MIDNIGHT

while suji doesn’t like to make very bold, definite statements, she can’t seem to hide the fact that midnight is her favorite album to this day. that’s why she was more excited than usual for her promotional round. of course, it wouldn’t last long just like her other solo promotions, but she was still glad to be able to share it with her fans. 

fan signs were always something that suji looked forward to. while she was aware that getting picked could be difficult, and she’d love to change how they worked, she couldn’t just change the industry with the snap of her fingers. that’s why she tried her best to ensure that every fan who came got their money’s worth. no matter what others may think, she knew that coming to her fan signs was not an easy task for her fans, and she wanted to make them feel appreciated. 

this fan sign hadn’t been all too different from her others. she put on some cute hats and props that her fans handed to her and made sure to look at all the cameras. she listened to all her fans, and she was excited to hear that they also enjoyed this album quite a bit. there were a few fans who were upset that she didn’t come out with a power ballad, but they also made sure to add on that they still loved the shift in sound that she managed to comeback with. 

suji’s going on with the event when fan number 57 gets on the stage. she’s in the middle of posing with one of her gifted props when the female approaches. while she found it impossible to remember every single fan who came by, she was pretty good at noticing if someone was here for the first time. 

“is this your first time here?” 

the fan simply nodded before pointing down at the album. she flipped over to the page they had assigned and read the sticky note they put down and signed it to their name. seeing that they weren’t saying much, suji thought that maybe they were nervous or shy, so she continued the conversation on her own. 

“did it take you a long time to get here? do you live far away?” looking up, the fan nodded before clearing her throat. she was getting ready to ask her another question to keep the conversation flowing when the fan spoke up. she quickly finished up her signature and looked up, making sure to make eye contact. 

“i know you probably hear this a lot, but i want to tell you that you really changed my life. your solo debut came out when i was in my last year of high school and i wanted to give up, but then i heard big mini world and gained lots of strength.” 

as the fan spoke, suji could see her hands shaking so she reached over and grabbed them before giving her an encouraging smile. “i don’t usually try for fan signs, but i really wanted to tell you this in person. i was pretty lucky because i only bought one album and made it. am i not allowed to say that?” 

suji chuckles as she shakes her head. “it’s totally fine, and i’m happy that i got to meet you as well. thank you for telling me that. i’ll remember it forever, i promise,” she states before offering a pinky promise. her fan manager was telling them that the fan’s time was up, and so the fan quickly stood up. 

this wasn’t the first time that she’s heard such words, but they never get old. it’s exactly the reason why she started making music, and she was glad that the fan mustered up the courage and told her about it, especially because it was her debut album, one that she didn’t love to go back and listen to because everything feels so amateur. 

starter for @fmdxsuji / 4k event

another event, this time in the haze of too many familiar faces. she stands in the crowd, arms-lengths from strangers she exchanges hellos to in passing. she’s learned by now — she’s a professional, and professionalism guides itself in a thin-lipped smile permanently engrained when she stands still. 

because hindsight is 20/20, and the last thing she needs is more whispers and speculations that paint her into different dimensions of grey.

she hides behind the next group of staff passing, only bouncing her gaze to the left to see a familiar face. a reminder from the chatter of the crowds, and they’re in a public space decorated as near-family despite what details get concealed behind the grand spotlight.

“hey.” she greets out, smile peeking through a tone more polite than rendered to anything else. “here’s a question — would you rather run 4k in front of a bunch of people for publicity or would you rather be at isac?” minjung holds still, taking a step closer towards suji with the years-past memories of holding bows and arrows, running through the area. “now that we don’t have to go to isac, i’m beginning to realize that isac was the only opportunity to wear neon colored track suits.”

it’s another one of those events that suji thinks equinox should be exempt from at this point in their career but is also aware that it’d never happen. not when every single artist on gold star’s roster was here. who was she to complain when selene was showing up and performing, right? 

nevertheless, she’s not the most excited, but a performance is a performance. thankfully, because of the long lineup of artists, it doesn’t seem like they’ll be required to be around for very long. she could probably be out of here fast enough to get home and continue working on her upcoming album. 

she’s lost in her thoughts when her teammate approaches her with one of her rather off questions. a lot of what if’s seem to come from minjung, but suji doesn’t completely mind them, especially when they’re all still stuck here anyway. “i think i’d still prefer this event because at least we aren’t stuck in some gymnasium for twenty hours,” she answers as her brows furrow together. the memories of isac weren’t great, and she’s glad they don’t have to be there anymore. 

