butter is an empty, pointless song. it weighs heavy to go from music that, even if at times hadn’t connected with him, had some kind of meaning, to singing about being as smooth as butter. he realizes any days he’d had where he’d come anything close to a smooth-talking charmer are behind him, but even with that considered, butter is more sickly yellow-green, artificially colored sugary drink commercial than reflection of anyone’s lived human experience. if he has to hear the empty drum beat that cues him in one more time, he might lose it.

lucky for everyone involved, they’re called to break from dance practice as their too-late lunch arrives. ash moves with a speed yet unseen the duration of practice to get in line for food, but it just ends with him being asked to pass along lunch boxes to his other members. he has an inkling it has more to do with him being the youngest than the first in line, but he’s learned not to fight the tasks that get handed down to him for daring to be born last.

he turns to offer two identical lunch boxes to minhee, pretending as if he’s presenting him with a choice. “chicken, or... chicken?”

it might be the most talk ash has initiated with minhee in months, if he’s honest. some time around the turn of the year, as award shows grew increasingly tiresome and the possibility of faking some extreme freak accident to get out of performing dynamite another time grew more and more appealing, it had occurred to ash that minhee just seemed a little... happier. he’d promptly made the decision to keep his distance and not ask. it was for minhee’s sake, he swore. there are certain energies ash vibes with and certain others he doesn’t. not in some metaphysical or pseudoscientific way. he won’t cast away company because they’re an aries or because of their aura, but he gets irritated when there’s a little too much pep in someone’s step. he doesn’t want to be a party-pooper or some kind of black hole of joy just because he’s miserable nine times out of ten, so avoidance becomes his coping mechanism. 

“any hints as to what you guys are performing?” mirae asks when she crosses paths with minhee in the broadcast station cafeteria. it’s a long, long day of filming and selene and polaris are both near the end of the list thanks to their seniority. she can’t say she fully understands why they have to go last. it might be an honor at end of the year shows, but for something like this, she would have told them to let selene go out first if she’d been asked for her opinion on the order. they’d have to sit around on camera all day regardless since reactions by other groups is almost as critical as the performances themselves, but selene’s make-up team might not be hovering around her like mosquitos, advising her that maybe she should wait to eat until after selene performs so her make-up isn’t put at risk. she had politely informed them that if she were to do that, she would be starving and it would have a negative affect on the outcome of their performance.