ANTINOMY

hey y’all, I’m here with min seojun — human paradox and your average bad boy pretending to be a sweet boy-next-door! he is currently a trainee under yuseong entertainment’s ys boys/blue.m, and is best known as etoile’s seoyul’s younger brother, or the trainee that went viral for his aegyo. I’ll leave some links down below, along with more information below the cut. I already have some plots up on my plots page, though it’s still a work in progress. if you’d like to plot, you can like this post and i’ll drop you an im, otherwise, we can also take it to discord! 

( STATS / BIO / CAREER / PLOTS )

PERSONALITY ANALYSIS.

( mbti ) — intj, the architect. an architect is someone with the introverted, intuitive, thinking, and judging personality traits. they are confident, analytical, and ambitious, often applying creativity and rationality to everything they do. they have big goals and spend much of their time pondering how to get there, but they rarely tell anyone about their plans. an architect’s inner world is often a private and complex one. 

summary: seojun goes viral for pulling off aegyo in “ugly” farmer clothing, a snippet of the latest vlog on his shared youtube channel with seoyul where they had documented their experience volunteering at a farm. word count: 555 triggers: none

you’d think that he would be used to it by now—doing all these aegyo and having it circulate on the internet for the rest of the world to see—but no, he still finds himself shuddering every time he watches a clip of himself putting on a cute act. don’t get him wrong, he loves the attention and every compliment that comes with it, and he’d do it all over again if he had to, but beneath it all, seojun is quite frankly, not a cute boy. 

        the sighting stirs up what feels like a soft splintering reaching from her heart to every other part of her body, a domino effect unfurling bit by bit. but her features remain still, untouched. a part of her wonders if it would be easier to just let herself implode right here, right now, than to fight herself. even so, this is all seoyul has ever known━to be armed for war. “seojun, you need to trust me,” she speaks in no more than a whisper, but it cuts through the silence like a sharp, well-worn blade. “there’s no way this is real. she’s just acting, i━” an abrupt halt to seoyul’s words follows an observation of the way seojun’s gaze has gone soft. the dubiety is felt deep in her bones, and yet she’s incapable of giving language to the whys and wherefores. in the pregnant pause that ensues, the ticking of the hands on the clock only drives her impatience even further. “do you trust me?” feeling her brother slipping away, all she musters is some sort of a plead, bringing forth the desperation she had fought so hard to keep at bay.

‎

dirty is what seojun feels when he steps into this place. there’s a noxious stench that plagues the room, one that cruelly reminds him of the times he used to reek of this smell; the smell he would scrub his skin raw to get off before he went to school everyday, the same smell he fears would latch onto him when he leaves this place today. the very idea of it sends his skin crawling and his fingernails instinctively dug into his skin, a habit he thought he had left behind in his past. no longer is he that poor kid lugging around a torn schoolbag on a stolen bike—that is the version of min seojun he wants to bury in his past. the min seojun he is today did not grow up in a home like this, and as fictitious as it is, he’ll do anything in his power to protect it—the story he crafted for the character that shares his name; the fairytale about a pauper disguised as a prince. 

unfortunately, this place is no palace. quite the contrary, in fact, yet he finds himself traipsing right into it again. every step he takes serves as an unbidden reminder of the past; this corner was where he hid whenever mother and father fought, and the sounds from that door slamming still frightens him to this day. despite all the grievances and dare he say, trauma, he has to revisit in this burning inferno he used to call home, a convoluted force within him pulls him further in, towards the woman he’s convinced he can never rid himself of in this lifetime. whether that force comes from a place of concern, pity, love, or all of it combined, he doesn’t know, what he knows is, he has absolutely no power over it. 

things would be a lot easier if he was a little more like seoyul. unlike her, he grew up longing for his parents and yearning for their affection, their mere presence presented to him like a reward, one he always felt the need to earn, believing that he was entitled to it only if he did all that was asked of him. the occasional praise from his mother was even harder to come by, often paired with a request that was difficult to fulfil—whether it was to buy her cigarettes, fetch her a bottle of soju, or take her shift at a part-time job, they were tasks beyond the abilities of a teenager, but he still does it all anyway. it was his way of protecting seoyul and himself—he’ll do anything as long as it meant their mother wouldn’t leave them too. 

