tenacious.

@flowerune

the night begins as a kaleidoscope of colors. green is the spotlight weaving in between people dancing off beat. yellow is the broken neon sign that crackles alone on the side of the intersection. burnt orange is the shot glass filled with bacardi again and again until his vision becomes offset. vinyl black is her dress shining under hot lights.

gray is the night covered by thick, putrid smoke.

red and blue are the sirens flashing onto his face.

men in uniform lean against the side of their car with cigarettes hanging from their lips. parker rubs his eyes and frowns, shoving his hands into his front pockets right after, before boldly approaching the two. “you’re not supposed to be doing that on duty, officerrrs,” he declares loudly enough for them to hear. “you guys have no manners, no respect for the people here— might as well go inside and drink, too. right?”

he gets a little too close. maybe he stumbles forward on accident, maybe he’s inattentive of personal space, but the cops spring off their heels to grab him, cigarettes dropping like pins onto the asphalt. parker manages to slip away from their grasps, bolting immediately toward the opposite direction with the soles of his feet pounding clumsily against the ground. he passes through an alleyway and spills onto another neighboring street, and he swears that he’s still being followed; the steps behind him are light, though, and parker whips his head back to stare.

his eyes focus in on a shadowy blob of another man. probably younger. looks innocent. looks just as surprised.

“why the fuck are you following me?” 

what hits first is the adrenaline. it hits a few times but in different waves, different feels.

first is gentle. the gentle that knocks but not as harsh, it washes over and fills the skin until it leaves. this is getting on stage and leaving. this is, june staring out into the crowd and being the crowd, living everything that a passion encompasses and spitting it out when cold air hits. the first wave is sort of the best, it’s the push and the pleasure.

second is reactive. a body dashing past him and fear in his own. pushing and pushing and pulling energy from a hidden reserve. june is feeling the cool air first, inhaling and exhaling all that youth has to offer until he’s not. everything is sirens and instinct. he’s got memories of late nights and early curfews, when the night sky was fleeting and something he had to store away. so he’s running, running and running until his breath knocks into him. the pull and the stolen.

third is a settlement. the mini after the monster. june’s got his hands on his knees, his jacket a mess around his forearms and sweat keeping it stuck to him. he’s got some of his breath back and all of the space in his eyes filled. he’s got a heart still bouncing and scattered. much like his attention still behind him and words addressing the front.

"i’m----- not? well kind of. I saw sirens, well I heard sirens? and you were running so I ran? but you looked like you knew where you were going and I would’ve just ran home which is top ten places not to go when running from cops.”

now he’s pausing anticipating but pausing. feeling like he should still be running but stalling his movements.

1. Jjamppong. Bless the one my noona used to make. The ahjumma near the company makes a good one but she makes the best. Every winter and extra spicy if I was sick.

2. My guitar. Heh. The one I have now isn’t my first but it’s been with me for a while. I love all my guitars but this one is the one I played when I got scouted. So she’s pretty special.

3. Vanilla iced coffee. The best thing in the world, better than any hot coffee and any cold drink. Coffee is my savior and the only reason morning classes aren’t complete torture. 

4. Yeoreum noona @@flowereum! Noona’s the kind of person I’m grateful to have around and wouldn’t trade for the world. Unless she starts wearing higher heels.

5. Ocean skylines. They feel like home, remind me of home and help me relax. At night, in the car, in the morning, they’re good at any time and are always the best.

“Watch your words.”  Quick, sharp tone. That’s something even Yeoreum can pull off. But where most people would be quick to be taken seriously, she knows she’ll never achieve that. Out of not wanting to take it that far, out of the inability to take it so far. Whatever it may trigger if she ever forces it, she doesn’t like the side effects of it. As if she will be losing a bit of time she could have been spending doing what she ought to be doing. She has not yet made one with the cleansing of her mind from words that don’t fit, actions that don’t match, feelings that are not part of the equation.

