bermuda triangle.

JAWBREAKER’S JUNIPER TEAMS UP WITH ATLAS’ GUN AND RELEASES A FULL VERSION OF ‘NO WAY’

he approaches her after he bows to the cameramen and crew, dressed all in black from head to toe. the green lights give her an almost ethereal look, something outlandish, out of this world. he smiles. it’s been a while. “you don’t have to worry, the water is warm,” he whispers as he approaches. there are too many eyes here so he keeps a safe distance. “liked the set? what do you think?” the casualty of his tone would make it seem like they’re colleagues, industry friends at most. not that they’ve been through what they’ve been through. not that jua hasn’t picked up his last call, months ago, the two of them not seeing each other for a while now. no. his tone of voice doesn’t show that at all. but when he looks at her, he knows that she can see it. makes sure of it. that old known mix that he always feels whenever he is around her. 

something that seems like desire. something that seems like hatred. 

there are a lot of questions she has.

first is, what is olympus thinking, letting him release something like this? second is, why on earth did kjh allow her to be in it - well, okay, she has to take a lot of responsibility for that one, for the way she branded herself before, in the years of next to no attention. but still. 

the third question, the final and most important question, is did he ask for her on this video purposefully, or is it a grand, cosmic disaster? jawbreaker’s image allows her this, her personal image helps, but the fact she’s going to be filming this with him now is almost too much. almost too terrible. she pulls a breath, it fills her lungs. it stings, and then it burns, and then it screams, and she lets it go slow. get ahold of yourself juniper, she murmurs in the depths of her head. get it together. it’s just another schedule. 

but she’s never been a good actress. 

the solo scenes were easy. take off a robe, look hot, pose with sultry eyes and slightly parted legs, lips half open to match. look imminently fuckable but also like you could bite someone’s head off if you were wronged. a black widow sort of feel. it’s easy, also, to fall into the scenes with him in other settings. the car, laughing and playful, or the ones just sitting behind him while he raps. but the whole embrace underwater thing, that’s another topic. that’s another task to consider. 

her stomach is fluttering as if with a million butterfly wings, as she approaches the set. she gets there first, in a white shirt (of course) and so on. he’s far more clothed than she is, which has her angry in the back of her head about the male gaze and the sexualization rampant in the industry, but she’s not the one to fight that fight. not when she’s been all but weaponizing it for her own gain all these years. instead she smiles benign at him, thin lipped and restrained. like she’s waiting for him to strike, body tense with the preparedness to run. he makes her feel weak, and she hates that. he makes her feel uncertain and she hates that even more. 

sohee reaches for the water bottle and hands it over to juniper, takes another one for herself and gulps down half of the liquid, feels good to finally get rid of the thirst. juniper’s question makes her laugh, and she brushes a few strands of hair away from her face before saying, ”how do i have so much energy? i don’t know, i guess i just have it.” she’s always been like that since she was born anyways. “the song? at first i was like ddu du ddu du? what the hell? and then it gets better when you hear the song, because that’s how the title makes sense. i think the song’s fine, but the dance? maybe not so. latata still has the best choreography for sure,” she tells juniper, a tired smile on her face. “what about you? do you think it’s good?” she asks, wants to know how her group mate feels about the new song. “don’t tell ellie unnie, but i really like your rap part. junie spitting fire like that in a song? everyone’s gonna get burned.”

as summer approaches, so too does the humidity. you’d think a girl who spent the better part of her adolescence in georgia would be used to humidity, but seoul excelled even in that, in a way that did little but overwhelm her. the heat sticks to her skin and drags her into exhaustion, lungs seeming to fill with the water laden air until she struggles for a breath. she pulls the windows closed as they pause in their practices, moving to crank on the fan in turn, turns up the air conditioning for good measure. “i hate korean summers,” she laments with a sigh, speaking more to the window than to anyone in particular, shifting to sit down on the floor, as if to escape the heat by sinking lower to the ground. she’s pretty sure it doesn’t really work that way, but science class from her youth indicated it might, and she’ll give anything a  try. she tugs at the edges of her crop top to arrange it properly as she settles into place, laughing. 

