juliet.

they don't talk much until they've exited the ride and are standing back on the path. natsumi loops her arm through eunbin's, jostling her gently. "that was fun. again?" she's only sort of joking - she could go again, but the lines are long and the other option, meandering, is starting to look better now that she's a little more hungry and has gotten her thrill. "or maybe not. we should get souvenirs." and take pictures, maybe, with at least one of the mascots running around, for later posting on instagram. it's not that natsumi takes great care to curate her digital footprint, but there's no harm in it.

she'd never allowed herself to linger too far to go astray, but here she stands — strands of hair wayward across her face, a palpable feeling of weightlessness guiding her steps, and company in the form of someone who feels like home. opportunistic lovers and young children crowding the lanes fill her vision.

perhaps, it's the make-believe of it all, and the ability to be concealed behind the disguise of regularity that tells her: she doesn't want to be anywhere but here right now. because today, when she's wearing the facade of normalcy, she'll allow herself to fall full-force.

natsumi doesn't come here often enough. eunbin and her don't do enough truly fun things, period; it's been all work and no play lately, and natsumi's always been a little thrillseeking, looking for a new experience to cut through the monotony of work and chores. it's not even that she can complain much - angelix travels plenty, and natsumi makes it a point to head out and sightsee whenever they do. but she wasn't meant to be stationary, and it's been more than a decade of seoul life now.

ahseop finds himself facing a crucial and ultimately timely predicament—a serious one, at that. in hindsight, ahseop can admit it wasn't the smartest decision for him to strap his hangyodon doll to his pants like it was an unbreakable keychain. he'd look over a couple times on stage, making sure it's still in tact and that nothing is amiss. so far so good, as much as he can remember, until he steps off the stage and retreats to the back. when his gaze flickers downwards, it's missing—where could it have gone!?

to a third party with the spare time to observe whatever ahseop is doing, it'd seem rather comical for him to flip open every box just to search for a tiny plushie. a little silly maybe, but ahseop is too busy with his quest to care about appearances, especially one as important as this!

soon enough, angelix joins them backstage after another round of performances. ahseop intercepts natsumi's path in a sort of rush, pointing to the empty keyring still attached to his belt loops. "so, sorry for suddenly cutting in... but did you happen to see a hangyodon doll out there?"

"thanks," she says a little drily, but ultimately fond. her eyes trace down to ahseop's belt, where she's pretty sure the doll used to be; it had been a noticeable new addition to the outfit. someone on the event planning team must've been delighted at the sight. "uh, you mean on the stage? there was nothing, and i think we would've noticed."

so when natsumi asks if she's talked about it with ydh before, all she can do is offer her groupmate an uneasy smile and a shrug. "i've hinted at it," she mentions. deep down, hyorin thinks that all the nasty comments about how she shouldn't be an actress should be enough for ydh to stop giving her acting roles, but they were as stubbron as she was. it's like they needed their visual member to go into acting.

"i haven't brought it up yet, but it's definitely something i'd love to bring up for contract renewals, though. i just want to sing more." the words sound pitiful coming out of her own mouth, and she can't help but let out a sad yet soft chuckle. "i don't even mean a solo debut like i'll take an ost. anything that showcases my voice." as the group's main vocalist, she thinks it's something that she should've already been given the opportunity to do.

"let me know when you want to make your case, we can practice for it." like they're preparing for a presentation. natsumi can already see herself chewing on the back of a pencil while they think of things hyorin might want to bring up, a checklist to work her way through. natsumi's never been good at emotional support, but she's great on the follow through: give her a problem to solve and she'll roll up her sleeves to tackle it. and hyorin's right on this: it is odd she's been in front of the camera so often, but she's never recorded a love song for the main character's fated first meeting with the first male lead.

still, they're strangers (for all he knows) at an arms length, and the conversations shared in japan become a distant memory, a nice ode to the anonymity that an escape possesses.

for now, his eyes scan the vicinity of the shelves. linings of different foods and crackers, none of which draws any sort of recollection or draw. shin ramen in hand, he holds onto what becomes a keepsake of home-territory, leaving it hanging by his side. "I don't know — with all the options, it's always a hit or a miss." his words stream lightly as his free hand picks another charted territory of cold green tea. "when you can pick something familiar you know is stride and true, why risk taking something that can turn out badly?" it's another ode — a reflection of his own choices thus far, wading the waters of familiar territory. no calculated risks, no more poor choices. just the knee-jerk reflex of old habitual workings.