They all still feel unfamiliar with the cleansing and the aftertaste of it. As if one has been remodeled to step one, as if one has been sent back several centuries ago, as if one has to relearn to crawl. As if they’re incompetent, as if the Gods do not trust them to take charge of their own anomalies. So sacred are they, of what? Their own creations rebelling against their natures? The way humans did while facing the sky and deciding that the Gods may as well never have existed? It is the only discomfort that they’re allowed to have, it is the only discomfort they wish they did not have to experience.

“Call me short one more time and this performance is going to find itself broadcasted on every news and music channel out there and you’ll be thanking me for the publicity.” The tissue she got for herself, cleaned her fingers, neatly. But she’s now brandishing it, as if it is the deadliest of weapons and lightly swinging it against his cheek. “Don’t we need to practice first? We need to practice first, unless you want me to go freestyle, because if that is the case.”

She’s rounding the counter to step beside him but also to stand facing him and get a hold of both of his hands while her legs cannot stand still. “I have the perfect performance, I have been practicing improvisation, especially rapping. Listen! I have everything it takes, I should audition for your company, they’d take me in a heartbeat.” Confidence that slides with a smile and she’s squeezing his hands, dragging them both to the door of the tea shop. But also, lifting the hold she has on them to pat his cheeks, before letting go so she can open the door and step to the side.

“Come on, start working to earn the real title.” Her hands make a way, a wave towards the bright lit street awaiting. Quiet as always is it and she can already see the small crowd this is going to be gathering. She can see it, mostly because she trusts June to get them here, wherever he wants them. There’s a lot of trust in his abilities, enough that he might not know it himself, but Yeoreum would admit to anyone else even him if he ever asked, that he’s earned whatever title he may have wished for the moment he started working towards it.

The results are often times rewarding, but the moment you take a step towards your goal. The reality is that you’ve become who you want to be. Most of Yeoreum’s missions have to come to this one realization by themselves, most of them hardly ever do but those who do get to it. They make Yeoreum stay awake for longer period of times, burning with a sort of energy that could have her climbing mounts and mounts, they fuel her for the next life to approach. To the point where an entire week can be spent on her feet, on her back, but never with her eyes closed.

It is beyond the feeling humans can get from the strongest intoxication. 

“Watch your words.” Probably the easiest thing to do. Easier than getting up and getting out. Easier than committing a performance to memory and committing himself to performing, is to act as young as he feels. Everyone and by definition everyone, who June comes into contact with that has a few year son him like to tell him how he should spend it wisely. Gaining wisdom like it’s meant to be brandished and not shared or helpful. For June that’s too hard, too serious, like yeah he thinks about things and tries things and learns things. He does all that, deep thinking beneath the moon and sunrise watches until his brain is tired. But sometimes it’s easier to be. So when he repeats her words it’s with a pull of his nose and a purse of his lips, both as childish as they look, and a pitch of his tone.

Because it’s easier to be like this with Yeoreum than anyone else. And he knows she’ll accept it, even if he does move away from her hands. Not because he thinks she might actually smack him ( well she might playfully ) but because he trusts that it’s all in good fun and it will always be.

“Noona,” he begins while leaving the shop but pausing to gesture towards the street first, hand held up by the top. Manners first no matter how childish he may seem. Manners are always something he remembers, bratty as he may act and excited as he may be. June’s excited too, practically bouncing towards Yeoreum and across the shop. It’s in a way that he doesn’t quite see her, he sees past her, sees the street as he sees all his dreams. The now and the present. 

He thinks he and Yeoreum see it the same and that’s why they get along to well. He sees the empty but he sees the possibility in people and in himself. Ther’s faith though and well whether it’s in humanity or himself is another story. But he sees it, even if it’s not a perfect day he sees the clouds and the scenery. The street filled or even gently touched upon. He sees the setting to another start and gets excited.

“Noona if you broadcast this performance either you’ll be seeing a lot of me, or none of me while I beg my company for forgiveness.” It’s why he can speak so light about this. Because they see sort of the same, move about life like it doesn’t cut them like it does others. Even if it does they keep moving.