“of course I trust you.” there’s no one he trusts more than seoyul—not even himself. “I just...” he just never learns. deep down, he knew it wasn’t going to be any different, that her words were going to be nothing but another pack of lies, much like the ones he was fed growing up. still, he scarfs it all down every time, hoping to find that things are different this time. except, it never is—not then, not now, not ever. “...I just wanted to make sure.” he just never knows when to say no. seojun crouches down to where their mother’s static body laid, empty beer cans strategically littered around her, almost as if they were intentionally placed there (and knowing her, they probably are). “please drop the act, we don’t have all day to play these games with you.” it was supposed to be a threat but it came off more like a plead, typical of the boy that shrinks before his mother. “if it’s money you’re asking for, we’re not giving it to you.” and he means it this time—he promised seoyul he wouldn’t.  

     “you know what they call me? seoyul is the golden girl and i’m portrayed as some sort of thug beast.” slightly disappointed by his character depiction, at least call him something more alluring. it doesn’t help that he does appear to some extent, match the portrayal. the permanent black attire that clings to his frame, the hoodie that seems to never leave his brown strands making him look a lot more ominous next to doe-eyed seoyul. all the aggression he displays on broadcasts and the monologue he gave on english interviews about his experiences, lathered with profanity. perhaps the media has it right this time. it was almost as if he was learning more about himself with every scroll down the tabloids, things he never knew he was up until this point. but all things considered, he was a lot more well behaved than some other artists out there, they were just better at hiding it. he lets out a sigh, “i just want fried chicken.” sounding a lot more disappointed this time. 

truth to be told, seojun envies miles. he envies how free-spirited and self-assured he is, how he does what he wants to, says what he wants to, and hardly ever worries about the repercussions that come with it. is it because he’s crescent’s park miles? regardless of what he does, he already has a loyal fanbase that loves him for who he is? must be nice, to be loved as you are—something seojun doesn’t even have the courage to dream about. how can he, when he isn’t half the person miles is? if this already has the media painting an ugly picture of miles, how would much worse would they perceive someone like seojun? he’s envious, but it’s an envy he’ll have to douse, one he knows he’s better off gratifying by living vicariously through the other. is this why seojun likes being around miles so much? because as similar as they are, he lacks the one thing he admires him for—the courage to be exactly who he is. 

and that, seojun believes, is a good enough reason for him to grant the older a fried chicken date. what’s the worst that could happen? their managers chide them for being spotted together in public at a grave time like this? well, he can deal with that. after all, miles has had a pretty rough day and comfort food is the best remedy to that; nothing tastes quite as good as fried chicken on a crappy day and seojun would know—it’s how he tided through the bad days before he was old enough to drink (or at least, before he was old enough to steal alcohol from his mother). “geez, alright. wipe that frown off your face and let’s get going!” he urges, jestingly nudging miles in his side. “you’re treating, though. it’s the least you can do, brother-in-law.”

it might be a joke but seojun isn’t as opposed to the idea of miles dating his sister as netizens are, and he is the one with more right to an opinion, though still not enough to have a say in who his sister wishes to give her heart to. of course, he knows whatever seoyul and miles have between them isn’t what the media makes it out to be, but even if it is, seojun gets the feeling that he wouldn’t hate it, not even a little bit. and who else but him would be a better judge for who is good enough for seoyul? surely, he, of all people, would have the strictest requirements for the man that is to date his sister. would anything the internet naysayers say have more power than his words? if so, being spotted out together with miles would probably do him more good than bad. if even seoyul’s own brother likes him, who gives anyone else the right to deem him unworthy of her? “besides, who’s scared of some paparazzi? you know I like the attention.” 

“yeah, it’s definitely him. he has a way of capturing everyone’s attention. you guys might not know us too well yet, but you at least know that much, right?” he asks, insinuating that seojun being the focal point is a given. to him, it is. “when we were learning the choreography, i noticed that it really suits all of us. obviously seojun and i are the best—” he interjects his own sentence with a muted laugh, just so the rumors of arrogance don’t resurface, “but seriously, you’ll have a hard time focusing on just one of us. i think that’s all that i have to say for now, though. what about you?”

it doesn’t go unnoticed by seojun how hyeon made the subtle effort to suppress his smile, and this gesture, while seemingly harmless and minuscule, had bothered seojun the slightest bit and so, he took it upon himself to bring his smile back, both for his own enjoyment and to flaunt to the rest of the world watching (or at least, the world that revolves around them), that he is the reason for lee hyeon’s smile. “fair enough,” seojun retaliates playfully, “I’ll admit that talking about this is making me shy. now all of them will know that I fall asleep with your arms around me.” anyone would be able to tell that his tone contradicts his words, and it’s intentional on his part, to cover up for the fact that admitting all of this on camera, makes even the most thick-skinned of them, in other words, seojun, shy. 

still, he can’t help but want to flaunt these moments he has with hyeon, and it’s no longer just for the attention. sometimes, he feels like he shouldn’t cross the line with hyeon, but when their fans gush over them, it makes him feel like it’s okay to keep doing it. after all, it’s their job to bring joy to their fans, right? maybe he’s lying to himself, but it’s a lie he’s willing to perpetrate for as long as he can hide behind the excuse of doing it to make their fans happy. how else can he do as he wishes? surely, he can’t use the excuse of making himself happy—that would imply that what he feels for hyeon reaches a whole new territory and he’s not sure if he’ll ever be ready to face that.

