let it rain

(...)

“ i am not alone.”  she muttered, just loud enough for the both of them to hear. “ and you’re the last person i want to hear that from.” her eyes flicker as they shake, unable to tear themselves from his face as she searches the contours of his features for any recognition that he believed what she said. “honestly, you’re not helping your case. now i want you out of here even more than before.” there’s a struggle to pull in her emotions, cresting on the remaining high of the adrenaline in her veins. “this just proves that i’m right. if we remained strangers, there wouldn’t be this confrontation, wouldn’t there?” she ignores the honesty in his words, whirling a barbed point of her own to shoot right back at him, straightening herself like a cat, ready to spring forth its claws. “ tell me, junseo. is this confrontation what you wanted? for me to just admit that we shouldn’t be strangers? because if that’s what you want, i can totally do that. without question, without qualm.”  

junseo almost flinches at the sharpness of her words, unguarded as he still is around her without realizing, and so it breaks through his walls easily and hits him where it hurts; serves as another reminder to keep his feelings well hidden, that no good comes from letting them shine through. he wants to say: i don't – not anymore, wants to tell her all the ways in which he's been hiding from people lately, but all he does is shrug. “i realized that people see in me what they want to see, you know?” there's a pause as he contemplates saying more, torn because he knows she doesn't care to hear it, anyway. it takes him a second, two, to center himself amid the storm he can feel brewing, to ignore the onset of a headache in favor of forcing a smile, soft with the remnants of nostalgia he still can't shake. “you never were like that, though.” it's meant as an explanation, an admission: that's why i keep seeking you out, why i could never think of you as a bad person.

the warmth of his smile doesn't last in the icy atmosphere, the coldness of her words and their delivery that makes him question his resolution once again – who is this for? is it truly so selfish to ask for closure? “i tried, sia, i did!” aggravation bleeds into his tone, lends it rough edges and the forcefulness that comes with desperation as he feels his control slip, his mask fall. “we've been acting like strangers for years now, and you don't get to say that it doesn't hurt anymore. maybe that's true for you, because i never fucking meant anything to you, but you don't get to tell me how i feel.”

another second passes as he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes to extinguish the flame behind them, thinks he really may have overstepped a boundary after seeing how agitated she got, that he said something he shouldn't have, and his features soften when he looks at her again as though in an unspoken apology. “you're right; you're not alone. all i'm trying to say is that you should stop trying to push everyone away from you, like you're better off that way – you're not, and i know you know that.”

giving in tastes like defeat again, feels empty like resignation always does, but he's so tired, so exhausted from fighting for a place that was never his to begin with, that he just isn't sure he can win anymore. “fine,” he breathes quietly, barely loud enough for her to hear. “fine. if you want me gone that badly, i'll leave. i'll do the rational thing and pretend, like you said.” i should be good at that by now, he thinks somewhat bitterly, but swallows the words. “just know that i'll always be there, okay? i'll always care.” that’s the last stand he’ll put up, all that’s left of his resistance: a stubborn guarantee; the promise that what kindness they shared once won’t fade into a part of their pasts to be forgotten, that if she ever does find herself alone, there will always be a place to turn to.

she couldn’t help but let out a laugh, that was a pretty good way to think about it and his words were true. “well then, i need you’re help to find people and things short than me.” she was one of the short ones around here. “or i could try and shrink everybody, less work.” and then she’d be the tallest person in the room, no matter where she went. 