( ... )

“call me naïve but i’ve always wanted my purpose—my existence—to mean something. to the world, to the people i meet or have yet to meet. when i chose to sing, i wanted to someday bring happiness to everyone who listened to my music.” her teacup clinks hard against the saucer. (she didn’t even realize she’d raised it, gone as she was in her tumultuous thoughts.) yerin breathes. a laboring inhale that whistled through her entire body, shaking her to her core. it hurt to admit that this conversation was derailing. her control is lost in the tepid floral tea swirling at the bottom of her cup as she picks it up again. she doesn’t know what to do with her hands, so habit dictates that she move. anything to minimize how much the truth made her crumble. 

“there’s whispers through the grapevine about a potential solo debut being in the works.” there’s talk. rumors. (there always are.) little pieces of things she’s heard or plucked from passing chitchat. and then there’s apprehension. doubt. yerin won’t be fooled by false hope. (she’d been there, done that. having been fooled twice, she no longer wanted to allow herself to be burned a third time.) a sigh and her cup is lowered again, nestled square on the saucer, her hands back in her lap. “would you think i’m ungrateful if i told you i hope the talks fall through?” her smile is serene. her eyes clear. almost like she was readying herself for impact.

a light chuckle leaves her lips at yerin’s confession. admittedly, in the back of suji’s brain, she can’t help but think that her once-dream was quite naive. not that she thought lowly of the job, but it very well felt like an idealistic, almost child-like occupation. she always imagined that people who continued to write and illustrate children’s books had a part of themselves that never grew up. while it was admirable, it was also something suji couldn’t imagine herself doing for the rest of her life. on yerin, however, she finds it cute. almost adorable, really.

she hummed in response to what the candy member says next. she partially agrees because suji’s always wanted her music to mean something to the world, and she believes that she’s living out that part of her wish. however, she’s never thought that she would have to exist to mean something in the world. that train of thought was particularly interesting, and so she set down her own teacup and listened intensely. “seeing that you’re talking in the past tense, am i allowed to guess that you don’t completely believe that’s possible anymore?” the last thing she wants to do is crush the other’s last light of hope or whatever, but she thinks it’s a rather hard wish to have when someone’s become an idol. a target of the public. 

“no, i wouldn’t think you’re ungrateful at all.” solo debuts when it came to group members was always tricky. suji believed that her debut came at a nice time, no, almost the perfect time. but she’s also aware that her fans stand somewhere in between. there are the handful who believe their main vocalist should have been allowed an earlier opportunity while others who called her selfish because she was releasing something right when equinox was stabilizing their careers. in the beginning, that bothered her a lot, but she’s learned to grow past it. nobody on the outside actually knew what was right for her because, well, she didn’t always know it either. 

“don’t know how it goes pink, but sure whatever works for you and gold star, right?” at the heart of it, all he knows is music. the cacophony of different notes hitting the lines of the melody, and the words he scrawls out in moments of bludgeoning insecurity. the last thing that ever registers is how it transforms into the visualization in the end.

so, he’s glad at least suji’s got that covered.

his fingers pickup the pencil lying in the corner of his desk. bad habits emboldened when he can note the details of his own teeth marks, but he hides that with his grip. “you don’t need to be a good rapper, this is hardly rapping. instead, think about it as sing-songing to a pattern like a human metronome.” he pauses, taking a beat to prop up the pitch for his own idea. “speaking of lyrics, i have this idea for this song. it’s not a love song and it’s not a break up song — instead, it’s just a summer getaway song. like wanting to leave when the weekend comes. but you know, that could be a stupid idea — so, let me know if you have any others.” 

the words mumble faster into incoherencies, especially when he starts to uncover his own inner workings of something softer. call it a defense mechanism, and he won’t tell you, you’re wrong. 

