talk to you

hihi! so excited to write here with my boy jaehoon. he’s basically just a nepotism baby with a superiority complex cause he reads. throughout the ages of 5-18 years old he was  probably more well known as a classical musician, but recently he gained fame for being the frontman of comet a pretentious indie band lol. anyways like this post to plot with him and i’ll hit ya up on the ims or dm me for my discord. sick cool? okay.  

there’s a small overview of his vibe down below and his bio linked here ( tw:child abuse for bio ) and stats here! 

/ 2m’s company - exclusive event. with @jaehoxn

for most of her life, jaeeun’s heard that she’s a spitting image of her mother, all the while blessed with the charm of her father. she assumes that’s why with each event their company hosts, she spends the first thirty minutes of her time crushed between the beauty of her mother and the certainty of her father. 

they paint a pretty picture as they pose for other celebrities and reporters alike, yet the only thing running through her head is how incomplete it feels. she should be free—at least freer than everyone else here, however her parents had a tendency of acting like glamorous, million - dollar ankle monitors whenever unveiling company surprises was on the line. officially, detailing one too many revenge plots was her charge. ( and in the court of public opinion: min jaeeun, you’re guilty! ) the second she breaks free from the suffocating control, she makes a beeline for the enticing side of the room. who can really blame her when the hors d’oeuvres are passed around and the conversation is more akin to a skillful exchange of thinly veiled insults and the latest gossip rather than corporate plans and boring numbers.

nevertheless, she makes sure to at least look around and smile as she moves. only finding her minimal effort worthwhile when her sights land on a target ten times more compelling than all the other overproduced idols crowding the room. after all, the only person in this building that could even begin to understand her frustration was her brother. 

as she approaches, a smile so nauseatingly exaggerated displayed across pink lips, she decides to go straight for the throat. “you’re here? why are mom and dad clinging to me when you’re standing right here?” she complains. while she doesn’t know exactly when he showed up, she doesn’t waste time asking. “are they mad at you? what did you do?” hint of desperation to her tone as she questions him rapid - fire and jumps hastily into making assumptions.

jaehoon was supposed to be the good one——he was the prodigy, the child who could do no wrong, the apple of her grandparents eye, blah blah blah. bottom line was, min jaehoon was the legacy child of the ornate family, not jaeeun. so whenever she sensed something might possibly be wrong, she let herself draw conclusions quickly. it was a bad habit, she was well aware, so it only came out in the presence of family. 

jaehoon sneaks into the party, late beyond all accounts (at least for the eldest son of the min family) — jetlagged, and maybe hungover, into the crowd of investors, idols and whatever social climbers that crawled there way in. jaehoon’s eyes dart to the middle of the crowd, his parents and sister smiling, every much the dynasty they’ve wanted to seem like. he’ll be getting a lashing from his mother later, but none the matter.

jaehoon does not sugar coat his feelings for his family — which ranges from a deep inferiority complex about his talent ( was he born with it?or was it simply bought for him) to an intense bond that has only been forged by being toss into the spotlight at the young age. he’s not sure if his feelings about his kin have ever been normal — did he ever look upon his mother and father with pure adoration without a hint of wanting their power? did he ever gaze upon his sister with a need to protect without the growing suspicion jaeeun wishing for his failure?

who can tell? surely not jaehoon. some up and coming actor cornering him — his fingers barely grabbing a passing cocktail from a staff member before this stranger approaches. the musician can’t bother to hear the other’s request, something about needing to study for a role as a rockstar. how boring.

“if i’m being completely honest, i think you should focus more on your v—” the snappy insult is cut short when a familiar willowy figure comes into his view. ah an opening. “please excuse me, i need to speak to my dearest sister.” the words sweet, almost obnoxious.

unfortunately, jaeeun hasn’t quite gotten ahold of toeing the line of charismatic and obnoxious. the bitterness of his grandfather’s teaching has passed well onto him, imperfection was annoying. “just got back from a show in shibuya, told them i was going to be late,” he explains, taking a sip of the aforementioned cocktail — translation for those who can’t quite understand the min family’s particular brand of passive-aggressiveness “i actually had things to do — instead of lingering behind their parents like some toy dog.”  

when jaehoon was a boy — his grandfather used to pull him away from the buskers that hung around the crowded streets of the city. the older man would frown in displeasure as he always would, his brows furrowed as he watched whatever street performer before ushering jaehoon away after a moment.

that young boy who used to stare at those street performers in awe and some sort of odd envy, perhaps even back then he could tell a hunger that jaehoon would never experience — one that he could pretend to have but it’ll never feel truly the same, would find himself back in front of these street performers.