“ahaha, the good old there’s no ‘i’ in team.” but it was nice to be reminded about that. she hadn’t wanted trouble anyone and ask for help. at least she had met someone that was friendly about it. rina thought about it for a moment, both could work. “i think a mixing of colors and shape would be aesthetical pleasing but it all depends on the colors.” not all colors mixed well, “but still, having different colors…catches the eye more. at least for me.” 

it's nice to see her laugh now; feels like he succeeded in getting her to feel at least a little more comfortable with him, but he doesn't get to think about it for long before she draws a chuckle of his own from him. “i'm all for the shrinking plan, honestly.” in a way he pretends is inconspicuous even though there's no way it really is, he spreads his legs until he stands at a similar height as her, then flashes her a grin so performatively innocent, he could almost be whistling like every movie character who was ever guilty of something. “except maybe not me. the other guys in origin can get by on their pretty faces, but i think i need my height.” it's a joke, clearly, with laughter clinging to every word – he's never been too hung up on not meeting this country's beauty standards in some ways. it doesn’t matter.

“right. i think every team should have a tall and a short person at all times so they can combine their strengths and make up for each other's weaknesses, so really, this is perfect.” exaggerated though it may be, junseo is actually glad to have company; not because the tasks were too difficult for him, but because he anticipates them being a lot more fun together. “a mix of colors it is! so... i'll just pick up whichever ornament i can get my hands on and expect you to yell at me if it looks bad, okay?”

chung gyujeong’s as loyal as they come.

but even loyalty goes to shit the second he walks into a friend’s apartment, bottle of whisky in hand. a housewarming party? or a random encounter — he’s lost track of whatever the fuck led him here in the first place by the time he catches sight of junseo, dead-on.

the chatter muffling the sounds of music popping in the background doesn’t do enough to fade the scowl on his face. all tongue-in-cheek, he roams. lingers in the background making cheap talks with high-fives and empty cheers, enough to clock his hours till he says adieu to it all. yet, by the time it’s rushing past the first hour, fate fucks him over — it leaves him at a dead-end. 

junseo’s voice drives the animosity simmering inside the pit of his stomach, more so that by the time he flicks his gaze back over, narrowing his eyes — a click of his own mouth to establish his semblance back to baseline. “most times gut feelings end up being correct, so why the hell are you talking to me now?” gyujeong steps back from the edge of terrorizing hostility, too many eyes. too many bodies he considers friends enough not to cause a scene.

“go fuck over someone else’s night — don’t you think you’ve fucked with my personal life enough already?” it’s the way his brow raises slowly, the jut of his chin perching straight into evident ties. a mutual phantom figure between them — he’s long buried her away with no trace of evidence. she’s nobody, and he’s moved on. yet, fate has it that it drags him back into the shithole of a mess.

regret comes with a latency, leaves him in a situation that could have so easily been avoided, had he made more of an effort to search for an escape route instead of rushing headfirst into a wall, expecting to go through.

“i don't know, sometimes i feel like checking if we can have a civil conversation now.” the nonchalance he weaves into his words does little to conceal the essence of truth they carry: that he's checking if they're over it; if he is. it makes no sense to be mad at gyujeong, he's realized that a while ago, so how much longer until he can let it go? realistically, he knows it won't happen until he succeeds in letting her go; still hasn't found out how to do that, and so the fire of something vague like jealousy or misdirected anger he has no outlet for burns away at him again.

“fucked with your personal life?”, he repeats, feels the flames soar after being fanned and does little to calm them, simply hides the heat behind his eyes and raises a brow as though he wasn't irritated, only confused, but his words come out sounding a little too sharp to be just that, anyway. “stop being dramatic.”

give up while you can, except.. oops it’s too late — the sentiment replays in her head. it’s the broken record player crooning in the cliche surrounding idol-hood, and too many of the same hapless stories she overhears behind closed doors and hushed whispers of backstage preparations. yet, even inside the ticks of freedom, it’s irony piecing itself together when they collide inside bc’s room, feet apart yet mismatched and no longer flitting the lines of friendship they once drew upon. 