“not gonna lie, watching hyeon made me realise how dangerous he is, like, this guy could steal my fans one day!” seojun quips, “though I’ll understand if any of you decide you like him more than me.” sure, it would suck but it’s something he can’t help but understand, even he likes him that much (not that he would ever admit it). “this is why you have two eyes—one to look at hyeon and the other, to look at me.” he emits a titter, turning to gaze at hyeon with both eyes. “and I’ll look at you with both eyes so you have to do the same for me too.” a redundant statement—hyeon already has his fullest attention, and he gets the feeling that it’s mutual. it is hard to ignore the countless times their eyes meet during rehearsals, after all. 

the bathroom door slides open and someone calls out in the distance, declaring it free to use now. it comes to his realisation that it was down to the both of them as the rest of the members had already washed up while they were vlogging. “I think it’s our turn to shower now. should I go first or...” he glances over to the camera, a teasing glint in his eye, “should we go together?” inching closer to the camera with a puckish grin, seojun makes the decision for the both of them. “hyeon and I are going to shower now, we’ll continue again tomorrow—” and before hyeon can protest, seojun pushes the button to stop the recording and drags him out of his seat, “—and don’t edit that out!”

Instinctively, Chorong’s feet pushed her forward first in a silent attempt to bring them closer to the exit as soon as possible. With her friends, she would grip onto the hem of their shirt or handle of their bag. No, that would be be far too inappropriate of a gesture toward Seojun ㅡ someone she just met. She shoved her hands in the pockets of her hoodie.

“What about you? Are you a trainee?” She stopped herself with a rather unflattering sound of embarrassment. “I mean, obviously you’re a trainee. What a dumb question… Sorry.”

if there’s anything seojun is sure of in that very moment, it would be that he does not have anything better to do right then. what could beat meeting his celebrity crush and getting to play her knight in shining armour for however long it takes them to reach the exit of the building (by which, he plans to drag on for as long as he can)? “trust me, I do not have anything better to do right now. if not for you, I would’ve had to continue practice and I’ve already had hours of that today.” he adds with a roguish wink, “if anything, you’re the one doing me a favour.” 

“ah, I see. seems to me like you’re already a pretty good dancer though.” now is probably not the time to flirt with a public figure, much less with all these staff around them. someone was bound to catch him skiving off with this girl and whatever the consequences are, he reckons it’ll be no good, but why does he feel like this was the best decision he’s made all day? he could hardly care about the repercussions; a scolding, penalty, whatever, he’ll accept it all. after all, he met cherry today—is there any better way for him to end his day?

summary: seojun has two sheets of paper with differing answers. he struggles with deciding which to hand in. word count: 1,000 triggers: none

seojun is a self-centred pessimist and an introverted lone wolf. what do you get when you put both of that together? well, certainly not the best team player. if not for his evidently lacking abilities in vocals and rap, you’d think he’s better off being a soloist. too bad, he doesn’t have the calibre for it. that’s where his group comes in—they make up for what he lacks and he too, does the same for them. people like siwoo and minho would call it teamwork (and it probably is, to some extent), but to seojun, it’s tantamount to a transactional, give and take relationship, one that every party benefits from to compensate for what they don’t have by offering what they have. fair enough, right? 

is it possible to feel like you don’t belong yet blend in seamlessly in a way that goes unnoticed by most? it feels like he had succeeded in contorting himself to fit into a mould, like a mismatched puzzle piece you force into an empty slot, with awkward gaps you’d hardly notice—not unless you look close enough. while this is how he feels on most days at yuseong, it’s exceptionally apparent when he’s seated in one of these conversational classes, meant to coach the trainees on variety show appearances and the likes of it—how to be witty, how to be funny, and how to react in a way the camera would love. 

he feels like he doesn’t belong (judging by the people he’s surrounded by, it’s safe to say he’s the most—or only—introvert around), yet he knows this could be his only shot at making it big. he is no better at singing or rapping, and his dance can only take him so far—it isn’t just the center positions in choreographies that he is coveting, he wants to have his face on every tv, every magazine, every billboard, and he knows, to get there, he has to writhe his way into people’s hearts. to do that, he’ll need a glib tongue, a dash of wit, humour and a whole lot of sweetness in the form of honeyed words and glazed smiles.

