#the light hits * joomi

[beseira]

are you a dancer?

it’d been quite the while since seira had last been a trainee. she’d been a trainee for two years prior to debut, then an idol until last year, then she’d been practicing by herself, until now, a trainee again. on a probationary contract though. she was thankful and happy she was a trainee again, but the word probationary haunted her, scared her. she was set on giving her all, but she’d also given her all during next gen and it still hadn’t worked out for her. she was scared, but all she could do was attempt her best and work hard.

she wants to work on her rap, but she knows that shouldn’t be all she’s focusing on, her original rap got her this probationary contract, but she needs to show she can do more than just rap. it’s been a while since she last practiced her dancing, it was probably during next gen, she’s not sure how to start again, but she looks around the practice room as she stretches, her eyes landing on joomi. she scoots her way over to the other.

“joomi, right? the name is seira, or sunah if that’s easier to pronounce” her heart beats fast, she’s not the best at approaching strangers “are you uh, busy? i wanted to hear if you’d like to practice dance together?”.

sending it to... @bejoomi

[bejinyoung]

last act.

@bejoomi

he's been in this position a lot lately, he realizes. sweaty, still a little breathless, but basking in the quiet and contentment that follows release. it's joomi in bed with him again, of course, equally breathless and beautiful as they both come down from another amazing high. when was the last time jinyoung kept someone around this long? when was the last time he was so comfortable with another human sleeping in his bed at night, waking up to that same face in the morning, and blearily grumbling over a cup of coffee in the kitchen? he wouldn't be so dumb as to call it domestic or a relationship or anything of that nature. but it might be... something.

it's precisely because it might be something that jinyoung feels it coming to an end. this is what always happens to him; it's not so much the worry about someone catching feelings for him, but the other way around. if jinyoung starts coveting someone, wanting their time and attention more deeply than just on a whim, what will he do when they lose interest in him? he had already said enough good byes for a lifetime by the time he hit double digits; he promised himself no more, not unnecessarily. does he think joomi will disappear on him? someday, probably. there was a time in joomi's life before jinyoung where he was seemingly perfectly happy. there surely will be a time after too.

at least this time, the end is looking like something jinyoung won't have to call himself. with any luck, the universe will answer his prayers and the parting of ways will be out of his hands, for the most part. if he signs a contract, his hand does have a part in it. but really, it's the time demands of an entertainment company that will be his excuse. hopefully. maybe. two callbacks is pretty exciting, regardless.

"what are you going to do when i'm not around to do this to you?" jinyoung muses aloud, not quite realizing that his thoughts have partially become verbal. he traces his fingers along joomi's skin, feather-light and fondly smiling despite talk of leaving. "i'm still the best you've ever had, right?"

he leans over, suddenly filled with the urge to kiss joomi. so he does, perhaps too tenderly. he'd blame it on the warm, fuzzy feelings that tend to spring up post-coitus. "i have callbacks from companies," he tells joomi, pressing a kiss to his shoulder in lieu of punctuating the thought. "knock on wood, if everything goes right you might see a lot less of me." it should be sad, and maybe it sorta is. but mostly, jinyoung can't help but be excited to be taking a step forward again after so many backwards. for some reason, he expects joomi to feel the same for him.

[bejoomi]

♪ ┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅  GOING SOMEWHERE YOU NEVER THOUGHT OF BEFORE.

joomi isn’t ready.

he wasn’t ready to set foot in the studio when they told him he made it on the show, and he wasn’t ready to hear he’s second place. he wasn’t ready to stand under bright lights and an audience and a dozen of cameras, or to hear their next mission, or to practice any of it.

that’s one of the thoughts of many that race through his head during the days leading up to the performance of my turn in front of the judges. he also thinks about how little he belongs there; how little he deserves this; how disappointed everyone will be in their second place contestant sucking so bad at everything outside of playing the piano, and apparently, singing.

he has a lot to come to terms with, maybe the most of which, oddly, is the fact that he’s good at singing. he has an incredible voice, apparently. joomi never thought there was anything about him worth looking at or hearing, and it’s...incredibly uncomfortable for him, as are the cameras, and the attention, and everything else that comes with a survival show that thousands of people sent audition tapes into. he feels so sorry to them. he has no right to be here over them: him, someone that doesn’t ever want to be an idol, or a trainee, or even dance at all. he just wants to play his keyboard at the back of a stage with music so loud he should probably wear earplugs. 

he wants to go home. that’s how he spends the first few days. he tries his best while always teetering on the precipice of seeing himself out; of just walking up to someone on the camera crew, or one of the instructors, and telling them he needs to go home for one reason or another. overall, he is so ashamed of everything: ashamed to be so bad at dancing and rapping, ashamed to not want this, ashamed to be here at all.

the worst part is that he can’t think his way through it. his mind must be so boggled by everything happening that he can’t set his thoughts in order like he usually would, and then pick them apart and analyze them to find a solution or an answer. at first, it’s only confusion and despair and exhaustion. 

it's failure and incompetence and frustration.

at least he memorizes the lyrics quickly, and he can sing those well enough. he still has a hard time believing his voice is anything special, but at least he holds his own in that area.

dancing and rapping? not so much. he memorizes those quickly too, but what's the use of that if he still can't execute them well no matter how hard he tries? the rap isn't even hard. all he really needs to do is talk to the beat, and maybe he's just nervous because he's out of his depth, but he always manages to stumble over the words or rap off beat.