“i will still say this, self-depreciation isn’t a good color on you — those trends were more spring summer 2016 than the current winter blues.” her head tilts, eyes broadened by the perch of her high voice a notch taller. “i don’t think so, poisoning only works when i’m queen grimhilde, but the grimm brothers decided to retire before they wrote my story.” trainee years in dead of night felt like she stepped into the roles of a lost wanderer, meandering around each corner hoping for a burst of bright excitement. 

years later, time wedges itself between them, mutual faces digs deeper. widens the distance, and now seo minjung feels like she know him no better than the lost boys of peter pan. 

her mouth hovers along the edge of the cup — bitter yet hot, watch out and don’t divulge more than you can tolerate. in peeks the grin with origin, and she smacks her lips together with the subtle shake of her head, she has nothing to offer but the bite of honesty. “what a tragic way to not live by drowning in the cashflow of money.” she pouts, offers the last morsels of morbid humor she has lying around in her head — it’s the only offering she poses when the catalyst for a detonating friendship looms on the tip of her tongue: a name drop of uneasy mutualities. “ma yeonggi is the love of my life — full heart and all this time. how’s that for an interesting update?”

“is that so? what's my color then, sunshine yellow?” adaptability is a double-edged sword that junseo never learned how to let go of. even now, his words drip with it: what do you want me to be? a question he doesn't want answered. instead, he shapes himself into something easy to take in: lighthearted smiles, surface-level conversation. it's as close as he gets to the boy she once knew who used to find freedom in being lost, feels like a stranger dressed in his skin by now. time creates more distance than any amount of miles ever could and he doesn't know how to cross it anymore.

“you don't need them to write your story. i'd wager you could do it yourself – find your own reasons to poison people.” his shoulders rise and fall with a nonchalant shrug before a chuckle slips through his lips and a shimmer of something brighter flashes through his eyes, a reckless kind of amusement that momentarily makes him forget they're little more than glorified strangers now, that every joke feels like an excuse to put off the conversation they really should be having.

it fades again as quickly as it came, leaves behind a gaze so devoid of colors, he's almost ashamed of it and quickly diverts it to his cup, lets its warmth anchor him before his thoughts can float away into more dangerous currents. “origin isn't about money, to me. you know that.” there's no bite to his words; spoken through a smile that feels far away, like a memory. he knows where she's coming from and takes no offense. no need to argue a moot point.

(...)

there’s nothing left to talk about. all the words she’d wanted to say buried somewhere deep. he hadn’t wanted to talk all those months ago, hadn’t wanted to listen or explain. so what’s with this sudden desperation, this ravenous want to reach a hand into his chest and pull out his heart? was leaving not enough? she shakes her head and tries not to cry. “i’m always waiting. why am i always the one waiting?” her voice trembles, dips into a sigh of a whisper. “remember valentine’s day in itaewon, that party we didn’t really want to go to?” her head falls back and she throws an arm over her eyes, oblivious to the shuffle of footsteps coming her way, circling the couch some paces behind her. tentative, slow. “we danced that night, packed like sardines, hip to hip. kissed too.” she hums, a heady sort of rasp pulled from her throat. “that lounge above prost. ring a bell?”

jiae thinks she’s failed to train her heart like a dog, thinks she’s stupid not to stay gone. can’t when she’s left pieces of her heart behind like a trail of breadcrumbs meant to help her find her way back home. it’s pathetic, the way she breaks: hands on her face, body shuddering. “i hate you,” hate how easily you break me and put me back together all at once. hate how much i still love you, how i can’t stay away, how my heart sings every time you say my name. she pulls in a gasp, releases it on a stutter, hitches and hiccups in her chest and bubbles out of her mouth. says his name, wields it like a pointed dagger: “junseo.” 