no longer would he stare at awe though — the envy? well he wouldn’t comment on that even in his own thoughts. instead, jaehoon watches a young man, who must have been in his early twenties, barely out of college, with unkempt hair and shaky hands on a keyboard, a cover of some idol song?

jaehoon eyes narrow a bit, taking a sip of the iced coffee in his hand, he wonders if this is how his grandfather felt all those years ago. all that hunger but no talent?

she’s spent a lifetime and then some stroking the egos of men. indisputably a skilled trade when it came to the residents of cheongdam. kang rieon has, since the days of youth, perfected the act of kissing up to men and women alike. has since then donned the skins of damsel demure, damsel disarming, and damsel delicate; tailor fit over her monster flesh, rotted insides and hungry mouth. 

tonight, this very hour and very minute, it’s no different. min jaehoon, at the end of the day, is no different.

“so? your name’s on it.” she snaps back quick, head leaned back against the plush cushion. “oh, like anyone would tell—it’s ndas out the ass out there.” they have an image to protect, after all, rieon herself is no different—excluding the wayward tendencies to throw all caution to the wind and worry about it later. 

what’s the worst that could happen that couldn’t be bought off in one way or another? nothing.

even so, considering the few outbursts that she’s already spotted here and there tonight, maybe it’s better than she’s in here rather than out there. though, whether or not jaehoon had been a good idea to bring with is still up in the air.

“what model?” she blinks slow, doe eyes staring at him inquisitively. had he been talking to someone at the time, she sure didn’t pay attention to them. rather on brand, honestly. “and? you think you’re the only one on my list of white knights or something?” 

even so, knowing what it is the likes of men feed on doesn’t mean she’s all too eager to give into it, at least with min jaehoon—sick bastards who are more or less in it for hte fight (she’d know, she’s one of them)—it’s better to take it slow. bide her time, if you will. 

nevertheless, the sight of him at her service is one she’d likely never tire of. 

“well, what do you want?” the pink of her tongue flicks out to wet her lip, followed short by the slow rake of her teeth as she considers her options; the next step, the interesting shift in tone here. what she is or isn’t willing to do. thighs shifting, rieon’s slow to uncross her legs, lifting after to press the sole of her bare foot against his chest, giving him a nudge back.

                                                                                                  nah. still not drunk enough.

“let’s get a bottle. i’ll personally pour you a glass.”

“well, my parents’ names are,” jaehoon replies — the musician cares little for high society parties or planning them especially. “and i don’t want to waste the little time i have on this planet on vapid parties and caring about open bars.”  

he scoffs, waving off the woman’s words — ndas can’t stop whispers, and in an industry like this, gossip and secrets were a currency that many could afford to spend. “i know you’re not naive enough to think ndas will really keep anyone quiet, sure the public won’t find out, but these famous types love to gab.”

after years of partying — he assumes he’s seen it all. drunken fits from even the most uptight people, blackout nights with only a few clues from hours before. they were usually the same, a blur of the same people, the same actions — at least rieon never made things stale. always trying to push the limits of...derangement.

only time will tell what she would do best.

“i don’t remember her name,” jaehoon admits, he supposes there’s a chance that he never even got it. only the images of long legs and cheap jewelry filling his mind. the man rolls his eyes — eyeing rieon taking in the details of the curls of her hair, the pout of her lips, of course, sirens were known for their beauty, not so much for their killer instincts.

“no, i would be disappointed if i was, my expectations of you are much higher than that, and i have no use for those who fail them,” the man says after a moment of silence, as always his grandfather’s teaching takes hold of him even in his personal life.

if there was anything in jaehoon’s life that was missing, it was not beauty. surrounded by carefully tended flowers, a chorus of sweet voices, and everything else beautiful. but what made rieon different from those, was the hint of something darker in her gaze  — something not as polished beneath the surface ( insanity most likely). “oh rieon, spare me one of your secrets,” his tone mocking the heroes of romance novels, “something from deep within your heart.”

secrets after all were a currency highly sought after.

no matter how she looks at it, it’s min jaehoon’s fault that she’s here. it’s his fault that she has to spend the better part of her weekend “partying” with a motley crew of self absorbed goody-two-shoes (not even the fun) kind. it’s his fault that she had to resort to flirted and twirled her way into having drinks ordered for her to escape the eagle eyes of the bod bartender. so for her to so brazenly steal him from the public, well, it’s well deserved.

still, rieon wishes he would shut up for once in his life.

the trip to the room was fairly quick, given, in her state time passes by simultaneously fast and slow. but rieon doesn’t put much thought into it, so long as she’s free from watchful eyes and calculative smiles. in front of jaehoon, at least, who already knew that she was neurotic, there’s no need to pretend.

