like that. I should have grown out of my mine, mine, mine phase, but the idea of you just . . . walking away is literally ripping me open.”

    You bite your lip. “Jungkook...”

   “I get it if you don't feel the same way. I'm not asking you to.” He shrugs again, grabbing your chin and tilting your head back so he can put his chin back where he is most comfortable. “It's only been a few months and I already feel like you should just be by my side all the time.”

   “I wish I could be.”

   “You do?”

   “I don't think I've ever clicked with someone like I click with you, Jungkook. I feel just as awful about leaving.”

    He sighs. Again. If you made this into a drinking game – drink any time Jungkook sighs – you would be falling head first into the train tracks by now.

    He hugs you impossibly closer, and the two of you fall into a thoughtful silence. In the distance, the whistle of the train sounds and you close your eyes, as if in doing so, you can somehow transport somewhere far, far away, with only Jungkook to keep you company.

   But reality is a bitch, and it slaps you in the face when the train pulls up and people start piling onto the carriages.

  You turn, quickly wrapping your arms around his shoulders and kissing him, putting everything you can into the way your lips mould against his. He groans against your mouth – he always does – and he tightens his grip and you hope to God he just refuses to let go. You two can just live here, in this underground station, tangled in each others arms forever. You'll become statues, a part of the structure and nobody will bother you again.

   But the conductor calls a warning,and you know you have to go.

  You pull away. Jungkook's face falls, and his thumbs swipe beneath your eye. You didn't even realise you were crying until he shakes his head and says, “Soon. We'll see each other soon.”

   You nod, biting your bottom lip. You say the first thing that comes to mind, which might not be the best strategy considering this is the last thing you'll get to say for quite a while, but nonetheless, it's a perfect parting confession.

   “I love you, GoldenJeon.”

   His eyes widen. You panic, because that was certainly not what you planned on saying. He reaches towards you, but you press a final kiss to his lips, grab your suitcase and dart off towards the train only seconds before the doors close behind you.

   As the train speeds off, you turn in your seat. Jungkook is still stood on the platform, one hand raised to his lips and his eyes lowered to the floor.

    ---

  You're in your pyjamas again. Boring, stupid old pyjamas. You'd left them behind for a reason – you're wearing them now because you're trying to get back into routine. You have to be at the office tomorrow. You have to look Mr Grey in the eyes and thank him for the opportunity even though he was the one who ordered you home. You shouldn't feel angry, but you do.

  You press PLAY on your movie once again, having paused it to go and gather some ice cream and your laptop. You and Jungkook have only texted the odd time since you got home, with him claiming he wants to give you time to rest and you promising him that you were definitely, one hundred percent in bed and only seconds away from falling asleep.

   Turns out, falling asleep without Jungkook's arms around you is a lot more difficult than you'd originally anticipated.

  It's so weird. It's a phenomenon, considering you fell asleep without him your entire life. But now that you'd got a taste of just how luxurious sleep can actually feel, it's difficult to go back to square one.

   You click on the tiny little Minecraft icon and watch the screen load. It's almost instinctive when you log onto the all-too-familiar server. Again, it's much too late for Jungkook to be online – he told you he was doing some late night editing for one of his Golden Closet Videos, and you've seen him when he starts editing; he won't be looking away from that complicated editing screen for another few hours at least. His attention will be nowhere near Minecraft.

    It loads up, and of course, the little shit has lied to you.

  GoldenJeon is online.

  You narrow your eyes, hoping and praying he doesn't notice the little Y/N is online that appears in the corner.  

   But he's GoldenJeon. He notices everything.

   Your phone chimes. You wince, cautiously looking over as Jungkook's name flashes on screen.

  Jungkook: You weren't asleep for very long.

  Y/N: you weren't editing for very long.

  Jungkook: It's gonna be very difficult for me to come over and have sex if you win this match, you know. You didn't think this through.

  Y/N: i'm sure phone sex will be just as sexy.

  Jungkook: Let's give it a go.

  The match begins, and you win. It's no surprise – at this point, you're fairly certain Jungkook is just letting you win because he wants an excuse to come over.

   Or in this case, an excuse to call you.

   You pick up before the first ring is even over. Jungkook laughs at your eagerness before saying, “Miss me?”

   “More than anything. Now talk dirty.”

   “I love you.”

   You freeze.

   “Oh, did you like that one?” he teases. You can hear him grinning. You want to smother him – or kiss him. Either way, you can do neither. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

   “Jungkook-”

  “I've loved you since I was fourteen years old and you were just a weird little character on a shit, low budget game.”

   “I don't want you to talk dirty any more. Please keep making fun of me before I combust.”

  Jungkook chuckles. “Tell me you love me back.”

   “I said it first. You know I-”

   “Say it again. We're having phone sex, remember?”

   You bite your lip. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

    He inhales shakily. You can hear it, the rattle in his chest, the way he bites his bottom lip. You can imagine him tilting his head back in that way he does so often when you insist on walking downstairs in one of his shirts, or nothing at all if you're feeling particularly playful that day.

   “You're right, you know,” he whispers.

   “About?”

   “Phone sex really is just as sexy as the real thing.”

[fyeah-bangtan7]

The Greatest Showmen: An exclusive look inside the world of BTS

Maybe you saw them piled on the klieg-lit couches of Ellen DeGeneres and Jimmy Fallon, trading light bilingual banter with their starstruck hosts. Maybe it was when they spoke solemnly on mental health and self-love at the United Nations General Assembly last September, or when a wall of dolphin-like screams greeted them as they rolled into February’s Grammy Awards in trim matching tuxedos, their hair tinted various shades of pastel macaron.

Or maybe the cover of this magazine is the first time you’ve truly noticed BTS. (Stranger things have happened in 2019.) But it seems indisputable to say that sometime over the past two years, the septet have taken over the world: two No. 1 albums on the Billboard chart in the span of three months; more than 5 billion streams combined on Apple Music and Spotify; a string of sold-out concert dates from the Staples Center in Los Angeles to London’s famed Wembley Stadium.

That hardly makes them the first boy band to dominate a cultural moment, but the fact that they are all Korean-born and -raised, singing Korean-language songs only occasionally sprinkled with English, feels like something brand-new. And it speaks to an unprecedented kind of global currency — one where pop music moves without barriers or borders, even as geopolitics seem to retreat further behind hard lines and high walls.

On a blindingly bright March day in Seoul five weeks before the release of their upcoming sixth EP, Map of the Soul: Persona, the band is holed up at their record label Big Hit Entertainment, preparing. Buildings like this are where much of the magic of the phenomenon known as K-pop happens, though Big Hit’s headquarters on a quiet side street in the city’s Gangnam district (yes, the same one Psy sang about in his 2012 smash “Gangnam Style”) look a lot like any other tech office: sleek poured-cement corridors and glass-box conference rooms scattered with well-stocked mini-fridges, plush toys, and the occasional beanbag chair. Only a display case stacked with a truly staggering number of sales plaques and statuettes, and a glossy large-scale photo print of BTS at their sold-out concert at New York’s Citi Field last October, give away the business they do here.

Down a long hallway, all seven members lounge in various states of readiness as they gear up to pretape a thank-you video for an iHeartRadio award they won’t be able to accept in person. Jimin, bleached blond and pillow-lipped, is having his hair carefully flat-ironed in a wardrobe room filled with racks of coordinated denim and neon streetwear. Dozens of pairs of pristine Nikes and Converse are piled in a corner; a lone fun-fur jacket the color of strawberry ice cream slumps on a hanger behind him, like a neglected Fraggle.

