hundred broken hearts

< w. @beseonghan >

stevie's always been a friendly guy. in school, he had plenty of friends, sometimes too many to count-- all varying types. from surface level ones to ones he feels he can tell every single thought in his head to. he's a people person, has an innate love to converse and meet new people. strangers have never been nerve wracking to him, and often times, stevie will find himself striking up a conversation with anyone in his vicinity. all under the basis of-- what's the worst that can happen? they call him weird and brush him off? oh well! not everyone gets along. the most he can do is try?

at least stevie has somewhat of a reason for approaching this time. the cafeteria ends up messing up his order-- giving him a coffee instead of a tea, and stevie's too nice and also too uncaring to throw a fuss over it. he just gets back in line and orders a tea again, but he's hit with the dilemma of now having two drinks. one of which being coffee, which stevie would feel bad if he just threw away. he's not going to drink it, so stevie elects to be a coffee angel and just...give it to someone. most people like coffee, and most trainees drink it due to their busy and bustling schedules.

hopefuls come together within the walls of the axis building with dreams that they're planning to reach with their own hands, goals they want to achieve no matter the cost. sacrificing day and night, pouring sweat and tears, in order to reach for the stars. seonghan doesn't have that sort of passion, his only driving force the pettiness and grudges he held as a small child against his mother who refused to let go of her fading idol career. now he's here, wondering what it's all for.

truth be told, he can keep going like this. there's nothing stopping seonghan from moving forward until the company finds some anomaly inside him that ends up in his removal from their roster, or maybe they caught on to his falsified hard-working tendencies and decide he's no longer worth investing in. seonghan goes to all his lessons with little to no qualms, rehearses whatever is told of him—but it feels more like he's a cog in a larger machine, rather than being fueled by creativity and musical talents.

the coffee in the cafeteria can't even begin to compare to the usual that he'd get, but he does need something to keep himself awake for the upcoming hours filled with a repeat of nothing but training. he's about to get his own serving, having half a mind to order a cup from another vendor instead, but someone gets ahead of him and offers his share.

seonghan blinks down at the cup, raising an eyebrow. he always had a thing about germs, wearing gloves wherever he goes and sanitizing anything before even touching it. "did you drink it already?" he first asks, doesn't want to think about the possible transfers that could occur from someone else's mouth on the same cup. he knows he sounds rude though—at least upon first glance—and tries to brush it off with a smile.

"it's just, you know how some people get about drinking from the same cup. thank you for the offer though," seonghan continues to smile, polite. he recognizes the face—the winner of next gen season two, after his run in the previous season. someone else who's determined to reach his dreams. someone else who has every reason to be here, when seonghan doesn't.

"no way," siwoo says, softly laughing as he shakes his head. "it does get too fucking bright up there though." he takes in a deep breath, his fingers resting against the keys of the piano.

a moment passes before he plays the first few keys of twinkle twinkle little star, humming the lyrics. "twinkle twinkle little star, how i wonder what you are, up above the world so high, like a fucking diamond in the sky," he sings softly. and then he pauses, laughing at how stupid he feels.

like an odd sort of reflection -- siwoo feels like the fucking star in the nursery rhyme now that he's debuted, as though a diamond illuminated by the moon; yet he knows better than anyone else that he isn't any star, far from it. "i wonder if the star in the nursery rhyme gets lonely. maybe he needs a washed-up trainee up there," he says.

it's been months since his debut, and he's still a freshly debuted idol. a rookie that has to watch his every move, the company keeping close tabs on him, and the media probably ready to pounce on any mishap at any given moment. with the added role of leader, siwoo thinks he might go a little insane unless someone drags him back down to earth quickly - his head close to exploding from the lack of oxygen up there.

"i like humpty dumpty," siwoo says, playing the next song, singing the nursery rhyme with his own added expletives. "all the kings horses and all the kings men, couldn't put fucking humpty dumpty back together again." he hums. "kind of fucked up, like us," he adds.

"i thought so," seonghan says, the same unsettling smile stretching across his lips. "you might get addicted to the brightness of it all. soon enough, even someone like you will forget what it's like to be stuck down here with the likes of me."

seonghan doesn't say much, when siwoo starts playing—no criticism, no comments, eyes glued to the way siwoo is pressing his fingers against the piano. it's a childish nursery rhyme he doesn't need to be hearing at this age, but he doesn't move from his seat, listening to the melody as it takes shape in his head, colors meshing together—an aurora in the night sky.

