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“haneul-ah, are you listening?”

  somehow subin could stomach his explosive emotions when they were fueled by anger and pessimism. it had become his normal state of being. but this shift that had suddenly taken over— the crippling sadness that had been keeping him from doing anything without feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders— he couldn’t take much more. there was a constant lump in his throat, as though he’d lose all control if someone were to even look at him the wrong way. he had become used to feeling worthless, but that concept had suddenly grown tenfold. 

  in his weakest moment, he wanted to call his mom. he wanted for her to tell him that everything was going to be okay. but who was he kidding? she’d call him every name that she could think of. he’d end up hanging up and throwing his phone across the room before tearing his hair out in frustration. all he wanted was to be loved. how broken was he that his own mother didn’t even care for him?

  although no tears had fallen, subin can’t help but sniffle. it was his attempt at fighting back the inevitable. he wanted to look you in the eyes, but he was afraid of the repercussions. maybe you’d end up laughing in his face. crossing his arms against his chest, clinging to himself tightly, he hangs his head in shame. he wanted to be whole. he was tired of being broken.

  keeping his silence, he drags his feet towards the bed, sitting down next to you a moment later. his eyes were burning. he wanted to say something. anything. that it was all some kind of cruel joke that you had fallen for. if only that were the case. he lowers his head to the side until it rests on your shoulder. 

  how was he supposed to answer that question? was he only upset about moonsik, or had that encounter only caused him to finally break down after years of keeping everything to himself? “i hate myself so much, han—” his voice cracks, his lips quivering. 

watching subin, han couldn’t help the slight frown on his face — he was used to worrying about the members, but he also wasn’t used to any of them seemingly so ... broken. it seemed like the only adjective to use for subin’s current state, the other avoiding his eyes and sniffling quietly as he joined the leader on his bed.

leaning his cheek on top of subin’s head when he placed it on his shoulder, he waited quietly for subin to say something, rubbing soft circles into his back. han had always been one to dish out physical affection without constraint, and he wasn’t about to stop now. subin’s words made him faulter though, hand stilling as he digested what was said.

“oh, subin ...” he trailed off, pained for his member. subin was never one of the more vocal members of blue.m, often overshadowed by minho and sunghoon who required much more of han’s attention. how long had he felt like this? had han been so preoccupied by the others that he’d missed it? pushing away the thoughts, he turned slightly to face subin, running his hand gently through the other’s hair.

“what’s going on in that head of yours, huh?” he asked softly, his motherly side coming out full force as he continued to give the other gentle affectionate touches. it reminded him of the way his own mother used to comfort him when he was young.

the pair of boys were almost a perfect balance. but in the moment it was hard for han’s usually uplifting demeanour to counter moonsik’s negativity. the smaller boy had put the thought of his inevitable failing into his own head and there was likely nothing that han would be able to do to ease his worries.

he should be making the most of the short time that they had left together, huddled into the small bed. but instead moonsik’s words seemed to do nothing but bring his friend to tears.

moonsik sighed softly, reaching out to wipe at han’s face with the sleeve of the too-big shirt that he was wearing. “please don’t cry, hannie. you’re going to break my heart.” he tried to pat han’s cheek dry before giving up, curling into the side of his taller friend. “the world isn’t fair, han. it never has been. and it never will be.”

he chewed on his lip, the silence of the room echoing in his ears before letting out a shaky sigh, tears threatening to form in his own eyes. “i’ll be there with you every step of the way. even if i’m not right beside you. i promise that i’ll be right here cheering you on until the very end.”

at this point, there was nothing haneul could do but let the tears flow freely. he was tired, he was in pain, and his heart felt shattered in way he couldn’t explain with words. the boys had always balanced each other out but tonight, he found himself falling into moonsik’s negativity, through no fault of his best friend.

“i’m sorry.” he spoke softly, leaning into moonsik’s touch before curling in even closer to the other. he stayed quiet for a minute, trying to recompose himself as the occasional sniffle broke their silence.

he wasn’t sure when he became so attached to moonsik, but there was no denying that the rapper meant the absolute world to him.

