𝘼𝙉𝙏𝙄-𝙍𝙊𝙈𝘼𝙉𝙏𝙄𝘾

not even yubin, even though she does like him. but at least he's matching with her and he doesn't seem too upset about the fox ears, which is enough to make her happy.

"okay!" she says, thrilled that he was on board with the pink house idea because even though she did offer some different things, and she would be happy to make a cute little school or dog park, her first choice was the sparkly swirled pink candies and gummy bears. she would have been excited for the others, but not nearly as enthused as she is now looking at the pink icing tubes.

"perfect, i knew it was a good idea for us to partner up." they're a great pair, just like judy and nick, because judy runs around doing things and nick doesn't get annoyed.

well if she remembers correctly he does get a little annoyed sometimes, but still.

he's an acquiescent person, a go with the flow kind of guy, and with son nabi, it's hard to be anything but.

"wow, just sometimes?" he echoes hollowly, a half-hearted eye roll punctuating his sarcastic quip before he returns his attention, ever dutiful, to piping the outline of the house.

he works idly, gaze fixed on their little gingerbread villa, while listening to nabi ramble.

"what, you don't think i could pull off pink?" he couldn't. pink is staunchly not his color. "i could totally be a pink guy." and because he has the faintest feeling that nabi's not going to pick up on his sarcasm— "just kidding. i'll drop by every now and then when i remember to annoy you. i think i'd rather have a green house or something. maybe i'll just live in a treehouse."

speaking of green—

          with @lgcyubin ♡

"aren't you just so glad we matched costumes?"

she looks at yubin with an expression that tells him there's only one right answer to this question, because she's not really asking as much as she's confirming. and because even if he hates the costume, the important thing is that she's having a great time, and she's happy that she didn't have to go as judy hopps alone.

she probably would have done it anyways, but it always feels better to match with someone. it just doesn't feel complete if the cute fox friend isn't with her.

"maybe we can even do that cute trend! you know the one where people copy judy and nick? when they're taking pictures and judy keeps annoying him?" nabi looks at yubin, a thought suddenly popping into her head. "kind of like you and me in real life!"

not that she should be proud of being annoying, but it's just like her to not have any shame.

"anyways, how do you want to decorate the gingerbread house? i found these cute pink glitters!" she holds it up to him, proudly showing her find. "i also found these pink candies and these swirly gummy bears!"

nabi thinks maybe she chose the perfect halloween costume. her and judy hopps are both just...enthusiastic.

here he is.

dressed in a costume, begrudgingly. and matching with son nabi to boot.

"thrilled," yubin replies with a terse smile. though he'd never admit it out loud, and certainly not to nabi, he minds the costume less with each passing minute. the party's less miserable than he thought it'd be, for one; and there's something empowering about being dragged around everywhere by an extreme social butterfly (haha, butterfly) instead of having to make decisions on his own. her rambling's easier to keep up with too, and the comparison to them in 'real life' draws an uncharacteristic laugh out of him. "really suits us to a tee."

though the evening isn't meant to be social tetris or anything of the like, it's definitely refreshing killing time with someone who's as candid and transparent as nabi.

for one—no guessing games, really.

"nah, let's just stick to a house. i grabbed these pink icing tubes while you were running around." he dangles them up, along with a bright white one, as a demonstration. "we're going to make the pinkest house this drab gingerbread village has ever seen." not sure where this confidence came from, but okay. "'the not-so-humble abode of nabi hopps.'"

she does have to fend off people that she doesn't want to talk to, but it's easy enough if she sticks close to people that she likes, and in the worst case scenario she can excuse herself to the snack table.

which is where she's going now, after an unfortunate encounter with a classmate who wouldn't stop talking until she had to suddenly cut him off by saying she needed a cookie. and after that conversation maybe some sugar really was necessary.

but she doesn't expect to run straight into someone on the way there, and she's about to apologize when her eyes land on yubin. she doesn't correct him when he says it's his bad, even though she wasn't really paying attention to where she was going either.

his question makes her cross her arms over her chest defensively. not for any reason, but she just doesn't want people to think that she couldn't get a date. she probably should have thought about her desire to keep up appearances when she rejected invitations to prom, but now she has to deal with this unfortunate situation.

it is a little strange though. prom seems like something right up yein's alley, and he'd assumed that being excited about prom usually meant being the victim (wrong word) of an elaborate promposal and planning a color coordinated outfit three years in advance. he doesn't think yein's that extreme, of course—but the sentiment lingers.