"even if you're lonely, you have a long list of people desperate to keep you company. although, you already have your own special trainee waiting to catch up to you." he thinks it must be nice, to be wanted, to be needed—seonghan has never wanted anything, so he can't say for sure what it would feel like on either end. "the washed-up trainee will end up quitting, or carry on until he reaches the stage as an empty vessel of sorts. but i'll keep watching you, while you're still shining up there." that's his future, he has no preference.

"since when does humpty dumpty include inappropriate curse words?" seonghan questions, picking apart siwoo's addition to the lyrics. "you've been a little less fucked up lately, you've become someone who can't afford to lose any of this," he gestures to the piano, then to the training facility—everything, that siwoo had worked hard to achieve. "it's a good thing, having something you're desperate to keep."

it's almost like a solace of sorts for siwoo. there's no particular reason as to why he's here, and it's not as though vybe's ever pushed for him to pursue this skill; but it's been a while since siwoo's last laid his fingers against the keys of a piano. his hands don't feel as rough anymore, calluses slowly disappearing – it's odd, how such a thick layer of skin was almost a sign that his mind was quiet.

as he enters, he doesn't expect to see seonghan there, though the last time he'd set foor in the piano room was when he'd shown seonghan around the lime building, his attempt at being a good sunbae. and now, months later, he's a debuted member of vybe. a real sunbae, funnily enough.

there's no need for greetings between him and seonghan, siwoo doesn't think so – their friendship is an odd one anyway, but one that he enjoys. seonghan perhaps one of the few people to truly understand siwoo's mind ( not that he's ever made much of an effort to hide it ), and to play along. if he can even call whatever they do playing along. but seonghan's always been an interesting character to siwoo, funny even. still, from all his time knowing seonghan, he'd never quite thought that he'd meet his friend here, as trainees in an entertainment company, much less as seonghan's sunbae, expected to guide him and what not.

guiding seonghan, what a humorous thought. somehow everything about seonghan was always a little funny, but perhaps that was why siwoo hadn't grown bored of him.

he takes a seat on the stool, beside his friend, and eyes the keys of the piano, before they fall onto seonghan's gloved hands. "dirty?" he asks, gesturing to the keys, but wordlessly, he takes out a packet of wet tissue and pulls out a piece, wiping the area clean.

there is no particular reason why seonghan is here.

he’s seated in the corner of the room on a stool before the piano, an instrument he doesn’t know how to play quite well. maybe when he was at the age of six, with his mother looming over him as she tightens her grip on a ruler, readying them over his tiny hands. his knuckles are already red, skin peeling open as he continues to press on the keys. she’s waiting for him to make a mistake—any mistake—but a stupid kid will inevitably mess up, even when he’s trying not to. it always hurts, but only for a while—he’s counting on the feeling to turn numb, even though the marks glare at him furiously.

in the present, seonghan has practically lost all ability to play a melody on the keys, musical talent effectively down the drain. his mother wouldn’t have approved, if it were up to her he’d be a master at this point, sucking off of his abilities to fuel her own dying dream. he never felt the need to return to the piano, sensing no creativity to nurture a nonexistent passion. he’s just here, a trainee in lime, passing with the bare minimum. an empty vessel, one that they probably think can be shaped into a controllable idol.

seonghan hears siwoo come in before he sees him, eyes still fixated over the black and white keys in front of him. it’s different than the hand-me-down he has back home, worn down and untouched for years. he never cared to look at it, not ever since his mother passed—no more stinging pain on his fingers.

for some reason, siwoo is wiping the keys clean—the minuscule amount of germs and dirt slowly disappearing, although there will always be a few persisting. he doesn’t really say anything, offering siwoo nothing but a hum, allowing the boy to do whatever. siwoo is the sunbae now.

i didn’t know you could play the piano, siwoo says. the statement pinches at seonghan’s skin; uncomfortable. he starts picking at his gloves, rubbing them, jabbing them—despite this, he laughs a little. “i can’t. maybe twinkle twinkle little star, but that’s all.”