“well, share me some. i feel like an old woman.” she laments dramatically, examines her face in the full height mirrors across from them, as if seeking out signs of nonexistent wrinkles. “you’re incredible, really,” she sighs, puffing out her cheeks, an expression that melts her from a girl crush into an oversized baby, and has been thus relegated to offstage only. it’s all about that ferocity of image, after all. she hazards out a question, tosses it towards the other to see what sticks, interested in what her opinion is. she’s tried not to ask about it so far, considering her own feelings, but she’s curious and it overwhelms her now. 

“Been a long time since I’ve played this game, there are probably better people to ask. All I know is that when the circus leaves town people will still expect the same performance, so however you decide to present yourself, make sure you’re comfortable with it sticking with you.” The statement is about as sagely as he can manage, though he recognizes that it isn’t all that helpful. Chanyeol had never claimed to be any kind of teacher or philosopher; just a rapper with a vague idea of her current situation and the potential aftermath. Jua has the benefit of being an established brand before the show, an idol hardened to the unflinching criticism of netizens; though that is as much a curse as it is a blessing. “Unless the show flops or whatever. Or you flop. If that happens none of this really matters.” The last comment is thrown out with a characteristic air of nonchalance, paired with an uncharacteristic hint of humour. “I’m sure you’ll be fine regardless. People with far less talent have won things like this. Just don’t do anything catastrophically dumb.”

“you are uniquely well equipped for the whole jaded bullshit role, it’s true,” she agrees with a friendly grin, not a bit bothered by the man. it’s the sort of attitude that often doesn’t fly well in this country, particularly in a career where image means so very much, and she respects him for remaining true to himself, even when he becomes grating or cruel. there are few with the sort of dedication to self to do that. “kids,” she grumbles with a grin despite herself, “i resent the infantililzation,” she teases in turn, crosses one leg over the other and leans back into her chair, a thoughtful sigh on her lips. she moves to spin the straw in her drink around the edge, an idle movement to distract the senses. 

juniper has had a uniquely long time to consider her personal image and direction. months of waiting without promotion in the singularity practice rooms and studios, years watching her parents craft their own images, plan their own projects, discussing with friends who had levels of fame juniper could only ever dream to obtain.  she’d been exposed to this world for so long sometimes the planning and plotting of it seemed like second nature. and sometimes it seemed an overwhelming and insurmountable task. she nods along as the other continues, grin flickering over her lips as she does. “you’re right, of course. might as well use all the tools at my disposal. pride be damned.’  her laugh is jagged, sharp edges that scrape her throat. 

he holds open the door for her, the boisterous laughter of his so-called friends greeting them from the corner in which they’re situated. they’re allowed to be loud, they can be as reckless and disgusting as they want because they’re jae’s friends, and it comes at the cost of his name, not theirs. “i hope you’re hungry,” he murmurs, hand resting near her lower back, lips tilting upwards as if he’s amused by her ambivalence. 

he calls and she goes, and this is familiar. but why? what is it that brings her back when he calls - maybe a lack of anything better to do. maybe a desire to drown in the darkness that he offers up to her. and sometimes, the way he looks at her, like he wants to consume, well, a girl could easily get lost in that. eyes dark enough to drown in, so she throws herself off the precipice, waiting to shatter against the rocks at the bottom. he brings with him the promise of pain as much as pleasure, and perhaps in that she finds a sort of solace. with jaeyul there are few ambiguities, the straightforward nature of disappointment and derision, the twist of cruelty on his lips. a wolf with shining sharp teeth ready to devour. 

everything about him screams predator, from the way he seems to prowl through the dark night to the intensity of his gaze, from the grip of his hand against the door, the ripple of muscle tight wound around bone. “if i had anywhere to be i wouldn’t have shown up,” she points out, effectively places him last on the list of priorities, because he’s challenged her to do so. he goads her in that way, prompts her to challenge him, to tease, and for all her defiance she is also accommodating, a soft contradiction of silks and steel, sleek and shining. 

