TELL ME YOUR WISH

the 30th would actually have been her third year at famed, but i’ve come to the realization that hyeju’s basically just been vibing around here lol which isn’t a bad thing but i neither get stressed nor excited writing for her anymore? it felt like i was keeping her around simply because i’m terrible at letting things go! 

anyway, if anybody’s interested, i did have some future plans for hyeju and i’ll just list them out here. she had a concert coming up in march to mark the first year anniversary of her official solo debut with premiere. then i had plans for her to release sunmi’s pporappippam sometime in 2022 though timing was something i was still figuring out. that’s kind of it though? might have thrown her in another average drama role by the end of 2022 but nothing concrete was thought out. 

the dj was never part of what hyeju had in mind when she first made her way down to the basement. now that the roster was finished, it had become prevalent that the atmosphere down here wouldn’t be something she wanted to stick around for anymore. she was looking for her way out when she’s approached by a familiar face. she would never call alex a friend, but she’s seen him around. had some dancer friends introduce the two of them together, but all they’ve really spoken about was dancing. 

“you and i both know they’d write a check to make sure their names never escape.” the truth, and how closely it intertwines itself with reality — it’s all a learning process, and she’s learn how money bellows a louder voice than anything else. “after all, they’ve managed to keep their names off this far, haven’t they?” 

it’s a curse she doesn’t overwrite, keeping her eyes and her silent observations to tightly zipped lips. never released, just pocketed inside her memories when years of the same observations are only to follow with each contract extension. 

minjung tends to her drink, taking a shot down. smooth and steady as the alcohol burns to a crisp against her throat. a small wrinkle of her nose as the shot airs out, and she turns back to the company of the night. “i’m having the time of my life. i feel like i’m cinderella, only i’m waiting till everything around me turns into pumpkins and i can bop my way out of here.” a continuation of sarcasm, followed by a raspy half-hearted chuckle and she raises a brow. “but of course, i’m happy to know these events have always gotten me covered with an open bar. as for yourself?”

“ah yes, nothing that money can’t buy.” it’s a lesson she learned early on with her own family. the cover up’s and the amount of checks that have been handed out to keep people silent. part of the reason why she tried her best to escape that world only to step right into it once more. neither was intentional, of course. she’s come to the conclusion that perhaps she was always destined to live this kind of life.

roping a senior that even jeonghwa didn’t hold the belief she could call a friend into filming for a tiktok dance challenge felt a little like a worthless cause at points. hyeju was just a very different person from her. going into a conversation that wasn’t going to be on camera meant she had to be prepared for her excited energy to not be matched much, if at all. “sooo, would you maybe wanna do a little video dancing to heroine together?” she was being a fan after all, by asking and wanting to support her solo work, so the reaction probably wouldn’t be too low? this was just ending up in a lot of overthinking. definitely not jeonghwa’s style. she decided, instead that she wouldn’t let her excitement be dragged down whatever the reaction was. “i mean, we don’t have to post it if you don’t want to, or if you decide you don’t like it after. but i think it’d be fun.”

@fmdhyeju

hyeju thinks she’s been in this industry for way too long at this point, she could never follow along with whatever the new trends were and what some of the younger idols were saying. when jeonghwa approaches her about filming a little video together, she can’t imagine what the point is, but the junior idol looks a little too jumpy and excited for her to really say no. 

fake luxury clothing draped across the crowd, and even faker smiles to accompany the chitter chatter conversations. but she doesn’t find herself lingering any further than an arm’s distance when she falls into the seat of an observer, lingering solo at the bar.

look to her left, and there’s already an executive drunk and flushed in hues of red. and to her right walks in an idol, input appreciated — and she takes the bait of conversation. “we already know the ones drunkest are the ones in the fanciest suits — and they pay off the press to ensure that nobody knows that the executives down the most alcohol at these parties.” minjung’s fingers shoot up, motioning a two for a round to share. “i think if you were to get as drunk as these people, you’d have to down a few more bottles to play catch-up. but you know, company makes the alcohol go down smoother.”

the bartender comes, and she swipes the shot glass from the tray, lifting it up. so, why don’t we cheers to another showcase of these companies’ brags?” 

