nighttime creature

a few hours into the party they’re both entirely wasted, and remi is clinging to eunsol’s shoulder for support. the slightly taller girl stands on spindly heels and her smile is purely radiant, something unfair in it’s electricity, in its charm and charisma. it’s such a perfect expression, such a clarity to it. eunsol is impossible in that way, where she could so easily breathe life into a room with just the shift of her expression. remi can feel eyes on them as she laughs alongside her friend, hand tangling together with eunsol’s, red nails a stark contrast to the other’s peachy pale skin, and god she’s beautiful. remi nuzzles affectionately at her temple, breathes the smell of her perfume - jasmine and vanilla and sandalwood - and sighs. “this is such a stupid party. those were such stupid stages. this is such a stupid group to be in.” she laments, draws her hand down the other’s arm to tangle their fingertips together again, leaning back from her to pull her along towards the center of the room, drawing the gaze of onlookers as she does. “lets just stay here and party and never go back.”

at events like these, it feels almost like eunsol’s grasping at something solid. almost like she can soak in this imagined goal. check it off her box. bask in a limelight. almost. they get to funnel out onstage alongside the big names of the industry. there’s a turnout. frenetic fans willing to scream their throats raw so that their favorite idol might glance their way. of course, eunsol knows that nearly nobody is there for them, probably. not compared to groups like atlas or olympus. but she can still steal this feeling of attentions. re-appropriate it to fit her own needs for the moment. it’s sort of nice, getting swept up in that feelings. bubbles that fizz and pop, match the glass of sparkling wine in her hand now. 

she’s already drank too much, but there’s no reason not to. they’re tucked away in a foreign country, and eunsol wants to continue to ride her borrowed high before she’s forced by koala t. to return back to their less than ideal reality. she glances at remi and smiles back at remi when she feels the other girl sway closer. had stolen her away from the rest of the girls in their group and dragged off to have ‘real fun.’ 

something unsurprising, given that eunsol has taken it upon herself to disregard the majority of the girls without a second thought. but then, eunsol’s been doing that to a plethora of people for a very long time, let alone the ones that she’s sometimes forced to live with. but her and remi had clicked. often gravitating toward each other during schedules. hushed whispers in the corner. “yes to everything, especially the group part.” eunsol agrees readily. “i don’t think i’ve ever hated a song more in my life than my new unit song.” 

“distract me with sordid tales of your far more interesting life.” she tells her, chin propping to her hand. “did you get caught up in that mess of a party at all? i’ve been trying not to pay attention to the articles.” it’s nearly impossible. but after her prior illtimed media brush she’s become a little bit better at avoiding the 

“i’m here to save you. a dose of my love,” eunsol laughs as she moves in closer to ryan, dips down to give her friend a one armed hug. but eunsol can appreciate it, the dramatics at the lack of her own presence. eunsol’s the type you win with flattery, though ryan had gone and accomplished that long ago. they’re closer than most, at least on eunsol’s end. in a different way than she’s used to. a girl that’s always mixed up in power-plays and politics. but what she has with ryan somehow seems to step outside of that, even if the both of them aren’t pure angels of girls. but it’s nice, what they have. it’s probably something that eunsol needs. 

“being your stand in company sounds more exciting than helping anyway.” eunsol admits as she drops down alongside her, head tipping and her hair falling as her temple finds ryan’s shoulder. eunsol’s never had a work ethic to envy, nor one to call out necessarily. but it’s dependant of her mood, a telltale of her pampered and whim-driven life. “of course, do i get my name stamped somewhere for it?” eunsol asks her, and it’s only half a joke. she wants what ryan has. or what she had. that spark of fame. brilliant and burning, even if it will eventually burn out. but she still wants to taste it, have it, accomplish it before she moves onto something else. 