natsumi had been an adventurous child, happy to try new foods at her friend's homes and eager to explore. how many hours she'd spent sifting through the sand at the beach in search for treasure, she could not begin to guess, but it had been many. perhaps that spirit had been what brought her to seoul, too - the inherent happiness in a new project - and it hasn't left her yet. in her list of pros and cons of the idol lifestyle, the travel ranks at the very top of the pros. and then there's also the neat side effect of all that finely-honed parasocialism: sometimes, fans will send recommendations of their favourite foods, and all natsumi has to do to try vetted new treats is to go ahead and buy them with the decently generous salary she's been collecting.

with their waterbomb performance coming up tomorrow, hyorin had no thoughts of leaving the hotel room. she knows that they'd be allowed to do some sight seeing, but she had never been big on exploring the places they traveled to. if she really wanted to take a look around manila, she'd rather take a vacation here in the future.

she's joined by natsumi today as they both lounge around their hotel rooms, going over their setlist for tomorrow. nothing too detailed as this isn't their first rodeo, but hyorin likes to imagine the performance beforehand. "why does it feel like it's been so long since we've performed as a group?" she threw out the question with a slight chuckle and shake of her head. they were gearing up for their comeback as well, and hyorin was simply happy to be doing anything music-related at this point.

not that there's much to go over. "you tell me," natsumi laughs at hyorin's comment. their comeback is only a handful of months back, the family concert less than that. but she does get what hyorin's talking about: it's been a while since they've been on stage at a festival, in sweltering heat. there's something freeing about going on stage in something short and not worrying about the cold.

"absolutely! even if we do slip up, i'm sure we can spin it around to make it seem like it was on purpose," she said with a chuckle, hoping that her joke got across well enough. jiho wasn't too afraid of her skills itself—she liked to think she was quite a skilled dancer—but this really was her first time performing with people other than her own members after debut, so it might take her some time to adjust.

when natsumi threw out the question, she had to do a double take because what was she really afraid of? the true answer to that question was probably the possible hate she may receive if she slipped up even the tiniest bit, but that's not something she wanted to admit out loud.

she paused in her search through her downloads, stilling her movement to instead look at jiho's expression. natsumi had never been a good person to confide into, and it showed now, too, that she was floundering when put in a position of support. nothing to do about it but rally, though; she'd always wanted to be the sort of senior people could look up to, even if she had never done anything in particular to earn that position and now, with it having fallen into her lap, didn't know what to do with it.

two days in, and he's already feeling the effects of what he calls internal hell: humidity, too many bodies, and not many faces he knows. one rehearsal after the other — at this point, it's a question of why he hasn't managed to resort into escapism till this point.

escapism paints itself in many forms, one being how he manages to slip past his own manager without any sort of a hint, smooth his way from the hotel lobby or any lingering eyes that may catch him on an off-day (not like it matters when he's fallen inside the trap of anonymity of a blank face in a sea of stars). regardless, gourmet bed and breakfast doesn't call his name quite like the enjoyment a cheap and easy convenience store trip. so, he resorts to old patterns of five years past, found smack dab middle at the nearest convenience store in the corner of the street.

his eyes scan, and indecisiveness sheds a layer of contemplation when he's between some random local instant food and exported cup shin ramen. old habits die hard, and he's a creature of habit — so, by now, it's second nature when he craves a taste of home, picking up a cup ramen before making his way towards the beverages.

it's only when he's there does he notice a familiar face — one still at an arm's distance. the gentle in-between of unfamiliarity and familiarity pulls his brows higher (he waits five seconds. decides, maybe he ought to say hi than tuck his head down and head the other way).

she does manage to acclimate, but a few days later and she can't claim to be entirely at ease. the mission, then, is simple when she braves the world outside the air conditioned hotel room: whatever fun drink there is to find in a local convenience store, and something frozen to have with it, mostly for the novelty of it. natsumi wouldn't admit this openly, but she likes the browsing when they're abroad; finding new snacks to try one piece at a time, or a meal you can't have elsewhere.

"i did! just a basic salad because we're preparing for a comeback as well." it was probably a bit more detailed than she expected, but it was nothing out of the ordinary. jiho doubts it would sound very alarming to the other's ears either. what idol member didn't watch what they ate before a comeback, right?

humming the notes to herself, she took a look at her reflection in the mirror as she went over the moves. again, nothing about the choreography was difficult, but she knew firsthand just how hard it was to make easy choreography look good. being the youngest of the group, the last thing she wanted to do was bring the whole quartet down. being in the middle of such talented dancers, she's certain any mistake will just look even bigger.