˚ ｡ ° ˖ *  rohan allows himself to settle into the silence they have created - not one of nerves, but one purely of comfort. there is a part of rohan that will constantly feel some sort of regret towards his time at yuseong, and at this point it’s inevitable. he’s moved on - partially. and maybe it’s because for eight years he expected a certain dream. one that involved han by his side, just a little like this. a taste of bitterness coats his tongue at everything they ripped away from him those last years - and having a shared dream with haneul completely shattered was terrible, at best. a free hand lightly pats the top of his friend’s head, and the worries of the world slip them by, locked out of their little bubble.

                “so have you been ignoring my texts to hop on and game with me?” his brows knit together in clear disapproval, contrasting highly from the smile spilling on his lips. “you know what? let’s learn a hobby together. because god, han, i am not letting you get that bored where you have to deep clean. again.” his tone stressed slightly on the final word. any hint of feigned seriousness is wiped cleaned off of his face at the light jab, causing him to sway and laugh at the same time. “it’s not a cave!” rohan pouts lightly. it was most definitely a cave - a medium sized room that was entirely too dark with little light (aside from the lit up signs and scattered candles), and resembling a second home more and more as the days passed by. 

                  rohan grins, and this time he nudges the side of his friend playfully. “oooooh, a station song? that’s cool, han.” he admits, happy the idol had released something he’s proud of. “do you want to do more station releases?” the solo artist inquires, using the same free hand to gently move out the strays hanging over haneul’s forehead. “you do know you’re going to be a feature on my album, right? like that’s been set in stone.” the process was … going, to say the least. tracklist after tracklist was added and then dropped, or entirely scrapped and rerecorded. it was a tiring cycle - rohan just wasn’t set on the flow, yet. it’s slow but he hopes to get it out in the world before it hit five years. 

-

back when he’d first joined yuseong, han wouldn’t have imagined his life turning out the way it had. first, he would have never expected himself to become leader of a group and second, the people he’d assumed he’d end up with were a lot different than who he’d ended up with. not to say that he didn’t like his members — no, he loved them dearly, and he made sure they all knew that — but, back then, he’d always assumed he’d end up somewhere with rohan, moonsik, soohyun, just to name a few. moments like these reminded him of that, and made him wonder ponder the never answered ‘what if’.

before he could fall too far down that rabbit hole, he found himself laughing at rohan’s question. “maybe i have, what about it?” he giggles, amused by the other’s expression. “maybe i’d actually get on and game with you if you were actually any good, loser.” he teases, rolling his eyes at the mention of getting a hobby. to han, cleaning was a hobby -- it helped keep his mind occupied and organized. “i have plenty of hobbies — but i’ll always take any excuse to hang out with you.”

“cha rohan, your studio is most definitely a cave.”  he’d been there one more than one occasion, so he felt fairly justified in his assessment. “i don’t know, honestly. i think, for now, i’m mostly throwing myself in choreography.” after getting to choreograph shine for his own group, han’s interest in dancing had only grown exponentially. “yah, why would you do that? i’ll just ruin it. just mention me at the end — tell everyone how much you love me.” he laughs, pushing his slightly overgrown bangs out of his face.

  subin had always struggled in some way or another. whether it be that his mother was overly harsh with him for unjustified reasons, or that he still didn’t feel comfortable with who he really was— there was always something. but he was usually able to push any feelings of dread deep down where they’d stay hidden. but this time was different. 

  his former best friend, maybe the his first love, had appeared back in his life without any warning, and it wasn’t a joyous reunion by any means. the apology that subin had been expecting was instead replaced with a wave of accusations and excuses. the person who missed and pined after for years had broken his heart for the second time, and he wasn’t taking it well. only leaving his bed when absolutely necessary in between attending schedules with the rest of the group had become the new norm. he felt completely empty.

  standing at your outside of your room, he leans forward just far enough to press his forehead against the door. he thought about turning around and keeping his problems to himself. but all he really wanted was comfort. all he really wanted was to be wanted.

  giving his head a light whack against the door, he lets out a shaky sigh before slowly opening the door. for once, he was being courteous enough to give you fair warning that he was about to walk in. he’d normally just waltz in like he owned the place.