“actually, there’s something i was hoping to learn from you,” he says. he takes advantage of the short break where the director is talking to the musicians and huddles closer to juniper. 

while juniper is usually not one to revel in compliments from others, largely assuming them to be exaggerated, she has to admit that minsoo’s casual praise warms her heart a little, pulls a shy grin to her lips despite herself. “ah, you know how to stroke an ego don’t you?” she laughs out, leans back in her chair a little bit to pout at her reflection. “stage presence is one thing when the song is really...hard hitting. but i never feel like i quite know how to pull it off if in a ballad, you know? it’s got to be so precise and so perfect i think i get too wrapped up in my head,” is her admission, examining her reflection as if looking long enough will reveal the future, will show her the mistakes she might make today and how she will be able to avoid them, or not. she turns her attentions back to him with a wry smile parting her lips, “at least one of us is confident in me,” she decides with a bright laugh, adjusting her hair slightly in the mirror. “i mean like i’m not entirely unconfident, but there’s some trepidation going on.”

minsoo is a familiar face at least, and his voice is lovely to say the least, and if he’s confident in her maybe she can borrow a little of that for herself, inject it into her veins until she believes, also, that she can do this. well, that’s not quite right. she believes herself capable of completing the stage - but performing up to her own standards? that’s another thing entirely, not so easily done. but she likes the song, something familiar from a movie she remembers enjoying at least in a general sense, and it’s got the edge of rawness that the soft rock delivers to it, which she can appreciate. her voice has never been truly suited for the pure and soaring, the flickering saccharine soprano lilt often expected.  she’s examining the lyrics again, running through the stage blocking in her head, when minsoo pulls her attention once more. 

“i feel like i’ll let everyone down if i don’t win, you know?” he asks as they stop by a small shop in the market, it seems to sell all sorts of food and aroon makes a gesture for them to enter. “like this is not only my chance, but titanium’s too. to put our name out there, to gather more fans. i don’t know, i feel a lot of pressure to win this damn thing. or maybe it’s how i was raised to be. failure was never an option for my parents.” he sighs. “do you think you’ll win yours?”

“seriously, it was a blessing and a half, wasn’t it?” she agrees regarding the lengthy flight. it’s funny, usually spending that long confined to one place, forced away from the outside world would drive her batty. it would crawl under her skin in creeping shreds of anxiety and work her up into restless and fidgety. but she’d been tired lately, ever so tired, with the show and promotions and producing and this and that. trying, trying, trying to be something more than what she was now. so many were quick to claim she was a bubble waiting to pop, a balloon fit only to burst, a spoiled girl with no real talent. and god above, she wanted nothing more than to prove them wrong, nothing more than to escape such a label. but it was hard to peel that off, the words sticking to her skin and branding her.

she likes this place, this world away from her world, the freshness of the air and the ring of unfamiliar language in her ears. there’s an air of romance to that, in the nebulous sense of something strange and new. it fills up her heart with something buoyant that might feel like freedom as they stroll along the streets, utterly unbothered, unrecognized, unknown. she wears that unknowing like a cape, like a shield. she asks the question they both always ask, the things they both always wonder, nodding along as he replies, with a laugh at his aroon answer versus his real answers, sighing softly. they slip into a little market and she begins to examine it all with fascination. 

jueun took another drink from her straw, letting the taste wash over her before speaking up again. “have you been working on any new music?” it was always easier to ask about others than talk about herself. 

juniper grew up without a filter, without a barrier between her and the public. juniper featured on the social media of her parents from an early age, her birth announced in magazines (not the front page or anything now, don’t go crazy about it, but an actress and a rapper/producer pulled some decent attention regardless). the show helped with that too, exposed every instance of her childish whims and wanderings to the fascinated public, left strangers sure that they knew her approaching her on playgrounds and outings. juniper - then jua - grew up without the need to hide herself because it wasn’t expected of her. she was contributing to the family specifically by not hiding anything.

 at least until witch hunts had broken out over the veracity of her father’s education, all fully unfounded but the media had been a dog with a bone about it. so they’d sent her to her paternal grandparents to live, where she had donned the mantle of juniper, where she had grown up surrounded by sticky hot summers and cicadas, snow a distant dream of another land, english tangling up her tongue. and just when she’d really adjusted to that, learned to live that way, learned to love a world without hierarchies or the expectations her parents’ names placed on her, she’d been brought right back again. 

and at that point, juniper had decided pretending just didn’t work out for her. now, don’t get her wrong. she could perform, certainly, but her music carried with it honesty and her lyrics with it. her social media was not impeccably curated, except in a casual attempt to draw as much attention to her once-failing group as possible.  in the end juniper had become a big proponent of “whatever works”. and so far it had earned her, them, a second chance. a hail mary. it had gotten her the first credits to her name, and one of them a title, a title that had stolen their first win into her greedy clutches. 