“like this?” so, in light he shifts subjects, back to the screen, a few clicks of his mouse pitching the ends to the workup of layers before pressing play. “if we do that to the backtrack, then perhaps with the vocals you could sing upwards then drag it down for contrast.”

“a human metronome?” something that sounds similar to a scoff leaves her lips as the image becomes clear in her mind. she can see herself bopping her head along to a metronome and attempting this sing rap thing. she’s seen it done before, so she doesn’t think it’ll be difficult. most of her worries come from her being unsure if it’ll work for her. but she’s decided to work with this song, so she’ll have to get it done somehow. 

she nods at the idea he has for the song. “that’s nice. i think i’ve sung too many love songs anyway,” she states before picking up her own pen. the song continues to play in the background as she tries to imagine what she does on the weekends she has off. “so like going out to eat what you want, going on a walk and escaping the sun. things like that?” it comes out as a question, but she’s already scribbling a few keywords on the page in front of her. “we don’t really have weekends, but i like the idea of that. a song to listen to when you’re on your way to a summer retreat. how does that sound?” 

now that they’re leaning more into lyrics, which she believes is her forte, the creative juices in her brain seem to have gotten activated. when the chorus comes up again, she just begins humming and singing. “when the weekend comes,” she sings rather quietly, but she thinks it fits pretty well. to get gyujeong’s confirmation, she looks at him before repeating the phrase again and adding a few more lines of melody. 

confirmed to the point that she can now freely talk about it. that’s how the conversation with jihoon started anyway. “i probably sound like a broken record, but i swear this one’s going to be a little different,” she explains with a chuckle. frankly, jihoon was not the person she had to convince about this concept change. it was the public, or whatever percentage of the public that will be tuning in to her next comeback. 

“imagine like pink clouds and a lot of fluffiness. i’m not sure what the official comeback headline is going to say, but i think that’s the concept we’re going for.” she’s never been too focused on the conceptual part of her albums. it was always more about the music for her, but this one was such a contract to her previous ones that it was fun to talk about. “how about you? is there anything on your plate in terms of music?”

“dynamite would be awfully boring for an equinox song, but every discography needs one of those to keep the fans grateful for what they have.” the minute dynamite comes up, it seems ash’s mouth opens wide and any filter in place in his usual everyday life ceases to be. it could be argued he should be over it by now, but the resentment bubbles straight to the surface the moment it comes up. there’s too many layers to the bitterness to peel them away and be rid of them.

his relationship with suji isn’t really close enough to unload all of his negative feelings on her beyond the context of a seemingly light-hearted joke, so he keeps a limit in place, as hard as it may be not to turn into a full-fledged whiner in the moment. it’s a good thing there’s other topics at hand to think about.

“is that recency bias or something deeper?” if he was asked, in the moment, he thinks he’d say blacklight is his favorite project he’s put out, but that’s because it, naturally, feels the most in tune with who he is in the moment. each album back feels more and more distant from the person he is today and, in that, there’s something distant in emotional attachment as well. “and, hey, if it was a challenge for you, i couldn’t tell. you owned it all the same.” another supportive upturn of his lips marks his honesty.

“i’m working on some stuff, but i don’t know for sure when i’m going to release another project. i don’t want to push it.” he’s been there before and it didn’t end well. “polaris will come back before i do.” he shrugs. that wouldn’t matter to him if it wasn’t with another lifeless song. “sorry you had to have that experience, though,” he says, all tongue-in-cheek. “hope there was some variety in songs, at least.”

from his words, suji can tell right away that dynamite does not fall under ash’s favorite polaris songs. it’s become such a hit, but suji didn’t love all of equinox’s hit songs either, so she understands where he’s coming from. nevertheless, she still thinks she’d prefer it over zimalabim but only because she’d prefer any song over that one. frankly, she likes to pretend like it doesn’t exist.