when it comes to dancing, he's hopeless. he knows what he should be dancing, and he tries, but his stupid body can't keep up, or can't extend enough, or can't hit a move sharp enough, or in the case of the beloathed kick at the beginning of the first chorus...he can't really do it at all.

he tries to stretch plenty before he dances, because he knows his body isn't used to any of this, and it would be easy for him to injure himself. he doesn't know how to build flexibility quickly enough to make that kick look at all presentable, though. he still tries.

he tries really hard. he doesn't know why, for how little he cares about his success on the show; how much he almost hopes he's eliminated sooner rather than later. maybe it's just for those thousands of other people he beat out for this sought after spot he takes up on the show. he doesn't want to give up. he's tired and he hates it and he wants to go home, but...he doesn't want to take this opportunity for granted; not because he wants it himself or is even thankful for it, but because other people must want it so badly. he wants to pretend he's worthy of it. he doesn't care if he does well, but he wants to at least...give it his best shot, just to say he did it; just so all of those others that want the position he has know he isn't just throwing it away.

so he dances, and he dances, and he dances, but not as much as some of the others, if only because he can hear his therapist in his ear telling him not to sacrifice his health for something he doesn't even want. he practices, but he tries not to skip meals, or get less than six hours of sleep each night, even as he grows progressively more determined, somehow.

he wants to learn the stupid dance. he wants to go through it without stumbling or missing beats. that's his only goal. he doesn't care if he hits the moves strongly or gracefully or like he should, as long as he hits them. he's always been a realistic person, if not a little pessimistic, and he thinks that's a reasonable enough hope for someone that has never danced a day before in his life.

everything is so unfamiliar. he tries to write songs when he gets home, hoping that a different outlet will free his mind of some of the overwhelming static, but all he hears when he tries to write something down is the chiming in the instrumental of my turn, or i will make you look at me. every time, he always thinks about how little he wants that.

by the time their performance in front of the judges comes, he's...not really nervous, strangely. maybe it comes with the apathy, and the comfort of knowing even if he totally blows it, he'll be able to go home and say he tried. if he does well...he doesn't know. he's trying not to think about making it another round.

joomi isn't a particularly religious person, but he is a curious one that seeks answers, so he studied many different ones over the course of his life. maybe it was searching for meaning, or hope, or some other soul-seeking, but he finds himself thinking something he thinks he read in the christian bible: do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. today has enough trouble for today, or something like that. jesus had a point with that one.

joomi, of all people, marks the dance steps before it's his turn to perform. he can at least make it through the routine doing this much. he can sing and mark the steps if it gets too hard. the judges will surely rip him apart, but that doesn't scare joomi.

then it's his turn.

he's not ready.

no, that's not true. he's ready; he just isn't any good, and he doesn't know if any amount of additional time could fix that.

he doesn't necessarily enter the room and face the judges with confidence, but he doesn't tremble under the weight of their gaze. he knows they probably expect (or at least hope) a lot from him, but he tries not to think about that, or the inevitability of their disappointment. instead, he bows, and introduces himself, and then stares at a spot on the wall.

he can hear his heart pounding in his ears in the silence of the room, but he tries not to think about that either. maybe, if he tries hard enough, he can fool himself into thinking he’s about to get on stage with his band. he can tell himself it’s not that different. it’s not that new. performing is performing.

the familiar synth chiming of my turn’s instrumental plays, and it’s now that he feels a little sick to his stomach. great timing.

he tells himself: it doesn’t have to be good. it just has to be done, and one way or another, he’s getting through this, and then he’ll finally have room to breathe.

luckily, the beginning of my turn is basically just singing and the smallest movements, and that much he can do.

having flutters is such a good feeling, right? just like this feeling i’m feeling while looking at you now

nothing about this is a good feeling, really, and he doesn’t even look at the judges. if he does, he’ll get distracted and mess up. he knows it. 

well, maybe he’ll chance it. 

when all he has to do is sing and walk forward, that’s when he looks up. he doesn’t take a moment to analyze their faces. he just looks, and focuses on the words, and the tiny movement of his face behind his hand.

going somewhere you never thought of before try covering your eyes take a deep breath and open them up

that’s where the easy part ends, and so does his eye contact. he has about one beat to take a deep breath before the instrumental shifts from the chiming synth to one with fuller drums, and that’s when the real dancing comes in.

his moves lack power and his angles are messy, but he, for the most part, stays on beat, and the moves are all there, at least.

he still sings, and he knows dancing and singing at the same time puts strain on his incredible voice, or whatever. he has no experience dancing, let alone singing and dancing at the same time; he doesn’t even have that much experience singing, and that much shows.

he doesn’t think about it, though. he thinks about the lyrics, and his counts, and the moves, and the fact that the stupid fucking kick jump that starts the chorus is coming up.

for a moment, it’s just him in the stupid idol pose singing, instrumental cut out, so he tries to sing his best, because he knows it’s the only real time, aside from the start of the song, that he’ll look like he has a shred of talent.

then it’s the kick. the kick that he must’ve practiced a thousand times; it’s not just a kick, it’s a jump into a kick, and he’s pretty sure he’s nearly broken his ankle 50 times over the course of the past several days. about 75% of the time, he can’t get the timing of the jump right, or there’s some other mishap with it that makes him fall behind the entire rest of the choreography. then he gets lost trying to catch up. does he count on a 25% chance of pulling off the jump?

