juliet.

“No. Don’t tell anyone I said this, but I think if anyone deserves a break from idoldom, it’s us. I just have—” Her fingernail catches on a flaw in the grout, and she snatches her hand away with a quiet, annoyed hiss. “—reasons. That I made sure to watch it.”

She feels a little awkward, so she observes the new chip in her nail instead of Natsumi. It’s ridiculous to feel awkward—many of the Serene members are well aware of what’s been agitating their leader lately. It’s especially ridiculous to feel awkward in front of this specific Serene member.

“It was great,” Miori says. “Kismet’s great.” She thinks for a second, feeling like she should say something else, but there it is again, that discomfort whenever she thinks about the group as a whole, even if it’s only one member that leaves a foul taste in her mouth—even if it’s realistically nobody’s fault. She’s beat herself up about this enough, told herself to just grow up and get over it, tried forcing herself to be nice, tried taking Mio on sister outings, but nothing’s seemed to work. She barely even likes thinking about Mio, much less talking about her. So it’s something of another way for her to push herself when she asks Natsumi, cautiously, far too casually:

“What do you think of Mio, by the way?”

Miori’s talked circles around the topic more times than she can count, and yes, mostly with Natsumi. Nothing, though, seems to budge the wall that’s forged itself between the Mochizuki sisters. That familiar, nauseous feeling that builds in Miori whenever Mio’s a topic of conversation is starting to well up. So, as usual, she chickens out. And, as usual, that comes in the form of her switching immediately to logic mode.

“Her dancing’s good,” she babbles before Natsumi can answer her question. “I think her singing is okay, but she’s young and still has training to do. She’s pretty good with variety, and I think she fits the concepts. But Kismet is doing great. They’re going to make a real big splash in the industry. I'll probably be a Cosmo sometime soon.”

but then miori keeps talking, the same topic they've circled around over and over again like a pair of hungry sharks. in the near distance, the sparkle of the off-duty shops catches the eye. it's fitting, then, that they're here in the relative dark. natsumi reaches for miori's arm, hooks her own around it, brings her to a stop before they get close enough for the sparse crowd to swallow them.

"she's very cute," she says, a little diplomatically. "a good dancer, yes. her stage presence has been getting better and better." kismet aren't even really rookies anymore, out of their second year now and into their third. it shows in their growth, which seems to have accelerated at a quicker pace than serene's ever did. or maybe natsumi is just biased towards her own failures, keenly aware of where she could've improved quicker.

there's nothing to say that hasn't been said before, so natsumi lets silence fall over them just for a moment. ahead of them is the low murmur of people paying for overpriced souvenirs, behind them the steps of a woman's heels echo through the halls. between them, in the relative quiet, a thousand things go unsaid.

there's something natsumi thinks about the whole mess of this situation, something she's never said to miori and never will, and it's that she doubts kismet's mio will ever be a true sister to her friend. it's a bleak opinion to hold and thus shall never be voiced. even if miori and mio, the version of mio who doesn't dance of the stage and lights up a room with her smile, eventually get close enough - the way miori had learnt of her existence will always cast a shadow on the group. for natsumi, pretending at something for the fans will make it less true in reality, a gap widening quicker than you can try to bridge it. perhaps uncharitably, she applies this line of thinking to her groupmate's sisterhood, too.

once the deck is scattered out equally, he arranges them in his preferred format based on values depending on the game; though other times he would color code them if the values are nonexistent to the board.

if anything, junseo appreciates the small talks the older idol is initiating, in all consideration of the lacking of mutual interest aside from their shared interest in their game session, he isn't sure particularly if there were anything else they could really connect ( but that doesn't mean he isn't willing to learn. ) "it's fun," he gives a brief answer at first, eyes tracking into the cards and movement being played by others. "but it does get a little lonely since i'm usually with a few other members most of my life." which wasn't a lie ― there might be cracks that goes unseen in his dynamics with the members, some he was close with, others he seem a tad bit more distant but he overalls care for them. it's just harder to show it, not because he is emotionally unavailable, but rather, everyone seemed so secretive in what they do and sometimes it feels like he's stuck on a roadblock.

the game starts slow. natsumi throws one of her cards onto the pile in the middle when her turn comes around, moves her little figurine one step towards the objective on the board. kind of like what she's doing, trying to make conversation with junseo - one step at a time, closer to the goal.

