hi (again), i'm bo ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ and introduce to you lee seung-ho! seungho has a profile to check out, more scribbles about him below, pin board, & reach me on discord @/baebo!
seung-ho can be either really sweet and goofy when you meet him or quiet, and reserved. he's a nerd.
his favorite movie is 'parasite' (2019).
he doesn't have much money, getting into a good university was thanks to sleepless nights, good grades, tutoring rich kids, hustle jobs, and lots of loans/scholarships. very few friends, went by mostly unknown.
his favorite type of music/artists are dpr ian, dean, rave techno mixes.
he has manhwa collection and full library of rich literature. kind of weird, but he also knows how to leather bind a book.
he loses things easily.
i'd say his social life is pretty abundant, but he's more homebody, nerdy and likes to have a close knit of people rather than a party full.
he likes to raise fish!!! he's training, going to school and working just so he can give him the best life possible. he lives for them.
he likes to view things positively, doesn't dwell on negativity.
he'll be your cook, cleaner, your everyman. the best roomate. he's normally the one changing lightbulbs in his apartment, cooking, and generally being an unpaid repairman and janitor. but not everything gets fixed, mistakes are made......
he hoped to sign hydra through an ace labs auditon in secret and with minimal people knowing about it. he still takes dancing classes at night two times a week, has odd jobs, and has been dabbling with producing music to get an ear for the craft.
✆ wishlist!
childhood friends he left behind, or new friends in university, he goes to yonsei university.
second oldest brother likes to date around and not treat girls well, and it doesn't help they don't look alike. did seungho's brother break your heart 'cause you deserve compensation!
i'm thinking he's working as a manager/assistant/coffee runner/errand boy for a social influencer. if that's your character, he's very punctual
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Lee Seungho (박채연) is a member of VARSITY and former member of the South Korean co-ed group ALL ACCESS under HYDRA Labels.
📇 SECTION I — INDENTITY
Age (June 2042): 41
Current Occupation: university professor at yonsei university (performance & entertainment studies) / former k-pop idol / occasional actor / dance director / investor / survival program mentor
NEW Faceclaim: kim woo-bin (actor)
Relationship Status: engaged to takada miru! their relationship made headlines across the world. at the time, many fans questioned whether HYDRA's "golden couple" could survive the pressures of two active idol careers. but 15+ later, they've quietly proven everyone wrong. the engagement announcement was met less with shock and more with, "wait… they weren't already engaged?" [wedding details to be determined.]
Family Status: his parents are now comfortably retired after decades of working to support their children. they still insist on treating him like one of the youngest son who forgets to eat, despite his protests. his 2 older brothers have long since settled into careers nowhere near the entertainment industry, they quite detest it actually. one works in engineering, the other in public administration, and both have families of their own. his younger brother though has a successful sports career (soccer) of his own. the two remain especially close, sharing a dry sense of humor that often leaves the rest of the family confused. and miru, of course, who he co-owns a shiba inu puppy with, whose popularity online has become something of an inside joke. their fans often claim the dog has a stronger social media presence than both owners. oh, and the other great constant in his life is his collection of freshwater aquariums.
Industry Timeline:
- 2025 (24): debuts as lead dancer, main rapper, and vocalist of VARSITY.
- 2026 (25): VARSITY earns its first music show win and establishes itself as one of HYDRA's flagship groups. and after an initial flop, this was very big for them!
- 2028 (27): completes VARSITY's first sold-out world tour + second leg and begins receiving credits for choreography development and performance direction.
↳ serves mandatory military service around his 28th birthday and during his enlistment fans eagerly await his return.
- 2030 (29): makes his acting debut in a supporting role, later appearing in several slice-of-life dramas and special projects while keeping music his primary focus.
- 2031 (30): begins mentoring HYDRA trainees behind the scenes and is invited to be a mentor on survival programs, earning a reputation of a tough personality.
↳ publicly confirms relationship with GIRLNEXTDOOR's takada miru after months of speculation, becoming one of HYDRA's most talked-about dating announcements. because miru is considered the company's "princess" the controversy fades as fans come to appreciate their quiet relationship.