Jung Kook, the baby of the band at 21, sits obediently in a folding chair in the dance studio, also having his hair tended to; J-Hope strides by in a white dress shirt emblazoned with an over-size silk-screen of Bart Simpson, then grins and disappears. Suga, V, and Jin huddle together on low sofas next door, scrolling through their phones and occasionally singing fragments of American R&B star Khalid’s “My Bad.” Twenty-four-year-old RM, the group’s de facto leader and lone fluent English speaker, is the last to arrive.

They run through their speech for a camera crew and do maybe four or five takes until the director is satisfied. Then they settle in for a conversation in an airy break room upstairs, accompanied by their longtime translator, a large, amiable bald man in a business suit named John. (Unless noted, the answers of all members other than RM come through him.) Several weeks after returning from their first Grammys, they’re still riding high off the experience: presenting the award to H.E.R. for Best R&B Album; chatting with Shawn Mendes in the men’s room — “I was like, ‘Do I need to tell him who I am?’ ” Jimin remembers, “but then he said hello first, which was really nice” — and being seated only a sequin’s throw from Dolly Parton. (“She was right there in front of us!” marvels Jung Kook. “Amazing.”)

As happily dazzled as they still seem to be by other celebrities, seeing BTS in the flesh triggers the same disorienting but not unpleasant sense of unreality. On screen, the band can look disconcertingly pretty; avatars of a sort of poreless, almost postgender beauty who seem to exist inside their own real-life Snapchat filters. In person they’re still ridiculously good-looking, but in a much more relatable, boyish way: bangs mussed, even the occasional chapped lip or small (okay, minuscule) blemish. Take away their Balenciaga high-tops and the discreet double Cs of Chanel jewelry, and they could almost be the cute college guy next to you at the coffee shop or on the train.

Except riding public transportation or casually dropping into a Starbucks stopped being an option for BTS a long time ago. In Seoul, their faces are plastered across makeup kiosks and street signs and the sides of buses — even on massive digital billboards that are bought and paid for by private citizens to acknowledge a beloved member’s birthday, or just because. In cities like São Paulo and Tokyo and Paris, fans camp out days in advance for concerts and public appearances, obsessively trading trivia and rumored sightings. When the band posted their takethis link opens in a new tab on Drake’s #InMyFeelingsChallenge, it became the most liked tweet of 2018; this summer, Mattel will release an official line of BTS dolls.

In the still center of this bizarre fame hurricane, the boys have managed to find a few pockets of normalcy. Jimin wistfully recalls a time in Chicago when they were able to slip out of their hotel rooms undetected “late at night, just to get some fresh air.” But most places, he admits, “that’s really out of the question” unless they split into smaller groups. “I mean, look at us,” RM adds with a laugh, running a hand through his own silver-nickel bangs. “Seven boys with dyed hair! It’s really too much.”

Instead, they focus on the things they can do, like sneaking out to the movies (“Always the latest or earliest show,” says RM, if they want to stay unseen), shopping online (V loves eBay, especially for clothes), going fishing, playing StarCraft at home. Group housing is actually common for K-pop stars, and BTS seem to appreciate the shared stability: “We’ve been living together for a while now, almost eight, nine years,” says Jimin. “So in the beginning we had a lot of arguments and conflicts. But we’ve reached the point where we can communicate wordlessly, basically just by watching each other and reading the expressions.”

Though they’re unfailingly polite and attentive in interviews, there’s a certain amount of contained chaos when they’re all together — a sort of tumbling-puppy cyclone of playful shoves, back slaps, and complicated handshakes — but also a surprising, endearing sweetness to the way they treat one another in quieter moments. When a question is posed to the group, they work hard to make sure each one of them is heard, and if someone is struggling to find a word, they’ll quickly reach out for a reassuring knee pat or side hug.

Even with the language barrier of speaking to an American reporter, though, their individual personalities quickly start to emerge: Asked to name their earliest pop memories, the answers land all over the map. “I loved Pussycat Dolls’ ‘Stickwitu,’ ’’ says J-Hope, the group’s most accomplished dancer, snapping his fingers and cooing the chorus. For RM, who started out in Seoul’s underground rap scene, it’s Eminem’s “Lose Yourself.” (“I think that’s, like, a life pick for so many people around the world,” he admits, “but I can’t forget when I first watched 8 Mile and heard the guitars. That was my turning point.”) For Jung Kook, who has released covers of Justin Bieber and Troye Sivan songs, it was Richard Marx’s deathless lite-FM ballad “Now and Forever.”

The soft-spoken Suga cites John Lennon’s “Imagine” as “the first song I fell in love with,” which feels like a fitting gateway to ask where BTS see themselves in the pantheon of musical heartthrobs that the Fab Four essentially invented. “Sometimes it feels really embarrassing when someone calls us a 21st-century Beatles or something like that,” RM concedes. “But if they want to call us a boy band, then we’re a boy band. If they want to call us a boy group, we’re a boy group. If they want to call us K-pop, then we’re cool with K-pop.”

Ah, K-pop. In South Korea, where the genre has become not just a prime cultural commodity but a multibillion-dollar export, the players, known as “idols,” go through rigorous Fame-style schooling in song and dance and media training that often goes on for years before they’re considered ready for the spotlight. And it’s paid off: Business has been booming since the early ’90s, with stars from Girls’ Generation to G-Dragoncrossing over to various markets across Asia, Europe, and the Americas. But while the sound has remained fairly consistent — a canny mix of club-ready beats, hyper-sweetened choruses, and the more urban inflections of Western hip-hop and R&B — it’s never before landed with the lightning-bolt impact of BTS.

Bang Si-Hyuk, the CEO and founder of Big Hit, began putting the band together in 2010, when all the members were in their tweens or teens: RM and Suga were coming up on the local rap scene; Jimin and J-Hope studied dance at performing-arts schools; V, who focused on singing early on, joined officially in 2013. Jin was an aspiring actor recruited off the street for his striking looks; Jung Kook, now the group’s main vocalist, joined while he was still in junior high.

Though fansites tend to lean on their extracurricular differences (Jung Kook is a Virgo who loves pizza! V collects ties and clenches his teeth in his sleep!), each member genuinely does hold a unique space in the group’s process, whether it’s leaning more toward production, lyrics, or the supersize hooks the songs rest on. “With seven members we have seven different tastes, of course,” says RM. “So when it comes to songwriting, it’s like a big competition.” Occasionally, adds J-Hope, “we’ll write a lyric and decide, ‘This sort of reflects me [more], who I am and my own color,’ so we’ll want to keep that for a solo song.”

Because Big Hit doesn’t restrict their right to funnel some ideas into side projects — and because the appetite for more BTS-sourced material online is seemingly unquenchable — members regularly release solo work through EPs, SoundCloud, and mixtapes. But the primary impact still comes through the official album releases, and the particularly weighty subjects those songs take on — a notable departure from the narrow, often strenuously upbeat topics other K-pop artists typically cover.

“I promised the members from the very beginning that BTS’ music must come from their own stories,” says Bang; their subsequent openness about their own struggles with depression, self-doubt, and the pressure to conform took them all the way to the U.N. last fall, where RM addressed the band’s Love Myself campaign and #ENDviolence youth partnership with UNICEF.

“They stand out,” says Japanese-American DJ and producer Steve Aoki, a top-selling global dance artist who has also collaborated with the band on several tracks. “And I’m not just talking about K-pop. They add so much of their personality to the music and into their stories and how they present themselves. And the world has fallen in love with them because they are showing that vulnerable side that everyone wants to see.”

It helps, too, that the group’s more pointed messages are often slipped into the sticky aural peanut butter of anthems like “No More Dream,” “Dope,” and “Am I Wrong.” But they always appreciate the chance, Suga says, to get “a little more raw, a little more open.” RM elaborates: “I think it’s an endless dilemma for every artist, how much we should be frank and honest. But we try to reveal ourselves as much as we can.”

