shattered
idtaeho:
“oi, san,” he calls, approaches, looks down at him with a smile that is made for war. uncalled for. and to think there was a time the two of them would have been called friends. friends. that was never the truth. no, maybe at first. at some point. but taeho is the way he is, deals with people the same way he deals wth things. when it’s shiny and beautiful he may keep and treasure them, even think it’s going to last forever, but it never does. it never takes too long for him to forget them, set them aside, let them rot in some corner. “our golden boy. how have you been doing? it’s been a while.”
it’s one of those events that doesn’t matter all too much, but that still matters more than your run of the mill music show. tickets sent out, promising artists billed and ready to run through one-two-maybe three of their most popular tracks. a lot of waiting around before they’re all shuttled off to their next schedule. usually. nowadays oasis is old enough that they usually end up performing near-last on the setlist.
generally speaking, san usually keeps to himself unless one of his closer friends are in attendance and there aren’t any fans creeping around. they’re oppressive, and as a result san has grown guarded and secretive over the years. maybe it might not be a huge problem if pictures arose of him and, say, kiwon hanging out. but san still doesn’t necessarily want to broadcast the few small scraps of private information he has left to the word.
and then, with people like jowi, he’s entirely sure it would get warped into something that it isn’t. it already feels like some fans have this entitlement to him, that they’re his secret keeper. him and jowi are just friends. they always have been. but who believes those statements when they’re put out, really? and san doesn’t want to test the waters of his fans’ sanity.
so he keeps to himself, or his group mates. usually jaesun. sometimes milo if he’s willing to talk to him. but usually he closes himself off when it nears the time of performance. maybe a reminder to their lines, or roles, or whatever else milo’s decided to have a grudge about. it builds resentment, but san doesn’t talk about it. and he wants to keep to himself now, too. he would’ve, if not for the obtrusive voice clattering around them.
it’s grating and familiar. a pseudo-friend lost to time, and their relationship has only plummeted farther and farther down since then. he can’t stand taeho nowadays. he stares at him, bland and blank-eyes when taeho walks in closer. invades personal space and greets him with sarcasm-laced words. san doesn’t want to deal with him. he never does. but taeho has a way of inserting himself into his life despite it. “fine. working on something for oasis. then...solo prep, i think.” it’s said casually.
truth be told, san’s not even sure it’s true. a rumor in passing sort of a thing. but he knows, at this point, that taeho’s annoyed with san’s entire solo endeavors. jealous, maybe. taeho likes to rattle the bars of his cage and encite him, but lately san’s been realizing that he likes doing it back. likes to work him up into frustration when he comes over to bother him. likes to force him back into cornered anger. karma. something like it, at least. “you? i heard your comeback was…” he trails off, sentence unfinished, an unspoken dismissal.