“oh i wish,” rieon sighs out, stumbling her way toward the leather banquette. “what kinda networking party has no complimentary candy and a drink limit” she settles in with a quiet oof, twisting around till she’s comfortable, eyes fixed on her would be fiancé. heh. to think a week or two ago, she had been hurling glassware at his head like he’s the last person on earth she’d ever want to be stuck with.

funny how things turn out. even funnier now, thoroughly inebriated, that jaehoon actually seems bearable.

“shut up.” she huffs around her indignation, leaning over to fumble with the straps of her manolos, giving up just as quick given the state of her nails. figures, if she can’t even put them on sober, why would she be able to take them off now? instead, her eyes flick back up to the host of the party, min jaehoon in his douchebag glory. min jaehoon, who, just until ten minutes ago, she thought had little weakness.

but it’s unsurprising that an ego like his would be easily placated by the siren call of a pretty damsel. and rieon is just drunk enough to play into his little game. why not? if all it takes is a bit of ‘please’ to have him eating out of her hands.

“hey,” coy, her legs shift to cross one over another, hem of her dress rising up centimeters as she lifts a leg, foot pointed in his direction and prettily disarming smile rightfully in place. 

“help me?”

“i don’t plan the event,” jaehoon says with a snort, watching as rieon stumble over the seating, a bubble of laughter erupting from his chest. “and it’s a bit tacky to get this wasted at industry events, do you know?” rumors spread like wildfire at every event, but one filled with celebrities and leeches it’s hard not for one drunken night to leave a stain in your own reputation. believe jaehoon he had seen celebrities fall for much less.

then again rieon didn’t have to worry about, she didn’t have to worry about much. settled comfortably in a bubble of privilege and wealth, and little ambition.  

but he can’t deny that the woman at his side was not alluring. doe eyes and general carelessness, if he wasn’t aware of her faults, she would have been a muse that haunted his dreams.

unfortunately, for jaehoon’s songs, he’s all too aware of the mood swings and the violent tendencies which did little for love songs of lovers passed.

“now, is that any way to talk to your savior? i took the time to give you a vvip room, when i could have been feeling up that model,” he huffs, crossing his arms as he leans against the door watching the woman fumble with her shoes. “be a bit nicer to me. one day i might say no.”

probably not. jaehoon craved chaos, and rieon purely supplied that.

dark eyes follow her movements, watching as her dress goes higher — revealing the pale skin of her upper thigh.

he dives into the chaos.

Watch out It’s looking like there’s not enough to go around

     how should she put it? min jaehoon tests her patience. her humanity. the thin, thin line that humans (human? beast clad in girl skin, maybe) shouldn’t cross. the line that her therapist reminds her on the constant to mind—you know, the one that stands between her and incarceration. but we’ve mentioned before that if there’s anything he’s great at, it’s making mundane snore music and pushing her buttons. it’s the act of brushing her off: roll of his eyes, shrug of his shoulders, scoff on his lips. how it resembles the negligent and frigid father in her life. how it he drives her up the wall.

     MIND THE LINE. ‘be quiet, they can probably still hear you—’ MIND THE LINE. ‘all my hard work […] screaming like a banshee, god…’ MIND. THE. LINE.

     “WOW. WOOOOOOOW—I REALLY CAN’T FUCKING STAND YOU—” head pounding, the oncoming headache is imminent with how hard she’s been clenching her jaw since dinner. par for course, rieon doesn’t lower her volume. hasn’t ever been one to do as told, especially not to men who greatly resembled the father shaped hole in her life. good fucking riddance if his parents really did hear—because the longer she spends with min jaehoon the more she’s regrets ever getting into this anyhow. 

     but as it was—AS. IT. WAS.—she’s two years too late to back out of anything. and should jaehoon choose to flip the script on her now (seriously, two kids? boy and a girl?) she’s screwed. absolutely screwed. trapped in some sort of loveless marriage based on merits just like mom and dad screwed. 

     which would leave the alternative being what? if they staged a break up? if they waited things out? if she killed him? wait, let’s go back to that last one.

     “notes?” tone easily mimicking the disbelief spelled across her face, cheeks flushed in indignation. NOTES?NOTES?NOTES?NOTES?! “NOTES???” she’s reacting before she can even help herself, fingers curling around the thin stem of a forgotten wine glass off the counter that just as quickly leaves her grasp, shattering against the backsplash right beside his head. just as quick, she realizes, she’s not really minding the line after all.

                                                                                    still, little too late to back down now. 