no. he’d rather get through it all doing a barely acceptable job than pull off one impressive move and lose control over the whole thing, making the rest an absolute shitshow of a job.

the kick isn’t nearly high enough, either, but it’s his best attempt, minus the jump. he’s through it, but the chorus doesn’t really get much easier. the lines of his moves are still bad, but he tries to at least breathe how they taught him so his singing sounds half decent. 

he doesn’t know if it does or not. he doesn’t think about that. instead, he thinks about the moves of the second half of the chorus, and how fast he needs to be with the footwork that was way harder for him than just about anyone else that tried to help him.

he isn’t quite on beat with them, and he doesn’t extend his leg far enough, but whatever. he just needs to survive this.

he finally makes it to the last part of the chorus. the first chorus. of three.

how much do you know?

he knows very little. he knows, somehow, it feels like it’s harder to breathe this time than it was  all of the times he practiced this yesterday. there’s a brief moment’s respite, where the track switches up, back to the chiming synth of the beginning of the song, and he tries to recover as much as he can before he launches himself back into the second verse.

the rap is awful. he breathlessly talks his way through it more than anything else, but that’s fine. at least it’s over.

halfway through the second chorus, he can barely breathe, let alone sing and dance at the same time. he makes it through, though, and there’s a brief transition period between that and the bridge where he tries to catch his breath and reorient himself. almost done. just get through it.

he sings the bridge, and the moves are easy enough that they don’t tire him out any further. he knows the final chorus is supposed to be explosive and grand, but he is exhausted, and even though he wants to go home, he also wants to give the judges any reminder he can of why he’s here. 

he’s here because of his voice, but it’s not like he can just stop dancing. even if he stumbles through the final moves, he wants to go through them.  

except the fucking jump and spin. he already feels dizzy, so if he has any hope of getting through the rest, he needs to skip them, and he does. his body feels so heavy. he doesn’t know if it would even be possible to jump. how do other people make it through the entire song and still have the energy to jump?

he doesn’t. he barely makes it through the rest, but he does, and by the time the music ends, he feels like he ran a marathon.

he bows to the judges, and rests his hands on his legs at the same time, more of an excuse to catch his breath than anything else. it’s a long bow, and he stands upright slowly, knowing if he moves too quickly he might topple over altogether.

he scurries out of the room then, and immediately falls to the floor once he’s outside.

he doesn’t feel proud of himself, but he does feel relieved.

he’ll feel more relieved if they just send him home.

[sarangbe]

[  🌹  ]  𝖍𝖔𝖜 𝖒𝖚𝖈𝖍 𝖉𝖔 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖐𝖓𝖔𝖜 ?

𝖓𝖊𝖝𝖙 𝖌𝖊𝖓 𝖘𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖔𝖓 𝖔𝖓𝖊 /  MISSION ONE SOLO— 𝖙𝖑𝖉𝖗 /  SARANG PERFORMS ❝ 𝖒𝖞 𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖓 ❞ FOR THE DISTINGUISHED PANEL OF JUDGES FOR EP 2 ! 𝖗𝖊𝖋𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊[𝖘] /  DANCE — THE FULL DURATION. 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 /  WRITTEN IN ROUGHLY 𝟕𝟑𝟓 WORDS.

as he takes his mark in the center of the floor, he feels the light rain down on him; his eyes closing for a moment so he can take one last deep breath; memories from past few weeks zooming through his mind in that instant. it’s been a long uphill battle, but now that he’s here, all he can do is hope that he worked hard enough to showcase an entertaining performance. going into this, he isn’t expecting perfection out of himself. if he did, he would end up sorely disappointed. he’s able to realize that, one, being perfect isn’t an option for literally anyone, and two, he’s nowhere near the level of the other contestants, so it’s wise not to compare himself to any of them.

it would be unfair of him to align himself with someone like jinyoung when it comes to dancing, or someone like joomi when vocals are involved, so he’s focused on remaining true to himself—showcasing the charms that he has to offer. after all, some people love an underdog story; they love watching a once-dull diamond become polished over a stretch of time; they love witnessing the sparkle happen with their own eyes. in this show, maybe yeom sarang can fill that role? maybe he can prove that, while he may not be considered immaculately skilled now, he has the potential to grow into a performer that can shine as bright as the most brilliant stars someday?

suddenly, the first beat of the song hums, and it’s mellifluous sound brings him to life; every thought evaporating from his head as his focus hones in on his expressions—the twinkle in his eyes evident from the start. it’s clear that his visual appeal is cutting edge, and that there’s a natural radiance from his soul that infuses itself into his presence. anyone can tell that there’s something there, and when it’s time for him to open his mouth and sing, he does so with confidence. is his voice revolutionary? no—what it is, though, is soft and high-pitched; the key of the song not an issue for him being that he can hit all of the notes—including the top ones—without exerting too much force, or straining. its lightness, however, makes his volume rather quiet; the art of projection not mastered yet. it’s apparent that his singing would work well in the recording booth, but not live stages. at least not yet. he can remedy that.

when it comes to the choreography, sarang still finds it complex, but thanks to his friends, he’s picked up some tricks to make remembering each eight-count easier, as well as the proper techniques to ensure each motion is done with ease. his dancing is passable, at best, but his style is what isn’t connecting with the song. the boys’ moves contain strength and power in many parts, but that’s always been difficult for him to convey. instead, his body harbors grace and fluidity; his angles clear, but the dynamics that balance striking impact, and smoothness, are missing. every action is delicate; making it appear like he lacks energy, but that isn’t exactly the case. he’s proud of the fan kick, though, even if he lost his footing for a millisecond after.