“sucks. would have been hilarious to see some of these bald men on the front cover of today seoul tomorrow morning,” she says with a slight scoff as she gestures for another drink. if anybody asked her why she even bothered to show up, she’d say it was for the free drinks. half true, of course. as an employee, she really didn’t have much of an option, but the free drinks are a blessing. she doesn’t think she can last too many hours around this place without them.

another blessing is probably minjung who seems to agree with her assessment of the place. following through, she takes another shot glass and raises in the air before downing it in one. “i think we’re part of that brag but cheers to it anyway,” she lets out before taking another look around the room. oddly enough, they stood out solely for being so young among a room filled with old businessmen, and hyeju finds it all a little amuing. 

“it’d be pretty hypocritical if i judged you based on that.” not that he wasn’t judging her based on other minor factors that could all be some well-orchestrated ruse she’s still putting on, but ash is far from known for being the smiling type. next to people like duri who seemed to ash to be much better at putting on a happy face, he’s been branded a whole slew of labels, some more true than others and some more intentional at the hand of bc entertainment than others. there’s a thin line between mysterious and boring or flat out rude, and he’s found that out the hard way.

“you really don’t think you could be living a more meaningful life?” ash won’t claim his current life completely lacks meaning. he has popularity and a platform and fans, and all of that amplifies the grains of meaning he finds in trying to make something bigger than himself, but there’s too many limitations and politics to idoldom for him to feel like he’s lived up to the full potential of his life having meaning. “you think that not thinking a lot trait is contagious by chance? you might find me following after you like a lost puppy until i catch it if it is.” he goes for a half-smile.

“you see, i just don’t think about all that stuff. i don’t lie down in bed and imagine what my life could have been if i weren’t an idol if i’m being honest since i’m already living this life,” she confesses with a shrug. some may call her thoughtless but with the type of people she’s met who dived into this idol life, she thinks that she’s living a more healthy lifestyle. there are probably times where her company and the people around her wish she would be more thoughtful about what goes on around her, but there’s never been anything far interesting or important enough for her to start caring. heartless? maybe. but again, she wasn’t bothered by that judgement about her. 

he’s not surprised it’s something she’s heard before. he’s not under the impression he’s unlocked some long-hidden secret only he’s seen in her, and it makes sense others have brought up how cool and collected she comes off. like ash is no stranger to be told he’s a downer or that he seems unhappy, hyeju must get the more complimentary alternative. “i can’t say my world is rocked to hear that,” he shares light-heartedly.

“it’s not only people talking. i mean, well, i guess in a way, that’s what all confidence and coolness sort of comes back to, but you give off the vibe that the whole… thing doesn’t stress you out.” which might not be true. ash knows better than to trust appearances and he has a hard time sympathizing with the idea that idol life could be completely stress free for anyone, but if hyeju shares a similar struggle, he doesn’t recognize it in her. “there’s people talking, but there’s also keep sane with all of the schedules and demands. not to mention being a lily member of all things on top of your solo schedules. that never gets to be too much for you?” he glances over at her, studying her expression for anything she’s not saying.

it wasn’t purposeful because who would want other people to be intimidated by them, but hyeju’s also never gone out of her way to present herself differently even after hearing such words. it’s a part of who she is at this point, and she has no thoughts of changing it. “initially, i thought it was because i’m not always smiling like some of my other members so it’s interesting to hear otherwise,” she admits. 

gyujeong rolls his eyes — a candy member? shit, they all become a blur inside an industry that revolves newly programmed robots each year. bc, dimensions, gold star. it’s all the same, and he finds chaos in keeping up when every step takes him further from the source.

either way, not like he pays any attention.

