star // struck.

Yoojoon’s excitement for performing a girl group song is almost impossible to contain. especially since the chosen track isn’t just any song but one of his personal favorites. The opportunity feels like a blend of dreams and serendipity, a chance to not only share the stage with his bandmates but also forge connections with members of other groups, including the ever-charismatic Hyoseop. "I’ve been feeling pretty good about my dancing lately," he says, his voice carrying an easy confidence. "It’s not quite at the level of my singing yet, but it’s come a long way." A grin spreads across his face as he casts a glance at Hyoseop; then begins to stretch, focusing first on his calves, working his way to his thighs, each movement deliberate yet casual. "But I have to say, I’m thrilled with our song choice. The rhythm is so addictive, and it’s such a certified bop," he continues, shifting to stretch his arms, Yoojoon tilts his head slightly, curiosity and playful warmth evident in his expression. "And you?" he asks, his smile softening into something teasing but kind. "Do I have the pleasure of speaking to a fellow girl group fan?"

hyoseop has thought about this, how it’d be fun to collab with other artists, cover other artists’ songs. he’s uploaded a cover to type zero’s youtube channel here and there, but besides that he hasn’t got much opportunity to cover other artists’ songs after becoming an idol. ideally he would’ve covered a fabula song or would’ve collaborated with his sister, but he was still excited for this collab, though he continues wishing to collab with his sister.

“that’s good to hear” he smiles to the other “i’m not the world’s best dancer, but i’d gladly help you if needed”. he was truthfully not the most confident in his dance, but looking around it seemed like he was one of the better dancers in this team, and hyoseop didn’t mind helping out other people, he wasn’t the best dancer, but he’d come far since his start of being a trainee at legacy. “do you focus mostly on singing usually?” he questions “i mainly focus on my rap, but i attempt my best to practice singing and dancing too” he shrugs.

“I like to sing. I feel like you can really let out emotions you keep in through singing. But then again, dancing is so freeing too. Just moving your body, you know. It is a wonderful feeling. I suppose I like both, but I tend to be seen as more of a singer than a dancer. I guess.”

And he guessed because he didn’t really know.

instead, yoojin just allowed the silence to fall between and over them, like a blanket; it was comforting and warm, like the coffee he accepted, their first real interaction after a long time.

"thanks", he nodded, the smell of coffee hitting home over and over and yoojin had to stop himself from overthinking about how he missed everything about those moments, especially the person in front of him.

how did they manage to drift apart like that? it felt so wrong, so unfair, to them both.

honestly it was good when yoojoon offered them to take a walk, a shift in the air would do them good. or maybe yoojin just wanted a chance to understand things, building instead of burning bridges.

Something had shifted since Yoojoon had been announced as the new member of Agito. And the guilt, that feeling like he’d left behind friends who worked just as hard, if not harder, still needed time to ease.

“Have you been well? Still training late into the night?” he asked, choosing not to dwell on how long it had been since they last hung out. There was no use in clinging to the past. Fate had given them this moment now, and Yoojoon was determined to make the most of it.

it makes him happy that their fans are happy to take all the new v&a members, specifically agito members, under their wing. he had been a bit worried originally, but he's been pleasantly surprised.

"sparkly kitty ..." jiho repeats, almost dumbfounded by the sudden nickname before he remembers the cat ears that yoojoon had stuck on his head a few moments before. it's fitting, oddly enough, and he shrugs and bears with it, though the response from the staff is surprising.

“The maknae doesn’t mind sharing the spotlight with the leader,” he says, playful and lightly teasing, waving the tip of his wand in Jiho’s direction, not close enough to block his vision, just enough to provoke a reaction.

Ah, yes, the smell of clean laundry, his favorite. Seyoon breathed in happily, burying his face into his cushion, now with a fresh casing.

The room was tidied up, a meal was cooked and served. Now, the dishes were done. None of it was thanks to Seyoon; he'd been lying on this couch the entire time. "You really are such a good catch, man." Seyoon waved at Yoojoon, his precious stepbrother who was the ideal boyfriend in every way. Handsome, intelligent, talented, great at cooking and cleaning, even though he grew up with wealth. "Why do we have to be related?" A terrible comment, but one that Seyoon was definitely capable of making because he let his mouth run way too easily.

Yoojoon disappeared into the bathroom just as the front door swung open. Seyoon didn't look up immediately because he assumed it was one of his buddies with the door code, but the visitor turned out to be rather unexpected.