Honesty has its limits, of course, when you’re the biggest band in the world. Asked to describe the new album, due April 12 (at press time, it had already hit over 2.5 million in preorders), members offer up cryptic but enthusiastic koans like “therapeutic” and “refreshing crispness.” To be fair, they can’t say much in part because the new album’s track list isn’t actually finalized yet — late decisions being a luxury of in-house production — though they do agree to play one song, a propulsive rap-heavy banger called “Intro: Persona.” (It was released as a teaser March 27; you can watch the video herethis link opens in a new tab.)

When it comes to more personal questions about the challenges of dating or the goals they might want to pursue post-BTS, they pivot so gracefully to evasive, nonspecific answers, you almost can’t help but be impressed; it’s like watching a diplomat ice-dance. They want you to know that they are incredibly grateful for the devotion of their fans, and so blessed to be exactly where they are; that they really don’t think in terms of five- or 10-year plans. But they turn reflective when the subject of American pop’s holy grail, the Hot 100 singles chart, is raised. They cracked the top 10 last year with “Fake Love” but have yet to reach a higher spot, largely because mainstream radio airplay—a huge component of Hot 100 domination—still eludes them Stateside.

“It will have to be a great song,” Suga acknowledges, “but also there’s a whole strategy that’s associated with getting all the way up. And then there has to be a measure of luck, obviously. So what’s important for us is just to make good music and good performances and have those elements come together.” Does a Spanish-language smash like 2017’s “Despacito” — which spent a record 16 weeks at No. 1 — make them more optimistic about their own odds? “You know, Latin pop has its own Grammys in America, and it’s quite different,” RM says thoughtfully. “I don’t want to compare, but I think it’s even harder as an Asian group. A Hot 100 and a Grammy nomination, these are our goals. But they’re just goals — we don’t want to change our identity or our genuineness to get the number one. Like if we sing suddenly in full English, and change all these other things, then that’s not BTS. We’ll do everything, we’ll try. But if we couldn’t get number one or number five, that’s okay.”

Aoki, for one, has faith they’ll get there. “I think it’s 100 percent possible that a song sung entirely in Korean could crack the top of the Hot 100. I firmly believe that, and I really firmly believe that BTS can be the group that can do that. It’s going to pave the way for a lot of other groups, which they’ve already been doing—and when that happens, we’re all gonna celebrate.”

Back at Big Hit, though, the band has more immediate work to do. RM offers a quick tour of his production room (each member has his own dedicated space on site). The door outside is guarded by a quirky assemblage of figurines by the renowned street artist Kaws, but inside feels, incongruously, like stepping into a tiny, luxurious Sundance lodge that also just happens to have a soundboard: There’s a beautiful coffee table made from a single piece of black walnut; Navajo-style rugs; tasteful art on the walls. RM talks easily about his admiration for producers like Zedd and the Neptunes (“Pharrell Williams and Chad Hugo were my true idols in 2006, 2007. Pharrell’s voice! It’s so sexy, how he sings”), and plays down his own skills (“As a beatmaker, Suga is way better than me. I don’t even know how to play the piano — I just do the chords like this,” he insists, miming keyboard Muppet hands).

Then it’s back to the dance studio, where they’ve changed into track pants and T-shirts to run through new steps with a choreographer. It starts with a rough triangle formation, and an elaborate hip-swivel-into-pelvic-thrust/crotch-grab combo that actually plays much more innocently than it sounds, mostly because they keep stopping to crack each other up. Soon, though, they drill down — repeating the moves until they seem crisp but easy, almost an afterthought. It feels like time to leave them; the boys wave happily, shouting out a rowdy chorus of goodbyes. Then they turn back to the mirror, and keep dancing.

[clickbliss]

The Caligula Effect Overdose Review

by Amr (@siegarettes)

The Caligula Effect Overdose

Developer: FURYU Corporation

Publisher: NIS America

PS4, PC, Switch

When I originally reviewed The Caligula Effect for the Vita I found it to be a dire RPG, with a half-baked story and combat that was held back by its abysmal technical performance. I questioned the merit of returning to it for a PS4 remake. Still, I was curious if any of the original game could be salvaged. So once again I found myself, like the game’s protagonists, stuck in an endless loop of high school life.

A quick refresher for those who (justifiably) skipped the original release of Caligula: during a speech welcoming the incoming class, you begin to hallucinate, seeing distortions in the world around you, and in the faces of your classmates. You’ve “graduated” and become aware of the true nature of the world, specifically, that it’s a simulation named Moebius, whose residents live an endless loop of high school life, finishing school only to return to their first year again.

Moebius is the creation of Mu, a virtual idol who seeks to bring comfort to fans of hers who’ve experienced trauma, and provide them with a world free of pain. Your attempts to escape Moebius bring you into conflict with Digiheads, people corrupted by their strong desire to escape their lives, and the Ostinato Musicians, students who compose music for Mu and seek to increase her influence. Basically, you gotta fight Vocaloid stans and artists who refuse to stop posting and log off.

To stop them each of the members of the Going-Home Club have to awaken to their inner desires, channeling their strong impulses through the Catharsis Effect, which allows them to fight back against Moebius. Basically their arms turn into guns and stuff.

It’s a loaded premise, full of interesting directions to pursue. Questions about the nature of fandom, virtual personhood, the value of pushing back against a restrictive society and particularly the endless adolescence, are all potent for thematic conflicts. The endless high school life and stunted growth that comes with escapism could easily form a strong meta-commentary, taking aim at the culture and fans of anime and games that constantly returns to high school life and sometimes feels incapable of moving on. Or it could provide commentary on a homogeneous society with little tolerance for aberrations.

Don’t worry, they don’t do anything meaningful with any of these themes. Instead characters get their catharsis by talking at length about how much they hate fat people and other inane garbage, while the main plot relitigates the value of escapism in a format that’s been done better by other games and half the isekai genre.

Overdose is largely the same story, aside from allowing you to play as a female protagonist, introducing a few characters (one of which is even more unlikable than the original cast), and adding scenarios that allow you to take sides with the Ostinato Musicians. It definitely bulks up the story, but it’s hard to argue that it meaningfully alters it. The script does get small improvements, and in one case it helps make a character read more like their awakening come as a result of strong determination, rather than having a tantrum.

Most of the meaningful revisions come as a result to changes to the UI and battle system. Functionally, it’s mostly the same, but a visual overhaul and technical changes turn make the game a lot more readable. The UI moves the grungy, noisy art direction to a more fitting pop aesthetic, with the textured black elements becoming lighter, pastel colors with slight transparencies. Battle icons also take up a lot less screen estate, letting the visuals breathe and allowing the hectic and often crowded battles more room before they turn unreadable.

Best of all, the instant battle transitions now bloom into lovely pastel arenas, with digitized effects dancing around the borders, creating a window into the setting around you. The improved presentation works strongly in Caligula’s favor, since the battle system carried me through most of my time with it. Essentially, you’re using a series of predictions to carry out a chain of up to three actions per character, attempting to inflict status effects to interrupt enemy attacks and put them into a vulnerable state.

Characters move according to turn order, but their actions occur in real time once executed, and can be fine tuned to better interact with other characters’ moves. For example, you might set one character up to they counter two enemies’ melee attacks and send them airborne, have other characters juggle them with ranged attacks, then have another follow up when the enemy is downed to finish them off. It turns battles into interesting tactical problems, which when dealt with well become spectacles of stylish combos and super moves that lend a flair that calls to mind character action games. With good decision making even bosses can be interrupted and run over with the same momentum, providing a satisfying reward for playing well.