     “GOD, FUCK YOUR NOTES—WHO DO YOU THINK I AM?”

she’s fucking insane.

a mess.

a total spoiled heiress who couldn’t even hold it together for a single dinner.

thank god she never got involved with acting — he could imagine the shows that would bomb because of her. acting as an art form would lower in elegance, how did his parents even come to the conclusion that rieon would be a proper partner for their son.

jaehoon likes to think he’s above it all, that he wouldn’t wither under his emotions like a certain woman in front of him, but it’s so easy and so much more satisfying to swoop to her level — yet he holds his tongue, trying not to scream his irritation at rieon.

“listen, i’m not exactly in love with you either, but can’t we just be grown ups about this,” but the malice of his words seeps through before the more quote mature unquote part of his brain can stop it. “you’re acting like a fucking child, get a hold of yourself for once in your life.”

oh. well there was no turning back now.

he watches in disbelief as the woman begins to redden — ah, is this how athena and hera looked when paris gave the apple to the goddess of love. fury and beauty mixed into something horrifying.

jaehoon’s almost too late, ducking in the last millisecond as a wine glas shoots past his head. the above of it all facade breaks, irritation and shock mix together as his voice raises, “ARE YOU FUCKING MENTAL? YOU’RE A FUCKING LUNATIC RIEON, GET YOUR ACT TOGETHER.”

his eyes scan the woman’s immediate surroundings, fuck she was going to smash his whole dinning room set, swiftly he moves inbetween the table and rieon. holding up his hands in hopes for some sort of peace offering, let’s not let her grab a knife.

                                   I AM NO MORE A FIXED POINT THAN LOVE ━━

     she’s known for being like this. this, meaning erratic, meaning high upon high upon high before any real lows. she had always been high strung, had always felt things at a vivid 100. our kang rieon, however renowned for her ire and eerily precise aim, has always been like sensitive; easily overwhelmed. has always felt so much that she feels raw to the touch. add alcohol into the mix? game over. 

     so tonight, tonight she’s not any better. tonight she’s free, or some semblance of it, free from the watchful eyes of her parents (who’ve never attend these sorts of things anyhow), and after a painful hour or so of brown nosing, free from the occasional wandering hand that settled centimeters too low on the small of her back. but that’s not new either, is it? the crown jewel, kang conglomerate’s pretty daughter is meant to be admired, plucked off the shelf and rolled around in one’s palm like a commemorative plaque. 

     seen, felt, but not to be played with. why else was she expected to tag along on golf trips with prospective business partners?

     but this too, rieon has known to be part of her ‘usefulness’. as the role she’s set to play. role indicated only by the lack of meat hanging between her legs—the undisputed role she’s been slacked with since birth—the daughter, the prized cow, sweet like honey with a winning smile and an endearing disposition that’s easy to love.

     dad doesn’t give a shit about anything else beyond that.      hasn’t then. won’t now.

     tonight, even without his presence—she braves hell to play her role like the filial daughter she’s expected to be. and purgatory, though dressed in luxurious decor and armed with enough liquor to fill five swimming pools, is still as unpleasant as she remembers. is still the same shared smiles and tinny laughs and wandering hands and selfies and come and go highballs. still the same battleground rieon braves with her honeyed tongue, battered hubris, decaying heart, and claws her way through moving bodies to breathe for the first time all night. 

     and as expected, she is still the same. nails itching at her wrist as if to placate the writhing underneath her skin, an unease that settles the longer she stays. the longer the night drags on, the more it wears on her patience. how is it a party when she knows no one here? when she’s done more schmoozing than actually drinking with her own friends. when her entire night has been wasted on men and women twice her age. social obligations are such a fucking chore. unlucky her, however, as the only solution to the problem (a quick escape from this hellscape) lies in the hands of someone she wasn’t on speaking terms with.

     but, drunk as she is now, rieon doesn’t really give a shit what min jaehoon thought. and so, whereas she was hesitant prior into the night—the move to approach now came together far more seamlessly than predicted. especially since he wasn’t alone to start. 

     “hey,” she slurs her greeting, reaching out to wrap lithe fingers around his forearm; as if to anchor jaehoon’s presence to hers. she doesn’t recognize his companion, doesn’t give much care to, doesn’t even bother to spare a glance. instead, her eyes (pupils blown and somewhat glazed) fix squarely on @jaehoxn. right now, she honestly can’t think of anything else beyond how badly she wants to get off her feet. but it doesn’t mean she’ll beg. “let’s get a room.”

     read: get me a room.