what he’s excelling in, though, isn’t surprising. throughout the whole set, his facial acting is superb; maybe even breathtaking, depending on who you ask. each expression has been carefully practiced in the mirror, yet somehow still feels spontaneous, and furthermore, they convey the lyrics written beautifully. each point he gets to strike a pose, it’s hit with precision, and he’s unveiling his genuine mastery of this aspect of the performance; or of performing, in general. as obnoxious as it may sound, he considers it a gift bestowed to him; an asset he was born with.

as the song progresses, he begins to lose his breath, so his vocals are even softer than before, but no matter how exhausted he is, his countenance remains vibrant; sweat accumulating on his brow from the effort he’s exerting. his dancing is getting mildly sloppy, but his final stance is magnetic; his aura beaming from him like he’s the sun itself. his chest rises and falls heavily, and when he feels it’s time to unfold from his position, he falls into a thankful ninety-degree bow; waving towards the judges overseeing him as he makes his exit—feeling better than he thought he would.

[starwriterulia]

I Guess I'll Stay (Daehyun x Y/N)

Characters: Jung Daehyun, Bang Yongguk

Word Count: 3k

Scenario: Y/N and her friend are foreign makeup artists who came to pursue their career in a drama Daehyun and Yongguk star in. Y/N is shy and introverted, but that's why Daehyun likes her.

It took me two days to write this because I had to make a relationship in a short amount of time. One blog types Daehyun as an ISFJ, which seems very fitting! If you haven't glanced at my page yet, I'm an ENFP who may be autistic, thus acts INFP, maybe? I want to be a loved, happy, and feel normal, set me free. Having that in mind made this difficult to finish, so I hope the end isn't too OOC of Daehyun or cringey while keeping it open-ended.

Also, if you see any gramar or spelling errors, lemme know; I posted this and caught two as I was rereading it. XDD

Thank you for the request!

-Faith

Aesthetic and scenario requests are open! (Guidelines) (Masterlist)

I scrunch up my face as I wipe it clean from acne lotion with a rag. My forehead acne is getting a lot better because I stopped playing with my bangs and started getting haircuts more often. But, it's still not Korean idol clear, or... whitewashed Korean idol clear, fuck. I still don't like how pasty white some people make their skin, it's just gross. I mean, I don't have yellow fever or Hallyu fever, but I do appreciate me some tan skin and dark eyes. Not that I'm looking for lo-

“Y/N! Hurry up and get finished, we need to leave in ten minutes!” Heeyeong says in English from the other side of the bathroom door.

“OK, OK! I just finished cleaning my face.”

“You haven't even started putting on makeup? Did you brush your teeth?”

“Yes, I put on makeup. No, I haven't put on any makeup. Chill, Heeyeong.”

“Girl, I'm more chill than a polar bear who's taking a cold dip in the ocean.”

“But...” I lower the rag to the sink at the same slow pace my eyes rise to the mirror. “That water is too cold for polar bea-” I turn on my heels and open the door, which was put in the wrong way. I hear a loud thunk followed by a squeak, and realize I hit Heeyeong, who was standing just behind the door. “-Rs, shit, sorry! Sorry!”

“Ouch, mph.” Heeyeong holds onto her nose, and rubs its bridge as I rub her shoulders. “I-It's OK, but... ouch.”

I laugh under my breath, and Heeyeong catches onto it. “L-Lemme just quickly put on makeup, then we'll go, OK?”

“Yeah, I'll get our purses.” We nod a little, then part ways. After putting on enough makeup to look simple and presentable, Heeyeong and I exit the apartment. Heeyeong locks the door, we descend via the elevator, check out at the front desk, and get in the cab we called about eight minutes earlier. We're taken to the studio a good thirteen minutes away, and after Heeyeong pays the driver, we scurry into the front door.

We make our way through the building, get our passes on lanyards, and set up our equipment at the makeup station. After another minute or so, Daehyun and Yongguk approach us with some of their guards. We bow to greet them, each of us saying good morning and introducing ourselves by name. We invite them to sit in the chairs in front of the rectangular vanity mirrors. Daehyun was chosen to sit at my chair, and I begin to apply foundation to his skin.

“Y/N, what country are you from?” Daehyun asks. After I answer him, his eyebrows raise. “You came all the way here for a job?”

I nod twice. “Heeyeong dragged me here because she got a job offering, and wanted me to get outside my comfort zone. I was doing this for theatre productions back home. We met there, and became best friends.”

“Have you met Heeyeong's family, yet?”

I smile a little, a little warmth rising to my cheeks. “Yeah, they're very nice. I feel right at home.”

“Why did you move from Korea, Heeyeong?” Yongguk asks, his face relaxed as Heeyeong works on his face.

“My mom's first husband became alcoholic after he lost his job.” Heeyeong says. “It was a small mistake, and his boss was unforgiving. He began to harass my mom and older brother, but never hit them. My mom divorced him and moved away with my brother, then remarried. That man died half a year later, and I was born a month later.” Heeyeong smiles. “I'm glad to see my grandparents for the first time. They take great care of me and Y/N. Mom says she wants to come home before Christmas.”