Of course, that’s only when everything plays out the way you want. Caligula throws a wrinkle into its battle system--the predictions of the enemy moves aren’t always accurate. The stronger the enemy the more likely they’ll be able to outwit you, and having backup plans to ensure your combos go off properly is key. Characters also need time to recharge their skill points after a few turns, which requires some long term planning to make sure you aren’t standing around out of energy while the enemy runs you over. These considerations keep battles from being predictable, but also makes an already finicky system more touchy. So while higher level enemies still prove engaging, later battles, with tons of fodder enemies and a larger squad of teammates, turns into a cacophony of abilities and explosions that are honestly better left to the auto-battle option.

At its most messy, these battles still provide the main impetus to keep playing, and Overdose’s welcome makeover helped it get closer to its ambition. It’s the one part of the game I can say I found all around enjoyable. The same can’t be said for its ambitious social system, which incorporates and massive web of characters to talk to, both in person and over the game’s version of the LINE messaging app. There are literally hundreds of these NPCs, each which you can have a quick chat with to raise your affinity with, rewarding you with bonuses and unlocking other, more reserved characters in the massive relationship chart. 

While I appreciate the sheer amount of effort it takes just to name these characters none of them have a unique appearance or dialogue, mostly spouting stock lines that barely make any sense. Worse, your chats with them over messenger amount to you sending them a series of random questions with no connecting throughline. I don’t know about you, but if someone kept asking if I liked strawberries or oranges then jumped to something like what my greatest fear was the next sentence I’d think they were a bot trying to get my passwords, not a relatable human being. You party doesn’t fare much better, since not even they get real conversations.

It’s even harder to escape comparisons to other high school life RPGs now, then it was at the time of its original release. Even if I’m not a fan of it, Persona 5’s shadow looms large over Caligula, since it explores similar themes and shares a history. Closer to Caligula’s scale, and maybe more relevant, Blue Reflection--Gust’s magical girl RPG--also released since then, which incorporates several similar ideas, but executes them more successfully. It’s hard not to look at the unique social media interactions and personal problems Blue Reflection gives to your schoolmates and see a better implementation of the generic, stock dialogue Caligula assigns to its high schoolers. It puts into perspective how thoughtless Caligula feels on that front.

I’m glad to see more games explore the space around modern day settings, and I’m all for more fake LINE interfaces where I can chat with friends. At the same time I can’t help but see that as a primary mode where The Caligula Effect Overdose falters. It can’t get by on the sheer novelty of the setting anymore, not with so many other notable players, and the story it tells nowhere near matches the ambition elsewhere.

Worse, it’s genuinely ugly and cruel in places where it doesn’t feel justified, and which it never earns the right to be. Every social aspect of the game is riddled with narrative shortcuts, hoping to blast through the story fast enough and overwhelm you with a massive quantity so that you don’t notice that it’s not telling a story with any substance. Overdose makes it more tolerable, and highlights the more enjoyable aspects of the combat and artwork, but in doing so ends up bringing further into focus the other places Caligula is lacking.

[patriciaselina]

Seiyuu Picture Book: Komatsu Shohei

I think that I just normally don’t bring my feelings to the surface. I won’t be able to make it if I don’t push my comfort zone to the point of overdoing it, and isn’t that the fun of being onstage?

Da Vinci News’ solo interview/photoshoot featuring Idolmaster Side M and DAYS’ Komatsu Shohei! The entire interview can be seen on Wordpress but is also under the cut.

[Source]

We go interview seiyuu who catch the eye of our editors, seiyuu we have our eyes on, about their first jobs, up to their private time, and other things that we’ve noticed, and combine them with professionally-taken pictures for our popular project, the “Seiyuu Picture Book”.

For this 162nd chapter, we have Komatsu Shohei, who plays Idolmaster Side M’s Kizaki Ren, and DAYS’ Satou Hideaki, among other roles.

Komatsu-san, you became a seiyuu through your experience with stages; how did you start getting into plays?

Komatsu: As a member of the theatre club in high school, I joined a prefectural tournament in my hometown of Fukuoka, but I missed getting the grand prize, and that was when I thought I wanted to continue acting. As I was being handed the consolation prize, I thought I wanted to try for the top prize another time, so I went to the Kyushu tournament.

Why did you join the theatre club?

Komatsu: Somehow…my father’s a karate black belter, and I also did karate since I was in elementary – I’d strike at the sandbag we had in our garden – all that I’d done up to middle school graduation was related to martial arts, so I said that come high school, I’d like to try doing something I want to do. At first I was too shy to go onstage, so I’d been in charge of stage backgrounds. But, since there was so few male actors, I’d also done acting on the side, and it reached a point where I started thinking taking part in plays was fun.

So it’s because of you losing in that tournament that the current Komatsu-san is here.

Komatsu: During that time, it was then that I realized just how seriously I had come to take acting. But because I was in a high school that focused on getting its students into university, I had to stop taking part in club activities after my second year. For the sake of continuing acting, I tried out saying “I’ll drop out of school!” and running away from home (lol)

You ran away!?

Komatsu: My father was against my plans, so I took a night bus going to Tokyo, and up until I reached Kokura Station, I didn’t take any calls from my parents. But since I took a phone call from my sister, somehow or another my family managed to chase me to Kokura. When I saw my mother crying, of course I ended up thinking that I was horrible for making her cry. In the end they told me it was okay even if I didn’t go to college, as long as I finished high school, and I’d taken up part-time jobs in order to save up money so I could go to Tokyo.

Something straight out of a drama, wasn’t it. After all that, did your dad accept your choice?

Komatsu: Right now, they’re cheering me on. While I’m still far from getting the chance to be a lead actor, when they saw the live viewing at Fukuoka for the last Idolmaster Side M concert, he said something like “If that was me, I’d have done more. I’ll teach you how to kick.”

When I was still at my parents’ house, I’d taken up roles as an extra, but even then, if I didn’t take my morning prepwork seriously, my dad would get mad and I’d hear him say, “If you wanna do this, take it seriously!” I don’t think he’s given me his approval yet, but I think he at least recognizes that I am taking this seriously.

You’d been engrossed with the stage to such an extent – what do you think are its charms?

Komatsu: It’s probably because the stage is the only place where you can set yourself free of inhibitions, while still staying true to your real nature. Of course I’d caught the chuunibyou illness on my second year of middle school (lol) It came to the extent that my friends grew worried, and quickly stopped talking to me. I’d noticed that as I entered high school, so I kept to myself, didn’t talk much, stopped expressing myself.

So it was all thanks to your chuunibyou growing worse…!?

Komatsu: Well, it’s not just because of that (lol), I think that I just normally don’t bring my feelings to the surface. I won’t be able to make it if I don’t push my comfort zone to the point of overdoing it, and isn’t that the fun of being onstage?

In the beginning you belonged to the group called HIROZ. What kind of stages did you do?

Komatsu: Since I’d thought of going onstage, from the start I looked for a place whose main points were “action” and “performances”, and as part of that special troupe I’d been assigned to Kagawa prefecture; for around two years, every day, from morning ’til night, we’d do shows in the amusement park. As the stuntmen in hero shows, the main MCs on cruise attractions, as gourmet reporters, and the like. At the time, I was praised by people who told me “Your voice lingers in our ears.” I accepted that evaluation, and thought that, if I were to use [my voice] as ammo, wouldn’t it be better if I honed and weaponized it, so I set my sights on being a seiyuu.

And after that, you applied for the Seiyuu Awards’ Newcomer Discovery Audition.