“were you?” there should be hope in his voice, even just a flicker of it as memories of brighter days spark in his chest, but there's nothing left they could catch onto, nothing left to burn. what remains is defeat and an opening he sees that might drive the wedge further between them; the right thing to do, despite how much it hurts to cut her off, like he's trying to lose a part of himself he hasn't yet learned how to function without, isn't yet sure he can. “were you happy when i couldn't make it on our anniversary because practice ran late, then later?” his fault, he remembers – remembers his clumsy steps, his body not used to the contemporary touch of spring day's choreography, remembers failing over and over again. not good enough, not fast enough as he watched the hours fly by and did nothing. “were you happy when the only way we could see each other was through a screen, tired eyes staring back at each other at times you should have long been asleep?” what was meant to sound like a sharp i wasn't, like a knife pointed at her chest, ready to cut out whatever love she still holds for him, rings with a chorus of you deserve betters instead; resignation buried deep in every syllable.

it was a slow process, insidious; doubts creeping up on him, sowing the seeds of something stronger, something darker, unnoticed until it was too late – until he spent too much time hating parts of himself to love someone else. forgetting how to is not the same as stopping, though, as his heart likes to remind him with memories that flash up out of nowhere, dredge up a warmth that leaves him feeling emptier after, frozen in a time that doesn't belong to him. “of course you mean something to me! of course.” too much agitation raises his volume as he leaves the building, doesn't pause even as he considers whether he's fit to drive still or if a taxi would be better – decides on the latter because he can't afford reckless driving to get him into an accident right now, to make her wait for someone who won't come as he's done too many times before. “i'm not going to stop you from quitting me, jiae. just... don't replace one drug with another. there's no relief in that.” there are things he wants to ask of her but won't: things like time and patience, like understanding, like a second chance, but when a taxi stops for him and he gets in on legs that feel like they're made of air and lead, too light and too heavy all at once, he asks nothing.

the driver doesn't ask questions despite his vague pointers, accepts that it's urgent, some kind of emergency and pushes the car safely across the speed limit. junseo doesn't realize he's shaking until pity looks back at him through the rearview mirror, but he's too tired to pretend to be strong, to pretend to be whole. “i'm sorry.” it's ripped from him before he can stop himself, falls from his lips like a white flag that feels meaningless after everything that's happened. the fight was lost so long ago. “i'm sorry i'm always making you wait, but i'm on my way, okay? i'll be there this time.” he pauses, forces air through his lungs in a breath that feels too slow, too deep; and with his exhale comes a concession: “i promise.”

What is the importance of your topic to being an idol and why should the contestants value your advice? “isn't interacting with the fans as big a part of being an idol as making music? performing on stage is a form of fan interaction in itself – you look into people's eyes, sing and rap and dance for them and hear them call back to you and that's what makes it so magical, what separates this job from others in the music industry, and i'm assuming they chose it for a reason. there's that bond between fans and idols that permeates everything we do, so it's not just my advice the contestants should value but anyone's with some experience in the matter. everyone's experience is different because every fan is different, each and every one a unique person, so i'm not going to pretend that what i have to say is the only or the whole truth, but it's one side of it and the start of a learning experience that will accompany them throughout their whole careers. ...i sound much too serious, don't i? it's not that scary! we'll have fun with it!”

summary: he has a lot of ideas, but it’s debatable if any of them are really going to be helpful at all.  word count: 849

“oh, you didn’t have to,” she says, her voice crawling towards more of a whisper because it was unexpected. it’s not like suji expected people to remember her birthday especially since it fell during such an inconvenient time for people in this industry. for junseo to remember and bring a gift just meant that much more to her. “i’ll pretend to act surprised when you hand it to me later just for the dramatic effect though.” though the cruise in itself wasn’t a stressful schedule, having concerts and concert rehearsals in such a short time span was proving to be exhausting. this is probably the first time she’s actually found herself feeling like she was on vacation. 

she chuckles when she realizes that he’s slowed down his pace, purposely walking slower to match her speed. “sorry. if i had legs as long as your’s then maybe i wouldn’t be so slow,” suji states in an almost teasing manner. she’s not small, especially for a korean female, but she still stood smaller than junseo which also meant that her steps weren’t as fast. “it’s been a little crazy. i can’t remember the last time i’ve been around this many people, but it’s a little amusing,” she says in agreement. she’s not sure if she’d classify it as one of her favorite schedules like junseo does, but she’s starting to think that it wasn’t too shabby either. “winning was pure luck. i’m convinced that anybody who wasn’t a fan of the boy group members left over just poured their votes to me.” it’s been about two weeks since our songs ended, and she was still in shock at coming out the winner. it was unexpected yet still quite nice to experience. “i don’t think i’ll really be winding down until next year though. this cruise is a schedule in itself, don’t you think so?”