“ddu du ddu du is pretty catchy, by the way. i already know you’ll have everyone going crazy about it.” he brings one hand up and scratches the back of his neck, “music video was pretty cool too, which doesn’t surprise me. everything you guys do looks pretty powerful production wise and whatnot. so that was kind of a given.” his free hand gently rests on her back as he leads the way to the coffee cart she mentioned just moments ago, obviously takes advantage of not being surrounded by many people anymore, “and you looked really good in it too. but that… you already know that, don’t you?”.

she’d never have expected it, but the boys of titanium have come to be uniquely important to her. milo is like a brother figure to her, a protector, someone whom she in turn must also look after,  but familial nonetheless. aroon is a dear friend to her heart, hyukjae a companion she can understand on a unique level. jeno is... well, she’ll gloss over jeno for now. at least he’s a good lay, she can say that much. and his smile is cute,  even if he won’t ever properly shut up.

she wants more for titanium than the world has given them, finds it unfair that they’re struggling to gain the recognition they deserve. they’re doing something interesting, something intriguing, and you don’t always find that in the industry these days, especially not out of the bigger companies with their chrome-like polish and shine. they slip outside of the room and head down the hallway, the shining tile floors lending a maze-like quality to grey washed walls and the beige ceiling above. she knows them like the back of her hand now, after so many years on the scene, years spent following along after her father as a toddling young thing. it’s a quieter walk now, with the flurry of bodies clustered closer to the studio itself for filming, retreating into the recesses of the building. she slides her hands into her pockets, remembers they’re minuscule, retrieves them to cross her arms over her chest instead. if only women’s clothing had real pockets. if only she got to wear like, actual functional clothing on stage, but then it wouldn’t be much of a costume would it? a lamentation fort he ages.

she nods along as the other speaks, more than understanding of the struggle. her years in her.oine had made sure of that, after all. it was both humbling and horrible to be functionally treated by some (who fancied themselves clever, hierarchical, cruel) as a rookie once more, after having clawed her way along for so long, with such fervent desperation. “yeah... it’s pretty bullshit.” she agrees, sways to the side lightly to bump into his shoulder gently. “but i mean. we only barely got ours just lately. so i’m sure it’s got to be on the horizon for you guys.” she believes this firmly, truly, “there was just a lot of competition this round, with nitro’s unit and inferno...at least inferno still didn’t snag anything,” she adds helpfully, not that she has anything against the boys, but the media narrative has always pit them against one another and it’d be a shit sure shame to have to face those headlines. she knew from experience.

“kinda weird though, right? hating a song and then being excited because you think it might do well.” ruwon can half-relate. not the knowing part, but he’d held out hope for a while. that one of their garbage, auto-tuned messes of songs would hit big. resonate with the public. pull them a bigger fandom. it just hadn’t worked out that way, not until the show. not until their sound changed. different, but similar. almost on the same plane, that’s how it feels with juniper. 

“that bad,” she promises, “maybe even worse.” she sweeps her hand through her hair, grimacing at the feeling of hairspray sticky between her fingers, she swears lightly under her breath, having managed to forget this was a filming set adn she was dressed up to the nines for the whole thing. ruwon was easy to work with, had her laughing as he continued. “we started off alright. and when they let me make the songs we stay solid,” she half-jokes (but hadn’t they gotten their first win with her first title?) before adding, “but this one is just...well it’s...clearly concert bait. and i get it, you want a hype song for a concert but...it’s just so...disjointed.” she sighs, “i hate this new trend where they rip out the depth in the chorus you know? there’s no build, no grandeur, no crescendo.” she flaps her hands in an approximation of what this feels like to her, sort of a mountain shape or a trumpet fluting outwards. “it just....flatlines.” she draws a line with her hand, sighs. “i like what you guys are doing lately. it’s cinematic, it’s very....atypical for msg. i didn’t know they were capable of it.”

“god help me, nothing is worth that much debt,” she agrees, head shaking, curls bouncing as she moves. “and if i ever want a hope of a solo i have to grit my teeth, grin, and bear it. and be grateful for it. so i will. but in the meantime, i’m going to pretend i haven’t spent forty hours back to back practicing gun sounds.... hit you with that ddududdududdu~” she jabs out in the harshness they want from her, the quick bitten words. “at least i mostly get to skip that line. i’ve got a lot of bridge. and pre-chorus. the verses are mostly rapping, so i get one of those too. actually honestly i’ve got a pretty big chunk of the song, so at least i get to feel self-satisfied about that.” 

when she arrives they’re nothing more than figures taking space in the dark, loitering around in an empty space between two streets, two buildings. just silhouettes accentuated by the streetlights and stretching across the pavement, the image of his curved stature intercutting to the trembling dissonance in her shadowed eyes. the contours of her face are permanent to his memory, refusing to fade. he knows because he’s tried, yet all he can recall when he looks upon her is that he’s kissed them; the line of her cheekbones, the bow of her lips, the curve of her jaw just before the swell of her breasts. all of it. 