↳ VARSITY also celebrates its seventh anniversary not much after/a year later with a commemorative album and another successful world tour.
- 2033 (32): he officially joins HYDRA's artist development team as a contracted dance instructor, balancing mentoring trainees with group activities.
- 2035 (34): concludes regular idol promotions with VARSITY (gen 1) after fulfilling the group's final scheduled activities, choosing not to pursue a solo music career despite numerous offers from inside and outside the company. he actually comes back for one or two more promotions after his 7th year!
- 2036 (35): appointed professor of performance & entertainment studies at yonsei university, where he teaches courses on artist development, and the business of music while continuing as HYDRA's contracted employee.
- 2037 (36): establishes the lee deung-ho performance dcholarship, supporting aspiring performers from underrepresented backgrounds.
- 2038 (37): receives national recognition for his contributions to korean popular culture and arts education.
↳ fun fact: his aquarium hobby unexpectedly develops a devoted online following around this time. fans reminisce about his quiet nature and what makes him the few liked male idols with a clean reputation.
- 2039 (38): expands his role at HYDRA by leading annual performance workshops for trainees and idols across the company's Korean and Japanese divisions.
- 2041 (40): announces his engagement to longtime partner takada miru after nearly 15 years together. the couple also introduces their beloved dog, whose social media appearances sometimes overshadow their own...
- 2042 (41): preparing for [their wedding / to begin married life — TBD, seungho is unexpectedly summoned back to the stage for VARSITY's reunion comeback.
Current Net Worth Vibe: very comfortable. owns a beautiful home, has long-term investments, lives well beyond his means, and has enough financial security for himself and his next generation to make his younger self proud.
🚀 SECTION II — FUTURE SHOCK
First thought after waking up in 2042? "…why is there an AI in my kitchen?"
What surprised them about their future self? how… peaceful he seems. the ambitious 25 year old who wanted to be a rockstar somehow became a man perfectly content grading papers, tending to his aquariums, and spending quiet evenings with his family. he found another dream worth making true.
What is one thing they absolutely refuse to accept about 2042? that phones don't have screens anymore. he still instinctively reaches into his pocket expecting a rectangle. instead, all he has to do is say the word and his Apple wristband projects a full holographic workspace into the air.
🎤 III — REUNION SEASON
Most recent headline about them: "HYDRA CONFIRMS PROFESSOR LEE SEUNG-HO'S RETURN FOR VARISTY REUNION; GLOBAL HOLO-TOUR REGISTRATION CRASHES WITHIN 12 MINUTES."
Do they actually want this reunion? hell yeah! he hasn't stood onstage in years, and though the thought honestly terrifies him, he's ready. one more performance with the people who shared his youth? that feels worth dusting off his old skinny jeans.
Are they still in contact with their former members? well, their group chat is somehow still active after nearly twenty years! adulthood and distance simply make the heart fonder, and seungho is still a golden retriever at heart, very open to reunite with old friends.
What is one rumor about them in 2042 that everyone believes? that HYDRA made him quit because of his public relationship with takada miru, the company's princess. but the rumor gets debunked every few years he's spotted leaving the company's headquarters, chatting up old managers as if he'd never left. most (sane) fans have accepted that he'll never truly cut ties with the place that gave him his start.
tokyo had a way of making anonymity feel possible, right? millions or so people poured through shibuya crossing every hour, each one too busy chasing the next train to care about 6'4" tall man in a charcoal hoodie tugging the brim of a baseball cap lower and lower over his eyes. a disposable mask covered the rest of his face, naturally. now the sunglasses were overkill (he knew they were) but paranoia had a funny way of making every precaution seem totally reasonable.