━━ ALL NIGHT IN BED I AM UNRAVELING 

jaehoon may yell loudly about the lack of artistic integrity within the music industry — may complain that idols have stolen every sense of limelight that’s available within the country. he may complain that their dull and finely tuned voices don’t stir hearts but it does not meant he is displeased with his family’s company.

quite the opposite, no, instead as the eldest son of the min family — he quite enjoyed attending the parties and events, you know what they said about desperation, and those who wanted fame tended to be the most amusing. ( ignoring the fact min jaehoon was more preoccupied with his own fame that was handed down to him as easily as an old sweatshirt.) regardless, the high of all eyes on him, the way they rushed to his side with shallow compliments and praise, was better than most drugs.

and what else did jaehoon love beside entertaining. he has been bred to do so, raised by the man who created groups that stole the nation’s heart, one of the best compsors that came out of the country. there was very little that jaehoon felt more comfortable at, than wining and dinning with party guests.

it helped that no one seemed to leave him with an empty glass.

speaking of party guest. tthe last he heard from rieon was well, nothing, beside the unread messages and dropped phone calls, the musician assumed that even if she was attending, he would not have to deal with..her dramatics.

but the younger woman always had a habit of slipping through the cracks and doing the least expected. 

jaehoon hums, leaning closer to one of the models that were stationed near the bar,“yeah, we have like an album coming up, i can take you to the studio so—” 

the familiar scent of perfume passes by, and the man groans, as slender fingers wrap around him. the warmth of rieon doing nothing to incite jaehoon to forget of their last interaction. no matter how dolled up and glittery she seems, she nearly knocked his teeth out the last time they’ve spoken. 

“rieo—” the scolding his lips is stalled, his attention drawn away from the model and towards his fiancee for the first time at the words leaving her. jaehoon isn’t too ashamed to admit, he liked being needed, especially by a woman who usually hated his guts to admit anything akin to help “a room? i can do that for us.”

jaehoon could only give a sheepish smile to the model he was speaking to before he begins to lead rieon to one of the empty vip rooms the venue had helpfully  rented out for the min family. it’s only then that he peels himself away from the other, “how much of the free booze did you drink? or is someone selling?” the musician questions, as he throws the jacket he was wearing haphazardly on the ground, his eyes turning towards rieon once more.”or can the poor baby not wear heels anymore?” his voice is mockingly sweet, poking at her with faux concern, “you had to be desperate to come to me.”

ღ    ⸻   JAEHOON.         ❛   fall from grace a beautiful thing if it meant having you in my arms   ❜

seoul changed so swiftly as the years went by. four years spent in foreign lands, laughing with friends she knew she was only meant to have temporarily, laboring over examinations and term papers, all while dreaming of home and all the limitless opportunities waiting for her. it can be said with certainty that she has worked hard; perhaps, worked the most she ever had in all her privileged life in order to earn the accolades that she had upon graduating. yet, this signified next to nothing when she had worn her cap and gown and marched cambridge’s hall a final time. only when did her plane land at incheon did she feel the merits of all she had worked for ⸺ the feeling of belonging forevermore found only in seoul.

with this came reunification with people jiyeon had thought she had forgotten in high school. familiar faces began cropping up from her periphery; lost in the mindless sea of people she knew she was meant to see permanently. but one face managed to deliver himself right in front of her gazes. from the time pleasant exchange of words were shared up until this moment, it seems as though he refused to be discarded. as much she wants to deny it, min jaehoon commanded her attention and ensnared her heart in a way that only he knows how.

it was the only logical explanation for her almost uncharacteristic appearances in places she had never deigned to step foot into before. moon jiyeon was a woman of sophisticated means. music was enjoyed, but only in limited quantities. if she were to ever attend a concert, her comfort and privacy would be prioritized; none of that mingling with the crowd and bumping shoulders with overly enthusiastic fans. however lately, her presence was seen in less than polished locations and even she cannot edge in a word of defense when asked about her reasons.

the guards let her slip for they knew who she was. jiyeon’s arrival cut it too close to the beginning of their performance which meant she could no longer slip backstage. within the throng of the band’s fans, she could feel their excitement. while this was no olympic stadium, the energy that filled the room brings her the confidence that perhaps, such a feat would be in the cards for jaehoon and comet in the near future.

her place provided her a good view of the stage and just as she was about to send him a message, the lights dimmed and the roar of the audience filled her ears. in seconds, the band entered the stage and just as with every day of her life since he’s reentered it, jiyeon had fixed her eyes onto jaehoon’s formidable existence.

