have a little faith in me                                                                         just drop kick the shame @ftjiae​

                                                                             ( HONGDAE, DEC. 2013 )

seoul is a brutal, merciless place, and in more ways than just one. wintertime in the city is nothing to be taken lightly; junho had learned from the one day he was sure he could last busking in below zero degree celsius weather in late december without a heavy jacket — to which his experience with only busan and las vegas weather clearly lead his sense of judgmental askew. he looks back and recalls how detrimental that day felt when he had to race back to his friend’s apartment from hongdae to get his only winter coat and feared that any moment spent away from the neighborhood would jeopardize his chances of being noticed by some sort of talent scouter. 

he was new to the city, only a few months in but still feeling like the city’s biggest outsider. english was still fairly fresh in his mind at the time, a plus for those foreigners who came to visit hongdae to watch all the street performers. his language skill made him different, set him apart from everybody else who avoided interacting with the public at all costs; junho found it easy, more comfortable for him, even. he didn’t like the idea of closing people off: you never know where people came from, or better, who they knew. he was never quick to judge.

some days, though, the weather was just too brisk to stay out too long. his roommate had advised junho against more than a few hours at a time if the guitarist really insisted on staying out. he was a product of the south, of mild winters where snowfall wasn’t as frequent as it was in seoul, but junho was still determined, even in a blizzard, to make his dedication a statement.

when the streets start to empty because of the accumulating snowfall, junho decides maybe he shouldn’t let himself die of hypothermia today, either. he moves to seek refuge from the cold in jiae’s family’s convenience store, bowing as the bell above the door chimes.

@ftjiae / mission: write about your muse’s feelings moments before/during their first ever debut stage. 

suhee had heard some people say that debuting was like a dream come true. for her, that wasn’t the case. if anything, it felt more like she was being paid what she was due. she’d trained for five years, had been dreaming about it for nearly twice that again, done her stint on a survival show just to miss the mark when it came down to it         it felt purely and completely right to stand on stage as im suhee: main vocal, lead dance, center.

it just felt right, even if she was dressed up as a zookeeper and even if the choreography involved not being able to keep hold of a plushy banana prop and scratching her ass. she’d made her peace with her cuteness long ago now         used to be insecure about it, detrimentally so, perhaps. but now she’s accepted it, and plans on using it to her advantage. being able to pull off both sexy and sweet is going to come in handy, she imagines.

and there’s no one else she would rather walk out on that stage with than song jiae. she squeezes her hand before they get into their positions and thinks of how they  ( she, really )  might have reacted to their debut song a couple of years ago, how she would have turned up her nose at it. but she’s more mature now, thinks nothing of it as she winks at the camera and smiles big and wide. her moves are rehearsed, her voice doesn’t crack, everything is going just how it should, everything is running smoothly. she and jiae are like a well - oiled machine. sometimes suhee thinks that they work together in tandem better than they do apart, at least when it comes to creative affairs.