over & fordone

“i have a solo stage.” he drawls it out like he might think sungyeol’s an idiot. but really, it shouldn’t be all too surprising, they tend to give them out during group specific concerts, and san had gone and promoted as a solo. it makes sense to include it in the line up. to give a hint to his fans that there will be more to come soon. “don’t you have something?” he trades back, less to try and one up him, and more because he thinks he probably should, wants him to leave and go track down the details of it.

San was right in more ways than one. About the implied lack of care and professionalism. It was hard to do as much as pin point when exactly Olympus did something so terrible for Sungyeol to mindfully choose to give up on the group. If he had stopped to think for a moment, gotten his head out of the bubble that was centered only around him and making him look over the horizon in the warm-shaded egotistic glasses, he might have put his feelings for the group and the company separate. 

“Ah, what an exciting job you have,” It’s not like he never put in effort, he did care for his career and the group’s well-being right when they started. Didn’t they all? The mentality he carried from his trainee days into the start of their careers was a well-oiled engine. So used to sleeping in the practice room, the twenty-two year old extended the tradition into debut and spent the majority of time practicing. However, incapability of grasping that he didn’t need to fight and try as hard anymore made him unaware of the fact that he needed to switch gears and slow down. Start paying attention to others. Because teams only work if all members have the proper group mentality and are capable to bounce off of each others strengths while filling each other’s weakness. Like glue or puzzle pieces. “The perfect student. Always on time and working his ass off for some reason unknown to most of us.” Olympus at the very far end of the spectrum.

Maybe hadn’t be been living in the competitive, individualistic mentality, the relationship state between the members at him would at the very least be fixable. Though, at this point what could have been were useless to put forward. They’re in incorrigible ruins. 

So it’s a bit funny. Equal parts frustrating. Somewhat hypocritical that Sungyeol was out there preaching the importance of a team mentality into San’s face when he never even had one to begin with. It was more about making a point than leveling with reality. “I used to have a similar job before figuring out that Midas won’t give you shit no matter how much you beg or work.” There’s almost a painfully friendly smile on his face. “Even so, you can’t say that I don’t try for this group. That would require my complete absence during rehearsals.” His hands move up slightly, only to smack against his thighs immediately. “And somehow I’m here. There are different ways of trying, kid. Realistic and... Who knows.” Looking the youngest over, Sungyeol turned to the side sharply to stretch. He was more than aware that San wouldn’t cooperate no matter how much stupid reasoning he would put forward. 

“anything you would recommend if i wanted to pick up a new skill? i am not really looking for anything today. ” she just wanted to browse for a bit, maybe pick up a few books to take with her to the dorms and the rest could go home. “i ordered some books and the staff member is getting them for me. i did want to pick up a few more cook books…but i am open to anything, i learning so i am like a sponge.”

The idea that the young girl is not reacting to him in any way has very requited relief washing over him as Sungyeol shifted his weight on one leg and leisurely removed the remaining of his disguise  — a black baseball cap. Spinning it in his hands a few times he gathers the information she’s giving her, nodding along. On a good day, he could be like that, too. Engaged in a helpful stranger. “You come here often?” A question that didn’t really need an answer, considering the context of something many would like to call another form of weather talk. Nevertheless, it’s genuine. 

“Ah,” there’s an unmissable tone of appreciation. The egotistic being running his body always did Sungyeol like that, pushing him into smug excitement whenever his advice was required. It was the idea of being qualified for it that tapped him on the shoulder fondly. “Depends on what you like or what you need, really, since basically everything has been put down in writing, too, nowadays. Sort of like how you can find everything on Naver, too. It’s just nice to have a copy, feels much more real.” He goes off topic for a moment, reaching out for a book about traditional Korean dancing, eyes moving over the summary of it’s backside.

she missed him, she truly missed him, but she had to be careful. maybe it was just a sweet dream, a product of her hopeless imagination and a way for her brain to soothe her grieving heart.’’sungyeol? what are you doing here? what’s the rush? is the building on fire? are you dying?’’ perhaps it sounded like a joke, but she was a little worried.’’ no, please tell me. are you drunk? are you hurt? what’s going on? i hope you’re aware that it’s almost four am.’’concern laced her tone, her warm eyes scanning him from head to toe. it felt real, so real. but then, what did he want? nothing made sense to her. 