“Wow, your mom sounds like a strong woman.” Yongguk says while Heeyeong nods. “It's good that you finally met to see your grandparents.” Heeyeong smiles for a moment, then goes to her kit to get a different brush. Being a quick worker, I begin to contour Daehyun's face.

He closes his eyes and lets me work. When I step away to get a stick of eyeliner, I see him open his eyes in the mirror. “Is your family good, Y/N?”

“Yes, both of my parents work. I also have an older brother, he's a specialist doctor for backs. He married last year. He and his wife are expecting their first baby next month.” Yongguk and Daehyun take turns to congratulate my brother, and I thank them, blushing as I give a little smile. “My parents thought I would be a language teacher because I speak English, Korean, and Spanish. But, I wasn't interested, so I took on a trade.”

“Were they excited to hear that you were going to Korea?” Daehyun asks. I put down the highlighting pen, and go to the eye shadow. I've been asked to give him a dark, matte bronze.

“They were more surprised than anything.” I laugh a little. “I've only been here for two days, now. I really like it, here.”

“Then, stay here.” I smile and nod in agreement. After I finished, I step back to admire my work; it gives Daehyun's face a natural glow, just how I like it. A lump forms in my throat as I watch his eyes open with a grace I didn't realize he had, before. Soft and glimmering in the artificial light of the room, Daehyun's eyes captivate my own. I part my lips in awe. Realizing I was staring, I close my lips and shake my head. “Sorry.”

“No, it's fine.” Daehyun says. “Do I look good?”

I feel warmth rush to my cheeks, and I bow my head in embarrassment for a moment before meeting his eyes with a bit of confidence. “Yes, you look very good.” I step aside to let Daehyun see himself, and he lifts his chin and turns his head to examine himself.

“You know what you're doing. Thank you.” I give a polite bow in reply, then Daehyun and Yongguk are called to the set.

“Alright, one more time from 'Make me', Yongguk.” The director says. Yongguk gives a short nod in reply as he returns to lean against the concrete column. He wears a black tank top, a pair of black capris stained with dried blood in a few places, and black high tops. Daehyun returns to his starting position just beyond the metal roof supported by two concrete columns, one of which Yongguk leans on.

Daehyun wears a dark grey, full-length sleeved shirt with white decorative buttons all the way down, the cuffs, collar and bottom of the shirt also white. He wears a pair of dark washed jeans, and dark grey and black sneakers. The female lead actress, Park Joomi (from Blood and Kang Woo's Story), retakes her position on the street. She sits like she had just fallen with her dust pink dress torn diagonally from the back of her skirt (her shoes also match the shirt, and she just looks fabulous). “Action!” A staff hand uses the clapper, and Joomi whimpers as she turns herself over to sit on her butt instead of her legs.

Yongguk pushes off the column, and comes within feet of Daehyun. “Make me believe that Hanim is dead. I wasn't right about her. Why should I come home?”

Daehyun's chest rises and falls. His character, Insoo, is a respected detective of the Sokchu police agency. Dongyoon has been Insoo's friend since grade school, but it wasn't revealed until a few scenes earlier that Dongyoon had mental issues. “Dongyoon, you didn't lose your medication. Hanim stole it because you're the best detective Sokchu has, and everyone knows. Those pills keep your anxiety under control, right?”

Yongguk hesitates, then nods once. Struggle is written all over his face, and Joomi begins to cry. Her character, Goin, sympathizes with Dongyoon's anxiety because of her position as a female in the police force. “Your partner said you didn't take pills from your new bottle.” Daehyun says. “That's your OCD, finishing what you start, right?”

“Yes, that's right. I have issues.”

“You ran from headquarters when you saw Hanim's body because you couldn't believe it. Dongyoon, she overdosed from your pills and died after she wrote a confession letter. She told us everything, even her motive for killing her younger sister. It's over, Dongyoon.”

Yongguk lowers his shoulders. “She did? It was the older sister, after all? I was right?”

“Yes!” Joomi says. “You were right. She had us fooled, Dongyoon.”

Yongguk smiles. “I'm glad I helped. That makes me feel a lot better.” He coughs up fake blood from a packet he bit on. He wipes some from his lips, and his expression becomes soft.

“Oh, right. My pills.” Yongguk wipes his hands on his pants, then looks to Daehyun. “Shit, Insoo, I thought Gojin was Hanim and hit her.” He frowns as he looks to Joomi. She softens her eyes in understanding. “I'm so sorry, both of you.”

“I forgive you, Dongyoon.” Joomi says, reaching out an arm for a moment. “You shouldn't have been involved in this case so much. The case is closed because of you, Dongyoon.” Yongguk smiles, blood staining his teeth, and he coughs until a horrible wheeze tears at his throat. Daehyun rushes to kneel by his side. Joomi stands just behind Daehyun.

“Did I eat or drink any?” Yongguk asks.

“We don't know, you disappeared for three days.” Joomi replies. “Hold on, please. Help is on the way.”

“I'll do my best.”

“You helped us more than you know, Donyoon.” Daehyun says. “Thank you, really.” He holds Yongguk's left hand. Yongguk swallows with difficulty, then closes his eyes. “Dongyoon? Dongyoon!”

“No.” Joomi shakes her head, and steps around Daehyun to kneel on the other side of Yongguk. “No no no.”

“He's just unconscious. See? His chest is still moving.”

