( /heâs not sure if heâs a glutton for punishment or just too curious for his own good, but even after heâs told himself to keep a distance from Itaewon for at least a couple days he ends up there almost immediately anyway and he figures itâs not all bad because maybe he can ambush hyun and surprise him that heâs back in seoul, now. ) - ( /itâs a thought quickly abandoned, though, because he sees a different face instead as he approaches the old familiar building he spent so many hours inside, and he racks his brain for the name that jieun had given him, and he has to drag his phone out of his pocket to go through the contact list to find the number he had been given as well. ) yena?
[/yuzu is yawning as she makes herself back from her break. usually sheâd spend the time during break with the folks in her group but she was craving coffee and some change of scenery this time along with a bit of solitude. so excusing herself she had gone out for a tiny venture and was now on her way back with an almost finished cup of cold brew in her hand, ready to sneak her way back into the building. when a voice called out to her she jumps, for a second wondering if she should pretend not to react. carefully she turns, hoping and praying to the gods it wasnât a fan that recognized her and could potentially expose her as a trainee.] y-e-s?
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a special kind of breed of people exist in this world, if one asks yuto about it at least, and those kind of people are commonly referred to as âextrovertsâ. while yuto himself does enjoy the company of people, if nothing at least to make himself feel less lonely, he canât deny how much it stresses his mind out to be surrounded by people for continued periods of time. animals are much simpler to deal with, but in the busy streets of seoul he simply cannot avoid having to interact with others.
such is the situation as he sits in a starbucks sipping away at an iced coffee. not because he particularly likes coffee, but because he supposedly needs to challenge himself every so often. and yuto has got the idea that all grown ups drink coffee and now that he is 21, he needs to be able to as well. itâs an acquired taste he has heard. at least he hopes it is.
unfortunately it is also the location of a woman who is yapping away into her phone. he tries to ignore it, but somehow his brain hyperfixates on the sound of her voice, the half of the conversation he can hear cutting through the ocean of other noises within the establishment. it dominates him, and he finds his eyes locked on the figure that appears youthful, probably younger than he is although he has always found it hard to judge peopleâs age.
that is when she looks up and they lock eyes. yuto doesnât know what kind of expression he has been wearing and even less does he know which he is making now, but in his rush to break eye contact and pretend he wasnât listening in, he knocks over his coffee and the drink spills all over his table. âah!â he yelps and stands up before the liquid can stain his clothes, but the sudden movement knocks his chair backwards and it tilts over. ears growing burning red, it feels as though every single person in the cafe is looking at him, and he can feel the rising discomfort in his chest and throat.
The thing about remaining in the area youâve become used to even after suffering an emotional turmoil was that the people you knew didnât seem to change despite your emotions doing so. He was embarrassed. Ashamed of being so weak. And most of all afraid to answer the question of âhow have you been?â.
Youngjae hated being sappy. He hated listening to stories of woe-be-me, and even worse was it to fire them off himself, but would he even be able to give a convincing âIâm okayâ anymore? Once upon a time he could -- he didnât care who he lied to and it didnât matter anyway. But when he saw Haruto in the train he wanted nothing more but to get off immediately, run away before the kid could see him and he had to indulge in pointless mandatory formalities about this and that and where and what not. It seemed that digging his nose further into his book didnât help much in passing my unnoticed as the younger had already laid eyes on him. Sighing, the artist closed his eyes for a moment and then directed them to behold the youthful face.
âWatanabe,â he called the otherâs surname and closed his book around his thumb as to not lose his place. âIâve taken this train every morning at this hour for three years, and this is the first time I see you in here. It leads me to think that this isnât your usual morning route, so why are you here? It canât be some stupid reason like you getting on the wrong train.â
The sun was beginning to set painting the sky above the city a deep golden yellow with splashes of orange and pink. The light fell across the book Yunho had open behind the till, bathing the pages in a warm light. He wished he was outside instead of inside the convenience store with its buzzing florescent lights and whirring freezers, though he did enjoy the coolness of it all instead of being struck by the hotness and humidity that was a staple of Seoul summers. Sighing, he glanced out the glass pane tapping his pen against his book.
It had been pretty slow going so far, not too many customers coming in. He knew things would pick up relatively soon, especially with people who wanted something to drink as the evening wore on. Yunho was grateful for the job as it helped towards paying his bills and somehow he'd made enough over the past few years to be able to afford having an actual flat instead of living in a goshiwon, but he just hadn't found a roommate yet. There was no way he'd shell out a down payment for his own place but if he could just move in somewhere... with someone...
The sound of the door opening knocked him out of his thoughts, his eyes landing on the newly arrived customer. It was a familiar face making Yunho grin and nod at him in greeting. "Seunghun-ah, what do you want today? More ice cream? You know that it'll all catch up to you one day."