“well, maybe if you’re doing all the work they’ll greenlight it. isn’t that what everyone likes anyway, something they already know?” eunsol wonders this out as she drops her chin into her own palm. maybe that’s why nightmare’s floundering. they’re a little too out of the box. a strange taste to an already accustomed palette. “nothing exciting, even. just my company trying to figure out what to do with us. units. have you heard the new song?” eunsol means her own, even a different unit had debuted before her. 

deciding to be bold, when she noticed that both eunsol, and hani, were taking a break, too, she sauntered over to the raven-haired chanteuse; lips pursing together for a moment before it was her time to speak. “it seems to me as though you’re getting quite the hang of your song, unnie,” she began, inhaling and exhaling a sigh. “you look beautiful, as always…” the latter comment sounded as though she was minimally exasperated, and truth be told, she absolutely was. she was simply doing her best to conceal it. “how’s the promotional cycle going? i’ve talked to hani, but you and i haven’t touched base in awhile. are you enjoying yourself?”

sometimes eunsol feels adrift. not in a grander sense, not usually. she doesn’t push that far out of bounds to question her own reality (lest it topple, and how unpleasant would that be?). but in her group. in her current lifestyle. it’s hard to fit herself close to the other members of her group. her so-called peers. eunsol’s always had this problem though. feeling like an onlooker, playing with dolls. or watching a movie. one with pauses and options for dialogue. 

nothing ever feels quite real enough. it’s like a giant game of pretend that eunsol started as a little girl and never bothered to wrap up. she just keeps playing with it. her whims. and it all centers back to her. her own desires, the storyline she wants written out. very often, eunsol has a problem of looking at people as people. she might like them, or hate them. but there’s a block there. a lack of empathy. not that it doesn’t exist within her, but it doesn’t extend out. eunsol can’t seem to cast it out around her. can’t seem to care. blame it on her. blame it on her upbringing. she feels like an outsider, sometimes. but not in a way that bothers her. it’s like brushing everything back into a box, closing the lid when she doesn’t feel like playing anymore. 

that’s often how eunsol sees nightmare and her quest for her five minutes of fame. maybe one day it will shut for good -- and likely she won’t even consider how it will affect the other girls if she really goes and does it, really gets sick of koala t. failing to garner them popularity. but they’re taking another stab at it. so eunsol’s willing to play. a new spin, a broken group, a different sound. she might not like it, but it doesn’t matter much. maybe the public will, and so she learns the song. works alongside hani to learn the dance, too. 

eventually they collapse in a heap, pulls sweaty hair away from the nape of her neck as she digs her phone out of her bag to check for any notifications. she hears a voice, recognizes ahin’s, but it still takes a bit for eunsol to disengage from her message, to finally glance up at her. she’s a funny thing, eunsol thinks. sometimes entertaining, sometimes annoying. their relationship is likened to a mood ring -- ever changing. eunsol smiles, drops her hair and balances a palm to the floor instead. “it’s alright. it’s kind of nice not having everyone on stage.” not the most team-spirited of statements, but that should surprise no one. 

she sends forth a barb and then a challenge and hwang milo fights the urge to deflate at the statement, because in contests such as this he is often able to win a battle and rarely able to win a war. he’s loved out of his league before. in fact, it is perhaps the only thing he can reliably be depended upon to do- love those whom he shouldn’t love, those who will never really return his affections with the same depth he presents them. but in the moment he can make himself entertaining enough, he figures, or can at least make an attempt, closes his fingers around her wrist and yanks her closer, free hand fitting to the slope of her jaw, tangling fingertips into tousled dark hair, and meshing their lips together in a kiss as earnest as it is affectionate, something for which he hopes to one day be appreciated- that earnestness.

he loves her. he tells her often. recites it like poetry, or a promise. eunsol carries an approximation of that feeling. it’s not as solidly built. it’s not real, and it doesn’t ring with truth. but has eunsol ever loved in the same way that milo seems to love? eunsol doesn’t have to look deep to find that answer. a resounding no. it makes him weak, she thinks. but that’s half the appeal. stars in his eyes, and a heart on his sleeve. he’ll do practically anything she asks of him, and that’s a major appeal to her. 

it doesn’t matter so much what milo wants, or wants from the relationship, but he seems content enough to follow along in this dynamic indefinitely. even if it’s to his own detriment. a man of folly and misfortune. but he’s nice to look at, to listen to. and she likes the way he looks at her, likes the way he tries to prove himself with abandon. he leans in, invades her space and she lets it happen. chases words between the kiss and listens to his odd tumble of a laugh. 