“partially recency bias, i think?” she lets out a chuckle before thinking harder about why midnight happens to be her favorite album. “i participate in pretty much all of my music, but i feel like i struggled the most with midnight that the end product just felt that much more meaningful. if you know what i mean.” while it may not seem like some out of this world album to listeners, it was one that she spent a lot of time on, both in terms of actual work behind it and the thought process. 

she gives him a slight smile of gratitude. while she’s not sure he’s saying it to be polite or if he genuinely means it, she appreciates it nevertheless. “hey, the group always has to come first, doesn’t it?” suji’s never been pushed back or anything because of equinox promotions, but she does feel like she has a set time frame she’s allowed. before this year, a summer solo comeback was nearly impossible because it was already decided that the group would make a comeback then.

the thing about music in this industry, is that it runs in circles.

the same equipoise that holds the patterns of what sells and what doesn’t, and by now, if he hasn’t mastered the standardized routine engrained in him through practice, then he’d be shit out of luck, hollowing out his pockets.

“summer, refreshing — and i’m tired of the big tropical sounds. figured, something brighter might be something of the vein of city pop. it worked for brave girls, didn’t it?” he quotes the resurrection, and his own guilty pleasure that’s been bleeding his speakers dry for the past few weeks — it falls shy when his tone doesn’t divert much than the monotones of his voice. “sure thing — hear it out, and we can alter as needed.” 

his fingers hit the space bar, and the music starts falling into the silence. like clockwork, his hands intertwine one another, propping his elbows against the arm rests of the chair. 

and he hates butting in, at least within the creative process. judge after you hear the full thing — yet, he chimes in mid-way anyways. “this part here — i wanted to add a rap. not a crazy one, but one of those sing-song mumble raps. but if you’re uncomfortable with that, then — we can scratch that idea.” 

there’s nothing more to add to gyujeong’s explanation so she gives him another nod before listening to the track. he’s got most of it figured out, it seems. it just needs to be mastered for the track to sound completed, but she likes the beat. her first impression is that it’s different from what she’s performed before, but it doesn’t stray too far from what she’s shown as an equinox member. 

when he brings up a mumble rap, her brows furrow together more in confusion. before she knows it, she finds herself humming along. once it’s over, she gives a few nods of approval. “i like it. i can almost imagine the music video already,” she comments. “no wonder gold star mentioned pink hair.” with that, she shakes her head a bit because she’s still not completely on board with that. 

“i’ve done like really poorly executed rapping in some equinox b-sides before, but i’m not against the idea of a mumble rap. i probably won’t be able to write that section though, so i’ll leave it to you,” she says before putting her arms up in defeat. 

stepping stones & pedestals — the grass is greener on the other side.  (alternatively: if i removed your halo, you would still be an angel. for your light was not merely bestowed to you by others, but came from within.) 

re: @fmdxsuji

they meet on neutral ground this time: an obscure, hole-in-the-wall coffee shop past rush hour. there are no lights, no cameras, no scripts, no staff hovering over their shoulders. here, in a corner table tucked away from the hustle and bustle outside these walls, yerin decides she won’t look a gift horse in the mouth. 

she’s never been one for coincidences. an opportunist in the making, she’d always approached life on bated breath and precise timing. asinine things like luck and fate never did apply to people like yerin, who had a whole checklist of ways to achieve whatever they wanted in life. no shortcuts, no easy-way-outs, nada. it’s why it strikes her as odd when she learns that suji herself had accepted her invitation for teatime. surely someone of her caliber had better things to do than entertain a junior. and yet, seated across from her is a haloed image of someone so out of her league yerin wondered how she’s managed to look her in the eyes for the past minute.