“hyung— why is everything so hard?”

@haneulws​​

out of all the members of blue.m, subin was probably the one han was the least close to but that didn’t mean he wasn’t just as in tune with his moods as he was the rest of the members. subin was just ... harder to approach, and the leader usually left him alone until the other approached him, which didn’t happen often.

he’d noticed subin’s mood souring over the past week, but had had no clue what to do to help the other, other than to continue to feed him and wash his clothes for him. he’d been more laxed with subin than he normally was, but it seemed like the other needed the space.

sitting on his bed, he frowned at the small thunk against his door. after a second, han shrugged and returned to his phone, but quickly put it back down as subin walked into the room. before he could even get a word in, subin managed to break han’s heart with just a simple question.

“i don’t know, binnie.” he answered softly, placing his phone on his bedside table and moving to the edge of his bed, motioning for subin to come sit next to him. “what’s going on, jagiya?”

TAKE A LOOK AT THIS TRAINWRECK—

han’s never been great at expressing himself, especially when it comes to negative emotions. so he makes playlists, and hopes that they speak for themselves — that they’ll convey what he can’t.

 “that’s true, we aren’t getting any younger, for starters.” honestly, every time someone younger joined the company, he could feel more sand grains falling out of his hourglass. a traitorous thought that contrasted how he often felt about this career, because he often advocates that it’s never too old to do something - yet, time is of the essence in this industry. “but you’re already so hard on yourself. i don’t want to add to that. even if that’s what i’m doing right now,” taebin mumbles, his left eye twitching as he finishes that sentence with shame.

“does it feel like you’re always playing catch up? i’m not one of your members, but i bet you anything that your members would agree with me that you aren’t falling behind. but i know how you work, han… and that’s probably why i’m acting like an annoying papa bear, so you have to forgive that.”  he can’t promise to stop,  because taebin knows - he won’t. “nobody asks to get injured. and i think the worst thing is that the older we get, our body relapses and… i think if you don’t take care of it now, and rest until true clearance, that it might end up being worse a year from now, or months from now. 

“would it feel worse if you were on stage, but in a chair on the side singing? i’ve seen some groups do that before.. you would have still been there, but not…really? sort of. i’m making this worse, aren’t i. don’t apologize though. you didn’t do anything intentionally wrong or on purpose, it’s injuries, accidents. things happen.” taebin pats haneul on the arm, sighing as he idles, wondering if they should jump the topic because it certainly wouldn’t get better if he kept nagging. “so… anything else new in your life lately?” 

playing catch up. in a way, that’s what han felt he’d been doing his entire life. always feeling like he was falling behind, always trying to rush forward to keep up with everyone around him. “you’re not being hard on me. just ... realistic.” he sighs, shrugging as he realized how much this conversation reminded him of the same one he’d been having with his brother for years. it seemed like everyone around han could see how much he was overworking himself, except for the leader himself.

a part of him wants to argue with taebin, tell him that he is falling behind, simply because of the very nature of the industry. every day you don’t improve, you fall behind — a mentality he seemingly only held himself to, and none of his members. it didn’t help that, on top of his frequent injury rate, his physical health was far from it’s peak. at this rate, it wouldn’t be years until his body fell apart, and he was more than aware of the fact. 

“time isn’t exactly on my side, bin. never has been.” he answers despondently, picking at a loose thread on his pants instead of looking at the other. haneul didn’t often let himself spiral down into those darker thoughts, though it seemed harder and harder recently. “you’re not making anything worse though. pretty sure i’m doing that to myself.” there’s a half-hearted laugh accompanying his statement, though it sounds fake even to his own ears.

The decision to reconnect with Haneul wasn’t an easy one. Soohyun had spent his entire childhood swallowing his pride and smiling through the bitter aftertaste of his own ego. Yet, it felt particularly sour to have to approach Haneul first, burying the hurt and twisted resentment deep into his chest until he could find it in himself to smile at the taller man again and call his name as sweetly as he used to when they had been friends. it got easier with time, from the first time he approached haneul in years to now, until the bitter pill went down with ease.