His back taps against the door, guitar waiting by his leg. Itching itching and reminding him he has things to do, streets to fill. “If you’re good at just following along then we don’t really need to practice? I’ve got plenty songs under my belt and if choruses are easy for you to pick up or melodies than we’ll do just fine. People don’t worry about those technical things with street performers. Or well I don’t think?” He’s trying to think of all they need to cover, of the danger of sudden decisions like this but he’s too impatient. “Anyway it’ll be fine it’ll work out, I’ll try to find one to match the atmosphere though now come on, you first.” He’s practically bursting now, the door hitting his back with each time he moves forward and back, excitement so tangible it’s breaking the smile into his cheeks.

[ ... ]

         “You’re right.” She says in defeat. “Okay… so when do you plan to this? Have you chosen a song already?” It was a good thing that the diner is slow, in fact she might have a bit too free time on her hand with the lack of customers coming in. Her hands seek for the dry cloth and the plates, continuing the task of drying them as she waits for the younger’s answer.

“Sounds easy? Well that’s a relief, because ten minutes prior to recording this everyone said it was easy and I was freaking out. I wasn’t too thrilled about performing in front of people actually.” Maybe June doesn’t need to add anything else but he does anyway.

The video does speak for itself though. June doesn’t think he looks much younger but he remembers it like it was yesterday. He doesn’t have special places for all these memories but sometimes it feels like a portal opening up and thrusting him through. Back to nervous hands trying to find strings he’s touched a million times, trying to remember a melody he knew by heart. The memory touches on chords and all he can do is smile through it. Through remembering how tight his chest had been, through remembering how his words came out but didn’t really reach.

And how okay it was that it didn’t.

June’s had worse days, worse performances when his throat wouldn’t open and he couldn’t sing a tune. When he tried a high note and did so badly the blood rushed all to his head. He’s had bad performances, everything wasn’t the movie ending that people always dream of. But he kept dreaming. Most people find that when life isn’t a movie, when there’s no resolution and bright future that there won’t be one at all. But everyone is their own screenwriter and everyone can change it. So June did and Haebitna can too.

That’s how he moves, dreaming and acting as one. Even if people only see the dreaming. Even if people thinks he’s dreaming like he doesn’t see roadblocks, like he’s got no clouds. Everyone does, some are just easier to see and June isn’t playing blind, he’s just playing around. Moving through and around like he won’t get affected. It’s a little dangerous but it’s easy to him. Just like Haebitna will find what’s easy for her.

“Everything is hard the first time but trying will get you through the toughest part.” He says this with his nose turned up, as if quoting some general wisdom that he doesn’t understand. Because June tries everything even if he’s scared so he gets it. That’s why instead he smiles, laughing at himself, at the video and at the situation itself. “I was really bad but it turned out fine.” It did. He finished the performance, bowed and got some applause. Even if he didn’t get any he wouldn’t have been bitter ( probably would have still thrown up in the back but that’s not important ). What’s important is he’s getting some agreement so he closes the video and turns his attention to her.

He tries not to smile too big and deter her but he can’t help it. He’s practically bouncing and it has him moving to a more comfortable position, back against the counter and guitar down by his foot. “Ah, which genres do you prefer noona? We can do ballads, even if I’m more of a soft rock person we can make it work. Hyukoh has a song with Lim Kim so we can definitely do that, have you heard it it’s called Gondry. Or or Don’t Forget by Crush and Taeyeon?!” He’s so excited he almost forgets the one deterrence, one that should be brought up later but big enough to have him smiling sheepish and looking the other way.

As though she possesses some receptive antennae, experts in the scanning the surrounding, she senses it. The tension in the air is thick- as some might poetically say, thick enough to be cut with with a dull butter knife- and for no real reason. But the woman understands.  Conscientious of her own reserved behavior, she cannot blame him for anything, as even in spite of her advanced age, compared to his of course, Taeyeon has not managed to completely eradicate her shyness. 

She also notices the attachment the boy presents towards his guitar, probably his most treasured object, considering the glint flickering in his orbs everytime his eyes fall on it. A smile lights up every nook of her complexion, though mostly concealed. There is nothing more sincerely beautiful than passionate people. Which is what initially attracted the idol to the young artist. The dedication he effuses while performing for no one but himself. If others stop by, that will probably be a bonus. 