oddly enough, seojun’s better at it than he had expected to be. he’s good enough for it stand on the thin line between ‘fake’ and ‘professional’—is he good at applying what he was taught, or is he just... fake? unlike him, there are some people who are a natural at it; they don’t need to be schooled on how to act in variety shows, neither do they have to pretend to be someone they are not. they are just naturally bubbly, eloquent and funny, almost like they are made to be on tv—much like the vivacious girl seated next to him. seojun is unsure if he envies her natural effervescence, or if he wants to change seats and get as far away as he can from her. after all, there’s only so much socialising an introvert can deal with and he is at his limit with her.

from getting partnered up with her for today’s activity to having her bug him for the rest of the class (be it laughing into his ear whenever their instructor makes a joke, poking his arm when she wants to show him something funny, or trying to start up a conversation every now and then), seojun isn’t sure if he has it in him to entertain another one of her antics. whether it’s because he doesn’t enjoy the new companionship, or if it is merely because he’s not used to it (someone actually wants to be his friend this bad?), he’s not sure. what he does know for sure is, if she keeps this up, their instructor is going to single them out and that is not the kind of attention seojun wants. “will you please stop staring at me?” he utters in a hushed whisper, “unless you want to get the both of us kicked out of here.” 

“you really think i’d get scared from something like this? do you know me at all?” okay, so maybe he is still simmering in his displeasure from the i-thought-you-were-smarter remark after all — he’s only human. still, he gives seojun’s hand a test squeeze, more of an impulse than anything else because he already knows that he won’t need the reassurance. as the cart starts moving, the only thing that he feels is anticipation for the rise and fall and the adrenaline rush guaranteed to come with it. but then it hits him: the ‘you have to’ combined with the faux savior complex. this isn’t really for him, is it? “wait, don’t tell me… are you scared, seojun?”

I like it and I want you to keep doing it, is what seojun wants to hear, so he can’t deny the disappointment he got from the words he heard instead. I don’t care either way? just do what you want? he certainly doesn’t want to smother an unwilling party with his... affection, especially if it’s not something he wants too. “but you never said you liked it either.” he’s unsure if he should be mad at hyeon for not wanting it as much he wants him to want it, or at himself for not having the willpower to say, if you don’t want it then I’ll stop it, because he knows he could never find it in himself to stop. how could he, when two days without hyeon were already catastrophic enough for him to land himself in this situation so uncharacteristic of him? “I know what I want, but I want you to want it too.”

hyeon is right and seojun hates it. there is absolutely nothing he can say to argue his case—indeed, hyeon isn’t obligated to stay with him all day, neither does seojun have the power to make him do so. how does he convince him otherwise? should he threaten him? guilt-trip him? tell him he wants to be around him? uh—no, he’d rather go on this stupid ride again than confess the nauseating truth of his feelings without the excuse of a rolling camera before them. instead, he huffs to himself, again, his sulk growing by the second. “fine. go spend time with minho for all I care.” his face then contorts into a half smirk, sullied by the faint fluster that came with hyeon’s blunt statement. “why is that what comes to your mind? if anyone’s thinking about hooking up, it’s you.” he argues cocksurely, “besides, why do I need the bathroom for that? we’re roommates, remember? unless... you like it in public?”

seojun’s not sure if his heart is racing because the ride is about to take off, or if it’s because of the way hyeon is holding his hand. okay, maybe both. he’s still afraid, the trepidation from the ride starting up is eating him alive and he’d jump out and pull the brake if he could, but something about the way hyeon squeezed his hand made him feel a little less fearful, a little more secure. he’d argue back and defend his pride if the cart wasn’t starting to accelerate, heading towards the opening of the cave where the track dips. their cart reaches the very edge and plunges down the steep track, his grip on hyeon’s hand tightens, tugging it close like it’s his only lifeline (and it probably is, right then). 

"well, since we're here and it's valentine's day so i'm feeling a little generous." kiha speaks up while still focusing on the small heart he's trying to cut from chocolate, his words with a hint of playful arrogance that he's sure feeds on the idea that he and seojun get along well enough that the other won't feel offended by it. "is there anything you'd like to ask? i'm your senior so the least i could do is offer some advice." he asks and only then looks up. they might as well have some sort of conversation going, especially when they're supposed to spend what? an hour? something like that, he remembers the staff saying.