"wouldn't really fit the image," she tells him once her turn is done. "the hosting, i mean. i'm too quiet for it." natsumi isn't, which is probably what junseo means, but in the public eye she's still playing at being reserved around strangers. "and i'd never be able to fit it into our schedule, but i think it's a nice idea. you're meeting a lot of new people, right? collecting signed cds?"

She swipes away each video with barely concealed impatience. She just wants to see recipe inspiration, dammit—but her algorithm is totally screwed, now thinking that she’s some sort of K-pop fan. She’s been discretely analyzing Kismet videos trying to get a read on her sister, and now, all she’s getting is content about junior groups. Serene, she thinks, was lucky: they debuted back when the grind didn’t have so many other things to consider. Work hard—very hard, in Serene’s case—improve always, and keep the fans happy. That, and no small bit of luck—that was all you really needed back then.

Now, everything is in such excess. There’s so much a rookie needs to consider by way of image, so many complicated concepts out there. There are groups debuting so fast the numbers make Miori downright dizzy. She’s a girl of languid, decadent taste—she’d rather spend thousands on one quality purse than hundreds on mid-tier multiples. So long as everything in her world is done with careful intention, she’s happy. She can’t pretend to be some artful connoisseur of music itself—realistically, she’s just a girl who got lucky her stepfather shared his love of music with her so thoroughly.

A snippet of Kismet’s “Style” music video comes on. It’s cute, she has to admit. Her eyes track Mara—ironically the member of Kismet she’s closest to, and not her own sister. Miori anticipates KH will drop her right back into the fray as soon as they’re back home, and have her film a dance challenge with Mara. Nothing against Mara, but the thought of doing something so shallow exhausts her; she can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like being in the actual group. She can barely tolerate it even in her own group, where the company lets it slide just a little bit more for them not to be doing so many little snippets. So many little displays of excess that’ll just be forgotten within days.

“Like fast fashion,” she murmurs to herself, shaking her head in pity.

So it’s welcome when her friend approaches her with a distraction.

“I’d love to.” Miori stands and stretches. Duty-free may well give her the same volume exhaustion that consuming new groups did. But, at least, it’s better than trying to keep up with whatever she’s expected to keep up with nowadays.

"does it make me a bad senior if i admit i haven't really seen it yet?" it's not for lack of trying, but the upload of kismet's new music video had coincided with work and travel. natsumi had found herself first unable to catch enough of a break to watch it uninterrupted and then too unconcentrated, her gaze sliding off her tiny phone screen until she realised she'd been staring at nothing at all for a handful of seconds at a time. she'd eventually given up the venture entirely, vowing to get on it back home in her bed, after a long rest. nobody would ask about it until they were back home anyway.

but earlier, in the car, she'd at least listened to the single. "it's a cute song though. feels a bit like something we might've done, back when." not that natsumi holds much nostalgia for serene's earlier, cuter releases. kismet's take on it is a little more interesting. there's a bit more edge to it. "feels like it'd suit them. how'd you like it?"

"should we look at the memory wall first?," she asks, and means - of course - to pick out a picture to ask yeona about, the sort of thing that'll keep their viewership engaged but might actually be fun to talk about with a friend. it's lucky she's here with yeona and not someone she knows less well, or on her own. there's only so much you can say about the glimpses your colleagues offer into their private lives, or the clipped interviews shown on the screens throughout the exhibition.

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐋𝐎𝐖  𝐇𝐔𝐌  𝐎𝐅  𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍  𝐈𝐒  𝐎𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐘  𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆,  like  the  natural  limiting  effect  of  using  vintage  equipment  somehow  softened  the  organized  pandemonium  around  them.  it's  a  scene  that  she's  long  grown  accustomed  to  standing  in,  with  veteran  staff  leaning  in  to  touch  up  her  makeup  and  newer,  doe-eyed  hopefuls,  fussing  over  how  her  clothes  are  laying.  oddly  enough,  the  hustle  and  bustle  surrounding  them  makes  her  feel  a  little  more  comfortable,  a  little  more  calm,  given  that  all  of  her  time  off-screen  made  it  feel  like  her  heart  was  going  to  burst  out  from  her  chest.  for  once,  it's  nice  to  be  in  a  place  where  things  are  laid  out  and  there's  a  script  to  follow,  and  it  certainly  helps  that  she's  not  alone  in  this.

it's  a  little  ironic,  considering  whenever  she's  been  in  front  of  the  camera,  she's  always  been  a  little  more  on  the  stiff  side,  but  yeona  actually  finds  the  time  visiting  the  exhibition  today  to  be  the  most  fun  she's  had  in  a  while,  even  when  it's  meant  to  be  work  and  something  solely  taped  to  attract  their  fans.