Now it became routine to see Haneul in his life. From the years Soohyun spent avoiding the other idol, he now had his phone number unblocked on his cell phone, their text history filled with stilted conversation that slowly warmed and melted into some resemblance of what they used to say. To Haneul, it must be quite heartwarming, but Soohyun felt like he was looking at a distorted mirror in a carnival game. 

He smiled sweetly when Haneul opened the door, cheeks pink and hands awkwardly shoved into his pockets. The other idol had always been a bit clumsy with himself, like he never figured out what to do with all his limbs unless he was on stage. It used to be adorable, when they were trainees, and everything Haneul did was rose colored to him. 

“We’ve known each other long enough to speak a little more casually, don’t we, Hanuel-ah?” Soohyun passed by Haneul’s awkward figure with a breeze, slipping into the smaller chair. He pulled out three choco pies from his bag. “You still like these, right? We can switch chairs half way through. It’s probably more important you’re comfortable since you’re doing the actual work today.”

-

when he’d first come back to seoul, haneul had tried to reconnect with soohyun — they’d been so close and, really, han had missed him terribly during his hospital stay. but he’d been shut out so aggressively ( with reason, in his opinion ) that, after that, he’d kept his distance from the other. he constantly told himself that it was easier this way, that soohyun wanted and needed the space away from him, and that maybe, in another life, they’d be friends once again.

this, of course, happened a lot faster than planned, with soohyun approaching han as if no time had passed at all and, if he was being honest, han was happy to have him back. though it brought some old feelings back to the surface, he couldn’t help but dive back in head first into his friendship with soohyun, the time spent apart quickly forgotten as the other entered the studio.

“i — yeah, you’re right.” he agreed, feeling his cheeks redden as he watched soohyun sit down. feeling stilted, he hovered by the door for a second before returning to his previous chair, almost sitting at the edge of it. his blush only worsened as he watched the other pull out the choco pies, hand coming up to scratch at the back of his neck anxiously.

he was meant to actually do work today, but han knew almost instantly that soohyun would be too much of a distraction. still, he cleared his throat and returned his attention to the monitor in front of him, whatever thought he had previously had lost. “yeah, i do. i didn’t expect you to remember.” he answered with an airy laugh, staring at the screen and not taking any of it in. “i’m, uh — i’m glad you came, soo.”

[Artist Of The Month] Choreo-Record with BLUE.M HAN (하) | May 2022 (ENG SUB)

Uploaded to STUDIO CHOOM [스튜디오 춤] ✔

[artist of the month] 'motley crew' covered by blue.m han (하)

“after my injury, i wanted to come back stronger and better. i want to show a side of me that people haven’t seen yet. i don’t just want to meet peoples’ expectation of me — i want to exceed them.”

sat in his entirely too uncomfortable office chair, han realized that the setup in front of him felt foreign. it had been a long time since he’d sat in a studio on his own, making music that was entirely his. there was an undeniable pressure in his current position — yurim had trusted him with her song, and he refused to fail her, or himself.

in the unfamiliar surrounding, he found solace in soohyun. his reappearance in han’s life had been unexpected but welcomed, his familiarity a breath of fresh air within all the uncertainty the leader was feeling recently. between his injury and his reentry into the studio, he barely felt like himself, and soohyun helped immensely.

after their first friendly encounter in years, han had invited the other to join him once again, just the two of them. he told himself the nervousness he felt was because of how long the pair had gone without speaking, and absolutely nothing else. there was nothing else there, as far as his brain was concerned.

hearing a knock on the door, han jumped before leaping to his feet, opening the door with maybe a bit too much vigor. “ah, soohyun-ssi! i’m glad you’re here.” he smiled, warmth creeping up his cheeks as he moved to let the other in. suddenly unsure of himself, he stood helplessly near the closed door, hands going into his hoodie pockets out of habit.

“you can take my chair, it’s more comfortable than the other one.” he explained, pointing to the big chair as he spoke. “i’ll be more comfortable knowing you’re comfortable.”