'i'm here.' he sends miru a simple message. seung-ho glanced over his shoulder out of habit before weaving through the crowd, keeping his pace measured... and he hated this. he hated that something as ordinary as wanting to see someone had to become an operation.
still, he rounded the corner of a quiet side street, away from the noise, away from most people, where tiny cafés tucked themselves between bookstores and vinyl shops and turns out, she was already there. for a second, instinct won. he wanted to close the distance and wrap his arms around her. kiss her forehead, maybe. pretend they were normal people with nothing to lose. instead, he settled for brushing shoulders as they fell into step together. "you waited long?" he asked quietly.
was she being naive? perhaps. but she's been judged by far too many people in the neighborhood without being given a chance to explain herself, so she's always been a believer in giving people a chance. plus, he said so himself. he needed to get away, right? that meant that there was a high chance he wouldn't harm her. the last thing anybody needs right now is a dead body.
when he gets closer, she gently starts wrapping up his gash, trying her best to make sure it doesn't do any more harm. mihyang's been taught the basics from the mother, and she's treated many wounded scholars before, but the scale of his cut was a lot more grandiose than she's ever experienced. just what on earth had he been fighting?
"i'm mihyang," she offers with another gentle smile. "won mihyang," she adds, wondering if the clan name offers any more information. "i don't think i've ever seen you around." the best she could probably do is stop talking, but something about seungcheol sparks her curiosity. "or perhaps you've done a very nice job of hiding so far."
the touch of her hands came upon him like a startling thing. impossibly tender against a body long accustomed only to the lash of winter wind and the merciless kiss of bamboo rods split clean across his flesh. seungcheol stiffened at once, every muscle drawing taut beneath her fingers with the wary instinct. and yet, as she worked, the strain began to leave him little by little, bleeding away beneath the measured grace of her touch. he watched her in silence, darkly fascinated by the sight of a noblewoman tending to ruined skin with the same care a lady might devote to silken embroidery.
"won mihyang," he repeated at length, savoring the manner in which her name rested on his tongue, "now you have seen me. and i see you."
his eyes, dark as spilled ink and twice as permanent, traced the curve of her throat before settling back on her eyes. he leaned in, his aura flaring in a way that seemed to bruise the air between them. "you have placed a brand upon me with those gentle hands of yours, my lady. a debt of blood and silk that cannot be settled with a simple 'farewell' in the dark. tell me... when i vanish back into the shadows of hanyang, will you spend the rest of your life wondering if the wolf you saved was merely a dream that bit back?"
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mun note: seungho absolutely does not have the budget for all this, and like realistically he's pulling up to evaluations in the same white tank top and jeans combo on all days. so the vibe? very playboy. shirts mysteriously disappearing on stage, briefs peeking over waistbands, sweaty idol energy cranked up to max dangerous level. i'm also going with that narrative most of it's straight from the company lookbooks they got handed 😭 i'm leaning hard into 2nd gen inspo because respectfully, that was the best generation for stage styling and unnecessary exposed torso moments
the gates to the won's was always open but mostly because they sometimes had scholars wanting answers to their questions or potential testers who needed a helping hand as they couldn't risk failing the exam once more. mihyang thinks this is the first time she's helped a runaway—or so she assumes that's what he is.
with a gulp, she wonders what she got herself into for a moment. she's always been an advocate for not judging anybody until she's had a moment to speak to them, but she couldn't deny that she was a bit scared of what may happen.
"the doors to our home are always open. my father's rules," she explains with another gentle smile, hoping that it calms him down if he was planning on harming her in any way. mihyang glanced down at the seal that slipped from his sleeve. was that blood? what exactly has she gotten herself into?
thinking fast, she cleared her throat before looking around the room for some cloth. "is that your blood? i'll patch you up and then you can get going, sir. i believe by now the men should have made their way into the town square." her brother and father were away, but she wasn't sure when they'd be back, and this was a rather sticky situation she didn't want to get caught in.
seungcheol watched mihyang scramble for cloth, her movements far too frantic for a girl who claimed to be at peace with her father's open-door policy. she was a deer and he was a gutter wolf that had somehow lodged itself in her family's throat. "don't waste your linen on me..." he rasps, he didn't want to move toward the light she offered. "that is a dangerous habit in a city of wolves." his gaze snaps to the official seal that had betrayed him. the blood on it was darkening, turning the color of crushed plums against the floorboards. he let out another raspy laugh that sounded like dry husks rubbing together. the sound of his own mirth felt hollow, rattling ghost of a laugh that died along the way up. he looks at her and sees the way the light from the lattice caught the stray threads of her hair. she was terrifyingly sincere, and it gnawed at him.
