#id.open

open starter, on the set of kbs the showtime

Cheerful voices reading quips from a card floated backstage only to be drowned out by the flurry of activity. The calm on tv monitors belied the effort that went into each and every performance. Idols practicing in the wings, stage hands readying the next stage, lighting and sound checks, hair and make up making last minute adjustments, the odd stylist running with needle and thread trying to sew up something a particularly clumsy idol ripped. Daewon always had trouble deciding which part he liked most about being on a music show: the actual performance or watching everything that went on behind the scenes. It was a window into how much effort everyone put into this idol world of theirs. It wasn't just about him. Everyone's hard work meant something.

His make up and hair mostly finished, Danny ventured out from 1nferno's dressing room. Well, snuck out might be a better term. He'd only be gone for a little while; they might not even miss him. Danny certainly hoped the managers wouldn't. He just had to be part of the energy, be part of something bigger, more meaningful than watching himself get made up. Danny weaved his way through the backstage traffic. He wasn't headed anyplace in particular; he didn't have a plan. He just wanted to find a spot where he could stand and watch, observe. Somewhere he wouldn't necessarily be noticed, where his reputation as 1nferno's resident troublemaker wouldn't take away from everything around him.

Danny found his lookout spot near the wings. It was out of the way but still gave him a good view of both the stage and the chaos all around it. He leaned back against a stack of black painted boxes. Arms folded across his body, lips turned upward into a slight, closed-mouth smile, Danny watched. He'd been feeling restless lately, itching for something more than what he had. Moments like this, stolen away behind the scenes, helped. They reminded Danny that even if it felt useless, pointless, to play the dumb kid all the time, all the effort that went into maintaining that public persona help make the efforts of people in his company, people just like those running around, chasing a last-minute solution, worthwhile.

open starter, december 2018, secluded practice room

Mijung sat at the piano, fingers pressing into the keys, playing a nameless tune. She stared, eyes unfocused, ahead at the sheet music in front of her. She’d been sitting at the piano for fifteen minutes, playing, ignoring what she was really meant to be doing: singing. It wasn’t like her, to avoid hard work. Normally, she’d just push through it, use her frustration to motivate her. But even Mijung, known for working so hard and never stopping, had her off days. Days like this one when the mountain seemed too high to climb. Her fingers stilled as a particularly intrusive thought entered her mind. 

It’s because you’re not good enough. That’s why you aren’t practicing. You’ll never be as good as Yoojung, no matter how many hours you spend. That’s why you haven’t debuted. You aren’t good enough. You’ll never be good enough.

Mijung’s fingers slammed down on the piano keys; a discordant tone echoed through the room. She couldn’t think like that. It wasn’t true. She’d make it untrue. Mijung pushed herself and the bench away from the piano. The legs scrapped along the floor and made an ugly, screeching noise. It helped. It helped ground her. It helped drown out the negative thoughts. 

Fifteen minutes too late, Mijung finally began her practice in earnest. She began with a vocal warm up. Twenty minutes of scales was never particularly fascinating, but in a way, it was calming. She could blank out her mind, focus only on the task at hand. There was very little to make complicated, to work herself up about. When she was done warming up, Mijung went over to her bag and pulled out a binder. In it were the sheet music for a few dozen songs her vocal coach suggested she consider for her year-end review. A small pocket in her bag held an accompanying CD of instrumentals. 

Mijung removed the CD from it’s case and placed it in a CD player in the corner of the room, binder under her arm. She sat next to the CD player, binder open on the floor, and hit play. As the music started, Mijung began to sing along. Did the tone of her voice match the mood of the song? Did it match what she was trying to convey to the executives, that she was ready to debut? Mijung didn’t often rely on gut reactions, but it just didn’t feel right. She skipped to the next song, then the next and the next, all less than halfway through. None of these showcased the best parts of her voice. Frustrated, Mijung turned the music off entirely, got up and again walked to the piano. 

Wei did not do scandals. Not even when he was a rich little heir, not even when his dad disowned him, hell, not even when he became a model despite being the son of a C.E.O. He was good at spinning everything, making it seem like there was nothing seedy or inappropriate or controversial going on at all at any point in time. It was part of his appeal with 1nferno; he was nice, dependable, responsible Wei. It made him seem boring, but it also meant he would never bring shame upon the group, upon the other boys, upon his family. He already had a strained relationship with his dad; no need to exacerbate the situation by embarrassing him. There had never been a reason to worry. Not until the situation with Jinhwan. Damn Jinhwan for ruining everything he worked for, all because of a stupid variety show.