“bold words for someone who was trying to bribe me earlier,” he's quick to reply, all teasing notes and a bright grin to ensure she knows that it's not a big deal to him, that he didn't get her something out of some sense of obligation, but rather because he wanted to – bad as he may be at expressing affection, he's better at letting it show in different ways, and birthdays give him an excuse to do just that. “besides, i'm not sure if you realized, but we've known each other a full ten years now. if that doesn't warrant a surprise gift, i don't know what does.” he emphasizes the surprise in response to her words, lets it hang in the air as though to say: i'm looking forward to that, which he means both jokingly and sincerely.

she flushed, not realizing that someone had heard her. “you’re nice, but i am short.” she gave him a smile once she relaxed a bit. “it’s just one of my woes but i’ll have to deal, without heels.” that would’ve helped a bit but her feet would be aching in the end. “but that is a good way to think about it. it helps…a bit.” it would be easier to blame the wall, who told it to be so tall? 

“oh..you didn’t have too..” she started but he had already taken the lights. “oh thank you.”‘ she finally let out and stepped back to take a look at it. “mhmmhmm…yeah…that should be good.” really, she would’ve lowered it a bit but she didn’t want him doing too much. “thank you again, sunbae, with that, i’m finally down when the lights i had to put up. did you need help with anything?”

junseo shrugs, the small smile never leaving his face. “it's just a matter of perspective – i'm taller than the national average, but if you make me stand next to an nba star, i'll look short too. so the solution is simple: you just need to surround yourself with things and people shorter than you.” although he turns to give her a serious expression, almost pensive as he nods, it lasts for only a second before laughter bubbles up. back to his typical modus operandi: lightening the atmosphere with easy jokes and quick smiles so neither party feels awkward.

“it was no trouble at all. that's why we're called the red team, after all.” his tone remains joking and relaxed, clearly not bothered by being put to 'work' – their task is more fun than it is difficult, to him, so he has no qualms about asking her for help in return. “i still have a tree left to decorate and i'm stuck on this: do you think it would look better if i organized the ornaments according to color and shape or would a bit of chaos and a mix of colors be more aesthetically pleasing?”

(...)

turning away, she tucks her hair behind her ear (still not used to the way it curves under her jaw, falling gently to the curve of her shoulders) and casts her gaze back up to the sky. she doesn’t want to look at him anymore. thinks she won’t be able to stop. out of habit, she pulls the sleeves of her hoodie over her fingers, cups them against her mouth, and tries not to tremble. “help yourself,” bites back the instinctive make yourself at home and scoots over to give him space to sit. 

jiae has to wonder if she’s courting heartache by allowing him to come this close when her heartstrings dangle from her wrists, pulsing in time to her fluttering heartbeat. thinks this is a metaphor for something: square one, feet poised on the edge of hope, a fork in the road. she clears her throat softly. breathes. “were you lonely?” cheek to palm, she refocuses her gaze on him. it’s a quiet concession. a tentative step forward. she tells herself this isn’t an unraveling, that it doesn’t mean anything. “junseo,” her voice is a mere whisper, “why are you here?”