but even as he closed his eyes for a heartbeat, his exhaustion lingered, and finally it outweighs his pride. with a grunt, he approaches her slowly, dragging himself into the small circle of light where she waits with her cloth and her terrifyingly open heart. "fine," he extends his arm with a grimace. the gash along his forearm was weeping a sluggish crimson. souvenir from a ministry blade. "mend it, then, if your conscience demands the burden. but be quick, i have no desire to see what happens when your father finds a wolf in his attic."
he moved closer, the movement drawing a sharp hiss of pain from his lungs. "i am lee seung-cheol. no clan, no house, and currently, no luck. and... does the girl who plays with treason have a name to match?"
the phantom flinch that haru felt when the spray of sand scattered across his shoes raked over his internal composure, even if absolutely none of it reflected on his countenance. this was the exact defect haru lived in constant, suffocating fear of exposing—if someone were to stare just a second longer, or peer just a fraction too deep beneath the surface, they would see past the meticulously polished porcelain and find nothing but an echoing, freezing abyss. the same one that one of the executive producers had already called him out for; it was only a matter of time before the cameras caught wind of it as well.
hearing the streak of curses spill from the other male's mouth was by no means an unfamiliar experience for haru, though it still poked at and tested the sterile, pedantic sensibilities he was raised to uphold. haru could barely remember the last time a single obscenity had crossed his own lips, let alone possessing the ability to be so remarkably fluent in the raw, unapologetic cadence that seungho wielded like a second language. in a strange way, that was exactly what made existing within seungho's chaotic orbit so undeniably liberating, even if his mother would have not felt the same way.
"i try to be, but..." haru's lips pressed into a thin line and a quiet, noncommittal hum vibrated in the back of his throat.
"what if i'm unable to even be myself?" he asked, the syllables dissolving into the sea breeze, barely louder than the crashing tide. "what do you think would happen then?"
seungho feels that question sink straight into him. haru is trying to be a masterpiece so bad that he forgot he's actually the one holding the golden brush. seungho understands this, its a specific kind of exhaustion, you start to curate yourself until theres nothing left but the highlights. seungho looks down at his own hands; they are calloused in ways a trainee's hands aren't supposed to be, mapped with scars of a life lived before he was a project. he always thought haru was the one built for this but maybe that's the trick. maybe whoever is trying to mold him, or whatever is trying to break him, is just looking for a mirror to reflect back. it hits him that looking at haru, seeing all that potential being treated like a defect, feels exactly like those calloused hands. rough, raw, a work in progress that the powers that be are trying to rush.
"i don't know what's going to happen. honestly? nobody does…"
his voice comes out quieter than he expects, dragged a little by the wind. he nudges the sand with his foot again, softer this time, pushing it forward instead of kicking it away, watching the grains shift and settle like they've got nowhere better to be. "but if you really get lost?" he glances over, a crooked kind of smile tugging at his lips, warmer than the sun. "just follow the sound of my laugh. it'll always be loud enough to find."
the door to the won's house was always pretty wide open. something about how they had to be welcoming to everybody were her father's words, but she just thinks it's becaus they can't seem to say "no" to anybody. need a place to rest? they'll let you sleep for a night. need some food? here's some tteok.
did mihyang love it? not really, but it's not like she had any say in what goes on in the won household.
despite all that, however, this is a new experience for herself. when she heard a slight rustle toward the attic of her home, mihyang thought it was probably a bird building a nest or a stray cat. what she didn't expect to find was a person. she thinks she's seen him around town before, but she can't put a name to the face.
she doesn't even get the time to think either because there's ruckus toward the gates of her home. she looks down and signals for him to stay quiet before heading out. "what may i do for you?" she offers them her warm smile as they explain that they're chasing a thief. ran off with something of value—the words are muffled in her ears as all she can think about is that there's a very high chance the man in her attic is very much this so-called thief.