seonghan hasn't exactly figured out what his end goal in lime is. becoming a trainee was an impromptu decision he simply acted upon because he has nothing else fulfilling to do. furthermore, he's well-acquainted with a few of the members in the roster, even those that are now involved in project green. a part of him only wanted to see their reactions to his sudden appearance ( which, in his defense, had been rather amusing ). it's a long road ahead of him though, and it isn't a road he fully cares to take on. "me? working hard? not exactly," seonghan replies, his voice hoarse—he is rather parched, it'd be nice to have a quick refreshment, like with a drink. "probably not hard enough, in the eyes of the coaches." he's a later addition, someone who has a lot to prove in their perspective. "do you want the practice room all to yourself, then?" seonghan questions, sounding a little rougher than he usually does. "i can move if you do," he mumbles, rubbing his temple, feeling a headache coming on. noel mentions other trainees, and seonghan shrugs. "i suppose it's been rather uneventful. it's not like we had a warm welcome party. everyone seems busy doing their own thing, focusing on themselves."

noel had learned not to be too surprised when a familiar face became a trainee. how was there so many people in his life he had no idea had an interest in idol life? noel had found himself speechless countless of times, suddenly spotting a new familiar face amongst the trainee crowd. then again, a lot of people who become trainees aren’t even that interested in becoming an idol, they simply got scouted and passed the audition and decided to give it a chance.

“well, you’re here, they must’ve seen something in you” he shrugs. not everyone needs to work hard, some are just naturally good at all of this. some people are born with the talent, others have to work hard. noel isn’t sure what the coaches think, as long as you’re good, do you need to work hard?

"i do wonder what they see in me," seonghan hums aloud. the thought is half-genuine, he doesn't understand why he was signed all of a sudden, what good he can bring to the table in the first place. "i think your company already has a lot of vocal-focused trainees, and i don't think i've gotten that far in my abilities yet." then again, that's why it's called trainee, isn't it?

"they probably only signed me for my looks," seonghan concludes, which isn't something he finds difficult to live with. that's how the world works, especially this industry. beauty is everything. "you're giving me advice? that's new. you're right though, even if i don't stick around long-term, i should use this opportunity to network professionally." if he decides to pursue this path, that is.

hanna raises a brow at seonghan's response, wanting to say more about him supposedly needing a refresher but they weren't exactly in a private setting right now. anyone could walk by or hover nearby and overhear them even if they lowered their voices so hanna chooses to let him get away with saying that; she's sure he has his reasons for attending this workshop or else he just wouldn't bother-- and it's true that she is happy to see him in some way.

"sure, if you say so," she replies with a laugh, shrugging her shoulders then grinning a bit slyly. "rather than like, i'd say i tolerate you out of the kindness of my heart and how far we go back." she doesn't try to make him believe her--after all, just as much as she can see through seonghan's bullshit more often than not, she's sure he can do the same to her--so it would probably be more strange if she did attempt to.

she lets out another laugh, not disagreeing with him entirely. of course, she took this workshop of her own volition but 'idol history' was looking to be similar to a regular history class in school, so hanna doesn't think seonghan's comment is far off the mark. she just doesn't think it'll be super boring personally because surely, learning about idols would be more interesting than the standard history course.

despite calling the course boring, he does have his notebook prepared in front of him, neatly taking notes as he often does in regular classes. studying isn't something unfamiliar, he had always been rather studios, earning him positions such as student council president back then. hanna should be familiar, since they were in the same school, just in different grades. "since you were my senior, you never had the privilege of attending any of my study groups." it's half-teasing half-stating a fact. "i had glowing reviews, even the most hopeless student managed to pass under my supervision." he wouldn't expect anything less.

"i could quiz you afterwards, in case there's an exam after this." it makes sense for there to be, isn't it? how else would they measure the knowledge they have retained from this workshop? "who knows, they might make us group together to make a presentation for the class. that's another option." that happens often in university too, not that he's complaining. that being said, he hadn't brought in his laptop so that might be a little more complicated than a simple quiz.

their first debut stage was over, just like that. singing, dancing, and smiling for the world to witness. it’s hurting luciel’s head in a strange way — the dopamine, perhaps? it’s odd. his hands are trembling ever so slightly as he looks back at the audience, leaving the stage with the rest of the vybe members. his eyes looks for someone in particular; luciel knows where he is, he saw him, but he wants to talk to him. he knows he’s being a little greedy, but so what?

was i great? was i good? did you liked it? what did you think of me?

a call. luciel needs to call seonghan, desperately. after debut celebrations are over, after the staff and fellow trainees congratulated them and all, when they have the slightest bit of time… luciel calls seonghan.

his dear, childhood friend.

when the line goes through, luciel’s eyes almost shines. “seonghan—” then he pauses at what comes after. he hears seonghan’s voice through the phone, and then right behind him. luciel turns around, dumbfounded and shocked. oh, right. of course he could come in here. usually he would had furrowed his eyebrows, say something along the lines of: are you making fun of me, by picking up my call even though you’re here?