“We still need the ambulance to hurry.” Daehyun and Joomi look beyond the set to the staff towards a cardboard eye that someone holds for them to focus on. The script reads that sirens sound as this happens. “And, hurry a bit more.”

“He'll be OK.” Joomi says, meeting Daehyun's eyes.

“Yeah. I know.” Daehyun strokes his thumb over the back of Yongguk's hand twice, then squeezes it a little.

“And, that's a wrap!” The director shouts. The staff members give a warm applause to the cast and themselves. I heave a sigh and look to Heeyeong. “Yeah, this will be a box-office hit. Yeop Jeongyoon is about to become very famous.”

“She's definitely a talented writer.” Heeyeong says. “She deserves a nomination or two.” The cast members relieve their positions and join the applause, then the actors return to the dressing room. After getting into their normal clothes, we clean the makeup off Yongguk's and Daehyun's faces.

“So, I don't imagine we'll be seeing you two again, will we?” Yongguk asks as he and Daeyhyun rise from their seats.

“If we're lucky, we'll meet again.” Heeyeong says.

“Then, let's meet again.” Yongguk and Daehyun thank us, and we bow to each other as they leave. Heeyeong and I return to our apartment to get into more comfortable clothes, then we head to the streets. We eventually come to a small cafe that serves breakfast foods from 8 AM to 8 PM, called Cinnamon Baked. After removing our shoes and deodorizing our socks, the teen girl at the cashier greets us. 

“Hello, welcome to Cinnamon Baked. I'm Yang Hyangki, my family owns this place. Would you like a menu, or would you like to order something from the counter?” Hyangki gestures to the goods that sit on shelves behind glass to her right.

“We'll both have coffee with sweetener and cream.” Heeyeong says. “The cinnamon buns look good. Do you want one, Y/N?”

“Yes, I'll have one, too.”

“So, two cinnamon buns, and two coffees with sweetener and cream. Will that be all?”

“Yes, that's all.”

“Alright. Please take a seat, and we'll bring you your orders, soon.” Heeyeong and I take a seat at a table for four by the windows to the left in the back. We check our phones and talk about what stores we should visit to get some clothes, and whether we should visit Costco today or tomorrow. We decided to hit Costco tomorrow, and shop for clothes today.

Hyangki comes to our table after a little while with our drinks and treats, and we thank her as she tells us to enjoy. The cinnamon buns weren't heavy on cinnamon or icing. They were fluffy, warm, and just wonderful to eat. We ate them at a slow pace to enjoy the taste. Taking sips of our coffee, which made the buns more enjoyable. We were halfway done eating our treats when a black car pulls up to the sidewalk.

Heeyeong and I both look through the window to observe. Heeyeong says in English, “That looks an awful lot like the kind of car an idol would ride in.”

“Are we gonna be even more lucky, today?” I comment, and we giggle.

“You've been quiet, by the way.” Heeyeong says, directing my attention away from the car. “I thought you would be blushing a little more from doing makeup for a kpop idol.”

I shrug, and look to the table as I frown. “They're talented and nice people, but I didn't feel that special. You know how shy and introverted I am. Besides, it's not my place.”

Heeyeong releases a slow sigh through her nose as we make eye contact. “Y/N, you need to start taking opportunities. Be a little more than honest to your morals. Be brave. Just a little more, that's all.”

My mind begins to swim in rejection as I hear the bell above the door separating the boot room from the cafe ring. “You're saying I should make a move on him? Heeyeong, I can't be brave in a situation like this. I need to stay away.”

“No, I'm not saying you should make a move.” Heeyeong shakes her head. “Just be brave enough to give him a chance, if he happens to like you.”

I lower my shoulders as I exhale, and nod. “OK. I'll give it a try.”

“Hi, Heeyeong, Y/N.” Heeyeong and I look up to see Yongguk, who spoke, and Daehyun. I feel warmth race to my cheeks, again. Shit, they heard all of that, didn't they? “Is everything OK?”

“Um, y-yeah, everything's good.” I answer, nodding a bit as I close my eyes in embarrassment.

“Can we sit here?” Yongguk asks.

“Sure, go ahead.” Heeyeong answers.

“You girls did really good on our makeup, today. Thank you, again.” Heeyeong and I both reply 'you're welcome'.  “Are you going to continue working for TS Entertainment?”

“We're not sure.” Heeyeong says. “We submitted applications to other companies, including ones that manage theatre productions.”

“Well, the musical I'm in is starting in a few weeks.” Daehyun says. “Did you submit an application there?”

“Yes, we did.” I answer. “But, we don't imagine we'll be accepted. We don't have that much experience.”

“But, you have a lot of talent.” Daehyun meets my eyes. “I'd really like it if you were my makeup artist for the show, too.” He gives a small smile, and after a moment, it catches onto my face.

I look away, blushing. “I'd like it, too.”

“I'll recommend you to the costume designer. You'll probably get a call from her, sometime.”

“Ah, that would be really great, thank you, Daehyun.” I hide my face in my hands as I smile. I realize I was kind of embarrassing myself and sniffle, lowering my hands to my lap. “Sorry, I'm way too shy.”

“No no, it's OK.” Daehyun says. “We don't bite.” I catch his eyes again, and smile a bit. He returns the smile, and it's a cute, calming little smile.

“Hey, why didn't you kick us out?” Heeyeong says, directing my attention to her.