"that  sounds  like  a  great  idea,"  comes  her  easy  reply,  genuine,  soft,  the  edges  of  her  mouth  curving  upwards  as  she  looks  over  at  the  other  female.  to  the  naked  eye,  it  might  look  like  the  two  of  them  would  be  an  odd  pairing  —  on  the  surface,  natsumi  and  yeona  may  not  have  been  the  most  likely  of  friends,  but  it's  clear  to  see  their  close  from  how  her  shoulders  relax  and  she  nods  along  in  tandem  with  the  other.

truthfully,  she's  very  thankful  that  natsumi  had  been  the  one  chosen  for  what  kh  entertainment  had  been  dubbing  a  y2k-esque  walkthrough  of  the  exhibition.  it's  meant  to  have  a  nostalgic  feel,  and  they've  gone  as  far  as  having  the  staff  use  a  number  of  old  camcorders,  focused  on  capturing  the  warbly,  drifting  effect  that  comes  with  watching  something  from  the  late  90s  and  early  2000s.  make  sure  you  act  like  old  friends,  the  senior  staff  had  insisted,  but  luckily,  yeona  thought  that  would  be  easy  consider  her  and  the  other  were  old  friends.

she doesn't say any of that. it's too private, not the sort of thing that's expected of her or that the fans would want to hear anyway; it'd get edited out and the manager behind the camera would try to get them to redo the scene, or usher them on to the next sparkly thing to look at. "i remember being so nervous that day," is what comes out anyway, the sort of thing that takes no thinking for her to spew up. wasn't everyone nervous, on that first stage in front of a proper crowd, for the first time as part of the group meant to make it? if natsumi's giving away any sort of truth, it's one she shares with everyone she knows.

"maybe not as much as on eighteen," she adds on, acquiescing. everything on the survival show had been nerve-wracking, but especially the eliminations, which had seemed to take ages every single time - despite natsumi solidly ranking in the final lineup through most of the episodes. "but when i put on that dress backstage i thought wow, okay, this is really it. not even when we'd gone on stage yet!"

he takes half the deck and silently hands out the split share needed to run the game like the few other times he's deal with. the younger idol is thankful mostly that the responsibility of setting up and shuffling is not within his hands. he has not quite learn how to properly shuffle a deck without the cards popping out of it.

they get interrupted for a moment when the newcomer settles in and the group lobs good-natured greetings at them. the table rearranges like a shifting tide, drinks shuffled to the side to make space. natsumi picks up her cards and orders them by value, and it's only another minute later that her attention returns to junseo.

it is rather unusual but in the smallest circle of connection that junseo has, there is one particular group of friends that he keeps up with one every month or two depending on the group's unfortunate packed schedules. it can't be helped considering the few of them so happened to be idols in the industry and have various schedules that makes aligning plans far more challenging than it should be but when they could finally secure one free day in the calendar, things tend to fall into place easily.

with refreshments in his arms, an offering to the group of friends for the game session to come, junseo greets the game host of the month before settling into his seat and falling into a comfortable conversation of catching up with them. it's not much from his side but he tends to at least ask how their wellbeing is, a question rooted constantly in the back of his head from years of picking up the leadership role ― or rather, being handed the role that the idol gets used to checking in with people.

his attention then falls into a familiar female idol, a shy of a few years older than he is and someone who has been in the industry slightly longer than he did but even so, their friendship somehow align from being in this very same circle of friends and that's junseo had initially got to know her.

the board is unfolded, pushed into the middle of the table. natsumi hands out figurines to each player, noting colour preferences and cutting through the usual bickering with untroubled ease. everyone gets their assigned chips. it's while she's shuffling cards that the doorbell rings once again and the conversation between her and eunmi stalls out. silence rings in her periphery for only a few moments, though; across the table, natsumi catches junseo's gaze and inclines her head in greeting.

"junseo, hi! didn't notice you coming in." she cuts the deck, gives half the stack over to junseo in a silent bid for him to start handing them out to his side of the table. "i'm keeping busy, but that's how i like it."