“Oh, really? Who forbids you to be here?” reflexively, a brow is quirked up and the smile curls into another curious grin. It sounds entertaining for her. He probably has no idea about the difference of gravity between their feats.. But she decides against being mean hence she just moves by his side and takes a seat near him, on the ground, crossing her legs under herself. 

“Just sing your favourite song, or something you know well. “ Taeyeon takes a quick glance up and lowers her shades until their are completely off. She could risk for a moment, if that meant she’d gain a new friend. One that she shared interests with.

“Ah my um, my company would have my behind if they knew.” Regulations wise he’s not supposed to do paid gigs. Technically this isn’t a paid gig but June always focuses on smaller things. Got his priorities all twisted. He’s not so much worried about getting caught or having broken a rule, he’s worried about someone giving him money when he’s not asking for it. Not that he ever has. Getting paid is bad, getting watched eh, not so much. And June’s supposed to work on this, this shyness of him that shows in every nervous tap against his guitar. That’s why he sneaks out so much, to play and practice, work on all the eyes that will follow him eventually. Hopefully.

But then Kim Taeyeon is in front of him. The Kim Taeyeon. His nerves build up and as much as he tries to loosen them so the only thing that does is his mouth.

“Well see it’s not a big deal. If I’m not getting paid I’m not really in trouble. Like sneaking out is bad but not that bad. But then if people try to hand out money I’m in trouble. I’m not saying I’m so good that I get paid but you know. It’s just sometimes we have classes at the company and I can’t play as much or try out new stuff so I sneak out......well I snuck out.” his mouth, his never-ending mouth. The one sign of his nervousness that others mistake for exceptional social skills. June masks it well without even trying and he doesn’t mind if people know.

He is conscious of it though, and the words hit him the minute he finishes. In small breaths, parted lips and cheeks burning in embarrassment. All familiar, all equally annoying.

This quiz shall reveal the major arcana hidden within your personality. Based from the famous Playstation portable game: Persona 3 portable a.k.a. P3P, the major arcanas represent a certain stage in the life of a man. This may as well be related unto your own “persona” or how you establish a relationship with other people.

THE SUN

The Sun symbolizes happiness, joy, energy, optimism, and accomplishment. Occasionally, it is also associated with one's initial happiness. You almost always (ironically) find yourself in terrible situations, the situation betrays the underlying optimism present in nearly all of them. You have deep thoughts about the meaning of life and manage to find their answers.

dreams… ha! please elaborate on what the fuck those are, he wishes to ask. dryly, but then. that’d be typical (mostly of him), and their conversation would be back to where it’s begun. kiel therefore says nothing, only to offer a pursed line that masks any intention of appearing as a smile. june doesn’t even have to finish speaking on his end for the expression to fall to a complete frown, eyes dead and nowhere set on the guy when he pretends he’s not even there.

“you should have stopped at festival.” that’s all he says when he turns around and draws money from the cash register to offer change for the customer that had just swung on by. one smile and a few routine formalities later, kiel turns his head back to june and takes his glasses off. it makes this encounter a tad easier, clarifies there’s no need for getting so attached to the idea before the latter can pitch it any further. puppy eyes won’t work, he reminds himself. hence the voluntary blur.

he can tell he’s at least trying, if anything. but the glasses have to stay off if he doesn’t want this to work. it shouldn’t. it won’t. “did your mom ever let you out of the house like that?” kiel continues after he’s settled back on his stool, hands resting on the ledge in between his thighs. “with that kind of tactic and charm.” tap. tap. tap. “i should say lack thereof, really.” this part’s muttered under his breath.

“anyway, you’ll be ride-free whether i tag along or not. which i won’t,” he clarifies, clicking his tongue as he spins around one cycle. “because… i can’t drive.”

his keys jangle along the loop of his belthole, hand casually coming up to cover said set as his eyes stay locked on june’s.