“honestly, i didn’t think you’d show.” he murmurs, words heavy, loud and somewhat mordant; testing the taut balance lingering between that both bounds and separates them. it feels criminal even saying anything. “but i’m glad you did.” 

may, with jua. ( @idjuniper )

this industry is going to destroy you. 

that’s what her father had told her, when she’d told him she wanted to follow his footsteps. 

you’re too soft for this, he’d said, you’ve got your heart on your sleeve and you’re going to make it a target. 

juniper should probably have listened to him. hadn’t she seen the public turn their backs on him on the basis of a single, pointless rumor that snowballed out of proportion and left him witch hunted? hadn’t it taken him years to build back up again? years of fighting lies? maybe she should have gotten out of things when her.oine went under, escaped when kjh came calling. it could have been a sign, one that she’d ignored. an escape pod firing off into the inky black of space and leaving her adrift a floating ship. 

but juniper was a girl who easily fell for promises of change. we’ll let you produce, they’d told her, we’ll let you write. we’ll give you a solo someday, if you behave. we can get you opportunities, we can get you onto shows. and she had been tempted by this, greedy and hopeful thing that she was. 

stupid. 

she escapes into familiarity. it’s been a late night already, long hours at the studio, bruises pressed under her eyes in an interplay of blue and purple and the goldwash tan on her skin. she’s tired to the bones, preparing for her comeback, with a song that sets her teeth on edge. all part of the game. with uprs ramping towards the finale she’s under pressure, trying to put out a track, trying to ride the wave of attention thrown her way. she wants to be raw and honest and she wants to express, in her music, the truth of her. and to have that thrown back in her face with a “what does a spoiled celebrity even know” hurts. it shouldn’t hurt, but it does. she should know better, but she doesn’t. she’s always been too vulnerable maybe, bloodstained lips and an eager sacrificed offered up to vultures. 

still, aroon keeps his phone charged so his manager can find him. still, he makes a promise to make back in time to rehearse, vows to not cause any trouble. neither him nor juniper are famous enough to be followed here, he reminds himself, no one needs to worry with them. “i can’t imagine all these adults thinking they know a toddler, that’s so weird.” he comments, pushes his hat up to look at the sky. “it really is, i wish we had more time to explore.” time seems to fly when they are not locked away in practice rooms. “okay so,” aroon stops, picks his phone from his pocket and opens google to search for some place they can go. “there’s this market called mercado central” aroon laughs at his own pronunciation “just a couple of blocks from here, we can buy something there and walk to a park. if you want a picnic then we’ll have a picnic.” he offers her a hand. “let’s go!”

“everything about fame is weird.” she admits, and it’s easy enough to agree to a statement like that. “look at it on paper, like, especially the shows about kids. what is even the point of that besides pure image making for the family? and why would you subject your kid to that, like? a kid can’t sign a consent form. a kid’s not acting, or modeling even. it’s supposed to be real life. whats the good in that? it just feels invasive, creepy. like reality tv shows in america, on that tlc channel. its just...too much.” she shakes her head, nose crinkling upwards, and a scoff appearing as she flaps her hands, as if to jettison the whole concept away. “fuck it, anyway, santiago is beautiful, i spent a thousand hours in a plane to get here, and we need to like, go have some fun.” she continues, before they go over the options, before she suggests picnics and warm sunny air. 

she checks her phone as he fiddles with his, the suspiciously quiet group chat staring her in the face. things feel awkward sometimes, especially with ellie, who seems intent to compare them in this way and that, and sohee has enough going on to be busy without her. sometimes she misses when they were her.oine, when they all languished in relative obscurity together, when they had a common enemy.  she wouldn’t go back to that though - she wouldn’t trade her new, budding career for her friends. she had other friends, now. it was a sad fact of the world, that human connections must change over time. she’d get them back someday, when things had all settled out. that was the hope.