“really?” it’s a playful brand of skeptical as she pulls back far enough to look at him. his lips are stained a muted red from her own lipstick, and she laughs. taps his lower lip with her thumb. “bet you want the opposite.” teasing again, paired with a hint of something sharp, taps her nails near his jaw next. before milo is barreling in, and she drops backward with a laugh. “you’re adorable.” it’s a compliment and not. the words are there, sweet enough. and her tone is nearly derisive. a twist of a statement, more to ruffle at milo’s feathers than anything. 

“i thought you were a ghost” he finally pushes his way inside as he says it, lets the door snap shut behind him. daein wanders in a little closer, she’s sitting on top of an old piano shoved in the corner, and he blames it on the assumption of levitating feet. “or are you one?” he wonders out, voice sly and a grin dimpled into place. he fits his fingers around her ankle, just above the curve of her shoe and taps in a quick rhythm. “i’m scared,’ he teases, a laugh. and then a louder one after he jams his elbow in against the piano keys. the sound clatters noisy and jarring around the room.

there’s conflict in the air, but it’s soft. it surrounds her, wound throughout the dimness of the room. a light bulb needs to be replaced, and eunsol can catch a sliver of her reflection in the window mostly hidden by the blinds stretched across them. it’s funny, because eunsol loves to proclaim that she hates being alone. she likes being surrounded by people, by chatter. admiration. she likes life, constantly moving, shifting, being. there’s a bigger reason that she hates it though, the quiet. she hates being trapped with her thoughts. she hates finally giving herself an opportunity to listen. 

it shouldn’t make sense, because eunsol is headstrong. she has purpose, she knows what she wants and she’ll work viciously to take it. so it shouldn’t make sense, she thinks, that she has to hate the thoughts that visit her when she’s alone. contemplative. she wonders if it’s worth it, and she wonders why. this whole career. her entire, sprawling life. why she wants it. this. why it matters, there are other things she could be doing. less desperate things, even if they don’t bring quite as much attention. she feeds off of it, that attention, but eunsol can’t explain why. can’t put into words why it’s so paramount. why everything else falls to the gutter -- everyone else, too. 

eunsol wants for nothing, and yet, wants for something. something to grip her, to captivate her. there’s nothing but fleeting interest, a desire to be idolized, if only because that’s something she hasn’t managed to experience in its entirety. she’s selfish, and she’s narcissistic. but past that, eunsol’s desperate. and that desperation comes from the unnameable. what to chase. what to long for. what’s needed to break the way she views the world. like she’s three steps back from everyone else and observing a dollhouse. plastic figures tossed around, pushed by whims and a storyline in her head that she wants to fulfill. how does one break that barrier? how does one integrate themselves into a world that’s never felt quite real? 

“it fucking is.” she agrees, sighing dramatically, “what’s the excuse, they need more visuals?” she teases, cups the other’s cheek with a quiet grin, smooths her thumb feather light against her cheekbone (because, you know, makeup) “it’s not like we’re lacking that.” she winks coquettish and entirely exaggerated, humming to herself as she leans back momentarily. “i hope they do, pick us up again.” she clicks her tongue. “i’m getting older by the minute, i can’t afford to have them dilly dallying around like idiots. i got a self life here, you guys, lets get on with it.” she snaps her fingers in rhythm as if to hurry things along, despite pitching her voice only between the two of them. it’s a dumb joke , but most of her humor is patently foolish, or perhaps entirely without grounding or context, wandering off the mark midway. “not that aging appears to have any affect on you. are you actually immortal? or like, made of moonlight?” she sighs dramatically, an exaggerated pout on her lips. 

eunsol doesn’t agree with a lot of the decisions that have gone into making nightmare. but then, her opinions don’t matter and realistically she has no clue how to run an entertainment company, or manage a group. in her defense, koala t. doesn’t seem to have any idea of what to do with them either. there’s too many of them, and while she likes the music. likes the impact, the populace of korea doesn’t seem to. and to eunsol, that always matters more. she got into this for that shooting star fame. something to play around with in her youth. 