Komatsu: I was around 23 when I left Kagawa for Tokyo – if I’d gone into a vocational school then, the risk would’ve been too high. So I self-studied with my voice, and as I searched for a company, I got accepted into auditions. I got rejected the first time around, and the second time I got into an internet training school named “Koebu”, and thankfully, during that year I was able to garner the most amount of votes. I wonder if that was the effect of me being able to do action and doing a high kick right there and then (lol)

Starting 2016, you became the voice for Idolmaster Side M’s Kizaki Ren. A carnivorous character, isn’t he.

Komatsu: Within the series his dancing is good enough to be considered top-class, and he’s a martial artist. I thought it best to apply for a role that suited me. Until a little while ago I knew nothing about the seiyuu industry, so I thought that if I became a seiyuu, I wouldn’t have to show my face [to the audience]. If that was so, I thought that I’d never get to take advantage of my own strengths, such as doing action [stunts]. But because Idolmaster Side M is the kind of franchise where one could actually end up singing and dancing on stage, if I take advantage of my action experience, I think that I’d be able to do a performance that won’t lose to anyone else.

That isn’t just limited to Idolmaster Side M; even in anime and games, there are lots of action-packed scenes.

Komatsu: For example, the voice that comes out when you punch someone – I have confidence that I can play that kind of situation with a sense of presence.

Last summer, you got to take part in the release event for your CD. What kind of feelings did you have, standing on stage as an “idol” for the first time?

Komatsu: More than the passion from just going onstage, I felt the power of the franchise even more strongly. I’m getting to see this scene through the eyes of the character I portray. That’s why, in order to prevent both the world within the franchise and my character’s image from collapsing in on itself, I make a conscious effort to only show what is expected from me, even if I’d want to show more.

As part of the three-man unit THE Kogadou, are there any things you keep in mind?

Komatsu: Taiga Takeru’s seiyuu Terashima Junta-san and Enjoji Michiru’s seiyuu Hamano Daiki-san are two people who I’d been deeply entangled with since I first entered the seiyuu world. I’m really grateful to have such good senpai as them, and thanks to that I think the atmosphere within our unit has become a good one. I’ve learned a lot from them in terms of performing, so I think I’d like to give back to them through my specialties of action [stunts] and dancing, and I hope to grow with them as both a member of the unit and as a seiyuu.

It’s now your second year since becoming a seiyuu. Did you get to have more seiyuu friends?

Komatsu: Sometimes I’d get to meet some when we work for Side M together. Because there’s little time for intermingling, we’d just chat about how we’d do our best together and stuff. I started as a seiyuu pretty late, so I’m older than everyone else. In the beginning everyone talked to me using keigo, but that doesn’t feel equalizing, so I’d tell them “casual speech is fine, let’s get along better.” One time we all went out for drinks, the next time we went flower viewing (lol)

If you go to an amusement park, you might confuse everyone, after all (lol) Do you have any hobbies you do during your private time?

Komatsu: Since I don’t have any hobbies and am searching for one, I got invited by my peers to play tabletop board games together, and I’ve started to think they’re fun. And then there’s muscle training in order to keep the muscles I have now. Since I keep saying action is my specialty, I’d get embarrassed if my friends from back then would think I’ve let myself go (lol)

You do your muscle training at home?

Komatsu: No – recently, I’ve found a nice place where I could do muscle training. It’s a public park near my house, but people never go there, so at night I do sit-ups on the bench, and I practice backflips (lol)

What kinds of works do you want to appear in as a voice actor from now on?

Komatsu: The fun in being onstage is where you get to interact with people, so as long as it’s a place where I think I can move forward with my own emotions, I’d do any kind of work, whether it be in anime or dubbing. Since I usually record my lines for app games on my own, and I’ve yet to have many lines in DAYS, I hope I’d be able to take part in more roles I can apply myself to.

Any current challenges?

Komatsu: Getting my emotions across, facing nothing but a microphone, with no conversation partner or audience in sight. It’s a very basic thing, but it’s very difficult and I still struggle with it up to now. I’d like to be better at acting.

Lastly, please go ahead and give a message to our readers.

Komatsu: If you know of a seiyuu named Komatsu Shohei – it doesn’t matter how you knew me; if you’d remembered me, that’s good enough. I’m not going about this [being a seiyuu] thing in the usual manner – I do stunts, backflips, and all that – but if you think you’d be fine with someone unusual, then by all means, please see the franchises I’d gotten to be part of. And from now on, I’ll do my best to be someone you’d be able to like more.

Profile (KenPro) | Twitter | Video comment

my translation index

The incident he mentions in the first question (losing at the tournament) is the same one he mentions in his first interview for Nizista.

Chuunibyou – the middle school second-year sickness; being an overly self-conscious teenager.

Like I kept saying in the Nizista interviews, Shohei means “action” in the sense of “action stunts”, so keep that in mind!

There are a lot – a LOT – of nuances that get lost in translation – he makes particularly deliberate word choices in some parts, but in some points the grammatical correctness wins out, and in some points the motive behind the sentence wins out. Like I keep saying, I can only promise up to “reasonable assurance” on this…

Keigo – polite speech, used by younger kouhai on their elders.

There is a picture of him playing what seems to be tabletop DnD with his Side M costars. He was the dragon.

Thanks for reading! Please do not redistribute this translation anywhere without credit or permission!

[thexxplace]

As The xx gear up to tour their new album, I See You, Oliver Sim reflects on a new version of himself

It was during The xx’s residency at New York’s Park Avenue Armory in March 2014 that Oliver Sim found out what stardom really looks like. “Those shows were crazy,” he says of their 25 performances at the former military headquarters on the Upper East Side. “The response we got, the people who came, the whole experience was mind-blowing.” Each night - at an event more like an art installation than a gig - the band performed encircled by an audience of just 40 people, who watched them play in complete silence. On the last night, A-list attendees included Jay Z, Beyoncè, Björk, Anohni and filmmakers Wes Anderson and Noah Baumbach. “Throughout the show I was facing (co-vocalist) Romy, and Madonna was standing directly behind her,” he says, reliving the moment. “Every time my gaze went up an inch, I was staring straight at her. It was surreal.”

Recognition and the sense of worth it brings is a central theme of The xx’s stunning new album, I See You. Recorded in Texas, New York, Los Angeles and Reykjavik as well as London, it sees this extravagantly talented South London trio - Sim, co-vocalist/guitarist Romy Madley-Croft and programmer Jamie Smith  - fully embracing their role as global players. “We wanted songs we could sing out,” says Sim, acknowledging the gaivanising effect Smith’s solo success with the rave-centric In Colour as Jamie xx had on the band. “We feel a lot more confident now. We want people to connect with the music and with us as people.”

While its predecessors - 2009′s xx and 2012′s Coexist - only contained arrangements the band could reproduce live, I See You is full of sonic surprises. From brassy opener Dangerous and the Hall & Oates sampling On Hold to the spooked space-gospel of Test Me, it nods to club culture while maintaining their trademark emotional intensity. As we’ll discover, however, for pop’s premier wallflowers learning to look the world in the eye hasn’t been easy.

London Fields, 3 January 2017, and the sky is the colour of flooded ashtray. It’s the first day back at work after the holidays, and a chance to catch up on the events of the last fortnight. Like the rest of the music community, Sim is still reeling from the death of George Michael on Christmas Day. For The xx, the star’s music holds a special significance. When Sim and Madley-Croft started making music as naïve 14-year-olds at the music-focused Elliott School in Putney, an early staple of their set was a cover of Wham’s Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go. “I’m a huge fan, we did it because that song is fun,” he says. “It was easier in the beginning to take ourselves not too seriously.” You sense that Michael must have loved The xx. With its minimalist beats and murmured vocals, their debut ushered in a new kind of suburban soul music: intimate, yet desolate. Sultry and seductive, the intertwining voices of Sim and Madley-Croft made the listener feel as though they were eavesdropping on private conversations as they quarrelled, confessed and made up. Yet  the simmering sexual tension was illusory - both, like Michael, are gay.