somewhere in his chest, there's something urging him to be cautious, a memory of pain that settled deep in his heart like a warning sign, red neon lights speaking of danger he knows and chooses to ignore anyway. there's recognition in his gaze as he looks at her, smiles with his eyes in her presence for the first time in a while and doesn't stop to think if it still feels the same, if the pulse thrumming in his throat still knows her rhythm. “i can't claim i was looking for you when all i did was follow my heart here,” he says and it almost surprises him how light he feels, how the words don't come with any of the weight he's spent years carrying on his shoulders. maybe it's because they're on the cusp of a year, because this moment speaks of new beginnings and he's long since been ready for one, whatever that may mean. “but my heart might have been looking for you, who knows?” his tone is joking and he almost laughs, but it's without sound, only air he expels into the night. there's no expectation behind those words, nothing he's searching for when he approaches and sits down next to her, a safe distance away – not touching – but not far enough to convey an unfamiliarity he doesn't feel but perhaps should, after all this time.

it's been years. things have changed. haven't they?

he lets silence settle between them for a while, invites it in like an old friend, as though to test if it still feels comfortable, if he's strong enough to hold back the words stacked up within him, the many apologies he never spoke (and the one he did).

it's probably his imagination, but the sky looks different tonight: it's clearer than even on the days before, and he wonders if there's a metaphor in that, if it speaks for his thoughts at all; for once, less maelstrom than gentle stream, calm as it allows you to see down to the very bottom. when he turns to look at her again, he carries that same openness, lowers his guard and pretends it doesn't unnerve him, that his hands don't shake ever so slightly where he keeps them loosely clasped in his lap. “i was alone,” he admits, but still avoids the word lonely. it feels like he's asking too much, expecting people to fill a role they aren't meant to play when they keep him company on a night like this. he's been doing too much of that lately: looking for something in places he knows he can’t find it. closure. answers. home. “but i'm here because i want to stop running from you, jiae.” that's his concession, as far as he's willing to go for now – lets his eyes speak volumes about the fact that he still has to run, still keeps being pulled back toward her even now.

Alex is frequently out drinking, either in bars or in clubs, but if there’s something particularly weird about this habit is, he rarely shares a drink with people he knows. He thought about it in the past. How aside from a little group of people, Alex doesn’t go around drinking until he’s drunk with people he has to impress or others who don’t know the reality of Alex’s character. Except for now. The cruise was almost like his vacation from the character Alex that he created so long ago, and now it’s all Sangwook in his most pathetic form.

He should feel even more pathetic when he sees Junseo approaching him. Successful and thriving Junseo, who has a bright career and huge fanbase, so different from Alex and his modest group of fans. But he had too much to drink already to feel sorrier for himself. He waves his hand to acknowledge the older idol and smiles lazily at him. “I like the way you think, and I like your spirit, Junseo. No wonder we’re a match,” he winks at the older idol and turns to the bartender to ask for another drink.

He feels weird because, besides the envy, Alex can’t shake off the feeling of how success can look on a person. He doesn’t think Junseo feels like it, because he knows he wouldn’t if that was the case, but even then, there’s this something on the surface, simmering. It’s not a bad feeling, but it’s not good either. “Nothing much, I assure you. Much less than what you’re pulling off in Origin, of course. Dimensions don’t want to overwork me. How thoughtful of them,” which is a fair complaint on his part he thinks, but with the way that Junseo is overworked in the promotions of the current worldwide famous group, he thinks it’s a bit insensitive of him. It amazes Alex that he even managed to have an empathetic thought with the amount of alcohol he consumed. He shakes his hand to dismiss the worries Junseo might have. He didn’t want him walking on his tiptoes around Alex, “My new best friend is now whiskey, I figured. I was never a fan of this in particular, but it feels especially nice this end of the year,” he says with a pensive expression as he raises the cup to his lips, an eyebrow raised. “What about you? You’re looking especially nice today, with the grin and excitement,” he says honestly, not even an ounce of ill-meaning when he says the words. “It suits you well. Are you having fun?”