You like a pretty boy With a pretty voice Who's trying to sell you something

there’s very little jaehoon has wanted in his life that he’s not gotten. from the moment he was born, like many people born into wealth, everything he has ever wanted has been given to him. 

his own car before he could even drive it, sold-out concert halls at the age of thirteen and some may argue jaehoon’s talents would have not been possible without his father and grandfather’s status. how else could he have thrived at such a  young age? not every child that plays piano has a world-renowned classical musician as a grandfather or an entertainment ceo as a father. 

of course, there are some things that are bit harder to obtain. while his family’s money had gotten him handcrafted instruments, lavish trips around the world, and an array of opportunities that many would kill for, human emotions were harder to sway. not that jaehoon minded, after years of easy cruising, the thrill of having someone fall in love with you was a high that he could not replicate elsewhere. the trust and affections of others was a currency that not many could afford. 

and the affections for one moon jiyeon — whose trust was locked in some spiraling tower, covered with vines and cobwebs had whatever climb jaehoon would have to do all the more entertaining. and it’s not exactly hard to want the affections of a girl like jiyeon, whose family history and beauty made jaehoon want to pen his feelings for her into lyrics, alongside a melody into a song.

there’s a rush of pride that runs through his spine, as he steps onto the stage — seeing the crowd of fans in front of him, the sound of beats and bass filling his ear. but that’s not what causes him to grin, not this time at least. the swell of achievements that runs through his body, is seeing a familiar face in the crowd. it had taken some convincing to even let jiyeon to entertain even the thought of coming to one of his gigs, therefore seeing her within the crowd had jaehoon on a high, to say the least.

     she and min jaehoon have nothing in common. in her lifetime, rieon supposes she hasn’t met anyone more opposite of her than 2m ent’s bastard crown prince. so much so that every fiber of her being physically repulses at the thought of him, or rather, even as names spoken in conjunction. and whereas her therapist would claim that all this and more had something to do with the pressure from evil overlord kang (that’s dad, for those of you just now checking in) and that she more or less villainizes any and all suitors endorsed by dad, rieon would argue otherwise. 

     min jaehoon, to his core, is repugnant. vile and irredeemable and had not for the fact that they stood on the same side of this engagement—the stalling-for-time-while-living-life-as-they-both-wanted side—would’ve been kicked to the curb within the first couple of weeks of their parents pushing this agenda. 

     but he had promised her freedom, promised he didn’t give a fuck about whatever it was she did; date, don’t date, it’s not his concern. and for a while, for a long while, she was fine with that. they both were.

     but—what the fuck is this really?

     as it were, our glorified crown jewel and bastard prince stand side by side, @jaehoxn’s arm wrapped snug around her waist like its meant to be there as they bid goodbye to his parents after somewhat of a turbulent dinner. ish. if you count the bit where she stopped listening after they mentioned something along the lines of being grandparents. and that fucker sitting next to her had the gall to egg it on.

     nevertheless, they had a deal. they had a deal so rieon is careful to keep that sweetheart smile plastered on her face right up until the moment the door shuts. then, she’s quick to slap his hand off her. “really? REALLY? grandkids? when the fuck did we start entertaining the grandkids talk when HELLO?! the plan has ALWAYS to been just to stall—YAH!!” she shrieks, voice shrill and indignant vibrant on her face. one more thing she’s never been able to stand about min jaehoon? he knew exactly how to set her off.

     “DON’T WALK AWAY FROM ME WHEN I’M TALKING TO YOU ASSHOLE”

Watch out It's looking like there's not enough to go around

the min family liked to think they didn’t raise liars, that authenticity should have been a priority, after all, they were people of the arts. but sadly — the prioritization of fame and the continuous need for profit had made the next generation fall too easily into twisting the truth. so should jaehoon feel bad for tricking his parents as well as kangs? was it really a trick if they were happy with the falsehood?

of course not, jaehoon family had raised him to put on a good show. how could he disappoint them with a bland performance?

so he plays the part well, the humble and bashful son-in-law, the only thing in his mind is filial piety. how jaehoon mentions wanting to move into a bigger apartment after the wedding, laughing when the older adults hint at grandchildren. “well, i wouldn’t mind them after my career settles down, as well as rieon’s schooling is done, but who knows.” if jaehoon’s lucky there will never be a wedding, but what’s the harm indulging their fantasies. “ a boy and a girl would be nice though, wouldn’t it?”

unfortunately, his co-star in this extended play is well — difficult to say the least. the harsh smack on his hand is nothing new. but jaehoon still grimaces as he pulls away from his supposed fiancee, rieon always had a habit of letting her emotions get the best of her, her skin too thin to take much of anything.

after almost a decade of knowing the supposed princess of the kangs, well jaehoon knew how to deal with her outbursts. her therapist her daddy paid for was obviously not good enough. taking a step away from rieon, he begins to walk back towards the kitchen. half heartily waving her off as she screamed, god someone fucking sedate her. “be quiet, they can probably still hear you, all my hard work will be ruined if they hear you screaming like a banshee, god.”