Winner of the Mercury Prize and one of only three gold-certified debuts by a British band in the last decade - along with Mumford & Sons, and One Direction - The xx’s stripped-bare sound quickly became a byword for understated cool. Sampled by Rihanna for Drunk on Love, covered by Shakira and an atmospheric staple of TV (CSI, Grey’s Anatomy, Gossip Girl), their ability to express complex emotions in a simple way was summed up by Kanye West after one of the armory shows. “He told us that our music reminded him of Steve Jobs, who’d taken something as big as the computer and put it into a cell phone,” says Sim with a grin. “Was he right? It’s not really for me to say, is it?”

Oliver Sim, 26, has the languid delivery of a late-night radio DJ and the dashing good looks of a 40s matinèe idol. Scrupulously polite, he exudes a warmth rarely found in pop stars. He’s also immaculately dressed. Today his 6ft 2in frame comes swathed in black turtleneck, trousers and boots, all by Ann Demeulemeester, giving the impression that he’s arrived off the catwalk rather than from his East London flat, ten minutes away. He modelled for Dior Homme last year, and is passionate about the relationship between fashion and music. “I think they can feed into each other so much,” he says, citing the example of gender-fluid Venezuelan producer Arca as someone willing to push the sartorial boundaries. “One of my favourite movies is Depeche Mode 101. Seeing these English musicians walking around small-town America in fetish gear - it’s such a bold image.”

A teenage fan of James Dean - “I liked the Hollywood rumours about him; the love affairs with men, that he was a masochist” - Sim’s firs pop-star crush was Chris Isaak. “I remember seeing the video for Wicked Game and thinking, ‘Now that is a cool man,’“ he recalls. “I had the same feeling when I saw Josh Homme. They made me excited, made me think, ‘That’s how I want to be.’“

Equally inspired by the look of 90s R’n’B artists The fugees, D’Angelo and En Vogue - “I’ve never seen wearing black as a goth thing, to me it’s chic” - his own signature look is central to The xx’s carefully cultivated image. “The xx do simple things very well,” explains Imogen Snell, creative consultant at label Young Turks. “They’re consistent and there’s a wonderful confidence to that. Oliver personally has a wide appeal. He’s confident, charming and beautiful, but also has a wonderful gentle sensitivity - as well as being incredibly down to earth and kind.” If Sim appears to have been born with impeccable taste, blame his parents. Raised in a council flat in South London by his mum (a social worker) and father (a charity administrator), he was encouraged to express himself from an early age. His dad - a fan of Talking Heads - brought him his first bass, while his mum took him to his first gig, The White Stripes at Brixton Academy.

Friends with Madley-Croft since nursery school - their parents were close - it was natural for the pair to play music together. Both cripplingly shy, they would initially exchange song ideas by email, with no ambition, at least on Sim’s part, to take it any further. “I left school thinking I wanted to be a nomad,” he says, almost wistfully. “Free-floating. Of course things didn’t work out like that.”

Signed by record label XL at 17, The xx were internationally famous while still teenagers. “We had no idea what was going on. We were thrown into it,” he says, recalling a rabbit-in-the-headlights showcase at New York’s CMJ in October 2009, reviewed by Pitchfork with the words: “Their live presence is not exactly dynamic.”

“We were promoting the album and we just didn’t have the answers,” he remembers. “Where does the simplicity come from? Where does the space come from? The truth was that those things happened through mistakes, who we are as people, and our own limitations.”

When The xx’s global touring commitments finally came to a close in 2014, Sim suddenly found himself at a loose end. “It was the most anti-climactic feeling,” he says, running his fingers through his hair. “We’d been on the road for so long with a tour manager looking after us and telling us where to go and suddenly I didn’t have that.” With Madley-Croft temporarily relocating to Los Angeles and Smith promoting In Colour worldwide, Sim filled the void by plunging headlong into the capital’s nightlife. “I wanted to celebrate being back in London - get a bit of life in me,” he says, choosing his words carefully. “I wouldn’t change it, but it wasn’t necessarily successful. I learned that I need something: not a routine, but a structure. Being idle is not my friend. I did a lot of regrettable things...” This self-destructive side of his personality reveals itself on I See You. “Am I too needy, am I too eager?” he sings in Say Something Loving, while the spectral Replica hints at an uncomfortable reconciliation. “Twenty-five and you’re just like me,” he sighs. “Is it in my nature to be stuck on repeat?”

While he doesn’t go into details, it took private interventions from his band mates to make him seek help. He’s been off alcohol for a year. “I’m in the programme,” he says, referring to the 12-steps of the AA. “I go to meetings. It’s fine. But I’m still figuring out how to celebrate.”

Spending an hour with the sparky, energised Sim, it’s clear sobriety suits him. He enthuses about Duncan Macmillan’s 2016 play about addictive urges, People, Places and Things and cites Trumbo - about blacklisted Hollywood screenwriter Dalton Trumbo - as the last film he saw; his New Year’s resolution, he says, is to “read more”. Being clean has also brought some unexpected bonuses. When The xx played across Europe in December, it was the first time he’d played live without having had a drink. “Booze took away a lot of nerves but it also dampened the highs,” he explains. “I’m not sure if it’s a spiritual thing, but when I’m up there it’s really intense. The connection with the audience is the strongest thrill there is.”

It’s time to go but there’s one last thing. Rather than play arenas in support of I See You, Sim explains they’re deliberately playing smaller, more intimate venues, including a record-breaking seven-night run at Brixton Academy. For Sim these shows will have a special significance. “I can still remember staring Jack White in the face,” he says, recalling the thrill of seeing The White Stripes there at 14. “Those are the nights you don’t forget. The album title is a message to the fans, saying that we can definitely spot them when we’re on stage.”

For Oliver Sim - songwriter, musician, model, A-list magnet and all-round pop visionary - it’s all about recognition. He says goodbye, offers a firm handshake, and strides away down the corridor. He’s got people to see.

(Interviewed by Paul Moody. Photos by Alasdair McLellan)

[nikkfreestyler-blog]

Bend it like freestyle: Meet Delhi’s freewheeling footballer Nikk

Ever heard of freestyle football? Well, you must have seen various videos of street footballers from the around trending on Facebook, that showcase their amazing dribbling and ball juggling tricks. Freestyle football is a subset of football that can be defined as the art of self-expression through football. The sport truly captures the essence of ‘joga bonito’, a popular Portuguese phrase that means to play the sport beautifully.

Delhi’s own freestyle footballer

21-year-old Nikhil Krishna is a professional freestyle footballer. He goes by the name Nikk Freestyler. The Delhiite, who graduated from Dyal Singh College, Delhi University, wants to popularise the art in the country. Nikk has appeared in an ad featuring Italian football legend Alessandro Del Piero, Dutch-Spanish footballer Hans Mulder and Spanish professional footballer Bruno Herrero Arias. He has also appeared in an ad for Delhi Dynamos, a football franchise that competes in Indian Super league. Nikk was also a part of the jury at the Indian freestyle championship in 2016 . He also works as a virtual coach for Active Fun Academy, an online education platform.

In a conversation with HT City, Nikk talks about the challenges he faced during his journey to become a professional in his field along with his future plans.