"i haven't seen anybody like that around here. i suggest you try looking around the square? there are many paths with dead-ends," she suggests. a sigh of relief leaves her lips as she watches them walk away from her home.
when she gets back to her attic, she's actually surprised to see him still there. mihyang would have thought he would've tried to run away once more and go hide somewhere else. "they're gone, but, sir, please don't tell me that i've gotten involved in something that'll put me in danger."
seungcheol adjusted the brass hand-warmer at his belt. inside, the dokkaebi was laughing maniacally, and that felt like needles under his ribs. 'she's pretty,' the spirit's voice slithered through his mind like spilled ink. 'ask her for her jewelry. or her soul... whichever is heavier.' he ignored the ghost, his gaze narrowing as he looked at the woman who had just gambled her family's reputation on a whim. he was grateful, in the way a trapped stray dog is grateful for a momentarily open cage, should he make a run for the hills? but the gratitude was thick coating of grimy cynicism.
he finally laughed. he was unaccustomed to the delicate honorifics of a house like this. "you've been 'involved' since the moment your father or husband decided a lock was an optional decoration for a front door, my lady." he bowed. seunghcheol usually did not waste motion on grace, but something in him told him to.
"those men at your gate aren't looking for a thief. partly. they're looking for a scapegoat to pin a century of administrative failure on, and i happen to be very, very good at looking guilty." his gaze averted vaguely toward the open lattice window, where the scent of plum blossoms was trying (and failing) to mask the metallic tang of his own desperation.
"yet you lied for me. in hanyang, a lie for a stranger is a debt well-earned... does fate tempt you, too?" he didn't wait for her answer. instead, he pulled a small, blood-smudged ivory seal from his sleeve and rolled it between his fingers—the very thing the guards were likely bleeding the streets to find. "because a pure heart is just a larger target for a knife and i need this scroll to start a new life, elsewhere... how should we mend this?"
seungho had a point. did the architects of this little purgatory indeed have a plan or anticipated outcome for such an arrangement? in theory, haru could reverse-engineer the desired outcome—it was clear they wanted authenticity, packaged for mass consumption—but it was working through all the finer details that made him stumble. he was uncertain of the expectation, and even more uncertain of his ability to meet it.
regardless, haru harbored a quiet, corrosive doubt that he was remotely built for whatever mold they were trying to pour him into.
he let out a sigh, soft and fraying at the edges, and shifted his weight on the sand. "you don't have go that far... it's a risk i'm willing to take. if they confiscate my e-reader, then so be it."
he wanted to steer the conversation back to safer, shallower waters, but seungho's final words hung heavy in the salt air, and he could not find it within himself to not acknowledge them.
"that might be easy for you," haru began, his voice a low murmur that barely carried over the waves. "but for me..." he trailed off, the sentence dissolving not from an unwillingness to speak, but from a fundamental inability to string words together into a coherent sentence.
who am i? who do i want to be? who should i be?
something told him that verbalising the thought was unnecessary; seungho, despite the deceptive simplicity of his sprawl on the beach, seemed to have the capacity to read the subtext written in haru’s silence. haru’s fear now was whether the cameras were capable of the same feat—and he knew, with a sinking certainty, that their lens would be significantly less kind.
seungho hears haru's words just sort of evaporate into the salt air. he lets out a sharp, clicking tsk—the universal korean sound for you are overthinking this and it's making my teeth ache. he hates this. he hates the way the industry turns functional human beings into these glass figurines, always terrified of a hairline fracture. everyone is so busy trying to be a masterpiece that they forget how to just be a person who occasionally trips over their own feet or says something profoundly stupid. the unwillingness to act a fool is the real villain of this little purgatory. he misses the culture of early generations.