he doesn't have the passion required to comment on the performance, too many bright lights directed towards the stage, blinding him. seonghan is a consumer by default, no accolades of his own to critique or compliment what he's watching and listening to. there's a cascade of warm colors over their heads, orange and yellow mixed into one with a dash of green; what he assumes is a dynamic entrance into the industry coupled with a playful greeting.

how fitting, seonghan thinks as he listens to the loud cheers of the audience, welcoming them with open arms. a spotlight hangs over each member, landing on luciel eventually, the boy who managed to wrestle his way out of the dark and into the light.

and yet, seonghan remains, shrouded by the shadows. like he always was, always will be.

luciel has no reason to, but he'll seek seonghan out again tonight. this time, seonghan finds him beforehand, faced with the back of his childhood friend in an area too secluded for a rookie idol. just then, his phone vibrates in his pocket—so he picks it up and says, "looking for me?"

seeing the other boy surprised isn't anything new, it's something he keeps pulling out of luciel, to an almost unhealthy degree. "do you need my congratulations?" he retorts back, kickstarting yet another game of cat and mouse in the form of verbal conversation. he smiles, elusive as ever, returning his phone to his pocket. "someone made me promise, so i came."

what else is there to say? regardless, luciel looks at him as if he's searching—craving—for seonghan's approval. "it was a really bright and energetic stage. everyone seem to be enjoying themselves." generic words, generic compliments.

it's not that hanna was completely unaware of older idols; after all, she had listened to many of their songs in the past and still listened to some even to this day - but ask her to name members or debut years and title tracks, or anything else specific? well, she would definitely pause. and buffer. and even if you gave her time to think, she probably still wouldn't have come up with an answer, let alone the correct one.

so while she feels slightly silly for even thinking she should take a workshop on idol history, she also sees it as a good opportunity. it was starting to look like a real possibility that if she were ever going to debut, it was more likely as an idol first, so she should start learning what it takes to be a decent idol-- or at least a passable, acceptable one.

(although part of her does have some mixed feelings about accepting this realization but that was for another day to mull over - or ignore.)

a traitorous part of him is curious though, to see where his mother landed in this industry leaning onto trends. his mother had been at the end of her ropes, approaching the downfall of her career, something she had refused to accept until her own life forced her to. now, she’s simply part of that history—and the only thing memorable about her career was how brutal she went out. through death.

“i need a refresher,” he says to hanna, even though he’s aware that she can probably clock him on his lies. “besides, it has been a while since i kept up properly.” that part isn’t truly a lie—he’s not all too familiar with the later releases, especially ones that came after his mother. she hadn’t been there to force him to dissect every release anymore.

come to find out, there’s quite a few people in like who he is familiar with. they’re not all friends—although seonghan can count the amount of friends he has in one hand. then again, noel shouldn’t be that much of a surprise, considering he got signed through next gen and it was a broadcasted show that seonghan could tune into anytime. seonghan, on the other hand, believe his time in lime won’t amount to much. that doesn’t mean he won’t go along with it—he’ll do what is asked and expected of him, still. there’s a lot to catch up on, in terms of skills, compared to the others. the other boys seem to be busy with a project, and judging by everything, he can tell it’s a step towards debut. he doesn’t see anything wrong with putting an extra few hours in—but now, it’s past his usual bed time. just his luck that noel comes through the door. “of course. i’m new, and the only lime male trainee that isn’t tied to your group project… that is motivation enough, isn’t it?” even though he’s smiling, there’s a bite to his words. he’s tired, he knows he isn’t the most conversational during these hours, too fatigued to put up his usual act. “and you?”

being busy with project green, noel hasn’t had much time to welcome newer trainees, basically only seeing the other project green members. he enjoys spending time and practicing along the other project green members, but there’s something about seeing the new faces that he misses. maybe it’s because he likes to befriend everyone that comes into lime, or maybe it’s because it’s interesting to see how hard they work once they come here.

he wouldn’t mind practicing along someone else than the project green members, but he figures that might be something he has to give up, as he looks out into the future, he mainly sees himself practicing along the other project green, or well, now, vybe members.

"me? working hard? not exactly," seonghan replies, his voice hoarse—he is rather parched, it'd be nice to have a quick refreshment, like with a drink. "probably not hard enough, in the eyes of the coaches." he's a later addition, someone who has a lot to prove in their perspective.