A big part of him didn’t think the door would open. The cold shoulder he’d been receiving had started to settle on his shoulders, leaving lingering melancholy of the times they spent together behind. Friendships fade, it’s an every day occurrence with many. Even though Sungyeol couldn’t say the same about himself, he ought to respect her own non-existing feelings towards him. Ought to forget and brush Sunjung off, too. It might have been a bit naive to think the videos would help. All the good moments that felt a little bit more real with her touch and the camera. 

Thus, he’s astonished when her frame comes into view. He surely hadn’t gotten anything positive from her for a while. It’s scary how foreign it felt after multiple conversations that ended in shattered pieces (or was it that catching up to her flipped his outlook). Surely she checked who it was, didn’t she? Uncanny worry on her features as soon as their eyes meet, he’s left standing there in silence as a couple dark clouds dawn on him. First, the late hour of the night he had foolishly forgotten. Realization came as he took her in, slightly sleepy, in a night gown that glowed invitingly in between the light in the hallway and the light coming from the apartment. It was really late (early). Didn’t he come back from the concerts at one in the morning to start with? And second, the impulse action of coming straight to her apartment fell on him like a ton of heavy rocks. 

What is even his opening line? Sorry to wake you up but I think I figured you out? Excuse me, miss, do you have a moment to talk about your feelings? 

“I really didn’t think this through,” it’s a bit deadpan, fitting the blank gaze he weight her own down with. It’s also not meant to her. A statement that had do linger and fade into the slightly chilly air. “Ah... You should really not open your door this late, what if I was a murdered. Did you even check?” He doesn’t mean to sound snarky, complaining wasn’t the pupose of the appearance. But words slipped anyway, Sungyeol trying to mindlessly distract himself and calm his running brain. The sound of his blood pumping was still prominent in his ears; he couldn’t get rind of the loud sound of his own heart no matter how many breaths were taken. That’s what going into complete blindness felt like. Or, rather, coming out of it.

“and what’s been up with you? please tell me it’s entertaining.”

The thing about Sungyeol was that he has always been very divided when it came to people. Strong opinions on many subjects led him developing a strong outlook on who he does and does not like. People were either his friends or mutual distaste for one another electrified the atmosphere. Of course, nothing is simply black and white. Many people that he’d met because of his job remained stuck in between, casual acquaintances with witch pleasantries were exchange for networking purposes (Midas tapping him fondly over the shoulder for that).

God, how much he hated playing under Midas’ eyes. In midst of straightforward tyranny, the ten year contract a chain on their necks. All of it turned into a mixture of reasons why Sungyeol might have been a bit too vile to a disinterested Rogun right from the start. Idols under 99 entertainment always carried a sense of freedom, which the Olympus member craved ever since they started pushing him into a position of a brother. So much so that it had came forward in petty manners towards many artists under the other entertainment company. 

With so many people that lingered in the middle, it’s a bit funny how the person he’d consider closest to him was on the very end of the spectrum. Rogun came from one extremum to another over a heart-to-heart or two about the industry they were deeply swept under. Fitting neither of their taste. “Entertaining?” he landed on the couch, too, eyes sweeping over the new apartment. At idol companies had some advantages after breaking even. “You’re asking me about entertaining?” Gaze lazily dragging towards his friend, he downs two long gulps of his drink before setting it down. “They’re working us like dogs, trying to milk us to the best of their ability. We recently had four concerts in three days and now we’re starting to film some bullshit reality show.” A bitter laugh remindful of a snort escaped his nose. “They are dragging me to boring variety, our music is turning more shit by every release- Have you even heard Ko ko bop?” The rant ended in a question about the arguably worst song Olympus had ever put out.

“have you, sunbae?” she asks back, ready to direct the conversation away from her. jiyeon is a selfish person, doesn’t want to share anything with sungyeol - more than she already has, that is - or with whoever will watch the show. “i was looking it up online last night and it looks beautiful.” jiyeon looks outside, the weather is great outside, it will be a sunny and warm day. she feels cold. “let’s listen to some music.” she smiles, turns on the radio and connects her phone, browsing through her library ( the amount of imperial songs she has there is shameful ). “here, what do you think about this one?” she asks, playing sunny summer. if she has to do this then she might as well promote fantasy while she’s at it.