“do you ever wonder what life would be like if you weren’t famous?” she’s not sure how to broach the actual topic at hand so she veers into left field, her index finger rubbing circles along the rim of her teacup. the white peony tea is lukewarm now. her murky reflection mocks her as she looks down, as if the tiny dregs at the bottom of her cup could give her the answer she really wanted.

“sometimes, i wish to be normal…” idly, she taps a nail against the porcelain, humming at the tinkling sound it makes. the reverb, a ripple effect she feels beneath her skin. something crawls there — uncertainty, doubt, self-reflection. yerin looks up and rests her chin on her palm. “but i think i’ve forgotten what that even feels like.”

whenever it becomes time for suji to fully work on her upcoming release, she finds herself stuck in her apartment all day. of course, she steps out whenever she has her schedules and whatnot, but equinox hasn’t been particularly busy since feel my rhythm promotions have come to an end, so her life has looked like a repeat episode of the gold star building and her home.

that’s why she doesn’t hesitate to accept the offer of meeting yerin outside of these two places. the fresh air was definitely needed, and it’d be nice to speak to someone who wasn’t directly involved in her next album. however, she’s not expecting the first question that comes from the candy member to feel so deep. 

“hmm, i mean, i have a pretty clear idea of what i would be doing,” she says with a breathy chuckle. “i’d have become a pharmacist like my parents wanted or just any other regular office job,” she admits with a shrug. that fact doesn’t make her sad anymore because it isn’t the life that she ended up living. nevertheless, she can’t help but frown at what caused the question to pop up in the first place.

so she sits there and she listens. normal. that’s a word that’s become more and more foreign to suji ever since she debuted, and she assumes it’s probably the same for yerin as well. “it’s one of those things that you have to give up with this line of work.” her lips are pursed together as she offers the other an apologetic smile in case yerin was hoping for something more hopeful. “but i also know that i wouldn’t have had all these opportunities to write the music i wanted if i didn’t debut.” while suji likes to think she’s a great listener, she’s not usually the best at offering what would typically be considered warm advice. those sugarcoated words and idealistic imaginations just simply weren’t for her. 

everything is mundane.

it’s all a monotonous process from the different ways to hash out the same beat, same bpm, and same general gist from the melody. stretch him out far enough, and what remains is nothing beyond transparency in a one-dimensional process.

at least, that’s how it’s always been as of late. 

except, he finds exceptions in monotony, the vibrancy of each click from the mouse pulling up some disorganized, jumbled paradox of documents strewn out from his screen. he gives his nod to suji, “yeah — listened to some your stuff while writing this base. you tend to do a lot of ballads with a blend of pop-rock. figured, at some point you have to get tired of doing the same genre — at least, i know i do.” the latter part falls more of a mumble, read: the reason why he’s hit a halt on solo music in the past few months.

gyujeong swivels his chair back around, fingers biting the arm of the chair. “it’s a case by case basis, no concepts included. i slap a bunch of different melodies, bottom beats and see what comes out — or at least, what i can manage to vibe to as the music starts the creation.” one dip of his chin, he tilts his head the opposite way. “i’ve been working on a city pop beat, started with lily in mind before i realized it might suit a solo better than a full group.”

he’s not entirely wrong on his assessment. 

while suji’s not sure if she’d lean into herself getting bored of the song; it’s more like she’s scared that others will get tired of hearing the same thing from her. that’s why she just nods his head in agreement and lets him continue talking. she’s not entirely sure if something that was intended for lily will work for her, but she’s willing to try out new things.

“cool. it’ll be nice for the summer, or at least, that’s when i’m supposed to be making this comeback,” she states with a slight snort. of course, it’s not like she has gold star’s comeback schedule in front of her. “can i hear what you have so far?” considering he’s been working on it, she assumes that there’s something for her to listen to. 