“The guards were going to,” Yongguk says. “But we told them we knew you. They're still blocking the door, but that's why.” Hyangki returns to our table with Daehyun's and Yongguk's coffees.

Yongguk ordered an apple fritter, and Daehyun got a raspberry filled pastry. “The cinnamon buns looked good,” Yongguk says, nodding to our half finished deserts. “But, they have too many calories and too much sugar for us. Are they any good?”

“Yes, very.” Heeyeong replies.

“Mm, let me try.” I widen my eyes as Daehyun gently takes my hand that holds the cinnamon bun. He raises it to his mouth, and his lips brush my fingers as he takes a small bite. By this point, my face is flushed red, and as we meet eyes as he pulls away, a smile breaks onto my face. I set down the pastry and cover my nose with my clean hand, and giggle. “Why are you so mean to me?”

“Mean? I was seeing if you liked me.” Daehyun laughs a bit. “You blush and smile really easily, it's cute.”

I feel my head begin to swim from being so hot. “I... I don't know what to say, Daehyun, I...”

“Clean your hand, give me your phone.”

“Hm?”

“Give me your phone, I said.”

“Oh... OK.” I clean my hand with a napkin, then get my phone for Daehyun. He taps a few things, and returns it after a moment. “There, now we can talk more.”

“You gave me your number?” I laugh a little, my face cooling off a bit.

“Well, how else am I going to get to know you when I'm away?” I nod a few times in agreement. Our group of four continues to talk about ourselves and our personal lives for about half an hour. By then, we had finished our drinks and food, and we prepare to leave, putting our shoes back on.

“So, you two are walking?” Yongguk says, once we had reached the car.

“Yeah, our apartment isn't far from here.” Heeyeong says.

“Then, I guess we'll see you around.” Heeyeong and I nod as Yongguk and Daehyun get in the car. A window rolls down, and Daehyun peeks out.

“I hope to see you at the musical, Y/N. Or sooner, if we have time. I'll call you tonight, when I'm home.”

“Oh, OK.” I nod a few times, blush returning to my face a bit.

“Bye, now.”

“Bye.” Heeyeong and I reply, smiling and waving to Yongguk and Daehyung who smile and wave back as the car puls away. Once we got home, I flop onto the couch.

Heeyeong sits beside me. “Well, aren't you a lucky girl?” We giggle.

“I guess I'll stay.”

-End-

[beyejun]

he laughs with genuine amusement breaking through the darkness that hovers around him at the sight of joomi's shocked face. he looks ridiculous, sounds even sillier as he processes the new information aloud. maybe next time he sees sua he'll make an effort to see joomi too... or if he's busy training he'll leave a note on his door or something. some joke between the two of them, reminding him of this moment when the world felt so small and a funny coincidence cut through the monotony for a moment. yejun's smile comes a little easier, even after the laughter fades.

"even christmas mugs. you may as well be a hallmark movie now," he teases, though he's impressed at joomi's involvement in holiday cheer this year underneath the sarcasm. it's good for him. and mostly, yejun is just happy to see joomi happy, finally, after all the shit he's put up with. "are you guys doing anything for christmas? any plans?" he's curious more than anything; just how far does joomi's holiday spirit really go?

yejun still manages to smile at joomi's fictitious christmas light display that he's pretty sure would make small children cry if it was real, even if he doesn't find it as funny as the confusion over him knowing sua. "joomi, i couldn't remember two well-known brands' names... i wasn't coming up with a lie on the spot that'd be any good." honesty is the best policy, or something. that's how yejun was raised, at least, and... maybe it's not always the most interesting policy but it's gotten him this far. he doesn't know how much farther he will go, though.

while joomi may not have intended it that way, yejun is suddenly reminded of how finite their time together here is, how little time his friend really has for him these days. it's okay, it's reality, but melancholy creeps in again, saddening his eyes despite the smile still in place. "i didn't really have a plan," he admits, "honestly i wouldn't be here right now if it wasn't for you. at the market, i mean." he doesn't want to get too somber, he doesn't want to ruin whatever holiday cheer they still have. but yejun realized the weight of his words might hit a little heavier than he meant them to, so he clarifies right away.

"let's go see the wish trees, then." there's a certain sadness to that, too. yejun can too easily imagine his younger self, still so vibrant and full of life, and know exactly what he would have wished for then. i want to be a singer. the thought still stays with him to this day, a wish that can never be granted. he's a man of his word, after all. whether he likes it or not. "was there something you wanted to wish for? you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. just curious."

joomi still smiles, but it shifts into something a little sadder, even though yejun is still keeping things light. joomi didn't really know yejun wanted to be an idol. he always just sort of saw him as a band guy. "okay," joomi agrees in the end. he won't say too much. he didn't really intend to, anyway. he kind of wants to ask him: why didn't you audition for one of the companies? he doesn't want to make their christmas outing too depressing when he thinks yejun wants to keep it lighthearted, though, so he doesn't.

yejun reveals that he has actually been to joomi's apartment without his knowledge. for some reason this is shocking for joomi. "nobody told me that," he says, practically gaping, words out of his mouth before he even considers them. he ends up laughing at his own reaction, though, because it's not like anybody needed to tell him that, or there was any reason for it to come up. "okay, then yeah. we have some basic christmas lights around. an ugly looking baby artificial christmas tree we got on sale because it's broken. and we have christmas mugs. very...cheery." it's pretty silly. joomi likes it, though. it's nice.