“I did stop at festival though, I said! there’s a festival...pause. in busan. I’m working on my variety skills.” nonexistent variety skills. nonexistent or not he’s got enough of a smile to see like if they weren’t he wouldn’t be bothered.

with june, people look at him and think the world around him devolves into transparency.

it’s not true.

it’s more of a subtle blur. never quite reaches the foreground, never quite reaches his face. see he can pick up on vibes pretty easily, like how keil keeps himself stoic and put together. how people react and choose not to react to them. most of that he picks on like a sensor and picks apart like a bloodhound, he finds treasure in the words and gratefulness in the interaction and that’s all he needs. if someone wants to put aside both, that’s fine too. he’ll keep going and smiling and he’s not so much acting as he is moving. moving with people and along his own plane.

so he smiles at kiel, bright as ever, unfazed as ever. comical for all the wrong reasons.

“hyung variety not charm, can’t be tactical when you’re running on one iced coffee and an all-nighter.” a famous all-nighter. the kind that won’t show on his face because he’s giddy about it. the kind that he still feels in his fingers and not in bags in his eyes or wear in his back. all night spent fidgeting and fumbling with his guitar, playing and playing until he made the amazing decision to drop everything and run to the festival to get the set out in the open. 

“you can’t drive....?” there isn’t much surprise in the statement though his head does tilt for a moment. a second. then comes another pout and furrowed brows. “do you know someone who can drive? because what you’re saying is, the only dilemma we have is we don’t have someone who can drive. if we did you’d come. if you come you can teach me all about tactic and charm or whatever.”

'Juuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuune.’ It’s a foreign voice, one he hopes everyone will come to know ( much like his own ) and one that has him grinning, back and head against the truck. ‘Juuuuuune say hiiiiiiii.’ “We’re gonna die.” ‘June’s log! June 17, 2017!’

june’s still bright. still smiling wide, so wide it sort of hurts the people watching. his friends, who practically tackled him down to make the phone call happen. some kind of intervention for stubborn souls. he smiles against the phone and lets himself pause.

“ah abeoji, do you know what day it is? you thought I’d forget because of training and stuff? nope! I’m calling to wish you a happy father’s day!”

he’s calling to do his duty. not his duty to make the call but other duties as a son. washing off stress. washing off wound and looking the other way. holding up his chin when his father won’t. the unspoken duties that hurt in the moment but mean something in the long run. well that’s what everyone tells him.

“i’ve been well, jungyeon called and said you were stressed! abeoji don’t stress about me i’m eating well! one of the guys here knows how to cook so i’ve been eating off him.” he laughs and starts stories he won’t finish. starts like he believes his dad wants to hear and stops because he knows his limits. 

“um anyway, things are going well. don’t ask me about debut because really no one knows, we’re all sitting ducks. but the company treats us well and i’m learning well. I composed something yesterday, I’ll play it for you soon okay?” this time the silence isn’t planned. it just happens and he tries not to feel it too much. tries to lean into the smiles of his friends and build up all his strength. 

“abeoji eat well and be well! i love you byeeee!!!!” so he ends the message like that. with no response and no expectations just something clear and lifted from his chest. at least I did it. he gets a pat on the back and a few messages from his sisters.

‘thank you junebug! you sound so grown it’s only been a few months!’ ‘he’ll come around junnie don’t worry. you sound well thanks.’ ‘i saw a smile, he’s so stubborn.’

 [ ... ]

         “This seems like persuasion rather than a request, Junnie.” She nudges his shoulder as she waits for his videos to play. She’s close to agreeing. Close. Perhaps she needs to see how he handles his failure through his past experience.

Normally the words would startle him, because they come out quickly and enough to break the rhythm they have going on. But it’s easy to respond to, small and with a languid look he responds to her with only his eyes. All June tastes is fear fear and fear and she’s got so much of it it doesn’t really scare him, how it sort of wrecks through her before she realizes it. It’s not that he doesn’t get it or that he hasn’t had it do the same to him, it’s just he knows how hard it is to break. June’s found that sometimes (most of the time) he’s too receptive to other people and how they break apart and come together. Not in the way that he lets it pull him apart, but just that he sees all the cracks.