“it’s for the best, though, no? we’re idols — we’ll drop dead if we’re deprived of attention.” it’s all tongue-in-cheek, a play on the idea that each celebrity is nothing more than an attention addict begging for another hit, with idols being the worst offenders of them all.

he can’t help but chuckle at her distaste of zimzalabim. he’s not exactly a fan either. he respects the producers’ mission to throw every obnoxious instrument they could into one song and see if equinox could still make it a hit, but it only manages to stir a single ounce of emotion in him when he’s a few soju bottles down and anything with a bassline makes him feel a little alive. “how about we trade? i do zimzalabim for the rest of my career and you can take dynamite. i won’t even take the thousand bucks from you.” at least zimzalabim is interesting.

the feeling of running in a circle with each song release and always coming back to the same thing isn’t foreign to ash. these days, a lack of romance in his life has turned him away from writing about the same love and the same heartbreaks over and over again, but whenever it slips into his music, he still doubts himself if anyone will even want to hear it again. he’s never thought that about suji, though. “you’ve got a signature — i mean, anyone who can sing their ass off like you can is gonna show it in their songs —, but you’ve never delivered the same thing twice. ‘in love with someone else’ isn’t the same as ‘no one’ isn’t the same as ‘spark’.” he means it, too; he respects her artistry to much to lie to her face about something like that. his voice has abandoned some of its more casual tone to let sincerity peek through. “i’ll be looking forward to whatever you drop next, whether it’s shaking things up or not.”

he offers her a small smile before turning back to consideration of her hair and a more humored tone. “if gold star is anything like dimensions, they’ll just pass you off to someone else until they wear you down. i’ve tried the whole ‘being so annoying they give up’ thing many a time. the success rate is tragically dismal.”

it’s nearly impossible for an artist to love every single song they put out. suji is always the first to admit if a title track isn’t up to her taste, and it’s become a running joke among the fandom. zimzalabim fell right into that category, and she loved to pretend like the song never happened in the first place. everything about that comeback was a headache to her, and she’d rather forget about it. plus, equinox had a whole bunch of other great songs that could be talked about instead.

“that doesn’t sound like too bad of a deal,” she admits with a chuckle. they’ve strayed pretty far from the initial topic at hand, but it’s not like her hair color in a couple of months from now was that important anyway. if anything, she probably won’t even change it very much. 

looking over, she gives him a rather thankful smile. it’s not that suji wasn’t proud of the music she put out, but she was afraid of her sound becoming too stagnant. “thanks. believe it or not, spark was actually kind of a challenge for me.” being an idol, dancing and singing wasn’t the problem — it was more the uncertainty of being able to deliver that performance on her own for the full three to four minutes. “but i’m glad i released it. it’s a secret to the rest of my albums, but midnight might actually be my favorite.” 

he doesn’t think he allowed any of his friends, he counts suji as a friend, he doesn’t think he needs to say it out loud, to listen to his first album. it was all done in secrecy with the help of producers from the company, but they mainly left jihoon to his own lyrics, most of the time at least. almost a whole mini album written by him. this one.. this comeback album was pretty different from his solo debut, there were more things he needed, wanted to show. so what better way than to ask for some feedback from someone who had plenty of great sad songs released?

he has some ideas about how to upgrade it, finding a female singer is step one, but he hasn’t really found anyone he really wants to feature. he thinks her vocals are way too jarring, the chorus seems so out of place because he can’t go as high as he wants it to be. but its a demo and jihoon shouldn’t be overthinking too much.

his gaze moves from the screen to suji, brows slightly furrowed. he has told gyujeong what he wanted to achieve with this album, so no point in hiding it from her, right?