Admittedly, he should not have taken the bait and destroyed all mentions of him off his Instagram, but once Jinhwan did it, really there was no reason for him not to retaliate, to keep the memory of him around in any capacity. Except it would cause a scandal; of course it would. And of course the pann post would appear the day of his comeback with 1nferno. After he had avoided scandal for years and Danny fixed his own issues. He had brought this on himself for giving in to his emotions. Still, admitting that did not make him feel any better. In fact, it made him more upset.

Jia was nervous. Her stomach was crawling into itself. She tried to compose herself, but nothing was helping as she waited for her turn. Wasn't debuting supposed to be the difficult part? Why was she so nervous right now? Maybe it was because of the spectacle or because they were surrounded by so much talent, but Jia never felt so inadequate in her life and they were barely doing rehearsals. She wanted to crawl back home and cuddle in bed with a warm blanket and some Nightmare on Elm Street, but that was not an option. She was not moving from her spot. Jia was an integral part of Nighrmare and she loved what she did, even if no one else did. 

That was the rub, wasn’t it? Nightmare had no mainstream popularity. She could receive all the fan letters in Spanish she wanted, it would never make her money in Korea. It would never guarantee her a solo career. She didn’t want Koala.T to ever think they were a mistake because they weren’t. They were different and interesting. They were an embodiment of who Jia was and she’d be damned if she let this fail. Of course, that meant an incredible amount of pressure. It meant being “Medea” was her life now.

My dearest Hojun,

Hojun’s mother enjoyed writing letters. He wasn’t sure why, considering a text was faster and they did that nearly every day, but she also sent him stuff by snail mail every two weeks. He sent them back, because he could not deny his mother that. He had denied her so much already, had made her cry so many times when he had come home with a cut lip or a bruised knuckle or a suspension slip. He couldn’t deny there was something comforting about handwritten letters, the way the y’s and the r’s blended together when she wrote cursive, the slope of her o’s, the droop in her s’s. It reminded of him watching her sign her name over and over. Park Ha-yoon. But she didn’t finish the letters like that, not to him. Instead she signed it “mom” and he blushed because his hands ran over the word over and over, again and again. He was a grown man and he still missed his mother. Maybe it was because he had to leave her as soon as he turned eighteen. There weren’t many constants in his life, except for her. 

She also sent one hell of a care package.

Those came more sparingly; money was tight, even though he was no longer living at home. He was the baker in the family, but his mom cooked like a pro. He hadn’t had any of her food in the longest time, but he swore he could smell the sent coming from out of the box. Instead of food though, he found another sweater she’d knitted and a box of chocolates. That part of his persona wasn’t a lie at least. He loved sweats, always had. One of the benefits of acting like a nice boy was he could eat cupcakes any time he wanted. No one would give him hell for it. He popped open the bag of chocolates right there on the bench, outside in the park. He never read his letters in the dorm. He noticed a familiar face and a smile broke out. A fake one, sure, but a smile nonetheless. He wanted to be alone, but it would be rude for him to not offer a chocolate piece.

open starter, december 29, 2018: kim mijung’s birthday

Mijung’s birthday had never been a big event. Sandwiched between Christmas and New Years, it always seemed a bit much to throw an extravagant celebration. That suited quiet, introverted Mijung just fine. Though her idol ambitions might imply otherwise, she hated being the center of attention. That was always her little sister’s job, anyway—stealing everyone’s attention. Mijung much preferred the small family dinners or trips to amusement parks.

Now and adult and far away from quiet family gatherings in Busan, Mijung’s attitude toward her birthday hadn’t changed. She never made a big deal of it. Few of her fellow trainees, coaches, teachers or seniors were even aware of it. They all had their own holiday celebrations to attend to. Mijung saw no reason to draw attention to herself. Announcing her birthday seemed self-centered and silly. All Mijung wanted for her birthday were calls from her parents, her closest friends. Just a reminder that the people she cared about most kept her in their hearts. She wouldn’t say no to an offer for a celebratory dinner, though.

Mijung began her birthday the way she began every day: a quick trip to the 99 Entertainment building. There a nice, long training session awaited her. Mijung thought about it and she supposed a genuine compliment, some positive feedback from an instructor or senior would be a nice birthday present. But she wasn’t the type to fish for compliments. Instead, Mijung put in more effort than usual, worked harder, if that was possible. By the time they broke for lunch, Mijung was quite pleased with how her birthday was going. She earned her compliment—a note of improvement from her vocal coach—and received text messages and birthday wishes from many of the people that mattered most to her. It was a pleasant, calm day. That was all Mijung could ever ask for.

                       sometimes doing things we used to                        reminds of who we used to be, and not always in a good way.                                                                                                   — b. sanderson                                                                    ★

maybe she’s being petty.

