#idhani

Fame and wasted time go hand-in-hand. It doesn’t feel ironic so much as it seems a little funny, if not pathetic: spending so much of her day sitting in the make-up chair; travelling from one schedule to the next; waiting around for their call to stage, all for those few precious minutes in front of a camera where she’s supposed to feel like a god. A younger her, with MSG’s carefully crafted concept tacked onto her like a scarlet letter, had felt out of her own body underneath the spotlight, ill-fitted to the role she’d been given. Now, comfortable in her own skin, she finds she enjoys the process the whole way through, from exposition to denouement. She’s spent far too long waiting for singular, big moments  — it’s time she invested in all the little ones that come with it.

Nevertheless, the lull between recording periods remain long and often aimless. As a rookie, she’d planted herself in the cramped waiting room, rooted in rehearsing her moves; her smile; her lines, until it was time to perform. On occasion, there’d be the coming out of her cocoon only to bow deeply to her seniors, offer their album; the regular networking bullshit. It’s odd, now, this role reversal: to walk the halls as a sophomore artist and spot young groups flitting around; their expressions nervous but eager, their hands trembling as they shove their EP in front of her. She smiles at them all, speaks easy, gives whatever advice they ask for and tells them that she’s really not that scary, she promises. It’s easy to understand their growing pains when she’s gone through them herself.

It’s when she finishes saying goodbye to one last group that she spots the girl she’s been looking for: Chae Hani, in all her blonde-haired glory. Despite the trajectory of her friend’s group (a topic run to the ground by Hani herself over hundreds of meals), she’s glad that Hani’s sub-unit’s promotions came to overlap with hers — it was a way for them to pass the time, to catch up.

Cursory ‘hello’s and small talk is exchanged with Hani’s group members — familiar, friendly conversation — before she turns her attention to Hani herself. “Hani-ya,” Mona’s tone is lilting, teasing and light as she sidles up to her friend, arms linking out of habit, “you’re looking pretty today, as usual. Did your recording go well?”

@idhani

Hojun has not debuted, but he already sees beyond that, already has a plan, already has desires. It’s strange. Back when he was a teenager, he couldn’t see beyond his next lukewarm paycheck. He was a graduate living with his mother, and frankly, quite a shitty cashier. He did not expect a future back then, aside from more or less the same. Being a waste. An iljin with no purpose. He never had any passion or drive or motivation aside from getting into a hell of a brawl. Being a trainee was just another way to kill time, another way to keep him from a gang life. Now, it is everything in his life. It is his entire being, has been for nearly six years. But it isn’t going to be his life forever and he knows it. Of course, not many people know just how ambitious he has become. Hani is one of the few who is privy to such dark thoughts.

His mother never gave him siblings and he isn't even sure where the hell his father is, but he has always wanted them. Maybe that is why he is attached to Hani. She is barely a year younger than him, but he sees her as the little sister he never had. Maybe it’s because her home is somehow more broken than his, but he feels the need to look after her. And if it just so happens they are occasionally caught on camera and give Hojun some exposure before his debut, so be it.