‎

put sweet, smiley boys together with cream cakes and valentine’s day, you’ll get a highly requested vlive of them decorating cakes for this special occasion. nothing defines them better than pretty desserts on a heartfelt occasion that celebrates love. they are known for their charming smiles and bubbly personalities, making it unsurprising for them to be paired up to do a vlive on this special day. for seojun, it’s good news, regardless of who he has to do it with. how can he complain about having more exposure, much less with a senior who already has a sturdy fanbase? this is his chance to impress more people and who knows? he might even make some of them his fans. there aren’t any rules about stealing your senior’s fans, are there?

still, there is no denying the petulance in him for having to spend valentine’s day with kiha of all people. sure, he wouldn’t go as far as to say that he abhors him, but there is certainly a fair amount of distaste he harbours for the other, one he’s fully aware is mutual. it’s hard to ignore kiha’s sarcastic remarks, those of which seem more prevalent when the topic of seojun’s roommate comes about. it appears the older dislikes the idea of seojun being close to his beloved junior, and whether he was just being a concerned senior (and what for? it’s not like seojun can hurt that big boy), or if he just simply doesn’t like anything about him, he has no idea, but he’s found joy in doing the one thing he knows the other dislikes—bragging about his close relationship with hyeon. maybe it’s because he knows how much it ticks him off that makes him want to rub it in his face even more. 

seojun rummages through the decorations laid out on the table, unsure of where to begin. after all, his sweet, boy-next-door image is merely just a guise orchestrated for the camera—the real seojun does not belong in the kitchen. his gaze darts around the room before landing on kiha’s side of the table, peering over to get a better look at what he’s up to. he eyes the heart-shaped chocolate kiha is trying to cut out—and then it hits him, a smirk fanning across his face. "that’s so cute! can you cut one for me too? pretty please?” he cajoles, plastering on his saccharine smile for added persuasion. “I think hyeon will really like it.” he adds under his breath, yet loud enough for kiha to hear every word. now, that should get him boiling. “of course! there’s so much I can learn from you.” seojun coos, picking up a piping bag to add some icing around the cake. “you’ve been watching us train and grow all this time, so it got me wondering if there’s anything you think I can improve on now that our debut is near?” 

the mins are philanthropic citizens with a heart of gold, ever so eager to lend a helping hand to those in need—not. 

for what it’s worth, they do a good job at pretending to be. all equipped with a camera crew and unflattering farming gear (have you seen these baggy pants? it’s a miracle they still look this good in them), they’re here at a farm by the outskirts of seoul, filming a vlog about them “giving back to the community” for their youtube channel. to fans of the siblings, a benevolent act like this is nothing out of the norm—it’s common knowledge across both fandoms that they were brought up in an esteemed family with charitable habits nurtured since young. what people don’t know is, all of that is just a pack of lies, lies that the siblings are more than capable of upholding for the rest of their idol careers. sure, it gets challenging at times, like having to get their hands dirty at a farm neither of them would be caught dead at with the cameras turned off, but hey, where’s the harm in a little acting that could go a long way? after all, people love idols with an altruistic side to them, no? 

it’s hard to smile with the scorching sun beating down on them, their ugly rubber boots sinking into the soil as they trudge deeper into the field for a better angle—anything for the camera, really. nonetheless, seojun smoothes out the creases on his forehead, battling an impending sulk from surfacing on his face, a spuriously buoyant beam emerging eventually. paired with the orchestrated spring in his step (or however much of it he could pull off in this sinking soil), he’s sure to come across as someone eager to help. while the camera crew busy themselves with the equipment set-up, seojun leans in towards his sister, his smile unfaltering as he mutters through gritted teeth, “I told you, it’ll be a better idea to do it at the animal shelter. I’d rather clean out cages of dog poop than be out here in the sun.” 

despite his complaints, he already knows what seoyul will say—the sight of them manually heaving crop at the farm creates a greater visual impact than that of them playing with puppies at an animal shelter, and as much as he hates to admit it, he knows she’s right. seoyul knows best, and he, of all people, is the best person to testify that. still, putting aside all the glitz and glamour that comes with their jobs, he’s still her little brother and that’s what little brothers do—they complain, whine, throw a little tantrum, but at the end of the day, they’ll put all their trust in their big sister. that’s how seojun got to where he is today—every step of the way was taken with the belief that he could do anything with seoyul by his side. after all, the path ahead of him is one paved with the very footsteps of his older sister, and not only does he plan to follow in them, he’s determined to pave his own way alongside hers, and together, they’ll head towards a life unlike the one they know; a future worlds apart from their past.