#idjunseo

last minute practice session in santiago, chile with @idjunseo

Mijung went through the beats of the choreography in her head. Out of instinct, her body followed, but her movements were small and subtle. She wasn’t dancing so much as skimming through the moves. She could do the Ma Boy choreography blindfolded. It was painfully simple. A waste of her time and talent just to be used to fill up the stage when everyone’s eyes would only be on the two idols. But Mijung knew that this was the cost of being a trainee and that she should feel honored to have been invited halfway across the world to South America just to do such a simple little dance. And she did. It was why she was even bothering with this practice in the first place. Mijung told herself that at least.

There was another reason that she wouldn’t admit to anyone, not even herself. Mijung was nervous. Scared, even. It seemed silly — it was silly — to be anxious about doing the easiest dance she’d ever learned on stage. She’d done it before. Mijung had been one of Heaven1004′s backup dancers during their promotions last year. None of this was new, with one exception: the location of the stage. 

Mijung had never been out of Korea before, much less to a different continent. Until she became of a trainee, she’d never even been out of Busan. Seoul seemed like such a large adjustment at the time. Santiago? It blew that out of the water. Forget about her Busan satoori not always being understood. Mijung didn’t even speak the language of Chile. She was completely at the mercy of the staff members that did. It was overwhelming to feel so out of her depth. She felt helpless. It was only natural that Mijung turn to dance. It had always been her pillar in times of stress. Dance knew no language. It was universal. 

“I’d rather be practicing your dance than mine, Sunbae” Mijung said to Junseo. It was true. Imperial’s choreography was infinity more dynamic than Heaven1004′s. Still, she was happy just to have something to do to take her mind off of her situation. Junseo’s presence helped. It was comforting to be around someone she knew, doing something they both shared. “Perhaps we should trade.”

@idjunseo, after filming for ep 1 of dancing9.

the teams are finalized, and they’re left clumped together in their new color-coded labels. red and blue. so simplistically primary. but it doesn’t really feel that way when san meets junseo’s eyes, when they’re pulled on the same side of that dividing line. and san, like most of his schedules, hadn’t picked this. hadn’t fought for it. midas had just written it down, and off he’d been shipped. he hadn’t wanting to make a re-acquaintance out of junseo. and san knows that junseo feels much the same way about him. old rivalries. soured emotions. in the end, in that midas free-for-all battle, san supposes he won. the reward, in the end, seemed lacking. 

a quiet part of him might wonder what junseo feels for the whole affair. but san’s not so receptive to listening to it.

but ryu san is nothing if not shackled to his image, his fake persona within the group. so when they’re grabbed one by one to discuss their groups, it nearly comes naturally. as natural as the unnatural can sound, at least. “it will be so nice working with dahyun, as she’s my label mate, so we can already understand each other’s styles.” that’s the easiest, the most basic. but does anyone expect anything more than vaguely sweet and largely basic when they sit him down in front of the camera anymore? “and maybe you know? actually, before milo was a part of atlas, he used to dance backup for olympus. so i’m really excited for this opportunity to work with him now that he’s managed to prove himself as such a talented dancer.” that comes next.

he wonders if their fans will fight each other more than they already do because it. “sejun’s in atlas too, so i think it will be really interesting to work with them. i’m really a fan of atlas’ choreography.” san admits, and that’s his kernel of truth before the storm of a lie he’s about to tell on junseo’s behalf. the interviewer perking up with a hidden detail “so i heard that you and junseo used to train at midas together for a bit.” and san has to smile. what else can he do? but he’s been in this game for long enough that it doesn’t trip him up so much as drag up that blanket of perfected polite and obnoxiously shy.

“yes, we trained together when we were a lot younger. actually, i remember wanting to get close to him. but i think i just found him intimidating? i guess i was even more shy, then.” a bashful smile, and san hides it behind his fingers. this is very much calculated. junseo’s in a scandal, and he hopes he can stir it up. hopes there are olympian keyboard warriors out there raging about how san had enough sense to stay away from him. hopes it raises at junseo’s hackles. “it would have been nice to get closer to more of my same-age friends and make precious memories. but maybe we can do that now on the show. it’s regrettable that our interests never managed to match up before olympus’ lineup was finalized.”

sightseeing in santiago, chile with @idjunseo

Four and a half months. That’s how long Danny had been waiting for a chance to stretch his legs. MSG management had been (understandably) upset with him for a full quarter of a year, but finally they seemed to be easing up. Surely you don’t send artists you don’t trust on international trips, even if they were for work. Danny was surprised they even let him come to Chile at all. They could’ve used any number of excuses for his absence, from a fictional injury to the tried and tested “personal issues”. Seokyung hyung could have easily covered his lines or split them with the other lead rapper. By letting him go on this trip, MSG was giving a show of faith. A peace offering. This was one gift horse Danny didn’t intend on looking in the mouth. 