The opportunity of Travel Maker for him is a gateway. He was tired of giving undesignated advice on family friendly shows. The only other times he was on camera were with the remaining members, giving them water, towels and prideful smiles under a heavy eye of his manager. Of course he jumped on the chance of an appearance that had a different feeling. Thinking that if anything, that might be a way slowly start fitting himself into variety that Sungyeol would genuinely want to do.

“Ah, I see,” he nods, peeking at Jiyeon for a moment before focusing on the road. Jiyeon. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t surprised that the company wanted to throw them together again and offered the pair to the broadcasting station without second thoughts. They knew very well of how it ended up the last time they wanted Sungyeol and her together. This time, of course, the definition of the word was a bit different. Be her brother, take care of her, just when he thought he might be able to bring his old tendencies back for the cameras. “I’m sure you’ll like it. Though, it might be a big switch from what you’re used to seeing. People are different, too, from how I remember that part of the country.” Now that he was gripping on the wheel and faking a part of familiarity that once was between them, he questioned his own chain of thoughts. Midas did only lived for bigger cash flows. “I was born in Seoul and grew up there but my grandmother was from somewhere around Jinan. We used to go there sometimes.”

Smart. Putting music on. It feels a bit more comfortable once the first chords fill the heavy atmosphere. At least for Sungyeol, who doesn’t feel the need to speak that much anymore. Instead of answering Jiyeon’s question immediately, he chooses to use his open mouth to list the names of the Fantasy girls to the beat, mixing some of the names up and not exactly on the beat. As if he was trying to get the fanchant while still concentrating on driving. “Is that how it goes?” the question is directed at his company. It doesn’t require an answer, as Sungyeol continued almost immediately after that. “Bright, feel good songs are easy to listen to, I like that about some of your songs.” To be honest, he didn’t care for any songs of any Midas artist. Even Olympus’, most of their music hitting a nail straight to the artificial factor.

“we’re all too old for this,” jaewon replies, looking at him with amusement. when was the last time he spoke to sungyeol like this, to any of his group members? and truth be told, sungyeol had been the one he liked the most, if not the only one he liked, had any sort of a relationship that could’ve been called close. but it ended, of course it did. nothing good could flourish in the toxic environment that was olympus. and it feels weird, in a way, but normal at the same time. he doesn’t quite know what to make of it. “you did well, though,” he continues, a nod, an olive branch. “you still dance well for an old man.”

He’d always seen the craving for the stage in Jaewon. It was hard to not notice the bewildering shift in personality as soon as he stepped into the spotlight, how his whole being accustomed to the music and the screaming of the ones that craved just another piece of him. Amusing to watch, really, someone burning up and relishing in the spotlight. That made the career choice purposeful. Following dreams, slowly making them reality no matter how much control Midas haf over them. What was Sungyeol’s excuse?

To be fair, he did think he wanted it. One could only blame his swift change in interest one he entered the idol life. The same thing that sunk him into deep waters once and in a constant struggle to stay afloat. “Don’t mention it, Kwon,” he waved it off in a nonchalant manner, raking through his sweat-damp bangs with the same hand, pulling on it forcefully so it stayed in place. 

Truthfully, there was little recollection of the last time Olympus weren’t vile around one another within Sungyeol. There were usually two ends of the spectrum in their inter-group stife  — biting or minding their own business. Never something in between. Nor positive. But giving a taste of what each of them wanted seemed to be a great strategy to keep it all under control. That seemed to be what the six lived on for eight years; blind, ridiculous hopes.

“And yet, here we are, working our asses off, waiting for God knows what kind of salvation,” He adds on the same idea while hid leg starts to bounce up and down in a moment of frustration. Dosed anxiousness coming to top it off. “Thanks.. I messed up five times in total and I think my back cracked at least three separate times,” there were traces of a perfectionist in Sungyeol. All spotted from a mile away years back, ones that kept him going as a trainee and early into their careers. He lost it along the way. Somewhere along the time he’d lost himself. Unfortunately, only one of the two was retrieved. “I don’t think anyone noticed, though. With age came the knowledge of how to distract.” If bearing oneself would count as it, of course. 

the concern finally broke through, and instantly she felt herself moving closer to him, leaning against him. her body shook as the sobs escaped. “i wish it was that easy, but it’s not,” she choked out. a stronger person could end things, would have ended things as soon as it happened. but right now, she didn’t posses that strength. it was all too overwhelming to her. “i don’t know what to do, yeol. what if i end things and he finds me? what if he leaks information? i’m in talks to finally debut and i’d be throwing it all away.” she pulled back a little to look into his eyes. “i don’t want this.”