The beginning:

I used to play football when I was in the sixth grade and I loved it. I had joined a football club, but later I realised that there was not much scope. Hence, I switched to freestyle football. I don’t even know exactly why I switched. I guess I did it because I didn’t want to leave football completely. The art transformed my life forever. It helped me come out of my shell and shed stage fear. It gave me a lot of joy to express myself through this style. I could connect to the audience. Their appreciation after watching a show gave me a lot of satisfaction. Once I became a professional, the idea was to promote this art . Many in India do not know about freestyle football. I want to take the culture to every corner of the country.

Decoding freestyle football:

Freestyle football is about self-expression through football, while performing various tricks with any part of the body. I saw several videos of the football legends such as Ronaldinho and Cristiano Ronaldo surprising people on the streets with their skills. I got motivated after seeing their skills . Freestyling doesn’t need much space to practice . A small space can be utilised for practising. Football and futsal (another variation of football where the game is played on hard court and it’s a five-a-side match) need other players to play , but in freestyle football you can practise all alone or in a group. In freestyle football, you express yourself by showing your skills, whereas in other forms of football, you play to win.

Popularizing it in India:

Football and freestyle football is still not popular in India. People are obsessed with cricket in our country. However, football is gradually rising due to our own football leagues such as ISL (Indian Super League). But when it comes to freestyling, there are very few making attempts to spread the culture. My group is doing its bit by organising competitions with the help of Freestyle Football Federation. We need to spread awareness about the art by conducting workshops at various schools. Freestyle footballers can perform at college events, corporate events and product launches etc. The trend is slowly catching up, but it will take time to generate more awareness.

The challenges:

People does not recognise freestyle football as a life-changing art form. Also, since there is lack of awareness about the art, one can’t earn enough by doing shows.. There is no steady income and consistency in our work. There is also lack of recognition by media and funding is not sufficient. However, I am confident that with persistent efforts, the art will be very big one day, and we will be competing with globally famed freestyle footballers.

Favourite players and club:

Ronaldinho (from Brazil) and Cristiano Ronaldo (from Portugal) are my idols. I am a Real Madrid supporter.

Future goals:

To represent India at the world championship; to start a big academy in India to teach the art of freestyle football; to open an online platform for artists like us who are struggling to get work. It will help them get gigs.

Suggestion for upcoming freestylers:

It is not an art form that you can learn in haste. It takes time to grow and hone your art. Patience, hard work and dedication are the keys.

[dancewithmeplano]

Dance Dance Evolution: How K-pop Joined Today’s International Hip-Hop Scene

When my friends karaoke There’s just one guideline . This really is essential so we are able to be as absurd as you can, starting to warm up with Question Girls’“Nobody,” before getting into development for 2PM’s“Again and Again” and making the males to complete Brown-Eyed Girls’“Abracadabra.” I praise k pop for controlling to produce therefore much goofiness and nostalgia in my own nightlife.

However it’s additionally mind boggling to determine how these developments taken through my senior school have been developed since by party. Ten years later , only bored teens inadvertently pounding one another while resembling Question Girls’“Tell Me.” Alternatively we’ve nearby hip hop teams saving and importing, and learning movie shows dances using their own style to become listed on the discussion online. Perhaps they’ll create a several contacts visit a course brought with a choreographer on Sunday, and property a to become copy performers inside your preferred group’s next return.

Have we come to date? Although party happens to be an intrinsic section of E-pop’s visible elements, recent improvements in engineering – more social networking systems, greater-quality cameras, easier editing application – have permitted kpop party togo worldwide and combine into an ever more globalized hip hop picture. Create movie stations although choreographers determine in the shadows, but mind companies; performers and history landscape no further mix, but train classes and generate public followers. There’s an entire new variety of superstar in amusement environment that is today’s.

This trend possibly begins in 2007 with Me,” among the dances to attract press interest that is popular. Businesses started to up their ante in a research of the following party feeling, and recognized that appealing techniques were a method to garner push for brand new releases. Among the locations they considered was the Web – wherever performers were of tinkering with facebook, importing brief, grainy videos of the own items within the first stages. Although several had registered party teams, and were experts in the market, joined contests and labored for main popstars, their movies were meant for the understanding of the market number of fellow-artists.

“I never considered being fully a choreographer…or A-K-place choreographer,” stated Western ballerina within an appointment with Asiapacific Arts. “SM Activity simply discovered me [online], and requested me to choreograph for SHINee’s introduction song.” Initially a backup-dancer for Janet Jackson plus one of Gwen Stefani’s Harajuku Women, Nakasone is becoming among E-pop’s many productive choreographers, dealing with SM to create a number of their many renowned dances (SHINee’s “Lucifer,”SNSD’s“Genie,”f(x)’s“Nu ABO”). She notices that it had been suddenly kpop followers who first started wearing down her dances: “I simply made it-up after which people called the techniques I created. Like “Genie,” [the followers] created a title for that knee move…I’m amazed that that’s the things they saw.”

Grabbing the best choreographers up turned another arms-race between your Massive Three. YG Activity made a decision to use Filipino-National ballerina Shaun Evaristo, who served choreograph Taeyang’s“Wedding Dress” and “I Require A Woman,” and 2NE1’s“Clap Your Heads.” As dances increased into elaborate, creative shows to become valued within their own right, followers were no further simply dissecting and identifying k pop techniques, but earnestly understanding them; people all over the world started importing their very own party addresses online. (Kind any key k pop tune in to the research club of Facebook nowadays, and you’re assured to locate websites and websites of individuals, from elementary-school children to Taekwondo atheletes, bouncing for them.) K pop designers, also, reacted by keeping address contests, and importing their very own exercise movies that followers might study from – by which you’d periodically spot the existence of the partyinstructor. And gradually, a the choreographers accountable for them, but additionally not just the dances surfaced online.

There is today an energetic conversation occurring as copy performers and choreographers extended importing movies of the function, alongside established k pop releases, and enthusiast understandings of the items that are exact same. Although bouncing idols once offered like an intermediary between performers and party followers, interpersonal media had exposed the chance of immediate conversation and rapidly delivered along this wall. K pop started developing increasingly more noticeablyapparentcontacts towards the globe of party and hip hop.

Consider Filipino-National ballerina , who began as helper to Evaristo and caused YG before deciding in La. To commemorate Large Bang’s first show in L.A., Lucas kept a free of charge k pop party course which was therefore common, it turned her full time work; she ultimately began the organization MVP Elite to show dancing courses through the region. And she’s not alone that has institutionalized hip hop like a company with business room – Evaristo operates choreographer administration organization Motion Lifestylelizabeth alongside performers like Keone Madrid (BTS’s “Dope”), and Ian Eastwood (Vixx’s“Chained Up”); New Zealander Parris Goebel (CL’s“Hello Bitches”) has created an exercise heart on her party teams under The Structure Dance Studio.

In Seoul the highlight has considered 1MILLION, a comparatively new organization with experienced performers, and ideal exercise movies: their movies have big statements, correct illumination, and sharp video, skilled shows that basically market the business to a global market. Such movies are mesmerizing to look at about dance – you certainly understand the tunes getting used even although you know-nothing, as well as K-pop has already educated your mind movies to check out naturally what’s occurring on-screen.

This sort of exercise cut may be the new online that is standard. No further only a paperwork of what’s been created, additionally, it acts as a marketing device, along with part of an electronic profile. Powerful online followers have provided much more strength in social networking culture to a ballerina; the mixture of the correct followers and also the best application may start doorways to making items for that next k pop superstar. Which conclusion has progressively brought performers to make use of assets that were accessible to stick out in the bunch. They’re currently heading behind-the-moments to their lifestyles that are individual, participating with style manufacturers, and creating their very own music movies to create much more nonsense with fans.