"that's good," she noted, a bit distracted but pleased; they'd met at that awkward time where having dinner would've been a bit too early, but waiting for later would be too late. natsumi had had a cup of oatmeal and vowed to have another snack later. "you're doing a lot all at once, huh? i'll be cheering for you."

at jiho's admission she did lift her head off the screen to look at her. jiho was a junior natsumi had never interacted with much at all, and perhaps this was the first time she saw her as more of a girl than someone who'd quickly climbed to stardom. natsumi gave her a smile that was meant to be encouraging, in the knowledge that she'd never been the right person to go to for advice. "you've really not been asking that many questions," because until now she hadn't noticed that jiho had been asking any at all, at least not beyond what would've been expected anyway. "we'll do great out there. main dancer club, right? we can do no wrong."

and quite possibly, he's hit with a tinge of avant garde show of the beacon of a 'starved artist.'

then again, home's never been defined. not in the past, and not set in the present. it's the lapse of falling into this abysmal predicament that sets the precedence for the next quick-way out of some hell hole he's dug himself to as of late. and japan has this grasp around him. the kind that strips him down to nothing but bare bones, struck with the childhood youth in revolt and the subtle ease that comes with anonymity.

home is anywhere, and today the picture's clear: an old camcorder slipped in the palm of his hand, headphones stuck in. small steps that take in bits and pieces of the eccentricity of human nature as he creates his own preludes for future memories. too many wrong turns, and he's lost. (disregard the quick tap of a screen that leads him back to his hotel. he's basking in this moment.)

it's the end of the day that falls like a cold calculative notion — boy lost, stumbling into a bar. one chin nod to the bartender as he motions a quick call for a suntory twelve year malt on the rocks. and it's only when a quick tap on his elbow jolts his plans wayward, his eyes following suit.

"if i were a gambler, i'd say today would be my day to buy a lotto." he knows natsumi. but doesn't know her. near strangers fragmented by the twist and pulls of the entertainment industry, and right time, odd place — mutual commiseration's something he can get behind. his shoulders shift towards her, a brow crooked up. "i'm joo jaeyoon." his voice remains low and lulled, mirroring the japanese spoken between the two. "midas music, soloist. — uh, i'm not sure what else to say for introductions." he adds a pause that splinters any awkward air on his own accord.

she settles onto the barstool next to him, even though the way she bumps into one of his knees in the process puts them a little too close for near-strangers. "i'm a gambler, you know. maybe you should buy that lotto for me." there's probably more behind those words, but she's not going to try and get to the heart of it. natsumi swivels the chair until she's got her back to the bar, leaning against the wood of it. the thing's so high and the step so low that she has to slide her butt halfway off the seat to pull it off. "i know who you are," she comments idly, but means it only in the most literal sense: she's been backstage with him in attendance before, they've probably bowed to each other at award shows. she's familiar with his music, but only insofar that she knows the tracks he's promoted and what's being played on the radio or in a manager's car. all of which is to say - she doesn't know him.

someone in the crowd looks at her for a split second too long for comfort. natsumi's eyes snap back to jaeyoon's face, then to her right, towards the bar. "that's why i'm here. what are you drinking?" her own cocktail is long forgotten, an empty glass on the other side of the counter. the liquid in jaeyoon's glass looks like whiskey, but you can never be too sure. natsumi leans forward to get a bartender's attention and succeeds immediately.

this was arguably jiho's first time performing with people other than her own members since produce 48, so to say she was nervous would be an understatement. that and the fact that she was the most junior within the line up, she didn't want to bring the whole group down. it's not that she wasn't confident about how she'll pull off the song, but there was no doubt going to be a difference that comes from experience.

despite all those little thoughts in her head, jiho was mostly looking forward to working with juliet. she's looked up to juliet since she was a trainee and was probably on the boat of many people who might shout that angelix's concept didn't do much justice for her dance skills. of course, some may say the same about her own group, but she thinks the release of up has done wonders in showing off her strengths as a dancer.

the choreography wasn't very difficult for a song centered around a bunch of main dancers, but that's exactly why she felt it was necessary to sync it with the other members she'd be performing with.

the good mood had buoyed her into satisfaction, and now that they had the basics down and finetuning to turn to, she felt confident enough to rest easy in the knowledge that she'd be able to wing it in a pinch. they wrapped up for the evening, the men begging off; with her evening plans non-existing, natsumi took a swing of her water and weighed the benefits staying behind.

jiho seemed to be of a similar mind, or at least determined enough to approach her while she was lingering in the doorway of the practice room. "oh, yeah. for sure, we can do that." natsumi pushed off the wall and dropped her water bottle next to her jacket, making sure it wouldn't roll underfoot and result in some regrettable practice accident.