There were many lines he crossed with numbers of people, making him less than a tolerable error in most occasions. He managed to stay on the proper line with Dahyun, gaining a precious friend along the way. Instead of pushing, he learned to protect and cherish just as for himself. So her vulnerable state infuriated the man, mind naturally wandering to many places she’s been the past few years when he wasn’t around. It felt personal, like the man who harmed her took a direct swing at Sungyeol.

Especially with how she winced. It was directed at him and his mindless habits, his eccentric manner and loud, forward wording. All that should have been common. A routine. Instead of complaining about it this time Sungyeol found himself swallowing the words, movement, words and even the look in his eye much more careful. “Sorry? Why are you apologizing, you’ve done nothing wrong, Dahyun. You do understand that, right?” The tears that fell as if on cue stirred disarray in the man, the back of his fingers coming to her damp cheeks in a useless attempt to dry them until her tears slipped over his hand and into the palm of his hand. 

With a labored sigh, Sungyeol automatically wrapped around the hurt girl. One hand went around her torso as the fingers of his free hand tangled in her hair, pressing delicately on the back of her head. No matter how much commentary bubbled in him, the man became something she seemed to be needing most in that moment - a pillar of support. Undeniably present while he hummed soft, periodical ‘ít’s alright’s’ into her hair. An open invitation to cry it out.

“yeol hyung,” he whines weakly (not a hard feat; he’s still tired from the performance). he tugs sungyeol’s arm to seem more ‘vulnerable,’ or whatever. “please.”

The small noises of disapproval that escaped Hwanhee didn’t slip past the older, shifts in positions making them a tad bit further from one another. The ever increasing space between them bringing the two closer to comfort. No matter how much either one preferred the other over the remaining members of the group, the fact remained that Olympus was as dysfunctional as they have ever been. The little predilection and proclivity did not outweigh the piled-up negativity that made the group as miserable as it was.

All that considered, Sungyeol was a person of objective judgement when it came to the group he was a part of. Despite the bitter distaste he carried, he could forwardly admit to some facts. Like San being an outstanding performer, Jaewon a relatively good rapper and Hwanhee a strong vocalist. But he would only ever admit to the facts in front of cameras, casting an illusion the words weren’t his own. Just as if it was the eldest playing clean up again, in case anyone noticed that the backing track already had prerecorded voices. When was the last time they sang live? 

His hand fell limp against his side off of Hwanhee’s shoulder, masked as a cartoonsih, quirky move that fit the sharp turn of Sungyeol’s torso. One that was supposed to note towards an undying want to focus all attention on the lead vocal. “Why? You have a nice voice, you should be applauded for that,” His chin pushed forward in an accusatory manner, look in his eye complimenting the open-mouth smile. A moment of silence later it all shifted into a light hearted joke, after a step closer towards the camera ended with a silly comment about modesty that was put forward behind his palm. Like a secret. “Our Antonio is a bit too modest, in my opinion. Nonetheless, handsome and talented. Just between us, he should be a favorite.” A well crafted presentation, stuck between placing forward the closeness of the group and flirting with the camera.

Awareness that his hand is exposed and would be seen in a number of passing seconds had Sungyeol jumping back as if burned. It struck all at once, both hands hiding in the pockets of his jacket in a rushed manner, eyes peeling away from the camera before the moments of chaos in his eyes could be captured. Quick wit saved his ass multiple times, now dragging his sore muscles away from the view of the camera for a moment or two. He reappeared with a bottle of water and a small, battery powered electric fan. The later was kept to himself while he handed the water to Hwanhee.

she managed to keep to herself for the most part when someone asked her a question. it took a few seconds for hwarin to process it before she dropped her head in a small bow. “i do not work here…so i am not that sure. it might be under skills and not hobbies. i know video editing can be a hobby but…” she trailed off her shrugged her shoulders. to her, it seemed more like a skill but who was to say someone could not pick it up for fun, she learned by editing videos for dance crew.