He meets this one with a small smile, it’s still boyish and naive like he can’t tell. Like if Haebitna were to apologize for the words and cover it up sheepishly he’d just let her. But he does small, quick and with his face pulled up at her words. It’s his own response really, no real reason for it. He’s not paying mind to a lot of things these days, the people still watching, the small drawl of the day and how he’s got a time to make and he won’t make it. 

“That’s it really! We don’t even need a sound system, the place is really chill so people will hear you without a big system! Just my amp and my guitar!” He’s speaking like he doesn’t hear the refusal. Mainly because it’s rooted in fear. He won’t force it, he would never force it but he’s talking like he doesn’t notice, like it doesn’t matter in the long run.

He’s been doing that alot, walking around dreaming and smiling and joking. It’s this combination that maybe puts people off. Maybe that boy doesn’t have all the reality of the world in him. Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe it doesn’t bother him either. He takes risks like they aren’t risks and tackles things that are too big for him. Performing was once too big for him too and that’s what people don’t get. There was a time when performing was the giant and he was still the small boy throwing rocks.

Look at him now. All bright faced and eager without a care in the world. June pulling up the video with excitement in his eyes. Excitement so wild it takes a while to actually find the video and steady his fidgeting feet to play it.

“Alright look noona, see this is one of my first times going, ummmm two years ago? Can’t remember.” He’s gesturing to the phone and with the phone at the same time. He’s not excited at the idea of her singing, but more of making some sort of progress. “So I started right, and first of all they couldn’t hear me look how nervous I was. I kept looking down too amazing.” He smiles as he talks about his own embarrassment, reviewing it fondly and not with the same heart he did all those years ago. 

“Thing is, there’s no like magic story, I didn’t get better, this entire video is me looking down and singing low, but people watched, people clapped along and no one booed you know? No one’s going to boo or laugh noona.”

June stiffens, turns to view their surroundings, and stiffens again. He clams up just how he expects to. His only comfort between the time it took for his words to leave and her laughter to spill, was his guitar. It’s slung close to his chest and shadowing him much like his own hat. Much like her visor.

Thing is, e wasn’t supposed to be out and the worry flits around widened eyes and fidgety fingers. While he waits for her answer, he tries a sly smile with it. Tries to radiate the calm collection that she has because of course Taeyeon in the flesh wouldn’t know anything about his appearance than anyone else would. He’s underground, unknown and she’s overground, sky high and in the spotlight. Someday, maybe one day he’ll look back on this encounter as pinnacle in his career.

Or a downfall.

He keeps his excitement down for the sake of both of them and instead lets his grin surface after a few coughs into his hand. Finally. His shoulders slack and breaths of relief pour out. “Ah that’s not it,” responses return in the form of sheepish embarrassment, coloring his cheeks and neck, “I’m not supposed to be out here at all really. So if you get spotted we’re both kinda dead you know?” It’s her gesture that brings back his confidence because there’s nothing better than being called talented by someone who’s had their own talent become a staple of who they are. 

“um, yeah, hyung you can’t chase a dream and have a job.” he talks like he knows but he really doesn’t. any of his earnings come from gigs, because trainees don’t get paid. maybe in hope, blood, sweat, tears all that good stuff. payment for the soul but never in anything else. so, resentful as his family is, they sneak cash in every now and then and june tries to keep his spending on the minimum. a guitar pick here with no splurging there and it’s all good. he’s all good.

“but listen, there’s a festival....” he’s slow on the words, trying to fix the best expression he can on his face. all innocent and puppy-like for the masses and in case a customer looks over, for the sympathy as well. he fidgets with the counter first and looks at kiel before dropping the bomb, “in busan!”

“I don’t have a ride because I’m supposed to be at school but! I got clearance to play around the area with some of my buds aaaannnnnd since it’s been a while you should come.....and you should drive because I can’t, and it’s tonight so we have to leave soon.” bomb after bomb after bomb.