she’s spoiled, she’s annoyed when she doesn’t immediately find it. doesn’t get to hold that burning mass in her hands, doesn’t even get to feel those scorching regrets so many of their seniors seem to harp over. so what good is this decision? and what good is nightmare? she resents a lot of it. a lot of them. but remi’s a little different. eunsol views remi as something of an equal, as equal as anyone can be in eunsol’s biased gaze anyway. likes her, her company. privately agrees that they could both do so much better if koala t. just gave them the correct tools to do so, hired the right people. 

but here they are, modelling for an unknown mobile game hoping to get off the ground. hoping that enough 14 year old boys will download whatever it is they’re selling just so they can ogle them in their current getup. eunsol grins back when remi reaches out. winds a strand of the girl’s hair around her finger and tugs at it lightly. another joke (though based slightly in reality), another laugh. eunsol rolls her eyes, but it’s not secret that she’s a fan of praise. “like you’re any different.”’ it’s true enough. and at least koala seems to have enough money to keep up on skincare. 

     “i’m so used to having everyone around, but with you and i, it feels so… empty? like we’re being culled, and we’re the last ones standing. i don’t know. the whole subunit thing… fucking bothers me. like this is our last shot at fame, and is it even a good one?” her shoulders roll without a definite answer. almost superfluous and just on the whim of moving so she doesn’t appear stiff and robotic and too melancholy because that isn’t hani. 

“does what feel weird?” eunsol asks back, and she’s not really paying attention to her surroundings. her phone is balanced in her lap, and her hands are busy carefully moving her hair over her shoulders and out of her view. she’s managed to turn the buzzing noise around them both into white noise. something that drones on unintelligible. it makes days like this easier for her. everything would be easier in general if nightmare got shoved into popularity. or if she cared much about the other girls, their ambitions. anything other than herself. 

but it’s not in the cards. 

and so instead, she stays absorbed in her own world and waits for the moment when the director calls out her name -- either for her closeup shots or for group scenes. she doesn’t mind the music video shoots so much, until they reach a certain point. when everything has dragged on too far, when sleep deprivation invites itself in. but eunsol has a way of conveniently forgetting she’s capable of that feeling. that mood. she resets constantly, always surprising herself when that ornery exasperation appears again and again. 

it does wonders for her, when she sees her face on a tv screen. hears her voice streaming out the doors of a restaurant. a unit just means that there are less girls involved. that a bigger spotlight can be placed on eunsol herself -- those are her thoughts on the matter anyway. “does it? i like it better without the rest of them.” she nearly tacks on ‘dead weight’ but maybe hani can suss it out of her expression regardless. “it would’ve been nice if remi was in our subunit too.” eunsol amends herself, but leaves it at that. 

“of course we match,” she teases back at the other, winds a lanky arm around the other’s girl’s slender waist, pulls her closer. she knows the picture they make together - has fawned over it herself many a time. separately they’re beautiful, of course. together they’re unstoppable. now, if only their company would learn how to use that to their advantage. perhaps this can be the start of that. she smiles, a slow unfurling of an expression equal parts sultry and sardonic. “i believe you’re right, solie.” she hums in agreement, leans towards the glide of the other’s fingers. bites her lip as she reaches a hand up to tangle their hands together, palms pressed close. “but can you blame him really?” 

in the grand scope of things -- is eunsol likely to stick around the industry for a lengthy amount of time? probably not, at least, not with the way that nightmare is headed. but there’s still that shine to it, isn’t there, fame? people can still crave all that attention, even if they have wealth. even if they can can use all those opportunities to leverage their way into careers that are related to their interests. which is sort of what eunsol did. she could have gotten a different job. 