For a moment, he left the girl’s words hanging with an empty blink and a nod of his head. Eyes still on the shelves, Sungyeol stretched out on his tippy-toes. Hovering over two meters of height on his toes, he observed the higher shelves to no avail before dropping back down on his feet. Turning his torso, therefore, his attention, too, to the girl he forwardly judged, he directed a small dip of his head towards her. Somewhat lazy, but genuine enough to count as apologetic. “Should have gotten that from your attire, sorry,” the dark clothing the girl supported looked nothing like the uniforms the staff were wearing. Blame it on a lack of concentration. Or the infamous inability to multitask most men posses. “I come around here a lot, there’s usually not many people around. Nine times out of then any conversation you start ends up with people working here, since the store is mostly empty.” Excuses, excuses.

That was his reasoning behind choosing the particular bookstore. Less people meant less chance to be recognized. And when sometimes being spotted could be flattering, Olympus had way too many saesangs and akgaes for it to remain a positive experience. One fan notifies others and the next thing you know you’re chased by your own fansites trying to take a better picture in a nice angle, silently complaining about your skin tone which they would need to spend hours on to make it look pretty. 

‘‘a pattern? a patte… that’s the… only thing you notice?’‘she stuttered a little, detesting herself for allowing words to stay stuck in her throat. she bowed her head once more, this time having no plans of facing him again. the large hat was her shield and like a wounded soldier, she decided to hide behind it. ‘‘ a lot actually. you just don’t care. you’re such a fool, sungyeol. you’re such a blind fool i wish i could just..’‘she clenched her fits, her knuckles turning white while a single tear slid down from her warm eyes.’‘ i’m tired of explaining myself, sungyeol. all this time, i’ve been nothing but honest with you - and i’m not talking about the calls or texts. but you just don’t see it or maybe you refuse to see it. you’re a blind fool, that’s what you are. you’ll wake up one day, you’ll open your eyes and see the truth, but it will be too late.’‘and with that, she turned on her heel and started walking, not even bothering to cast one last quick glance at him. 

There was no way for him to protect his stance or defend his word like a nobleman should. Nothing beat the pain trickling off a tongue of a woman dearly pained. Not to mention, Sunjung was always his equal match. Just as stubborn when it came down to own emotions and beliefs, even more so when trying to keep them up. Even if it caused pain equal to a stab of a knife. “Little? I think little of you?” His tone is richer, deeper, disbelief coating his vocal strings like thick honey. “That’s how you interpret everything that I said? That was the message you got from my words?” Anything that slipped past his lips was coming from the pure concern. More importantly, Sungyeol was ranting because of her rank, title, if you may, in his own heart. What she was was closer than a stranger or a friend. Meanwhile, what he was was foolish, failing to measure just how close she felt. Or, rather, what realm she belonged in.

Lips pressed tightly, one thin line remaining, her words lingered in the air. While he observed her, attention very obviously not exactly on the girl. It would seem he was lost in space, zoned out. When in reality he was just struggling to process the message through his mind. “If I didn’t pay attention to you, would I have even noticed the way you switched on me?” that’s not the point. Unfortunately, he’s unaware and seemingly incapable to put all hints given into a correct perspective. At least he didn’t sound angry or offended anymore, the aggressive feelings dissolving into the air. What remained was plain desperate. “If it’s not about that, why can’t you help me understand what it is about, m? I don’t know how much empathy you carry for me right now, but it doesn’t feel great to stand the only fool. I want to know what’s wrong. I really do, but you’re not cooperating with me here.” He goes on with the same story he had just prior, the same content, same idea. It hit a wall once, it would hit one again. But persistence was adamant even if he fought with windmills. 

“I’m not hungry,” he repeats, refusing to follow her vague wishes and quiet begging. “But please explain how I shall notice anything else when you don’t even allow me to contact you or see you. How can I figure this problem out when I have no point of reference and you are avoiding most of my questions?” His hand went up to rub the resurfacing frustration out of his eyes. But when his vision took time to refocus on Sunjung, she was already turning around.