"look at you," seungho says, low-slung, he's talking to haru like they're two idiots sharing a cigarette behind a convenience store, not two products being polished for a lens. "if you get any tighter, you're gonna snap and take an eye out."
he kicks a spray of sand toward haru's shoes and then simply leans back on his elbows, looking up at the sky. he lets a string of words fly that would make a harbor master blush, a foul-mouthed cadence that is somehow the most honest thing on this entire beach. he'll wreck ball his aim at the 'mold' haru is so scared of.
"you? you're the sensible, intellectual guy the rest of us messy kids can lean on. own it."
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DATE — 2026년 01-3월
EVENT — CO-ED PROJECT
WORD COUNT — 343
seungho's still in the same practice room at stupid hours. the speakers crackle a little when he pushes them too loud, bass bleeding into the floor, into his bones, into whatever part of him is supposed to feel stable. he runs the same set twice, three times, until sweat drips down his spine and his shirt sticks. nothing about that's changed. same version of himself staring back like, you again? what has changed is the way he checks his phone between runs. not for messages (there aren't many) but for numbers. bank account. again. like it might magically decide to stop looking like a joke.
he laughs once, breathless, and the thing is the punchline landed but no one's around to hear it. beggars can't be choosers. it sits in his head, heavy and simple.
the folder lives everyday now, edges getting soft from being handled too much. he tells himself he's not thinking about it, but he keeps thinking about it. co-ed. whatever. he's seen worse odds and still walked out standing. besides, he remembers the room. naimei didn't look scared so much as much as scary, like the girl is three steps ahead of whatever this could become. miru, quieter, but not small about it. she was listening to something no one else could hear yet. that stuck with him; that and the way nobody laughed at the idea.
he tries to picture it sometimes, between sets with varsity. five of them, friends... it feels fake when he pushes it too hard, so he stops trying to make it pretty. lets be messy instead. easier that way. he needs this. not in a poetic, 'i was born for this way!' in a very real, my-account-is-screaming, i-don't-have-the-luxury-of-waiting-for-perfect way. he exhales, saying no to this is letting a life fulfilled go instead of grabbing onto it.
"yeah..." he says, to no one, but to the city, to himself. "okay."
he signs it the next day in front of this secretary and without making a scene. ink where it needs to be. straightforward. done.
Juansen Dizon, from "I Am The Architect of My Own Destruction" (page 24)
🌸 GOVERNMENT APPENDIX: Registry of the Uncounted (1805)
🍃 SECTION I — Identity
Name: lee seung-cheol, state-registered laborer (이승결)
Clan: a whole street rat. nominally of the namin (southerners), but effectively a son of a slaves thinned out by poverty, who somehow survived on the scraps of scrolls and the kindness of temple monks.
The Reputation: the rumor mill calls him "gutter boy." they say he is a scoundrel, a poor man who "finds" the fans, letters, and trinkets dropped by the elite and knows exactly what they are worth. some folks say he found an ancient brass hand-warmer in the ruins of a desecrated pagoda that breathes and grants of impossible wishes...
🦋 SECTION II — Aura
Color: ghost-copper (metallic orange-brown??), color of a weathered coin lost in a stream; he feels warm to the touch but looks like it might vanish if you blink.
Trigger: lies carry a sound. especially in this season of 'invisible knives.' some words ring a false note (a fake laugh, a feigned compliment) his aura pulses electric violet. it's a warning system he can't seem to shut off.
The Interpretation: matchmakers see his tanned skin and label it "commoner's exhaustion." and quickly shoo him away from potential brides. they think his life is simply tired. they don't realize he's never needed a hearth to stay alive.
🌷 SECTION III — The Heart
Arrangement: none. but, he is unofficially 'bound' to a noble daughter of the (come plot with me!) clan. he plans to use his one great wish for a single night to become the "prince of the southern stars" just to stand in her light at the spring banquet.
Memory: he remembers the taste of chemically sweet peach tea and this vibration on the side of his legs happens here and there. now, he only has the load of a ferret-like weasel on his shoulder and the silence of spring.