(but then again, this is ban hyera, and ... well, when is she ever not petty?)

the broadcasting station has become a kind of second home for hyera---obviously as an idol and the like, as it is for everyone, but for some reason it’s just ... different to her. when she’s not promoting, she’s filming---for a variety show, for a drama. and when she’s not filming, she’s auditioning, meeting with potential producers and directors for that ‘next big break’ everyone always seems to talk about.

(it happens to everyone, they say, well, when’s it going to happen to her?)

she can’t remember the last time she’s laid in her bed, gotten a good hour or so of shut-eye before her manager’s knocking on her door and shuffling her out the front door and into the passenger seat of their van. sure, she could catch up on some much-needed z’s at the hair salon, but the fluorescent lights and company of strangers has her wide awake, has her thinking that she can’t be wasting her time.

so she practices---her lines, of course, from various scripts. not choreography (never choreography) or the like for, by now, it’s been deemed useless to think progressing those kind of skills are vital to her career ... whatever that is right now. an idol? an actress? a general celebrity, maybe, but the thought of it has her seething, has her frustrated with the thought that that’s not good enough.

which such thoughts on her mind---and a busy schedule, to boot---it’s understandable that hyera’s grown a little ... irritable, though, a ‘little’ might be a bit of an understatement.

she’s sitting in her waiting room at the broadcasting station, as she always does, though her door’s wide open this time---something about the air conditioning not work, how the room needs air circulation, blah blah blah. and she overhears voices, loud enough to catch her attention and scan the faces of those loitering outside the room.

and something in her just snaps.

it’s not like she usually cares about whether her not her reputation as a senior in the industry is respected or not, but, chalk it up the lack of sleep or the lack of significant work, she’s sending daggers to the person across the way who she swears debuted after her.

open ! ;; 2am, on the streets of gangnam

restlessness is a constant feeling for dahyun as of late. it’s not normal for her, though. she’s usually the one content with where she is, what’s going on. she enjoys the time preparing for comebacks and the downtime she gets in between. even when she’s not happy she’s able to fake it for the sake of everyone else. and usually, eventually, she believes that she is happy and content. 

but not now.

now, every free moment she has needs to be filled with something. practicing, exercising, hook-ups. she practically begs for more schedules to fill the gaps, and she gets them. she wants to work on choreography? sure. a stint on hit the stage? you got it. with more activity comes more public presence. as far as midas is concerned, dahyun is always doing something unintentionally cute and getting herself noticed. so they present her with the idea of a solo, something she hadn’t expected. there are others who deserve it more, she thinks. but does that mean she should have to give up the chance? it’s a lot to think about.

it’s one of those nights where she can’t sleep, and she doesn’t want to sit in bed with her thoughts, so she makes a trip to the gym. maybe if she tires herself out, she’ll be able to sleep.

the idea works, and she feels the fatigue in her bones as she walks back towards her dorm. she isn’t expecting to hear someone call out her name.

“park dahyun!” 

she doesn’t think about the type of people that are also out at this time of night. she just stops and turns to face the person who has obviously recognized her. she doesn’t recognize him, but now he’s here in front of her. 

dahyun isn’t particularly short, but the man is tall and towers over her. he gets close enough that she can smell the alcohol and she instantly recognizes the signs of a man who has drank far more than his limit. still, she puts on a smile, though it’s obvious to anyone that she’s confused. “hello, i’m sorry, do i know you?”

“dahyun-ssi, you are even more beautiful in person! please take a picture with me.”

he doesn’t wait for a response. before she knows it, the strangers arm is around her shoulders and he’s holding his phone out to take a photo of the two. she tries to put on a smile for the fan until she feels his lips on her cheek. instinctually, she jerks away from him. “i have to go, i’m sorry.”

she begins to walk away quickly, but he follows, calling out to her. not knowing what else to do, she runs. it’s faster than the inebriated fan, but not fast enough to lose him completely, and she’s losing steam after her workout. thinking quickly, she darts into an open convenience store, hoping to find some kind of shelter from the man and the cold. the employee pays her no mind as she hides in the furthest part of the store, pulling out her phone quickly. she texts the first person to come to mind, sending her location as well.