"Oh shit." The sight of his mother sent his heart racing. He sat up, back straight, hands patting himself down to smooth out the folds of his oversized hoodie. As if this would make him more presentable. Seyoon was contemplating whether or not he should attempt a smile, but the woman made his decision for him by flying into rage about his good-for-nothingness. Ranting re: how he kept on bringing random skanks into this apartment. She was halfway into her speech about how he would make a horrendous role model and didn't know why his company would ever debut a ticking time bomb like him when he not-so-politely interrupted.

Maybe that was part of why he was so content staying in the dorms. They were his sanctuary, a quiet space where the reach of his ever-controlling mother couldn’t simply barge in, rearrange his world, and make demands as if it were hers.

Still, this moment felt strange ... wrong, even. Like he was intruding on something private, something he was never meant to hear. And he silently cursed Seyoon’s thin walls for betraying the barrier between public grace and private pain. Every word cut through the plaster like paper: Seyoon’s biting tone, the sharp bark of his mother’s reply. It caught Yoojoon off guard, sent a cold hush through his chest.

He had never seen them like this before. In his presence, Seyoon’s mother had always been sweet, warm, a picture of doting affection. But as the sharpness of her voice echoed through the room, something clicked into place. The praise had always been meant for him. The smiles, the compliments, they’d never quite reached her own son. And in that realization, Yoojoon felt something heavy sink inside him.

so when he hers yoojoon's question, haru pauses for a moment, appearing momentarily frozen because it's been a while since he's thought about something like this. it's not like he has anything negative to say about yoojoon specifically but he can't deny he had his concerns, mostly because v&a as a whole kept changing lineups since their debut so it only felt natural to worry about what might happen in the future. the other's actions help him loosen up though so he just smiles lightly as he considers his answer.

"honestly?" he repeats, smile growing a bit wider as he deliberately stalls his response to tease yoojoon back by building suspense. "i had no idea." the words are exhaled in a deep breath being let out like it was some grand reveal before haru grins. "i was really curious about who they would add because they didn't tell us anything about you beforehand, you know? so we didn't know what to expect or what your position would be - but then you walked into the room and i remember thinking, 'wow, he's so handsome!' i even thought you were older than me," he chuckles.

Because he remembers. He remembers the late nights, the aching muscles, the endless hours spent perfecting choreography the moment he was accepted into Agito. He remembers how badly he wanted to belong.

“Ah, you flatter me too much, hyung,” he finally replies, his voice laced with a timid laugh, the kind that carries both delight and disbelief. The conversation shifts, the spotlight turns, and when Haru asks for his thoughts, Yoojoon doesn’t hesitate. The words come easily, honestly. “At first, I didn’t believe it,” he says, a quiet chuckle rising from him as he recalls the moment. “Like, I remember being told I’d be added to the group, and I just… didn’t respond. I thought they must’ve meant someone else.” Another laugh, this one tinged with embarrassment.

“But then, it hit me. I was about to join this already established band, full of incredible, talented artists. It was overwhelming. But also…” He nods, his grin blooming into something genuine and bright. “It was such an honor. I’ve looked up to you since trainee days. Honestly, I’ve always admired how naturally you transitioned into acting too.”

ah, but today isn't exactly identical to most other days.

after all, it isn't every day wooju's joined by yoojoon of all people.

he's trying to see how many times a single strand of spaghetti can be twirled around the chopsticks in his hands when yoojoon speaks up; and it probably goes to show how comfortable wooju is in yoojoon's company that he managed to zone out in the first time.

the question, though, elicits a quizzical expression.

"universities...?" wooju repeats with a vague tilt of his head. he blinks slowly: once, twice, and then his eyes crease as he lets out a faint laugh. "uhh, am i supposed to? i don't really know what i'd do at a university... especially in korea. i can barely understand what the instructors here are saying to me, hyung." another easy grin.

he thinks this might have more context than he's been allotted, but woojun only maintains his smile.

So the flicker of guilt that crosses his face now is immediate and unmissable, softening his features as he takes a quiet sip of water, lips pressing into a contemplative line.

Still, in the quiet between their exchange, he hears them: two mothers, his and Wooju’s, echoing in the back of his mind like a pair of worried ghosts. Urging him to be the “responsible one,” to guide, to nudge, to lead by example.