it's true that junseo is rarely ever this relaxed, to the point that he almost forgets about all the ways he's been taught and has taught himself to act over the years in the absence of cameras following his every move; feels in his element and doesn't bother to stop and think about what that means, about how he's behaving. just does. just is, for one night of borrowed freedom and the illusion of warmth he finds in people willing to waste their time on him, with him. “are you flirting with me?”, he asks with a teasing lilt to his words and a grin on his lips, speaks them easily and free of implications; bold and unbothered by whatever gray area he's in with alex, who he knows too little about to really read. “because i'm not complaining.”

his chuckle fades out into a pause and another sip of warmth down his throat washes away any worry that may have crossed his features earlier. it's probably not a good idea to pry, but he can't just say nothing either. “we've been there too – origin, i mean. and look at where we are now: hopelessly overworked and always on the move.” his tone is dry and free of pity for either of them; not him with his picture perfect life behind a shattered frame and not alex facing an uncertainty junseo can't take from him either. “so just hang in there. things change quickly in this industry.”

yul loved a good party. he loved being able to just unwind and not worry about anything whilst he danced the night away, and the attention he got from being the self-proclaimed hottest person on the dance floor was also a bonus. it’s been a long year for yul - from making such a successful debut with champion to going back and forth between america and who knows where else all year (yul is sure he’s lost track at this point) and also dealing with his mother throughout it all? yeah, he definitely deserved this moment.

he’d been in the middle of refilling his glass when he heard his name, head whipping around to see who had called out for him before offering a smile. yul had always been a social butterfly and loved talking to new people, even more so when he was drunk and often latched onto people like they were his best friends even though they barely knew each other. this was no different. “oh hey!” he chirped happily, finishing to pour his drink before turning around to properly face junseo. “i’m always happy to have company. you’ll have to remind me though, what group are you from again?” 

“oh.” junseo's smile falls for longer than it usually would, longer than it probably should after such a minor slip-up. it is that, isn't it? vaguely familiar faces blurring together in the heat of the moment and a mind hazy with an amount of drinks he assumes neither of them are keeping track of. what it is not is a personal attack, but it's hard to remind himself of that when he rarely feels like he lives up to the name of origin and it now seems like he's been right to worry: he's not recognizable without the others, away from the stage and songs that are hard to escape. it takes him a moment to swallow that, the surge of defensiveness he feels settling in the pit of his stomach, and force a smile back on his lips, smaller now, which he tries to make up for with a teasing tone of voice, more practiced than genuine: “does origin ring a bell?”

it wasn’t too much of a surprise when keiko found out that she’d be working over the holidays, because really, what did she actually expect? it was a rare occasion for idols to get christmas day off considering they were usually doing something, whether it was normal schedules or something christmas related - it was a given that they’d be busy. but with the slight different news of a vacation mixed with working, it made it a little bit more enjoyable. truthfully, the moment keiko had woken up on christmas day, she tried her best to view it as a normal working day but she couldn’t help it and the excitement began bubbling not long after she awoke.

although there was a performance today, she was hoping that she’d be able to scout around backstage in hopes to find junseo. one of the closest people in her life, someone who she genuinely considers a blood brother even despite them biologically not, he’s one of the people she vows to never wrong. she adores him. as an only child, she’s never had the true feeling of what having a sister or brother feels like, and honestly, the closest she’s ever gotten to feeling that is with junseo. she doesn’t care that christmas is more of a romantic holiday in korea, because to her it was an excuse to give him a present, something she had been thinking of for the last few months.

with 7rophy’s rehearsal done and over, keiko spends the rest of the time watching the other rehearsals and keeping an eye out for junseo, but to her luck it’s like she keeps missing him. ut with the call of her name, she spins around, eyes on search for the specific person and once she spots him, she grins. “oppa!” keiko calls back, big smile on her face as she mirrors his excitement. she barely glances around for any staff members, because it was christmas and she’s allowed to hug her friends, so she gives him a quick hug in return and mumbles a content ‘merry christmas’. her eyes widen in surprise at the mention of plural presents, and a wave of guilt swims over her as she only has one present. “presents? now i feel bad because i only have one for you! i hope it makes up for the lack of ones i have for you.” keiko responds, a small frown on her face but it’s quickly replaced by a bright smile, because she can’t not smile when she’s around her brother and it’s christmas. “you didn’t have to get me anything, you know? just having you in my life is enough.”