Danny’s buoyant nature often meant it was hard to keep him down, but his new year’s disaster had put him in a funk. But for the first time since January, things were looking up. Danny wanted to enjoy the moment while it lasted. What better way to do that than go exploring with Junseo hyung? How much trouble could he possibly get into in a country where he didn’t even speak the language, after all.

In the hotel lobby, Danny sat rummaging through his bag as he waited for Junseo to come down from his room. 1nferno’s styles would have had an episode if they saw the round purple sunglasses/tie-dye shirt/track pants combo Danny picked out for the day. They’d learned long ago not to let him dress himself whenever possible, but as there were no performances that day, they were off the clock and Danny’s wardrobe was everyone else’s problem. 

“Sun screen, power bank, water...” Danny murmured to himself, ticking things off his mental list of things he thought they’d need. He’d done this since he was a kid, going out with his younger siblings and his mother or grandparents. Danny was known for being irresponsible, but he’d be damned if any of his friends or siblings ever got a sunburn while they were out together. Danny was the “mom friend” if that mom was also a thirteen year old boy. He was just as likely to offer a friend a granola bar as he was to jump off a ledge on a dare. 

When he was satisfied that he remembered to pack everything important, Danny zipped his bag and looked up. Ah, and there was Junseo hyung. Danny smiled a gummy smile. Perfect timing.

with @idjunseo at sbs gayo daejun afterparty, everything is good for once

it’s not the ideal situation, it’s far from it.

jungah’s screams still ring on her ears. did you do it on purpose, jiyeon? did you do it to spite im sooyeon? are you out of your mind, jiyeon? are you going to throw your entire career away for a man, jiyeon? are you going to tarnish aurora’s reputation for this? what is this? it’s not a relationship, jiyeon. it’s not healthy, jiyeon. what are you doing?

jiyeon doesn’t know.

she couldn’t answer jungah, couldn’t do anything but sit and listen as her siser went on a tirade, cursed jiyeon over and over again. that’s a rookie mistake, you’re better than this. jiyeon knows. it was a slip of her finger, a moment of pure lack of attention and a time of reaction not fast enough. it was junseo kissing her neck while she tried to post something, it was his arms around her, bringing her closer and closer.

it’s cathartic in a way. cyclical. it all started because of him, because of them, years ago when he was a rookie and she was a trainee. it was an i can’t do this anymore and a i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry. so it sounds right that her first scandal as an idol, as an actress, is with him. but who else could it be, who else could be there with her when every important milestone in her life was with na junseo? there is no one else, there was never anyone else.

jiyeon thought she would care. she thought she would cry and toss her phone away, would leave social media and disappear for a while. but it happened, it came and went and jiyeon had no reaction to it besides texting junseo to know how he was doing. she heard her manager complain, heard her manager look at her, say i knew you would be the first to cause trouble, i fucking knew it jiyeon and sighed because she was right. jiyeon was always the black sheep of aurora, the scarlet letter in their pristine behavior and reputation.

but she had them, her girls, her sisters. they hugged her, let her know it was okay, everything would be okay. so she didn’t mind it, not when she had their support. and junseo. she had junseo. she has junseo.

she had junseo at that moment when they were both in bed, talking and laughing, and she has him now when she finds him at some quiet corner of the party. he, sitting there by himself, waiting for her. she has him now when she smiles, so happy, so carefree. 

Send me 🌟 to find out what my muses wishes for this Christmas. (ie. something metaphysical)

Send me 🎅 to find out what my muse would ask Santa for Christmas this year. (i.e. a physical object)

( yellow, 3gp ; a drunk noah drags @idjunseo to a “dance battle” on a table. )

alcohol does something.

weird somethings.

it triggers. lets inhibitions run loose and wild. he lost his white sheet some minutes ago—or hours ago; he lost track of time, too. pretty sure sophia stole it, too. noah loses everything as he wobbles to a table and thinks, thinks it can suffice as a stage. because dancing on a designated platform brings less shame than dancing on furniture. it comes off less tasteless. 

but who cares, right.

noah’s drunk and embarrassment be damned. he won’t remember this, anyway. he’ll forget. this night never happened. well, that’s what he reiterates to himself once he’s a foot away from junseo. might as well try to help himself sleep at night with delusions.

a few more unstable steps, and noah’s draping his entire body on the younger member, drawling nearly incomprehensible slurs. “aye, mate.” and his accented korean is atrocious. hard on the ears. bitter on the tongue. but he chews it out, smiling crookedly through the pain of hearing himself. “don’t you fancy a little dance battle?” noah does, and he doesn’t. his body is buzzing. he needs to move. jive. groove or however people call it nowadays.

he just needs to do something. anything. restless. before he goes mad. the dare of dancing on a table is a perfect excuse. and he thought it was stupid earlier on. pfft.

so he’s pushing junseo towards a table spacious enough. steady enough. of course, this is all assumptions of an intoxicated man with vision muddied around the edges, marred by vodka or whiskey or a lot of both. and beer. can’t forget that.

whatever, whatever

he crawls on a chair, nearly topples it off balance and breathes. one, two, three. the world spin. the air feels warmer up high. or that can be the natural inebriated glow. “so, yeah. dancing!” he nearly forgets why he’s there, facing junseo. “we should settle who’s better.” a joke; noah’s a joke. he’ll blame the drinks later on.