"do you want the practice room all to yourself, then?" seonghan questions, sounding a little rougher than he usually does. "i can move if you do," he mumbles, rubbing his temple, feeling a headache coming on.

seonghan starts explaining, and sua...blacks out a little. in one ear, out the other. blinking herself back into focus, she drops her hand and leans back a bit, considering. "how do you even do that though..." she mumbles. she feels like she's back in school, suffering over critical thinking questions with no patience for it.

"looks help fuel it though, doesn't it? with makeup and lighting all that," she gestures her hand around lazy, straightening up a bit in her seat. she's wracking her mind, trying to grasp on some sort of thought process that would better help her understand the idea of stage presence better. "facial expressions too. ugh." sua fights the urge to scowl. she just has to bite her tongue and push through-- if she makes it through the end of the workshop, she'll be happy with that, sua decides.

"i'll be honest, i don't quite understand it myself," seonghan admits, chuckling a little as he goes over his notebook for a second time. it's not easy, it's certainly not as simple as whatever the coaches and mentors were saying either. "i think... there are people who can shine without talent—or maybe that is their talent—and not everyone can replicate that. some people blend into the shadow." he's just guessing though, at this point it's his own personal opinion, considering the topic he's learning today.

"it does have a lot to do with facial expressions, i'm guessing... a softer version of acting? like you pointed out earlier." he looks down on his phone, staring at the reflection of his own screen. "maybe it's an addition to our performance skills. we'd have to keep our expressions in mind as we perform, which in turn will make the audience look our way too." it sounds like he's spitballing at this point, saying his own interpretation of the material that was handed to him just moments ago. should he verify whether he was right or not?

tears.

seonghan isn’t the most emotional individual out there. as a child, he’d always acted more like an adult to accommodate for his mother’s behavior. it makes him seem creepy, truth be told, but he never really cares for appearances. over the years, he had gotten better at mimicking feelings. rarely is it genuine though, simply a hypocrite amidst the rising temperature of emotions he doesn’t understand. maybe that’s why, in the face of @bexria’s blatant display of feelings, seonghan looks on with slight confusion. it’s not like he had never seen anyone crying before, but they haven’t done anything particularly saddening. not in seonghan’s opinion, at least. so what happened? logically, it doesn’t make sense. what had caused ria to cry all of a sudden? instead of making guesses, seonghan decides to ask. “are you okay?” he puts a hand on ria’s shoulder. “what’s wrong? did something happen?”

ria is quite an emotional girl. growing up she often had to hide her feelings in order for the other kids to not pick at her for crying, but moving to south korea, she also moved away from the bullying. she grew to be someone popular, and she wasn’t afraid of crying anymore, having people making fun of her for doing so, so she cried whenever she felt like it, and that was like about always.

she cries over everything, if she feels like crying, she’ll cry, and it’s a lot of things that makes her feel like crying.

either way, he still believes that ria’s reason to cry is rather unconventional. when she finally reveals it, seonghan blinks, incredibly puzzled, having not expected such a miniscule reason.

“is it because you like strawberries?” seonghan asks, head tilted to the side, slightly curious now. “you’re sad because you can’t eat it?” he questions, genuinely inquiring on the matter. “i didn’t think that would make you so upset,” he admits. “i thought something just happened to you.”

sua doesn't really know what stage presence really entails. how do you basically get people to look at you and see what you want them to see? the idea that there's a technique to it? and it's not a matter of favoritism and styling choices? talent? there's more? sua's been attempting an actual try this time, after the dance workshop burnt her out emotionally. it's still frustrating, but sua's allowing her mind to be open to it. whatever that means.

he takes the drink from seonghan's hand, "did you poison this?" he jokes, but he still unscrews the cap and takes a sip of it, all whilst looking at seonghan. "if it's poisoned i'll kill you," it isn't though, clearly. and siwoo takes another sip, genuinely thirsty if anything.

"done, my mouth is washed."

still, it really is a surprise to see seonghan here. in truth, he'd never pegged seonghan as the type to be an idol. but then again, no one had ever pegged siwoo as the type to join the idol life. and yet here he was, with a plethora of responsibilities now thrust upon him.