junseo hums a quiet dismissal and shakes his head, his smile already a little brighter at the mere mention of any presents at all. it probably shouldn't surprise him, not with how big of a part she plays in his life all throughout the year, but he doubts that he'll ever get used to these little shows of affection enough for them not to touch him anymore; doesn't think he wants to. “that doesn't matter – it's quality over quantity, right? and i'm already happy to be getting anything at all!” keiko knows that neither his love nor family life have been rosy in recent years, so there's no secret there: hers is the only present he'll be receiving this christmas and that's more than enough.

without really being aware of it, he places a hand on his chest, over his heart; a habit in moments he feels particularly moved by words or a gesture, as though he's storing them inside, tucking them away where the memory won't be lost. “i could say the same thing, you know. having a sister in you is definitely the best gift, but that doesn't mean more would hurt, right?” there are teasing notes in his voice for the second part, a chuckle bleeding into his words that fades slowly. “i just wanted to make sure you get one more reason to be happy today.” and there's the truth, spoken like something confidential, something he's learned not to share because he's still unlearning all the ways in which he keeps things to himself – makes an exception for her all too often, anyway.

of course, hyunsoo knew that he was still young - he was 23 in korean age, about to turn 24 and only just turned 22 in international age. it really wasn’t all that bad, but yet he sometimes really did just feel so old. like some sort of grandpa, with aching bones and a desire to nap all day. “is there an exception for when you feel at least 20 years older than you actually are?” hyunsoo laughed, letting out a sigh before looking out to the water as junseo pat his back. the elder was more of a friend of a friend than anything, but that didn’t mean he didnt enjoy the other’s company. junseo was chill, a welcome change from all the chaos that seemed to surround hyunsoo sometimes. “yeah, it is nice. i’m not the biggest fan of being around a ton of people though.” it was probably a funny thing to say, though, considering he was in a group with 13 boys but hyunsoo had always been more of the time to just enjoy some peace and quiet. parties like this had never been his scene, especially not when they were organised by the companies to create a faux semblance of all being one big happy family - hyunsoo hardly knew most of the people here. “i suppose i could,” he laughed, “but that would mean it’d have to be a birthday party for all the december babies - like, half of charm are born in december, i don’t know how it happened, but it’s a mess. it’d be the wildest birthday party.” 

it takes some willpower not to actually coo at hyunsoo, which junseo realizes would not be the most logical response, nor very likely to validate the thoughts shared, so he settles for a chuckle instead, follows it up with eyes filled with sympathy and a look that says: i understand. “sure, i'll make an exception for you.” amusement flickers over his face for a second before it fully manifests as his grin returns and he forgets about the worries that brought him out here for a moment. “do i get to call you hyung then? or do we go straight to samchon?” of course junseo doesn't feel any younger himself, often exhausted far beyond his years to the point that tired has almost become a personality trait, but there's nothing that can be done about that, so there's no reason to pass up this opportunity to joke around. “right. there is a lot going on. we've been on this ship for days now and i swear i still run into new people.” not that he minds – for junseo, who spends half the year cut off from everyone, hopping from plane to plane or cooped up in the studio, this is ideal, but then he has never been one to like being alone very much. “true, now that you mention it. i wonder if bc did that on purpose – like, damn, can't have them celebrating too many times a year.” once again, laughter comes and fades slowly and junseo leans forward to rest against the railing, has made up his mind to stay a little longer. “how did you guys do it in previous years? did you just celebrate all december birthdays together or each one separately for a month of chaotic joy?”