별 숨김 없이 다 나눴던

그 날의 우리…

jaehoon.

with him, he brings remnants of juwon — specks of forever and always, remembered as passion and extraordinaire under the summer sun. those were their years, he recalls in silence as he takes in the sharp contours of jaehoon’s face. and they, along with everyone else, had become lost to time.

“jaehoon,” he says, visibly unmoved by the sudden reunion. and yet, he’s already standing from his seat, one hand flattened against the flap of his blazer while the other stretches out for a shake. “it really has been a while, i didn’t know you were back from the states.”

half-lie. the truth is that he’s known about jaehoon’s return for quite some time already, however, conflicting schedules and general differences in lifestyle made it harder to reach out and act on what was supposed to be a sweet, decade-old friendship. even now, juwon is choosing to be cordial to fit their current circumstances.

“come, take a seat.” he gestures toward the chair beside him, conveniently left empty as though the universe had planned this all along.

and admittedly, juwon can’t bring himself to properly look at jaehoon; can only, instead, offer a few, genuine glances every so often. “the party’s good,” he begins with a soft laugh, “but it’s been a hectic week, so i’ve been fighting sleep for the past hour or so.” he offers another glance.

how much time has taken away from the both of them.

“what about you, jaehoon-ah?”

childhood whimsy seems artificial in the dimly lit room of the hall. there’s apart of jaehoon that feels that juwon did not belong here. no, surely he should be kept in some storage in his family’s estate with his childhood toys and coats that no longer fit him. seeing him at this party brought an odd sense of deja vu that jaehoon could not seem to shake.

like a toy solider left on some park bench. or a box of discarded toys at a thrift store.

a calloused hand reaches out to juwon’s — shaking it with a firm grip. “just got back from tokyo actually, we finished a tour there “ jaehoon corrects, always ready to brag about whatever latest accomplishments he and his band went through. “ it’s a bit chaotic and all, trying to catch up with everyone but it was nice that this event lined up.”

so much for childhood best friends. nonetheless, jaehoon smiles easing into small talk with practiced expertise.  “how’s politics, i can’t really find myself to follow along, i guess i was never smart enough for that type of thing.” mock humility drips from his voice.

he remembers when juwon was the one person he felt like he could speak to honestly. perhaps bitterness comes with age. but he settles down onto the seat next to his old friend.

                                                       after coffee — joywave                                                                         ☕                                       move away and find a little spot on the coast                                        no reception and my secret goes unknown                                                               for @jaehoxn

haseok could’ve sworn he’d just been here five minutes ago. wasn’t he?

“wasn’t i jus — fuck, oh my god.”

the bathroom is spinning; those whiskey nips he’d downed in the limousine here were finally catching up to him like some sort of sick joke. it wasn’t uncharacteristic for him to pre-game before an event as pointless as this one, especially when he’d known there’d be an unlimited bar beforehand. what wasn’t characteristic of the president’s son was just the sheer amount he’d managed to consume in the past two hours and not have anybody bother to notice or care. then again, who actually did give two shits about the son of the country who had no say of anything and no real power, anyway?

it gave him leeway to do what the fuck he wanted without too many serious repercussions (so long as no tabloids caught wind of it). however, unlike the tabloids, min jaehoon was a far more unpredictable source of knowledge about hong haseok than probably anybody else here — and not just because he’s currently the sole witness to haseok’s drunk vomiting in the first floor restroomm away from any potential family friends that would be forced to bear witness to the twenty-seven year old’s boisterous dry heaving.

haseok’s brain can process two thoughts currently: one, he’s made it to a toilet in time to vomit his fucking brains out. two, jaehoon is outside the open stall door, scrolling through tiktok on his phone at full goddamn volume. 

“could you fucking,” haseok manages to breathe out once his body has finally rid itself of the horrible concoction now being flushed. he feels a hundred pounds lighter and the dizziness and hazy vision from the alcohol was slowly fading. with a roll of paper, haseok wipes his mouth and deposits it with one last flush before shoving the other male out of his way to the sink. “is this it? is this how you live your life — fuckin’ sittin’ there on your damn mobile while your mate is kneeled over a toilet?”