she could have done something with music, but is there any industry where one could get their name out en-masse the same way that an idol could? acting, maybe. but eunsol had never had a huge desire to jump into that pool. so she won’t re-sign, most likely. she’ll get her fill of this pseudo-fame and find something else to do. what does it matter that she has this lengthy gap of work experience on her resume? she can find an opportunity elsewhere, or she can find someone in her parents’ circle to marry. or she can flicker her way around the industry. try to find some actor to reel in. she has options. and some of those options include breaking her contract and paying out her fee early, depending on where nightmare ends up. 

eunsol’s only willing to go so far before she throws in the towel. if nightmare goes under, then it’s over for her. she doesn’t think she’d be able to group-hop in the same way remi managed. this isn’t eunsol’s dream necessarily. it lingers like an interest, or a hobby. there’s a general goal that she wants to be famous. she wants all that adoration. but if nightmare won’t deliver it, then she’s not sure how long she’ll stay. there’s no point, after all. not for her. not in the same way as some of the other girls. which is an unfair mindset to have, but nearly everything is unfair. they should be used to it. remi winds her way closer and eunsol laughs. 

there’s a lot of things that one can pull from the world if you can read room. it works in this industry too. if a photographer likes someone’s look, they might spend a little more time on the shoot. might want to work with them again down the road. if an executive prefers one girl to another in the same group -- well, guess who’s getting that solo? it takes some amount of charm, and some amount blatant lying at times. but it’s something eunsol’s always had a knack for. sometimes it plays out like a weighted scale though, the more she tips in one direction, the more she loses in another. and a genuine piece, something that falls back on caring, on understanding? 

“who was that?” he asks, tries to sound nonchalant. he looks back at her and their eyes meet and there’s a shiver that comes and goes. “i didn’t know you were still seeing other people.”

the hotel they’re in is nice. eunsol had stood on the balcony earlier and made johyun take a picture of her. three, actually. until she’d decided one looked decidedly artistic enough. but he hadn’t seemed to mind. maybe due to the fact that they were in a hotel room, and it kind of pointed to what would come. and the night had followed predictably, until the two of them were twisted up in overpriced sheets. 

eunsol lets her hair fan out across the pillow. it might be a tangled mess by the time she tugs herself upright, but for the moment she doesn’t really care to put much thought to it. she’d tired, but not exhausted. just the type that make her bones feel weighed down. eyes half-mass, a reluctance toward moving. eventually she reaches out, fumbles on the nightstand until her fingers curl around her phone, brings it back. there’s an opened kkt messaged and she clicks at it, even if johyun is to her right. but he’d gotten what he came here for, and eunsol doesn’t feel all too guilty as she types out a reply. 

it’s not that there’s nothing going on between them, but it’s more so that she doesn’t really consider herself and johyun to be anything concrete either. half the time they just meet up and fall into physicality. what is she supposed to be - physical toward his hypocritical decisions? “who was who?” eunsol asks him back, even if she knows exactly what johyun’s referring too. she’s not playing dumb though -- instead, her voice is curt. like she’s trying to barr him out from whatever close-perched space he’s trying to cram himself into. his follow up annoys her. 

she sends forth a barb and then a challenge and hwang milo fights the urge to deflate at the statement, because in contests such as this he is often able to win a battle and rarely able to win a war. he’s loved out of his league before. in fact, it is perhaps the only thing he can reliably be depended upon to do- love those whom he shouldn’t love, those who will never really return his affections with the same depth he presents them. but in the moment he can make himself entertaining enough, he figures, or can at least make an attempt, closes his fingers around her wrist and yanks her closer, free hand fitting to the slope of her jaw, tangling fingertips into tousled dark hair, and meshing their lips together in a kiss as earnest as it is affectionate, something for which he hopes to one day be appreciated- that earnestness.

eunsol, above all else, enjoys attention. though to enjoy would be putting it too mildly. it’s a vice. an addiction. she gets off on it. that wanting and desperation. there’s a disconnect there for her, between the dynamics, power plays and emotions. it’s not really romantic for her, the relationship between her and milo. but she knows it sort of is for him, and that’s exactly why eunsol likes it. why it continues. because he’s bend himself backward into collapse in order to try and meet her arbitrary whims. and eunsol likes to watch that happen. likes watching milo run himself ragged, or into foolish behavior just because he’s so tripped up in the situation. in her. 