These parties were dull as ever. They were two hours into this wine tasting night and a younger Kyungsoo would be feeling the first wave of boredom by this time and desperate for a way out. Luckily for everyone, the current day Kyungsoo was far better at concealing his emotions behind a smile and had at least three more hours left in him. The abundance of expensive alcohol being offered around by the caterers also helped. Kyungsoo allowed himself two glasses of wine, which was just enough to put a little warmth into his eyes and make it easier to laugh at all of the rich auntiesâ awful jokes.Â
Everything was going smoothly and Kyungsoo basked in the comfort of routine. This charming, dutiful grandson role was one familiar to him and a predictable party was exactly what he needed to get back into the swing of things-
A waft of lavender brushed past his skin, the scent was faint but it hit Kyungsoo harder than the most pungent perfume and triggered a memory that he had managed to keep buried for the past five years.Â
Please, no. He whipped around - his body moved of its own accord before his mind could command it to run in the opposite direction. Why now? His fingers slowly clenched into fists as his eyes focused on the owner of that sweet lavender scent. Oh Sehun, why?
tw; obsessive thoughts, some casual swearing
The young man was talking to one of the caterers with a sheepish smile, eyes sparkling under the chandelier lights. He had a glass in his hand half full of red wine and the faintest rosiness to his cheeks that Kyungsoo wanted to lean in and just touch. The past five years turned Oh Sehun from an attractive teenage boy to a handsome young man. The look in his eyes, however, was the same - still innocent, still mischievous...still the person Kyungsoo saw in both his daydreams and nightmares.Â
Kyungsoo clutched his fists tighter until he felt his own nails digging into the soft padding of his palm. It hurt, but not as much as the call of this fucking siren song did. Kyungsooâs kryptonite was literally standing less than two meters away and he could ruin everything.Â
âNot this time,â he whispered quietly to himself as he turned around. It took a decent dose of will power but Kyungsoo managed to make himself walk away. He excused himself to the guests, trying to keep himself together even though inside he was a jumbled mess. âJust walk the fuck away, Do Kyungsoo. You donât need to think about him anymore.â But he really couldnât help it. Even useless little details seem to linger when Oh Sehun was involved. For examine, his lavender scent was more sugary than most of the other peopleâs lavender scents. It was strange, but Kyungsoo had a theory it was because the other consumed so much milk tea-
Rain hit him, icy cold and refreshing. Kyungsoo didnât even notice that he made it outside. Thinking about Oh Sehun sometimes made him lose track of time as well as space and he really, really wanted it to stop. He took a deep breath, letting the sound of rain push aside his obsessive thoughts and slowly return his mind to a state of calmness.Â
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Music popping in his eardrums was always the best way to stroll about the city if you asked Eric. There was a lot of unwanted noise buzzing about, but this way one could efficiently drown it all out while at the same time seeking enjoyment in oneâs favourite artists. It was a win win situation no matter how you looked at it. If he had to look for one and only one drawback however, it had to be the fact that he always found himself having a hard time containing his movements when listening to music. The dances he had taught himself throughout the past years were many, but even the ones he didnât know made him bop his body along, sticking out greatly from the streamlined crowds. Somehow moving your legs to the beat of the music while sitting in a train wasnât a common thing. How could these people even contain themselves? He would never know.
This time however wasnât a train, but the streets of Gangnam and he had only just been let out of school. From here on out he would have to take his commute back home, but it wasnât extraordinary for Eric to take his time before going back. Who knew what heâd be doing today? Certainly not him, but he had just got his allowance the previous day and was ready to blast it all on the first and the best thing he saw. Which of course also put him in an incredibly good mood. Good enough to twist his body in a spin as the music hit a good spot and start moonwalking... straight into someone else. Surprised, Eric pulled the ear bud out and cried out an apology. âOh my god Iâm so sorry, I didnât pay attention at all!â
there are good days, and there are not so good days. and park jihyo is having a not so good day.
most days she tries to just shake it off, because sheâs never seen the use in being sad for too long. but itâs more difficult, here in korea: the last time she was here it had been just her, and her father, and her motherâ her mother, when she was still alive and well, and breathing, and dancing, and, well.
when she wasnât ... not living.
the mall sheâs in was brand new when she and her mother first came the first time; now its food court sprawls wider than her four year old mind couldâve ever imagined. from her seat, jihyo can see just how much bigger the whole place has gotten: there are stores for shoes and other ballet equipment, stores her mother wouldâve adored, and people bustle to and fro, no one stopping to pay attention to the girl glancing wistfully at the moving escalators, the bright lights, the mothers and young daughters hand in hand.
they pay attention to the falling noodles, though. shit.
âshit.â jihyo voices aloud now, and as she bends down from her chair to scoop to glance helplessly at her fallen lunch, a sensation grips her, one sheâs long tried to hold back.
and before she can help herself tears begin to well up at the corners of her eyes â shit â
and now they just. wonât. stop.Â
moments free of schedules are quite the rarity for donghan nowadays, who spends most days working at the cafe from 10am until 6pm, with one hour to spend on downing dinner before working his usual night shift at the convenience store. if heâs lucky, he makes it home before sunrise, gets about 3 hours of sleep before repeating the same routine. on his days off, like today, he makes sure to catch up on that minimal 6 hour sleep and spends the rest of the day relaxing and playing with his cat. most of the time, however, today he has decided to go out, take a stroll, see where life takes him;
the movie theatre - that is where donghan finds himself standing inside at the evening, looking up at the list of possible movies he could watch. perhaps that movie âyouâre nameâ, a lot of people are talking about it nowadays - plus it is an animated movie, a personal favorite genre. donghan nods to himself, walks forward to the register to buy his ticket, but as he lifts his gaze after retrieving his wallet from his pocket, he freezes momentarily, stares at the male behind the register that looks oddly familiar, yet he canât put a finger on where exactly he had seen the other before. he wasnât a regular at the cafe, and donghan is pretty sure the other wasnât someone he knew from the convenience store.
the nineteen year old is still staring, silent, brows pinched into a frown as he tries to solve the mystery of the universe. his thoughts end up with hyunbin, his friendâs phone gallery and - â ah! â donghan exclaims, leaning forward with his elbows onto the register as heâs wearing a bright smile onto his lips. â arenât you a friend of my boyfriend? uhm - sang... sanggoon? â Â