“i’ll be sure to tell my manager to put you on the next promo packages we send out then.” he replies, instinct pulling his phone out of his pocket to swoop in with a quick line of text. “which group is candy again?” a pause draws his attention away from his phone for a split-second, and he remembers: oh yeah, it doesn’t matter when it doesn’t line up with his own vision for the brand he’s crafted from scratch. “i can’t have children wearing my work — there’s a brand image to uphold. wouldn’t you of all people know a thing or two about that?”

hyeju’s no stranger to being bad with junior groups either. after a while, they’ve all started to get mixed up in her head, and she couldn’t tell one from another. she tried her best with her in-company groups though, and that’s how she was, at the least, knowledgeable of them. though she doesn’t think she could name them all if someone asked. 

she’s not surprised to find it full. quickly, she makes her way over to an empty chair, sitting beside the one friendly face in the room. “how much do you want to bet that somebody’s going to be in the headlines tomorrow because they couldn’t handle their alcohol?” she asks as her drink arrives, tilting it towards minjung before downing it at once. “how much you want to bet that it’ll be me?” with a short laugh, she taps her fingers on the counter before taking a look around the room. “what an event, huh?” the sarcasm oozes out of her words as she scoffs at how high-end everything looks. it’s all for show; she knows that much from all her years in the industry.

“hey, my scalp’s doing pretty well for itself,” ash counters with half-assed performative indignation. “not a single bald spot. this head of hair?” he gestures loosely at his head. “au naturel.” it’s easier to joke back than to process why he’d thought it had been a good idea to be so blunt.

nothing is truly absolute. everything exists on a spectrum in the world. or rather, some kind of three-dimensional grid. suitability for being an idol is one of those things, and ash would place himself firmly in the area of the cube with red warning labels blaring do not do this, you will not be happy. he’d once thought those furthest away from him were those defined solely by unwavering passion for idoldom so strong it consumed all of the bad that came their way. now, he thinks people who don’t really seem all that affected, the ones who stand resolute like a deeply rooted tree unable to be blown one way or the other by the winds of celebrity, are more admirable.

“it’s more of, uh, the vibe you give off,” he concedes, making the decision to be partially honest, but hopefully not enough to make it weird when they don’t know each other well enough for him to be too open. “you come off so cool and un-phased by everything. you’re good on stage, but it doesn’t come off like you’re being eaten alive every moment to have that. that’s pretty…” enviable “cool.”

she steals a glance at ash’s hair before giving him a playful nod. 

“i’ve heard that a lot,” she admits. hyeju begins to wonder if that makes her sound cocky, but she doesn’t really care. was that proving his point? it’s something she’s gotten a lot from both seniors and juniors but especially juniors. after holding an actual conversation with her, they have admitted to being intimidated by her initially. they all say things along the lines of her appearing confident and very collected which was apparently hard to find in this industry.

perspective is in the eye of the beholder — or some shit like that he’s learned to accept over the years.

things happen differently, different life experiences carve out the edges of each person’s fragmented history. whatever it may be, gyujeong knows his own resentment lies in the things he’s left unspoken over the years. so, he tends to silence with his straw between his mouth, listening to the croons of a mother-wise logic. “yeah, yeah — contract renewals and a few scandals. wrapped back into signing in, and i know it’s my own damn fault at this point. but hypothesizing an escape route can’t be that bad if it gives me ten seconds of freedom.” gyujeong replies, ignorance feigned on the latter mention of fans.

when his members bring forth waves of guilt, remorse latent in his track-record of one too many stupid decisions, he hits silence once more. another line to the story, another addition to perspective.

“a hobby is my fashion line, speaking of — care to wear? could use some support from lily fans to sell out the next release.”

hyeju tends to not understand the complaints that come from idols who don’t want to do their jobs. while she knows it’s not easy to quit on the spot, she doesn’t get why they continue to do something they dislike. of course, she may be talking from a place of privilege aka actually enjoying her job, but it’s why she can’t help but raise a brow at everything gyujeong complains about. “hypothesize all you want then,” she states nonchalantly. technically, it’s none of her business and she wouldn’t care, but he seems to have brought it up first. 

it was embarrassing to say the least.

not the first time it's happened but still embarrassing, nevertheless. hyeju doesn't know what it was—some sudden burst of confidence, she guesses—but she had approached some stranger on the street thinking it was a stylist she knew. she was wrong, to say the least, and she thinks she's lucky that she had a hat and mask on or else she would have trended on twitter or something for being so stupid.