The Scandal: seungcheol doesn't have an aura; he stole a map from the king's private collection and found an ancient tool. if the yeonghwa scholars discover that his "aura" is actually a projection of a captured dokkaebi, he'll be dead man walking (💀).
look, he isn't saying the universe is a jukebox, but they've definitely just hit the part of the night where the needle skips and suddenly everything feels high-stakes and rather cinematic. it's that weird, blurry 3:00 am energy where the cheap beer tastes like actual champagne and every street corner in the city feels like a set piece waiting for them to mess it up. there's this specific brand of messy that only happens when the party dies down and it's just strays left behind, wandering toward a 24-hour diner like they're on some holy pilgrimage for pork belly. seungho wants to tell naimei something profound, something that sounds like a b-side track, but he'll probably just end up asking if she wants to split the soju or beer and hoping the silence between them feels more like a bridge than a wall.
he's more than okay with either. he stops under a flickering streetlight, the cold air finally cutting through the adrenaline as he thinks about the press release hitting the trades in a few months. he looks at her, and finally breaks the silence. "so," he says, his voice a little lower than before, "now that it's actually happening… how are you feeling about the debut news? are you ready for a co-ed group?"
there are specific things jaeyi remembers about seungho— it surprises her that she still does. 2026, new year’s party, she’s about to fetch drinks for the friends she’s with only to catch him on guard at the drink station. her throat is tight. it’s from guilt, of course; something a less tipsy version of herself wouldn’t let her feel, so she soaks up all of it now.
jaeyi, too, soaks up the image of him. she remembers his eyes. his overgrown fringe, how she used to brush the strands of hair away. they end up in the same company, because life works out in funny ways, but she’s always kept a distance from him. it’s a struggle to differentiate what she’s allowed to do and what not to do with seungho.
“hey,” she looks up at him, unsure if she has the right to offer him a smile. he’s always been easygoing, so jaeyi places the plastic cup in front of him. “drinks? which one are you feeling?” she wonders if it’s the same one he always got years ago. “how are you feeling, actually?”
seungho doesn't believe in ghosts, but seeing jaeyi under the strobe lights of a cheongdam-dong penthouse feels like being haunted by a version of himself from six months ago. she looks exactly the same. okay, maybe a little sharper, maybe a little more like the idol the company wants her to be, and it's annoying how easily his brain tries to fill in the blanks.
he's standing by the drinks, mostly because it's the only place he can look busy without actually talking to anyone. the bass is thumping through the floorboards, a rhythm that usually feels like a heartbeat but tonight just feels like a headache. then she's there. jaeyi. the girl who ghosted him with a text that was shorter than a grocery list. "hey..." seungho looks at her, then down at the cup she slides toward him. it's a peace offering, right? she asks what he's feeling, and honestly? he's feeling like an actor who forgot his lines.
"i'm feeling like i've had enough of this playlist," he says, flat but not mean. just... distant. like he's looking at her from the other side of a very long tunnel. he doesn't reach for the cup yet. he just watches her, probably wondering if she's waiting for to choose the same drink. that guy is dead, buried six feet under. but he finally picks up the cup (yes, same drink, so simple minded) and his fingers brush hers for a microsecond. "you still drinking that sugary cider stuff?"
miru had almost forgotten just how much work everything required. stopping to pose for photos with people she doesn't even know, having to be on a look out for the rest of her members to make sure they're staying out of trouble all while looking like she's having the time of her life.
no wonder she's slipped out into the balcony for a breath of fresh air. when she hears the door click open, she almost wants to ask for more privacy, but then she hears seungho's voice and her tensed up muscles naturally relax. "thanks," she says as she takes the cup from him.
"after all this? i'm not sure. i sort of just want to go home and sleep." without thinking twice, miru leans over to put her head on seungho's shoulder, letting out a sigh. she's been trying her best to enjoy this second round of promotions, but the burden of being leader and having to keep up with everything brings her headaches. "at least the award shows are over. those were way too hectic."
seungho's a statue as miru leans in. when her head hits the notch of his shoulder, he broadens his back like he's personally offended by the wind and intends to fight it on her behalf. the party is still happening on the other side of the glass, a dull, rhythmic thud that feels like a headache you haven't quite earned yet, but out here, the air is empty of everything but them.