“it is a continued story line. the mini album was about being neck deep in love, you know, spring brings out those feelings in people.” jihoon explains, not really thinking he needs to bring up valentines day and white day. “this one,” he waves to the screen, as if pointing to the album itself, the songs lined up neatly under one another in a folder “is the continuation, an angry heartbreak, into acceptance into melancholy. the company allowed me, to work on more songs for this solo comeback so i’m making the most out of it.” he explains, waves his hand a few more times, a bit dismissively, as if he doesn’t believe his own words. but suji didn’t need to know that “did you like that song tho? apart from my gorgeous vocals, you know.”

seeing jihoon come in with all these thoughts and worries about his songs reminds suji back when she was writing her first album. actually, scratch that. it was more like the second album. the first one sort of happened on a whim, and the success that came with it was a complete surprise. the pressure got upped after its success, especially because she felt like she had to live up to it with whatever she released next. all in all, she understands where jihoon’s mindset may be at the moment, and she’d like to be as much help as she can.

“melancholy,” she repeats with a nod before refreshing her mind of the song that he’d just played for her. the picture becomes a little clearer in her head, but it’s still hard to imagine everything from a single song. nevertheless, it sounds like a good beginning. “i did,” she admits before rolling her eyes at his self-compliment. “i liked the melody a little more.” suji’s just teasing him at this point, but she also means what she said. 

“you might not be as sore of a thumb as you think. it’ll be summer; all the rookie kids will be coming back with their summer anthem hopefuls and neon and pastel hair.” it didn’t even earn a second glance from ash anymore to pass two idols with highlighter yellow hair or another with weird dipped dyed green-brown hair in the hallway of a music show anymore. he knew now that it was oftentimes a marketing scheme to get people talking about a budding group.

“should i be expecting something like red flavor then? or power up redux? zimzalabim (suji’s version)?” suji’s music had always been unique from equinox’s projects as a group, but he couldn’t deny there was a semi-painful humor to imagining suji’s next release taking a hard left turn into discordant chanting.

“don’t get me wrong, your last album was good. but you’ve never really done the same thing twice, have you?” ash leans back where he’s sitting, crossing his ankles over one another. “as for my favorite hair color on you, i’ll have to review all of the data and get back to you.” he quirks a half smile before continuing, “so you have some trepidation about pink. do you want a colder color instead?”

“true, but unlike some of the rookies, i know the director’s going to want me like front and center during the winner announcement.” she’s not trying to appear cocky or whatever, but she’s solidified her spot as quite a successful soloist. she wouldn’t be surprised if she was standing in front for the ending and perhaps even winning first a couple of times.

she lets out a slight groan at the mention of her least favorite title track before shaking her head. “if i could pay like a thousand bucks to never have to perform zimzalabim again, i would.” she says this, but she knows where ash is coming from. releasing such songs would definitely be that big contrast she was somewhat hoping for.

starter for @fmdxsuji / gsm building

tackling on too many things — that’s never been of issue. but as of late, he feels nothing short than being spread out so thinly that his knees start buckling with each step that drags him through gold star’s hallways. call it a physical reaction, or maybe, it’s just the effect of his fifth americano of the day and a cesspool of work left to be unfinished.

luckily, he’s packed his smoke break to the brim. the stench probably lingers, but then again, he’s never given two shits as to how he presents, nonetheless to a label mate he barely knows.

they’re better off being called strangers with the abysmal interactions. yet, his resume consists of nothing more than what feels like: gold star in-house producer number one. (he makes himself at home when he opens the door, tosses a nod in lieu of a formal greeting, finding some sort of fixture in the empty seat by the production table).

“so, i’m gonna be upfront now. i’ve created so much shit in the past weeks from reggae to classical mixtures to edm — the only idea i have left is city pop. inspired by japanese pop from the ‘80s.” he tilts his view to meet hers, a beat of silence for the response before he cuts that short too. “a stretch from your ballading career, but take it or leave it as you will.”

suji isn’t sure why she’s so nervous. 

she’s worked with people before, but they’ve always been the same in-house producers. rarely does she work with her peer artists, and even less so people that she’s simply unfamiliar with. the most she’s seen of gyujeong is just around the building, and he always looked like he was in a bad mood.

so when he walks in and sets the cards out straight, she isn’t even surprised. “city pop’s fine,” she confirms with a single nod as she stares at him taking a seat. “i was hoping for something different anyway. plus, it’ll be a nice contrast to spark,” she comments once more, though she doubts he even needs any additional explanations from her. it looks like he walked in here with his mind set. 