"where are you friends?" he asks instead—because pushing on the date thing probably wouldn't do him any good. the last thing he needs is ahn yein glaring daggers at him when he's already on edge trying to plan his escape route. but her question draws a surprised laugh out of him. "yeah, i'm surprised too. hence why i definitely wouldn't show up with a date. i know i'm a bona fide cold-hearted bad boy, but even i have the conscience not to subject an innocent person to me trying to puzzle my way through prom."

he knows himself too well—getting a prom date meant inviting someone to spend a magical evening with him as a stockholmed witness to him trying to rack his mind for excuses to leave ten minutes into the function.

he's no saint, but he tries not to waste people's time.

but he'll waste a little bit of yein's.

"Allergic my ass."

No, Yubin, that wasn't going to work. Nice try though, A for effort. Seyoon would have attempted to believe you if you weren't the one to propose this outing in the first place to confront your fear of dogs. If you were actually allergic, the request would have been hey, want to come and witness my death? It could be fun!

To be fair, Seyoon would have still agreed because he has a lot of inner chaos.

"Right, he's in the hwarang, you are a lowly scribe and I am the fricking king." Seyoon decided to forcibly insert himself into this fanfiction Yubin was writing between himself and the dog. "Now, do as you are told, peasant." He touched one of Marshmallow's softly padded paws to Yubin's knee. "Your Majesty orders you to obey!" Seyoon was having way too much fun with this scenario.

A cafe staff approached, looking slightly hesitant to interrupt what was happening here, but also had a job to do. She offered them a container of treats, which Marshmallow barked excitedly at. "What a good boy," Seyoon cooed, accepting the treats from the staff after thanking her. Taking the container meant he had to let go of Yubin's shoulder, but not to worry, he wasn't going to give his buddy a chance to escape. Using both of his legs, Seyoon trapped one of Yubin's rather tightly to prove he'd been doing more than just arm days at the gym.

and yubin wouldn't tell them that they're wrong. he wouldn't even tell them to think again, wouldn't even suggest that they sleep on it, give it another thought or three, really mull it over—but he might make a pained little 'are you sure' expression; might even make a noise, something between crying and laughing.

can't imagine it?

well—it's exactly what's happening as a container of treats suddenly summons the entire hwarang, er, horde of dogs in the café. and all too quickly, he is no longer a lowly scribe, but a chum playing scapegoat accused of treason and about to be made an example of in front of all of korea.

"ohhhhhhhhhhhhh my god," yubin mutters to himself, his eyes squeezing shut as he curls his fingers into a fist around seyoon's sleeve. he's given up on trying to move, given up on trying to squirm away from seyoon's legs. given up on life, really, but that sounds a little dramatic.

he misses when the only dog he had to greet was marshmallow. it's a life lesson: appreciate him while he's around. he'll remember this—not for the future, but for the afterlife, because he's about to die, of course.

(uh, holding back on the dramatics. right.)

bad acting aside, the student is completely immersed in her ill act. until yubin admits his surprise, that is. looking up as she walks with his "help", hayoung shrugs playfully, "you never know when i'll say yes to something silly, so don't suggest it." if he intended to tease her for this, she was ready to remind him it was his plan.

there is a sense of accomplishment the moment they cross the door and the slow songs are left behind. hayoung can finally drop her so-called acting and straighten her spine up; they are finally safe from the cheesy atmosphere. "was that country?" she raises an eyebrow, a mix of confusion and disbelief. "i just can't with those love songs. they are not even about love it's just..." she waves her hands in the air and lets out an exasperated sigh.

"it was pretty good," yubin concedes with an offhanded shrug of his shoulders and a fancy little twirl of his hands, like he knows any better about acting. "or maybe the country music was possessing you... compelling you..."

the details aren't important. what's important is that they've escaped.

the music's still loud enough that yubin can hear it, but it's also muted enough that he can ignore it—sort of. his attention's already wandered from that southern drawl to the chill of the corridor. without the strobe lights, the dark room, and the sweaty people all colliding in the same space, standing in a fluorescent hallway with the air conditioning on max makes him feel like a prey animal.

