he plunks out a few notes on the keyboard tethered to the complex hub of cords that bridges into the nearby recording studio at some unseen hole in the wall. he sings a tune that sounds almost like the same tune on an indistinguishable vowel, frowns slightly, either because the top note had come out of his throat flat and lazy or because he was unsatisfied with the way it sounded coming out of the keyboard’s speakers.
he leaves the keys alone, long fingers curling around a pencil instead, scribbling a few sloppy notes onto a staff already littered with marks and notes and rests from all the tedious hours of independent study he’s worked through since he signed his contract.
this is different. his days at his old company had been spent in constant companionship, with peers, fellow trainees, future group mates, staff, guest instructors, and, of course walking nightmares disguised behind wrinkled suits and coffee breath smiles. his more recent acting days have been just as crowded, with fellow actors, designers, directors, audience members. being made to create in such a place of solitude is new to him, new and dizzying and somehow ominous. he often finds himself making random sounds into the air just to keep the thick silence of the spundproofed room from closing in on him.
so “come in” slips from his lips freely and eagerly when he hears a knock on the door. odds are it’s a staff member in to check on his progress, but it’s better than scrutinizing his own reflection in the blank chrome corner of the well-used keyboard.
he’s pleasantly surprised by the appearance of hyungwon, one of the trainees he’s (surprisingly) bonded with, despite his short, and skeptical, time spent at trc.
“totally,” he responds, noting the younger male’s tentative air and reaching to pull a nearby rolling chair toward his own piano bench and patting the padded seat as a wordless invitation to join him, “why, what’s up?”
he threads carefully, like he’s walking on eggshells and closes the distance between them to take the offered seat. his eyes are shifting around the room restlessly, before landing on his knees, firmly pressed together in nervousness. truth is, he would be more jittery if he hadn’t already spend too long just pacing around.
he doesn’t think inho will be mean about it, he also doesn’t think the older trainee will judge him, but simply the possibility of putting himself into a bad light and inho losing all respect and affection for him feels as heavy as the weight of the world, resting on bony shoulders.
“there’s... something that’s been bothering me for a while and-” he didn’t know if he even should talk about it, much less whom to talk to. sure, there’s minhyuk and jooheon and changkyun, but they were either younger than him, or didn’t feel like someone who was already a proper, full adult. responsible and calm. “and i feel like i need to talk to someone about it, but i’m also worried because if i say it then people could start thinking the worst of me.” he’s also worried about rumours, though he didn’t take inho as someone who spreads stories about others. the other always seemed like someone who knew how to keep others secrets.
a sigh leaves his lips before he dares glance up to actually meet inho’s eyes. “i did something really bad and i can’t stop feeling horrible about it and i want to talk about it, but i’m scared that after i tell you you’ll start disliking me.”