“Well …” he starts, voice gentle, laced with caution. “The idol life ... it’s not forever. Or entertainment in general, I guess. It’s a dream, sure. But even dreams don’t always last. Only a rare few get to do this forever. The rest of us … we need something to fall back on. A safety net. A way to land softly if this all goes away.”

even better, he's paired up with yoojoon for one of the activities today so he knows he'll have a fun time. since he's joined their group, they've gotten even closer over time so haru's excited to hang out with him today.

of course, the actual mission of this trip is in the back of his mind and he does want his team to win, whoever ends up being on it, but even if it's not yoojoon, he can still work hard to gain stars either way right? besides, considering the activity they chose, he feels like he has to succeed - his acting pride is on the line.

haru laughs at the other's excitement and mimics the action t show he agrees. "yes! we're going to win so many stars, trust," he grins although his confidence is funny considering he's not really sure where it comes from. maybe he's just convincing himself for the sake of the filming but he does believe they'll do well some how.

It strikes him then, between chuckles and crooked smiles, just how much joy he’s found here. Despite the cameras, the subtle weight of performance lingering in the backdrop, this feels different. Freer. Lighter. Perhaps it’s the salt-kissed island air, or perhaps it’s the way laughter moves more easily in good company. Whatever it is, Yoojoon relishes it.

“A test round sounds perfect,” he says, breath still catching between soft laughter as he lowers himself onto a nearby seat. “I’m going to need it, that’s for sure.”

He gestures for Haru to begin, eyes alight with anticipation. “You’ve got to show me how it’s done first,” he insists, grin stretching playfully. “Then I’ll do my best to follow your lead.”

lunch is served.

The dish placed before them simmers with a shade of red that looks more like warning than seasoning: violent, fiery, unapologetic. Even before a single bite, the scent curls into Yojoon's nose like a taunt, already igniting a soft, involuntary wince. He stares at it with the wary dread of someone facing an ancient dragon … with nothing but a porcelain spoon in hand. He curses, silently, politely, the upbringing of his mother: gentlemen don’t eat spicy food, his mother once said, straightening his posture with the same precision she used to comb his hair. It’s unrefined. Undignified. Chic or not, none of that matters now. This isn’t about etiquette. This is war. A competition. A chance to win stars, pride and possibly a scorched tongue. Next to him, @lgchyoseop looks infuriatingly composed. Even amused. Like the bowl in front of him holds cereal, not a death trap. "You look like this is nothing for you." Yoojoon mutters, his voice low, half admiration, half accusation. For the first time in a long while, the polish of his carefully kept expression slips. It’s not fear, exactly. It’s something more vulnerable: exposure. The quiet realization that charm alone might not save him this time.

hyoseop had basically been forced to eat spicy food as a kid, his mother loving anything spicy. his poor dad wasn’t very good at spicy food, nor did his sister ever reach the level hyoseop and their mom was at. moving away to live solely with his dad, his dad barely ever cooked anything spicy, hyoseop often had a craving for spicy food, and hence had his dad buy a million types of chili sauces. hyoseop doesn’t eat as much spicy food as he used to, but he’d still say he’s pretty good at it.

And on that cue, he dove in, spoon sinking into the spicy food, lifting a generous heap toward his mouth. The first bite was fine. Too fine, in fact. Suspiciously tame, as though the spice had decided to lull him into a false sense of safety. But as soon as he swallowed, it hit: like a flame catching dry kindling, slow at first, then sudden and merciless.

the bitter taste in his mouth was also a reminder of how much he had neglected the last part.

Yoojoon!

yoojin stood up automatically, he was used to having his name mixed like that at least twice a day at the company, so it wasn’t a surprise that people would do it at this familiar coffee shop.

what he wan’t used - or at least not anymore - was the warmth coming when fingers brushed and yoojin didn’t even need to look up to know who they belonged to. 

images of countless hours inside a practice room, the sound of laughter, and words of encouragement flashed before his eyes as he looked to the side and recognized yoojoon even behind a mask and under a hat.

“it’s yours anyway”, the shook his head, but there was a hint of a smile tugging one side of his face. “they mess my name all the time, i thought this was just one of those times”, he was trying to justify his act, but didn’t pull away. 

What makes it all sting just a little more is that mix-ups between their names have never been uncommon. At the company, during training, coaches often confused the two of them. And each time, Yoojoon felt the guilt gnaw at him. He always did. Especially when he thought about how hard Yoojin had worked. About how much he wanted it.

Sometimes, Yoojoon questioned whether he deserved his place in V&A at all.

But right now, none of that matters. Not the years. Not the guilt.

Just hearing Yoojin’s voice again is enough to soften something deep inside his chest. He smiles, gentle and genuine, and takes the offered cup. “I do still take the same.” he murmurs, his voice a little quieter than usual, as if afraid to break the fragile air between them.

Without waiting, without needing to be asked, he steps toward the counter to make sure Yoojin’s order is being prepared. And when it’s ready, he’s there, holding it out with both hands like it’s something more than just a drink.