For: @idjunseo Word Count: 989 words Plot: Flashback to Yeongshik and Junseo’s trainee days at 99 Entertainment in early 2015. Yeongshik’s tardiness and poor attitude in dance class has sparked a serious conflict of interest.

It was the early in the year of 2015. The winter had consumed the entire city of Seoul in a blanket of freshly fallen snow and a solid two days of overcast skies. The city of hopes and dreams felt dark and hopeless for the 99 Entertainment trainee as he deliberately dragged his feet just a little too slowly to the company building.

He had applied and joined this company under the pretense of something greater in his future. He wanted nothing more than to sing and to share his thoughts and dreams with those who were willing to listen, but this company had a tight grip on their collection of students. They whispered promises of fame and fortune, but it was hard to see that bright light when your tunnel was filled with mindless, useless dance lessons and personality training.

Yeongshik had considered quitting many times, but his pride kept him from going anywhere. Though not, apparently, to his dance lessons. For the last week each time he walked to the door that lead to the dancing studio, his heart dropped to his feet, and his stomach wanted to lurch out of his throat while his mind screamed, ‘This isn’t me, this isn’t me!’ How much longer would he be able to keep forcing himself to do this? How many more times could he possibly fail doing a basic step-ball-change and body wave? His pride demanded that he see this training through, but his heart and mind continued to scream at him to run and hide.

He walked around the back of the building and took the stairwell up to the third floor. Each heavy footfall echoed loudly sounding the toll of his inevitable doom. He exhaled a little too loudly as he shoved the door open with his shoulder and stumbled into the blinding lights of the 99 Entertainment building. The building was brilliantly designed with proud posters and plaques of their successful artists and awards. Each day he came to this building, he stared at them longingly. He didn’t necessarily know who each artist was, as pop music wasn’t his preferred genre of music, but he envied them for their successful debuts and careers all the same. Some loud, chattering noises of fellow trainees bellowed through the halls. Yeongshik’s eyes remained ahead, though his ears picked up on their sudden change in conversation from bellowing laughter to soft snickers and crude comments. One of the boys, despite being considerably younger than Yeongshik, deliberately walked a little too close so that his shoulder tackled hard into the guitar that was strapped onto his back.

The older trainee cursed loudly and used the inertia of the tackle to whip himself around and raised his fist to fight back, but they had already rushed out of his immediate grasp, shouting names and insults as they left.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Yeongshik hissed as he quickly pulled his guitar off of his shoulders and unzipped the soft cover to check if there was any damage done.

He pulled the guitar out and gave it a quick once over. Luckily there was no substantial damage done, but now that he had his guitar in his hands, the urge to skip his dance class and go straight to vocal was even stronger. However, the name calling and newfound rage made him want to try. Reverse psychology was such a bitch.

Yeongshik was almost ten minutes late after he had finished changing and had locked away his belongings in the change room. He quietly pushed open the door into the class and snuck into the back row of the classroom. The music was almost deafening, but the teacher’s voice somehow managed to carry itself over the volume and directly into each students’ ear drums.

“One and two and—Yeongshik-ssii. So glad you decided to join us. And four and five! Keep your eyes straight!”

Yeongshik bowed his head low as he shuffled to his usual spot and struggled to catch up with the more advanced warm ups that they had learned during his absence. He was a good beat behind, and a few of the students in his row shot him disapproving glares through the mirror. He deliberately adverted his gaze and struggled just to get through the first session without causing much of a fuss. It was no secret that Yeongshik hated dancing. The teacher didn’t seem to take it personally, but she also didn’t take it as an excuse either. Her hands were as cold as ice as she snapped his arms and legs into the proper positions that seemed impossible for his body to hold. However, after a handful of attempts to help him, she abandoned him to his own devices and proceeded to focus on the students who actually cared.

They went for a solid hour with no rest, and Yeongshik was certain that the entire lower half of his body was going to fall off.

“Excellent form, Junseo-ah!” The teacher praised from the far left of the room. “Please assist your partner, he seems to be struggling.” She said while pointing her chin at Yeongshik.