"i guess so," he shrugs, he sees the logic behind seonghan's words. "it was a little similar for me too, kinda," sort of. if anything siwoo had been driven by the spite he felt for his father, and then pushed further by the love he felt for jay. there's no reason for him to go into so much detail though, so he doesn't. siwoo and seonghan – they don't have that kind of relationship; even if he does consider seonghan a friend, a layer of mask remains between them, one that siwoo wouldn't easily peel off.

he laughs though, "you're ridiculous," but there's a smile on his lips before he pats seonghan's back. "i'm not that busy. my brain might burst if i have to repeat my footwork again. i think it'd be good to go for a walk," it doesn't surprise siwoo that seonghan's aware of the existence of project green though, and so he doesn't react to it being mentioned.

“should i have?” seonghan questions, humming as if he considered it. “who is to say i haven’t?” it’s all a lie though, a casual false implication just for the heck of it. that’s usually how their conversations go anyway. “you can’t kill me though, it’ll ruin your chances at debut if it was found that you murdered a fellow labelmate. your junior, even.”

despite siwoo’s lack of explanation on his part, seonghan doesn’t need to guess how siwoo ended up here, with a newfound dream and concrete aspirations to strive for. it always starts off with love—something seonghan feels like he has yet to experience, nor does he seek out. “lucky you,” seonghan simply says, the smile still fixed on his face. “it’s nice to see you motivated from something that isn’t spite. on your way to becoming a good idol, aren’t you?”

he doesn’t refute the offer to walk around any more than that though, shrugging when siwoo insists. “if you say so.” he approaches the other boy, standing by his side like he’s taking on the role of a proper junior waiting to be instructed by his senior. “where are you going to take me, sunbae?” he asks, devoid of all the curious wonder an excited junior would have had.

in a blink of an eye, february had arrived. whenever luciel goes to the practice rooms for the typical, tiresome routine he’s gotten used to — he roams around for a bit, around the building, in hopes… prayers, that his paths will be crossed with him. coincidences do not last forever; then all luciel has to do is create that coincidence, right?

once, and then twice; they don’t see each other. third time’s supposedly the charm, right? even then that doesn’t happens, and a heavy feeling remains seated in his chest.

there’s a small white box of chocolates in his bag. at first glance, it looks like he bought it from a chocolatier, but the taste is far from it, or even the shapes. they’re simple chocolate truffles with a hint of coffee to it, and it looks like it was made in a hurry. luciel doesn’t has that much time to carefully make them, anyways.

back in school, on valentines day, he would find chocolates on his desk or his locker. most of them were honmei, clearly made with love. something he thought he was incapable of; he had no one to make those childish chocolates for. or, the reality was that, he couldn’t. there was a boy he used to think of giving chocolates to, but wasn’t it weird, giving chocolates to a boy? to a childhood friend he couldn’t even see often? but for what?

these chocolates that he has now, why does luciel want to give them to him?

it’s childish, and stupid. he should just throw— “s.. seonghan!” the boy calls out to him, when he abruptly spots him. then he takes a pause to collect himself, realising that he may had been a bit… loud. strange, was he always this nervous around him?

luciel blinks when he comes face to face with the boy. even when he looks tired, somehow, he still looks pretty to him. is there something wrong in his brain? nevertheless, he pulls down his sweater sleeve on one side, to make one of those ‘sweater paws’, and then reaches for seonghan’s hand with it. then with the other hand, he quickly shoves that little gift box on his palm. “happy valentines, seonghan,” he smiles, with a tinge of cheekiness to it, like he did something to be praised for. “giri choco, i made them. it’s for you.”

for seonghan, it would’ve been just another day. nothing out of the ordinary, hours spent training for a dream he doesn’t quite have. he expected this outcome, finding no trouble falling into this habit of constant rehearsals, a new schedule to adhere to. that’s how his day was meant to play out, until it was disrupted by a voice calling out to him—oh, it sounds a little more eager than usual. what could be the special occasion?

at another time, seonghan could’ve pretended to have missed the sound, carrying on towards wherever he was headed. today though, luciel was louder, the soft-spoken voice he keeps leveled reaching an unusual height. it’s enough to make seonghan stop in his tracks, allowing luciel to cross the short distance between them. eventually, he finds luciel taking his hand, presenting him with a box, a bit more decorated than he expected it to be.

“giri choco,” seonghan repeats, followed by an amused hum that luciel must be familiar with. “then i can assume you’ve prepared these for all your friends, haven’t you?” he questions pointedly, that same smile etched onto his face, despite his tired eyes. “it can’t be for just me, since you’ve collected a few friends along the way. what about your soon-to-be group members?” he asks, whispering to luciel’s ear—this is still somewhat of a secret, after all. not everyone can know. “did you give them any?”