#idyerin

+ @idsophiawhat my muses wishes for this christmas ( metaphysical )

san stopped having dreams for himself a while ago. they were always given to him. by his mother. his management. and he took those dreams, indented his fingers into them enough to try and mold an additional piece for himself – a solo music career, a sound style he’d like to try. but those aren’t his own dreams. not really. they’re a by-product of what others wanted for him. san doesn’t know what he wants. maybe there’s nothing. it’s all he has, this career. once it’s gone, he’ll be gone, too. so what’s there to want? that’s what he might answer with. an ‘i don’t know,’ a shrug of his shoulders. but there’s something. there always is, isn’t there.

it’s not a dream. that wasn’t a lie. but he wants for something. he wants to finally reach that point of perfection, not for his own gain, and not for midas. but maybe when he reaches that uncertainly labeled point all those expectations will fall, and his mother will decide he’s proved whatever his worth is to her. that she’ll drop the pretenses and accept him. entirely. that she’ll pull him into her orbit and love him. that it won’t be taken away, snatched just out of reach because he hasn’t cleared the next hurdle in regards to his career. because there’s always something else.

it seems impossible. when his mind rocks back there late at night, when he can’t fall asleep. reaching that point. making her proud to the point where it doesn’t stop. where he’s deserving of her, of all that love. and he knows she loves him (she does. she must. of course. right?), and he knows he loves her. to the point of aching, and to the point of nausea when he manages to screw it all up (again. and again. and again. and aga-).

{a cold winters’ night, years ago @idyerin}

there’s something about winter that calls to sejun, reminds him of home when his parents would drag him and his brother through these ridiculous traditions they had started when they first got married. he used to think they were dumb, would whine and complain about having to participate. but now he misses them more than he ever thought he would. but living in the past isn’t healthy, had learned a long time ago it’s okay to remember but it’s also okay to make new traditions and new memories.

he’s excited for tonight, had been buzzing around all day in anticipation for what was to come. it wasn’t probably the best idea but sejun has never been good at hiding his thoughts or feelings, too often having it written across his face for everyone to see. staff had been bugging him all day, asking him what he was so excited for, leaving him to make up dumb excuses to escape their nosy questions, everything about being excited for lunch to dance practice. they’re dumb reasons, completely transparent but it seemed to work in his favor, giving him a little reprieve before starting up again.

and so by the end of the day, he learned to keep it all contained, to act exhausted by the time they had made it to the dorms. and finally when a sleepy lull had settled over the apartment, he had gotten up quickly, had managed to get ready and slide through the door without anyone catching him.

the streets of seoul weren’t quiet in the slightest. there was something about winter that drew people from their homes despite the freezing cold. like the air, filled with street lights and clouds from the breath of strangers, held some kind of magic.