◤why am i like this

❝ the color of my heart is black it was burnt to black, just like that i break glass whenever i feel like and I look at my bloody hands and think @fmdxsuji

“i don’t even know what to show you.“ jihoon starts, mouse aimlessly scrolling through the folder of one too many demos. he had asked suji to come have a listen at what he has so far, one of the few people he willingly allows to do that. everyone else had been too nosy or insisting about the fact they wanted to hear the 180 degrees the rapper had done in terms of lyrics. from head over heels love, to whatever this miserably piece of shit was.

“i think this one is a good one…“ he clicks on a specific one, it reads black, and pauses it just a few notes in “it’s an attempt of a sad album.“ jihoon starts explaining, pulling his cap even lower if possible. he is tired, really tired he starts to feel it in his bones. for the first time since debut he really feels the burn out lingering around him. he’s worried others that know him well can see it. “nothing is really finished, im not even sure i will ever finish it, but it’s an attempt.“ he adds, shoulder shrugging as he presses play and leans back in his chair, arms folding tightly over his chest.

she’s been in his position before, trying to get other people to listen in on her pieces. because no matter how much she loves or hates something, she found that getting a second opinion was helpful. usually, songwriters ended up listening to their own songs way too many times to be objective anymore so having a fresh set of ears was necessary. 

when jihoon starts the track for her, she can immediately feel herself bopping along to it. not in a dance music-kind of way, because it was far from that, but it had a groove behind it, and she could vision the song with jihoon. “that’s me with practically all my tracks,” she adds on. there’s a bunch of songs on her computer that simply haven’t been touched in so long, and a few she’s discarded altogether because she found herself stuck. 

“they think it’d suit it, huh? color me intrigued. i’ll have to check it out this summer.” ash can see suji switching to a pink for an equinox comeback, something like picky picky or queendom, but it’s not what he’d think of if someone told him to imagine a suji solo comeback. granted, he has his biases. he tends to keep her saddest songs in his playlists without making his way back to her happier cuts as often. but, really, it’s not her. it’s him, and his own selectivism boxing her in in his mind.

“do you have the songs written for it yet? you write a lot of your own stuff; i’m assuming that’s not changing for this one. you’d know better than them and a hell of a lot better than me if they’re right about the pink look.” when it comes to polaris comebacks, ash has begun to feel so detached, he’s not sure how hard he would have argued if they told him he needed a new look for butter. still, he’s glad they haven’t. not yet, at least.

“it might be dramatic, but people wiser than me have said reinvention’s the way to keep people listening. and pink hair, summer album. i’d be surprised if it was just a midnight 2.0.” he looks over at suji and tries to imagine her with the purple hair she’s describing. “i’m a fan of grey-ish shades, actually. it gives a different vibe than pink, though.” he shrugs again; his opinion hardly has any sway anyway. “are you asking my favorite hair color on me or on you?” his tone falls in within a joking degree of his usual dryness. “for me, it’s boring to say, but i like black, dark brown. bleach and dye do a real number on my hair. i don’t have the titanium scalp some people seem to possess, unfortunately.”

most of the times, she was on board with what gold star wanted from her with her solo ventures. nothing was too out of the blue, and she was pretty excited to hear about a summer comeback. nevertheless, pink hair was surprising, and she just couldn’t see herself with it. “if i go through with it, i’m sure you’ll definitely catch it. imagine me at the end of music bank just sticking out with my pink hair.” 

at ash’s question, she nods along with a slight shrug. “i’m getting it ready, but nothing’s completely finished yet,” she comments. “this summer comeback made me realize that i simply haven’t written enough energetic songs.” with a snort, she shakes her own head at how limited she had been with her songwriting up to this point.