“pathetic,” jaehoon says — his usual pompous tone unchanged as his eyes shift from his phone to his friend kneeling on the ground. not that the guitarist was startled by the scene before him, the children of the elite who preened with shiny hair and designer outfits for the cameras usually ended up in the stall of a tacky lit restroom. the son of the president of south korea was no different, no matter how well-pressed his shirts were, was sloppy when there were multiple shots of whatever liquid they could find in front of them. his attention moves back to his phone, watching as some girl explains the difference between dupes of doc martins, another dancing video, some guy playing the drums an— the sound hong haseok puking is too loud to ignore.

(un)fortunately for jaehoon, he was unable to partake in any pre-gaming, he barely had time to change after the studio session he had. but with the amount of wine had consumed in the last hour alone, he’s sure it will not be long before he meets the same level as his friend. but for now, he grimaces. “haseok, come on dude, let it out all before we miss dessert, i heard they got some fancy chef from france locked up just for tonight.”

old friends or not, jaehoon hated sloppiness, perhaps a habit of his upbringing? ( proper posture, not a hair out of place, just enough of a smile to catch the eye ) or maybe it’s because he’s a hypocrite who can’t remember his own drunken habits. regardless, he grimaces as he watches haseok, “you didn’t exactly say please help me jaehoon, all i heard was dry heaving, how was i supposed to know you needed help?”

It's just like make believe

jaehoon does not remember much of his childhood outside of his grandfather’s music room. flashes of family parties, sneaking out for ice cream with his nanny, the sun setting into the blue waters of the sea.

but for the most part, his childhood remains a blur of performances, practices, and well, there is no need to live in the past; the things he does recall should be forgotten. buried with a burned career and disappointment. 

though as jaehoon sits amongst his family, his eyes pulling from the abandoned meal on his plate to his surrounding, a memory pierces through. it’s faint, and the musician can barely piece the facial features. the figure sitting at a nearby table — a childhood friend who had drifted apart when jaehoon left to study in the states. 

chae juwon, the name appears through the mist of nostalgia and foggy childhood memories.  

his mother continues to drone on about some actress’ affair; his father nods his head. jaehoon is not needed for this conversation. 

it takes a moment before jaehoon excuses himself from the table and instead makes his way towards his childhood friend’s table. this would have to entertain him for now, better than listening to c-lister gossip.

“juwon hyung,” the musician calls out, his smile earnest ( as he was taught to appear to others ),” it’s been awhile; how’s the dinner treating you?”  

9:46 pm

the opportunity is just too good to pass on.

the recreation room is quiet for the first time in a while. it makes sense; the families with younger children (the ones who mainly occupy the room) are beginning to filter out. can’t have the young ‘uns running around too late. while the main ballroom remains bustling (the yangs seem to have an affinity for loud speakers), the rec room is less so.

finally, a place of peace amidst the chaos.

downing what is his second cup of coffee, yohan makes his way to the pool table. he runs his fingers across the felt material. how long has it been since he played? he tosses the cup to the nearby trash bin and picks up the cue that’s hanging on the wall, next to the dartboard. he tosses it back and forth, weighing it in his hands. yeah, he misses this.

with a soft chuckle, he walks towards the pool table and sets up a game for himself — organising the balls, placing the cue ball on the opposite end, chalking his cue tip…

yohan is dusting off the chalk from his hands, when he feels a presence in the room. ah, @jaehoxn. always one with strong opinions, yohan is quick to judge whether he likes a person or not. when it comes to jaehoon, though, yohan hasn’t completely written him off, though right now, jaehoon sits firmly in the ‘don’t interact unless you have to’ category for him.

but it seems this moment calls for such interaction.

“you play?” yohan lines the cue stick with the cue ball. he strikes it and sends it speeding across the table, hitting the ball in the centre — which, in return, scatters the rest. “wanna join me?”

a lull of conversation. 

his father being pulled away from the table. his mother frowning as she observes her reflection in her mirror — his grandfather speaking to some old business partner. 

it only takes a minute for jaehoon to slip away, done with his family for the night. even  the delightful buzz of the wine he consumed hangs over him was not enough to stomach his annoyance.  

an escape is desperately needed as the musician slips through the party-goers, and hotel staff with practiced ease. he had learned from a very young age that his family expected him to be seen and not heard unless a piano was attached to him. 

he won’t be missed. 

jaehoon quietly slides into the rec room, his eyes peering for any other soul, his thirst for entertainment had been barely quelled by alcohol and as he scans the empty rec room, a sigh escapes his lips.

well yohan would have to do for now.  they weren’t exactly close, and jaehoon couldn’t really think much of the man beside the fact he was a bit too boorish for his own personal taste. 

“pool?” jaehoon questions, as he makes his way over to the older man, his fingers tapping against the table before humming without much thought. “yeah my old guitar tutor taught me.”