"i might break out in my hives. you're laughing. i could die from an allergic reaction to the a-team and you're laughing," yubin says, tone accusatory but the glint in his eyes clearly teasing. he shrugs again, one eye squeezing shut as he catches another kink in his shoulders. "i might pop back in, but who knows when the current playlist is going to end. i don't even know how i ended up here. do i look like a 'prom guy'? one minute i was helping haru ask someone to prom and next thing i know, i'm suffocating in a suit and tie."

speaking of suit and tie, and belatedly remembering his manners, he remembers to add—perhaps a little too belatedly—

@LGCENT just posted a photo!

chuseok dinner was so good i just woke up from a food coma wondering what year it was 🧍‍♂️

"thaaaaanks, i'm fine. don't i look fine? all young and sprightly and totally not about to throw up?" yubin offers a feeble thumbs up, like that's somehow meant to be convincing. "i don't really have stage fright or anything, but i'm not really feeling too confident right now. quick, noona, do you think it's too late?" he extends a hand seriously, like he's trying to shake hers to seal the deal. "it's not too late for you to take my spot, right? no one'll notice."

it took everything in the older woman to not give him back a few pats of encouragement. this was the wrong place to do her usual pep talks with her touch of peace, which made her pout slightly.

yet, she could still at least calm his nerves down with her usual rambling. "while you still look so young and fresh, i can see a bit of stress lines growing on your forehead. which, is completely normal and fine but try not to scare yourself so much that you black out." she teased him, running a hand through her hair as she looked around them - noticing a few other trainees were feeling the heat.

she slaps his hand gently away with a laugh, "hey! none of that! you are going to do fine, plus, you don't want me taking your spot and royalty fucking up. is that what you want for your digital footprint?" jihan surely wouldn't want it for herself, there was already one video of her out there doing the same thing.

after all, the world may very well crumble before his eyes today while he's trying to remember the choreography for a song he's started dancing to in his sleep. but at the very least, park jihan will never change.

"is that really your concern? fucking up? i think our bigger concern is convincing everyone that you're me. for one, you'd have to cut your hair—or we'd have to find a wig? maybe a hat? do you want to wear a hat?" yubin tries again—though he's far less serious this time around. "if i was taller and my jaw was sharper, i would have followed you to modeling," he sighs out, hardly genuine. he can't imagine himself modeling seriously, and though he's hard-pressed to admit, dancing and singing and rapping are fun.

the idea of performing doesn't get any easier to digest with each passing minute, but the tension in his shoulders eases just barely, and the stiff smile on his lips has softened too.

It's not what he expected, but he's definitely not complaining.

Running around completing a scavenger hunt may not have been in Haneul's university experience bingo card, but he can't complain. It beats doing nothing in between classes and badminton training. Besides, Haneul wouldn't mind contributing to Florinthe's cause in any way.

Haneul's competitive ass thrives on winning. (Thank you parents and older brother) His motivation burns bright at the thought of victory, but he also respects the limits of those around him.

In this case, one Kim Yubin isn't as inclined or competitive in this sense as Haneul is, and he respects that. For today, he shall temper his competitive edge to match Yubin's energy.

With this in mind, he lets Yubin take the lead. If he takes charge, then they might go at a pace Yubin isn't comfortable with. Haneul knows when it's time to sit back and let someone else dictate the pace.

Haneul chuckles and shakes his head. Of course this was going to happen. Lucky for Yubin, Haneul is more used to being photographed, thanks to being part of the badminton team.

"Fine. I'll be a good model for you, Yubinnie." He playfully winks at Yubin for good measure.

"save the sweet talk and stand by that trash can," yubin instructs sternly, his expression pinched into one of utmost seriousness—though it's clear he's milking the dramatics to tease. "uh, let's see."

yubin squints again at the lovingly crumpled post-it note.

"five steps from the trash can. which direction do you want to go? see anything special you want to get a free instagram photo next to?"

his own gaze flickers to the nearest trash can—and then five steps forward, back, left, and right. there's nothing of incredible note in any direction, but he does spot some carefully planted flowers in one direction and a particularly imposing lamp post in the other.

a group of passersby catch yubin's attention too, and though he'd personally never approach a bunch of strangers to solicit a photo or three from them, he supposes he shouldn't be so quick to lump haneul in with the likes of a hermit in disguise.

But it is uncommon to still see the lights on in one of the practise rooms, and like a moth irresistibly drawn to a flame, Kai instinctively moves towards it without hesitation.

Surprise becomes evident as he catches sight of a figure within the room, causing his sports bag to slip from his grasp and fall near the door upon entering. It takes him no longer than a second to recognise the face, his lips spreading into a grin, almost bashful at the greeting.

"Yubinah, you're too much." He responds, waving his hand as if dismissing the so-called celebrity status his friend throws at him. His hand extends, offering assistance to Yubin as he helps him regain his footing.