If something, the increase of press- star performers that are experienced has additionally elevated the objectives positioned on k pop their dances as well as idols. Nowadays you will find idol-choreographers (Hoshi of Seventeen,Rocky of Astro) who frequently create dances due to their groups’ singles, and tv applications to emphasize the skills of dance idols (Dance 9, Struck the Phase). More regularly than not I’m floored from the sophisticated dances I observe in common MV releases, and also the thought that uses is: nicely, I’ll never have the ability to do that at karaoke. I abandon this new-wave of hip-hop with it performers to exhibit me what they’re with the capacity of.

Visitors, who’re some k pop performers and choreographers you like? You will find a lot of, it had been difficult to say all of them; shout-out for your favorites within the remarks below!

(YouTube [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10], Tokyo Weekender, LA Regular, Mochi Journal, Funcurve, The Structure Party Studio, Pictures via FuckYeahYGDancers, JYP Activity, facebook, Facebook)

The post Dance Dance Evolution: How K-pop Joined Today’s International Hip-Hop Scene appeared first on dance withme plano.

from dance withme plano http://www.dancewithmeplano.com/dance-dance-evolution-how-k-pop-joined-todays-international-hip-hop-scene/

[dancewithmeplano]

Dance Dance Evolution: How K-pop Joined Today’s International Hip-Hop Scene

When my friends karaoke There’s just one guideline . This really is essential so we are able to be as absurd as you can, starting to warm up with Question Girls’“Nobody,” before getting into development for 2PM’s“Again and Again” and making the males to complete Brown-Eyed Girls’“Abracadabra.” I praise k pop for controlling to produce therefore much goofiness and nostalgia in my own nightlife.

However it’s additionally mind boggling to determine how these developments taken through my senior school have been developed since by party. Ten years later , only bored teens inadvertently pounding one another while resembling Question Girls’“Tell Me.” Alternatively we’ve nearby hip hop teams saving and importing, and learning movie shows dances using their own style to become listed on the discussion online. Perhaps they’ll create a several contacts visit a course brought with a choreographer on Sunday, and property a to become copy performers inside your preferred group’s next return.

Have we come to date? Although party happens to be an intrinsic section of E-pop’s visible elements, recent improvements in engineering – more social networking systems, greater-quality cameras, easier editing application – have permitted kpop party togo worldwide and combine into an ever more globalized hip hop picture. Create movie stations although choreographers determine in the shadows, but mind companies; performers and history landscape no further mix, but train classes and generate public followers. There’s an entire new variety of superstar in amusement environment that is today’s.

This trend possibly begins in 2007 with Me,” among the dances to attract press interest that is popular. Businesses started to up their ante in a research of the following party feeling, and recognized that appealing techniques were a method to garner push for brand new releases. Among the locations they considered was the Web – wherever performers were of tinkering with facebook, importing brief, grainy videos of the own items within the first stages. Although several had registered party teams, and were experts in the market, joined contests and labored for main popstars, their movies were meant for the understanding of the market number of fellow-artists.

“I never considered being fully a choreographer…or A-K-place choreographer,” stated Western ballerina within an appointment with Asiapacific Arts. “SM Activity simply discovered me [online], and requested me to choreograph for SHINee’s introduction song.” Initially a backup-dancer for Janet Jackson plus one of Gwen Stefani’s Harajuku Women, Nakasone is becoming among E-pop’s many productive choreographers, dealing with SM to create a number of their many renowned dances (SHINee’s “Lucifer,”SNSD’s“Genie,”f(x)’s“Nu ABO”). She notices that it had been suddenly kpop followers who first started wearing down her dances: “I simply made it-up after which people called the techniques I created. Like “Genie,” [the followers] created a title for that knee move…I’m amazed that that’s the things they saw.”

Grabbing the best choreographers up turned another arms-race between your Massive Three. YG Activity made a decision to use Filipino-National ballerina Shaun Evaristo, who served choreograph Taeyang’s“Wedding Dress” and “I Require A Woman,” and 2NE1’s“Clap Your Heads.” As dances increased into elaborate, creative shows to become valued within their own right, followers were no further simply dissecting and identifying k pop techniques, but earnestly understanding them; people all over the world started importing their very own party addresses online. (Kind any key k pop tune in to the research club of Facebook nowadays, and you’re assured to locate websites and websites of individuals, from elementary-school children to Taekwondo atheletes, bouncing for them.) K pop designers, also, reacted by keeping address contests, and importing their very own exercise movies that followers might study from – by which you’d periodically spot the existence of the partyinstructor. And gradually, a the choreographers accountable for them, but additionally not just the dances surfaced online.

There is today an energetic conversation occurring as copy performers and choreographers extended importing movies of the function, alongside established k pop releases, and enthusiast understandings of the items that are exact same. Although bouncing idols once offered like an intermediary between performers and party followers, interpersonal media had exposed the chance of immediate conversation and rapidly delivered along this wall. K pop started developing increasingly more noticeablyapparentcontacts towards the globe of party and hip hop.

Consider Filipino-National ballerina , who began as helper to Evaristo and caused YG before deciding in La. To commemorate Large Bang’s first show in L.A., Lucas kept a free of charge k pop party course which was therefore common, it turned her full time work; she ultimately began the organization MVP Elite to show dancing courses through the region. And she’s not alone that has institutionalized hip hop like a company with business room – Evaristo operates choreographer administration organization Motion Lifestylelizabeth alongside performers like Keone Madrid (BTS’s “Dope”), and Ian Eastwood (Vixx’s“Chained Up”); New Zealander Parris Goebel (CL’s“Hello Bitches”) has created an exercise heart on her party teams under The Structure Dance Studio.

In Seoul the highlight has considered 1MILLION, a comparatively new organization with experienced performers, and ideal exercise movies: their movies have big statements, correct illumination, and sharp video, skilled shows that basically market the business to a global market. Such movies are mesmerizing to look at about dance – you certainly understand the tunes getting used even although you know-nothing, as well as K-pop has already educated your mind movies to check out naturally what’s occurring on-screen.

This sort of exercise cut may be the new online that is standard. No further only a paperwork of what’s been created, additionally, it acts as a marketing device, along with part of an electronic profile. Powerful online followers have provided much more strength in social networking culture to a ballerina; the mixture of the correct followers and also the best application may start doorways to making items for that next k pop superstar. Which conclusion has progressively brought performers to make use of assets that were accessible to stick out in the bunch. They’re currently heading behind-the-moments to their lifestyles that are individual, participating with style manufacturers, and creating their very own music movies to create much more nonsense with fans.

If something, the increase of press- star performers that are experienced has additionally elevated the objectives positioned on k pop their dances as well as idols. Nowadays you will find idol-choreographers (Hoshi of Seventeen,Rocky of Astro) who frequently create dances due to their groups’ singles, and tv applications to emphasize the skills of dance idols (Dance 9, Struck the Phase). More regularly than not I’m floored from the sophisticated dances I observe in common MV releases, and also the thought that uses is: nicely, I’ll never have the ability to do that at karaoke. I abandon this new-wave of hip-hop with it performers to exhibit me what they’re with the capacity of.

Visitors, who’re some k pop performers and choreographers you like? You will find a lot of, it had been difficult to say all of them; shout-out for your favorites within the remarks below!

(YouTube [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10], Tokyo Weekender, LA Regular, Mochi Journal, Funcurve, The Structure Party Studio, Pictures via FuckYeahYGDancers, JYP Activity, facebook, Facebook)

The post Dance Dance Evolution: How K-pop Joined Today’s International Hip-Hop Scene appeared first on dance withme plano.

from dance withme plano http://www.dancewithmeplano.com/dance-dance-evolution-how-k-pop-joined-todays-international-hip-hop-scene/