"i do not," she says quickly before shaking her head. she must have had the worst luck fairy come to her or something because she just so happened to do it right as she was spending some time with her junior. thankfully, alice doesn't seem like the type of kid to go and tell other people this story. or so she hopes.

genuine interest about the affairs of others in the industry doesn’t come to joohwan often, but she’s far from being a dumb person. with her own aspirations and desire for more, joohwan knows the best thing she can do is to pay attention to what her seniors are doing, particularly the ones under the same company as hers. hyeju is joohwan’s direct senior and whereas her image doesn’t necessarily match joohwan’s, she’s had an enviable solo career that joohwan only hopes to replicate somehow. so she pays attention. “i really enjoyed your album, sunbae,” it’s— mostly not a lie. joohwan hadn’t disliked it, which is more than she can say about so many of her industry peers. “i was actually thinking about covering heroine,” truth. “i think it would be fun. are you enjoying performing it?”

at the mention of her own solo, joohwan feels a more genuine smile appearing on her face. it’s been a month since her solo debut had been green lit and only a week since she finished recording it and started rehearsing. in a couple of days she’d be filming the music video. “yeah, actually,” she couldn’t help being proud of herself, knowing that this is happening in spite of bc, not necessarily because of them. before joohwan can continue, a waiter approaches them, and she orders a glass of wine for herself. “early next month. it’s quite a good song, if i do say so myself. i think you might enjoy it.”

it’s already been two years since hyeju had gone solo. of course, her official solo mini only came out early last year, but she’s done singles here and there which is what fans seem to consider her solo debut. initially, she wasn’t all too sure about how it would be received nor how she’d perform, but she’s come to love what she gets to do on her own. there’s no denying that she loves her group and her members, but there are just some things she can’t do under lily’s name. by performing on her own, she gets a little more freedom. “i’d love to see a cover. i think you could do really well,” she says. it’s not a lie though she isn’t totally sure about joohwan’s position. there’s too many people in the company for her to keep track of, but all the cloud members seem to be talented. there had to be something about all of them for them to win that survival show, right? 

it’s a shocker he manages to have this conversation in the first place.

nonetheless with someone who pins his flaws, unveiling the lack of logic embedded in his plans. but in reality, it’s just his escape to voice the frustrations brimming at the tip of tongue — regret, anger. unbridled resentment for a company who hasn’t done shit for him in the past decade.

gyujeong takes a sigh, and it nearly feels like he’s backtracked all the way to square one again. “you don’t think it’s a good idea to leave platinum now?” he repeats, voice rolling in that sarcastic drawl as he leans further into the sofa — in hindsight, it’s just some shitty attempt at re-thinking his blueprint as he huffs further. “give me ten, no. five good reasons how this would fuck me over in the end? i can’t seem to think of anything that would justify mulling around in the same company and the same schedules for another decade.”

in reality, flashes of his members come with each syllable. the bittersweet, mainly bitter, poking at each end of it. and when he tries to

there’s a lot of things in the world that hyeju doesn’t understand and doesn’t bother trying. 

socks with sandals, pineapple on pizza, having three cups of coffee and so on. they all sounded like poor choices, but she never cared about other peoples’ businesses as long as it didn’t affect her. the thing with gyujeong, however, was something she’s faced many times throughout her careers. idols who didn’t want to be idols. frankly, she’s not sure why they don’t just walk out. probably saves a lot of people effort and time. 

“timing-wise? no, it’s a terrible time to leave. you had your chance back during contract renewals.” she gives it to him straight since gyujeong isn’t the type to beat around the bushes either. “i just think it’s a shitty move to your members and fans. not like you really care but,” she says with a shrug of her shoulders. despite her nonchalant attitude around her career, the one thing she genuinely cares about is her fans. they’re the people who have sent her so much unconditional love and support when she felt like she had nobody left in the world. she doesn’t think she could walk out of it.