This close, Kai then wonders what he's done in life to deserve someone so great as a friend as Yubin, wonders what good deeds equate this, what balances what; yet, he leaves it all behind, decides that his luck must strive in this area of his life. Even if it falters in other sections, makes him clumsy at times, awkward in others.

And maybe it makes his relations with others a bit strained, makes his own body weak with stress. But at least, he thinks, there's Yubin, even if he won't see him as much as he used to.

it's not malicious, really; and he doesn't even get to pick and choose who he builds walls higher and higher in the company of—but at the very least, it's not the same the other way around. when the wall's being built, that's out of his hands. but when it's yubin who's doing the whittling away at the stone, at the brick, at whatever it is keeping him an arms length away from whoever it is; when it's yubin who's breaking it down, it's yubin who gets to choose when he wants to exert the effort.

around some people, it comes naturally. and kai is certainly some people.

"pheeeeew," yubin huffs out as he hoists himself to his feet with kai's help. he tries to hide the fact that he was barely a shell of a person just moments ago, choosing instead of stretch his arms over his head as comically loudly as possible. "am i? you are a celebrity though. the best and the brightest!" yubin grins. "i was going to ask you why you were here so late, but i guess i shouldn't be a hypocrite."

idly, he massages a muscle in his shoulder, tilting his head side to side to stretch out his neck as he mulls over his options. kai's unanticipated entrance is all yubin really needs to realize he's more than just tired. the brief burst of energy he'd had at seeing his friend is genuine, sincere, but he's running on exhaust—that's more and more undeniable by the passing second.

so the offer kai extends to him catches his attention more than it should. with the performance so soon, even with such a small role, he really can't afford to slack off—

but maybe it isn't "slacking off" to take a teeny tiny break.

(and he ignores that voice at the back of his head—undoubtedly his mom—expressing her disapproval.)

"are you treating?" he asks instead, the twinkle in his eyes bright. "it's going to take more than ramen to get me to leave this practice room," yubin jokes, tossing a mournful glance over his shoulder at the very spot he'd been splayed out on just moments ago—clearly working hard. "like ice cream. and one of those gacha machine toys. and maybe more—i haven't decided yet. i'm a fickle guy."

never mind the fact that he's already taken a step toward the door.

For all the theatrics, you'd think Seyoon was here to break up with a guy after six wonderful years of fiery love and passion. At least, that was probably what those onlooking girls thought, judging by their enraptured expressions. Their gazes darted from Yubin's pleading eyes and Seyoon's hard ones, not wanting to miss any details as they whispered quietly to one another.

"No more stalling." Seyoon grabbed Yubin's wrist and dragged at him rather forcefully. "We are doing this."

Fine, fine~ A part of him felt like saying those lines just to indulge the ladies. Why should he restrict their creative minds? Everyone deserved to be entertained and he was happy to provide.

He half towed and half carried Yubin into the establishment they'd been struggling in front of for the past half an hour. The cheerful cafe owner greeted them and with him was the most adorable group of puppies. They came early, so all of the doggos seemed full of energy and eager to play.

on any other day, he may have shown stronger signs of resistance, but it's almost as though the strength has left his body. like a limp doll, he allows himself to be dragged, the gears in his head turning and clinking and clanking so loudly that he can't even process the disappointed murmurs of the crowd of girls that'd been spectating them.

"seyoon," yubin manages to choke out, his heels finally beginning to dig into the ground as he comes to his senses (it's too late, it's always too late). "seyoon, hey, seyoon—"

if kim yubin has learned anything about his formative years, it's that no matter how hard he tries to romanticize the growing pains, they'll never be as poetic as he wants them to be. he's no timothee chalamet, for one—and no matter how desperately he pretends there's a say sue me track playing in the background as seyoon resolutely and determinedly drags him to meet his fate, the imaginary music in his head will never be loud enough to drown out the rapid THUMPTHUMP THUMP!!!! of his heart when he makes eye contact with a dog.

oh, wait. how absolutely rude of him.

with "marshmallow."

"do i want to pet him," yubin echoes, backing up as much as possible with each centimeter that seyoon (and marshmallow) draw nearer. "do i look like i want to pet him right now? you know! what! i don't think he even likes me. i literally think in a past life i might have betrayed him or something. i'm picturing joseon dynasty, he's in the hwarang and i'm like a lowly scribe who—"

why is he writing a fanfiction about himself? about a dog?

yubin clears his throat.