it’s cruel, maybe. it’s warped. but eunsol is both of those things, and so that’s how they continue. something like dating, something like playing pretend. but milo’s a very pretty toy. she likes to wind him up. watch him spin rapid until he slows with grinding-clicks of exertion. it’s a little bit predictable, in the end. which makes it funny, because eunsol’s not so sure that milo realizes that about himself. but she doesn’t bother to ask. to shatter this whole romantic veneer. 

so she does it now, too. with her phone in one hand and her interest held just out of reach. until milo’s patience and wanting wears thin enough that he tries to take it. he’s a desperate thing, in the end. easy to push and pull with the direction of her whims.

it’s something on another level. transcendent. she can see the hunger when they look at her, some of them. they want her, obviously, and like a child with a candy bar remi is gleeful and greedy in the knowledge that at least for now, at least sometimes, she has her. she’d love to gloat, to lord it over them, but she settles for stepping closer, tilting her head to look down at the other with honeyed gaze and sweet smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “how can you make this look like the next gucci runway?” she teases, an ode to the other’s complaint of the schoolgirl aesthetic played up by the brand over the past seasons. 

sometimes it feels like they’re bottom feeders, nightmare. the group. though it is a nightmare in and of itself. at least according to eunsol. maybe she could have more by now, if she’d followed the advice of her mother. followed a more well-to-do path. more integrity, less limelight. but that was what eunsol was interested in. that limelight. call it immaturity, or narcissism, or any other vain comment that can be conjured. but that was what she wanted. she liked music, but not quite enough to sell her soul to it. she wanted to attention that came with idoldom. that international sweep or adoration that you couldn’t really chisel out of a different career path.

sometimes she figured it was all beneath her. an inch away from shredding her contract and handing over the cancellation fee. it’s in moments like these that remi somehow knows to seek her out. gets her to stay without enusol letting leak that shadowed idea. maybe remi can sense it. or maybe it’s false attribution. whatever it is though, it’s tied them closer. it’s not a sweet sort of close. more like two animals tossed into a cage at a zoo. filled with fauna, utopia. perfection on the surface, collapse underneath. that’s what they are, what they make, when you push them together.

it’s a collapse and mania that eunsol’s decided to embrace.

and, perhaps, it’s only through remi’s presence now that eunsol doesn’t go mad. she likes cfs, but she has to wonder if this company will even have the budget to actually release this whole thing. she’s pretty sure they picked their halloween costumes up online, some on-sale knockoffs. she tries not to let it show though as they dust the remainder of makeup across her face. annoying. 

“only a little interesting? babe, you don’t give me much credit, huh? have you forgotten how fun i can be… do you need a reminder?” he arches a brow, twisted the corner of his mouth crooked and wicked, suggestive. leaning on the counter, he intentionally brushes shoulders, speaks through the graze of fabric. he maintains the smile, doubles the shadows crossing his eyes. “looks like you missed me at these… parties.” he waves a dismissive hand, the other tracing the mouth of a cup. “or did you miss me in general. you know you can always give me a call to keep you company. to remind you i am more than a little interesting.” 

game accepted.

eunsol gets it and she doesn’t. to some of her peers, the people in the same circles who have dipped their toes in that shallow pool of idol-dom, they all-in. shove their chips onto the table. make a scene. want to build a career. and eunsol gets that, because she’d gone and done the same. she’d opted for an idol group over a more classical-musician approach that would have been far more acceptable and upstanding seeming to her parents. 

but whether or not eunsol realizes it, she treats it all like a hobby, in the end. she’s annoyed at her failing group, sure. she wants the attention. she wants to be in the spotlight. she wants hordes of admirers (if her former -- and current -- instagram presence is anything to go by). perhaps she can understand noah in fractured bits and pieces. but despite their position in the world, or their upbringing, at the end of it all how similar are they? 

it seems like there’s been an imperceptible shift between them. tectonic plates underneath their feet. ominous and volcanic in nature. but neither shy away. they just clash. like game pieces, and they don’t mind about beheaded pawns scattered near their feet. if there’s one similarity between them, it may very well be their complete disregard for anyone aside from themselves. that’s how eunsol sees it, anyway. “did i forget, or are you re-imagining history again?” eunsol asks, if only to try and get underneath noah’s skin. 

and then she surrenders. “i’ve got some hot packs if you’d like them instead?” offers up an alternative to open displays of friendly affection. gives her an out. hot pack in hand, she extends one towards eunsol and waits. 