"yeah," he says. his voice is a hum, heavy with a brand of melancholy that usually doesn't come from deungho. "this is a lot." his arm finds the ledge behind her. it's not a hug, he'd probably file a legal brief if caught arguing that it's definitely not a hug, it's just a boundary. a structural reinforcement. a wall. "you did well," he says. he's staring at the city lights now, his jaw tight enough to crack a tooth, like he's physically swallowing the next three sentences he isn't brave enough to say.
miru's so close that her hair brushes his collarbone with every breath she takes. it's delicate, rhythmic friction, and seungho stays absolutely, terrifyingly still. he is a man holding his breath in a room made of glass, terrified that one dumb word will shatter the whole moment. "sleep sounds right," and it sounds like a prayer. "everything’s too loud after this." the wind decides to get mean, cutting sharper across the balcony. without a word, he sheds his coat and drapes it over her, letting his own frame absorb the cold. he doesn't ask if she wants it; he just anchors her anyway. "you don't gotta hold it all right now," he says, the words nearly lost to the gust. "just tonight. let the night hold it for you."
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seungho's all stretched out on the sand, towel crooked under his shoulders. somewhere up the beach, distorted through a portable speaker, son dambi's "saturday night" is playing (looped, a little too loud) and it's the kind of song that shouldn't fit this quiet and somehow does. the song floats over the sand and water, nostalgic in a way that sneaks up on you.
he didn't grow up like this. hardly any beach weekends, or salt in his hair, but trot/pop music did drift from your local noodle shop so there's that. but god, he wishes he did. the taiwan wave rolls in easy, forgiving laps and his mind goes blank.
haru's nearby, new member in name only, long-time bromancer in every other sense. seungho watches him absently. the cameras sit back, pretending they're just scenery. the chorus hits, echoing off laughter down the shore. seungho exhales, turns his head toward haru, one eye closed against the sun. "you hear that?" he says, nodding toward the music. "that song makes it sound easy. like all you gotta do is show up and move together."
DATE — 2025년 12월
EVENT — YEAR END 2K25 010
WORD COUNT — 434
seungho does not wait for the lights to cool. the last note of the award show's stage still vibrates in his bones when he bows, counts the steps backward, and leaves. he doesn't catch that encore feeling. the chase for the hallway cameras or meeting peers from other companies. the boys' manager calls his name once, maybe twice, but he's already shrugging into his coat, sweat drying sharp on his neck. he tells the manager he's fine. he tells the driver to step on it... the black SUV cuts through seoul on a held breath. neon slides across the windows and disappears. he lets the city fall away. tonight, varsity did what they could do with the bodies they still had. tonight, was the last time some things were said without being spoken. he does not name the boys who left. naming makes them permanent.
his phone buzzes throughout the entire card ride.
there is a war inside him, quiet, constant. fame pulls like tidewater, strong, inevitable. but home pulls like gravity. he learned that resisting either one will tear you apart. so he lets himself be moved, but only does so on his own terms.
their house in saerom-dong is smaller than the stages he's stood on, yet it feels larger than life. the door opens before he knocks. his mother scolds him for not eating. his father claps him once on the shoulder, proud in a way that does not ask for proof. his brothers are louder, older jokes sharpened by time, laughter crashing into him like something solid. for a while, he is not an idol. he is just lee seungho, the middle son of four, the one who left and came back changed.
they eat. rice, soup, so much meat, and side dishes that taste like winter evenings and childhood. conversation moves around the awards without touching them. this is mercy. this is love... later, when the house is nearly asleep, he stands alone.
he lights incense with careful hands. the smoke rises thin. only then does she appear in the room (in spirit). his grandmother's name rests in him like a stone polished smooth by years. she does not speak. she never needed to. he bows before the ancestral altar, slow, forehead lowered, back straight. the boy she raised. the man he is becoming. the man she'll never get to see, but somehow always knew. he tells her nothing about trophies. he tells her he endured. he tells her he is still himself. he tells her he will walk forward, even if the road splits.