"you should've just made something up. 'i like the one with the dinosaur biting santa's head off,' or something. they probably wouldn't air that and if they do it would be funny," joomi points out with a grin, then turns his attention to the market at large once more. honestly, they probably could just stand around outside and talk and joomi would be content, but they might as well enjoy the market while it's here. they can stand around outside anytime.

"was there anything you wanted to do while you're here?" he asks yejun. joomi kind of wants to visit the wish trees, if only because he wants to see what they look like; all of the wishes the people of seoul fed to them so far, how many hopes and dreams people believed in enough to release into the world this holiday season.

honestly, joomi kind of wanted to see them with jinyoung, but jinyoung has been off lately and joomi feels like he has no choice but to accept it's not going to happen. no rom-com movie moment for joomi this year, but that's a lot to ask for someone with a lifetime's worth of empty christmases. this year has already given him more than enough.

"i kinda wanna see the wish trees. i think the lights there are supposed to be pretty?" he comments. maybe, if they go see them, all of the hope wrapped up in those countless wishes will rub off on yejun for 2024.

[kouxbe]

in true scooby fashion, kou has to look up slightly for his eyes to meet joomi's. as though a pet waiting for it's owner to give it an okay. like a dog, waiting for the ball to be thrown before the owner shouts 'fetch!'. and when joomi says okay last time, kou actually beams. or well, he beams as much as he can – his eyes light up and the ears he'd been wearing flops a little as he turns.

he almost asks joomi if he's not a good boy and if that's why joomi doesn't want to call him that. but he decides not to – good luck sounds fair enough. kou gives joomi a thumbs up and takes in a deep breath. he can do this. sure he can.

"okay joomi, this one's for you," he focuses hard, grips onto the ball – and ... he misses. completely misses. it isn't even close. if anything he'd almost hit the poor guy manning the booth by accident. he furrows his brows at him, and mutters something about bad aim.

kou frowns though, and his shoulders began to deflate as he turns to joomi. "man," he says, a little defeated. "i really wanted that mr potato head. it would've looked really cool in my room, next to my mrs potato head," he sighs. "oh i got that one as a gift from some random lady last week. but i thought it would've been cool."

he then lifts his head, and pouts ( just slightly!! ). "... hyung," kou's never really called joomi hyung before. but he wants something, and maybe... just maybe... "hyung... are you by any chance good at this game?"

two times. okay, that isn't...that bad. but then, it gets worse, and joomi's eyes widen in distress. five times?! and he wants to play again? dear god. before joomi can stop him, kou hands over more money, and joomi just stands there like the person standing emoji.

"okay...last time," joomi agrees, and he turns to look at the bottles stacked on top of each other. if the game is rigged, is it possible to win at all? do they take the weights out every now and then so people actually win and the game looks legitimate sometimes? joomi doesn't remember if he read anything about that before

joomi somehow chokes on air when kou speaks again, and half-coughs, half-laughs, because what the fuck? joomi knows kou doesn't mean anything suggestive by it. probably. it's probably just a classic kou translation error or something. "that's...not how you should say that in korean," joomi informs him.

he supposes kou isn't exactly wrong, though. he is dressed up as the shaggy of their scooby doo gang. scooby is shaggy's dog, right? joomi honestly doesn't know, but if any live person were to be his dog kou probably fits the bill better than most.

it's just the good boy part that he has a problem with. joomi just laughs again after some additional silence, and then reaches up to ruffle kou's hair. "good luck," he says instead with a smile.

[beseira]

bejoomi

he's cooling off, drinking some water when seira scoots her way over to him. he's glad, honestly. he's been wanting to say hi and properly welcome her to delta, but just hasn't gotten the chance yet. he smiles. she knows his name? that's surprising. "i know who you are," his smile only widens, and then it softens a touch. "welcome to studio delta, seira. you've worked hard." she's asking if she can practice with him, though. dancing, of all things, and his eyes widen a little. "well – yeah, sure. i'm not the best dancer though. i used to be the worst dancer in the class, actually," he laughs lightly. "not anymore, but, you know."

seira had always thought that she and her group members would stay together forever, be best friends and inseparable forever, that quickly changed with their disbandment. seira still talked to them all, some more than others, but they’d gone their different ways. a few started studying, a few got new jobs, a few became trainees again. for some of her members they’d become trainees again quickly, for seira it took more than a year.

it honestly still felt a bit weird, walking into practice and not seeing her group members, it was a reminder, they had disbanded and nothing would be like it had been before. studio delta had a lot of amazing and sweet trainees, but seira couldn’t help but miss what she once had.

some of the members continued chasing the dream of becoming an idol again, but none of them in the same company, the truth was, they were most likely never going to be in the same group again. if seira debuts, she’ll debut with completely new people, she’ll have to attempt making friends like the ones she had, she’ll have to attempt to not disband again.

it saddens her to know what she’s lost will never come back, but this is a new chapter, the future hopefully has good things in store for her. 

“eh? you know who i am? did you watch next gen?” part of her wants to ask him if he knows her old group, but she figures him knowing her from next gen is more likely. “thank you, it’s just a probationary contract, but i hope to stay a long time”. ”you used to be the worst, huh? i’ve watched you for a bit, you seem like a good dancer, far better than me and i’ve been an idol before” she chuckles “do you wanna stretch together first?”.