“we’re living in a giant conspiracy. excellent.” eunsol replies in turn, her words caught in that same lilt of sardonic-playful. eunsol smiles. it’s a bright sort of expression, it always has been. but not the bright that reads of something pure or even sweet. it isn’t made of a sunshine-fueled disposition, because that isn’t eunsol. she doesn’t mind bright as long as it’s composed of something near dangerous. sun layered over skin, the type people don’t realize is burning their skin a scarlet red. 

that’s how eunsol fits herself next to sophia, after all. that same innocuous comfort of warm weather in the summer. salt-drenched air unaware of the building burn. does eunsol care, in the end? maybe. but she cares about herself more. cares about nightmare getting off the ground. cares about leeching popularity off of anyone stupid enough to stand within her reach. vampiric. but the beauty of it is that sophia doesn’t even notice. bless her heart. and eunsol plays along. she doesn’t really feel bad about it. in the end sophia assumes they’re close. what’s the harm? and she’s nice enough. she’s not a chore of a girl. eunsol just has ulterior motives she feels the need to carry around with her. 

“i hate these festivals. i can’t even explain why. they just feel pointless.” eunsol can’t help but to complain. and it does feel that way. maybe because they’re not being broadcasted. because the crowd didn’t buy tickets with the expectation of seeing them in particular. but she knows with how low-radar her own group is that koala.t sees it as a money making venture. it’s why they get shipped off to so many of them. she can only assume that msg’s greedy and cherry bomb! had gone too long without schedules to shove them out alongside her group. the greed of men. maybe eunsol would be more hyper-critical if some for of greed didn’t live inside of her as well. 

“anyway, i had a long conversation with junseo.” and at this her voice turns serious. jiyeon sighs, reaches for her coffee again and takes a sip, copying eunsol. “don’t be like me, eunsol. don’t fall in love, ever. it sucks. i keep dating other guys and hooking up with other guys but i always go back to him, i’m stupid.” she dismisses the subject with a hand gesture, as if it isn’t that important, as if she doesn’t think about junseo every single day. “i wish i was more like you, beautiful and carefree and nice.” at this she chuckles. "okay, not nice, but that’s not a bad thing, not when comes to you. you’d be too perfect if you were nice anyway.”

“of course they do. for all people complain about celebrities and how we’re all such attention whores, it’s what people like to see, isn’t it? us and everything we get up too. like they can feel superior or something even when they probably look like broke goblins.” eunsol inspects a nail as she says this. her voice is bored. her point of view is ingrained into her. it’s how she was raised. and she doesn’t really need to worry about it around jiyeon. she’s much the same. their values intersect, as does their catty nature. there’s no need to censor herself. she doesn’t need to fool jiyeon. wear a mask of something bubblegum-sweet in hopes of pulling the wool over their eyes. give eunsol enough time to distract while stepping her way over them.

“junseo. always junseo.” eunsol’s voice doesn’t shift from where she’d left it before. it holds that same indifference. it’s a little annoying, being friends with both of them -- jiyeon and sooyeon -- when they both seem hooked on the man. floundering trout making fools of themselves. perhaps it’s an excessive metaphor, prodded along by eunsol’s own indifference to relationships. the blinding and consuming type. there should be some amount of logic, shouldn’t there? people shouldn’t just be allowed to get twisted up and irrational. you should be able to plan, rationalize whether something, someone will be beneficial to you in the end.

one day eunsol will get it. will fall into something all consuming. someone that will drive her mad. but it hasn’t happened quite yet. so she just shoots jiyeon a look. almost as if saying she could do better.