#itsmekimd

the  emergency  stairwell  is  dead  silent,  but  taeoh’s  head  is  loud  enough  to  drown  out  the  noise  of  the  whole  building.  it’s  the  same  old  pattern  --  the  way  kh  strips  you  down  until  there’s  nothing  left  to  bruise,  then  asks  why  you’re  bleeding  on  their  clean  floors.  "...since  you  missed—"  he  missed  a  lot,  and  that's  not  a  doubt.  he  knows  that  himself.  but  why  does  it  seem  like  they're  trying  to  tell  him  that  he's  not  capable  of  catching  up,  of  proving  himself,  of  making  decisions  for  his  group?  was  coming  back  with all his limbs still intact not  enough?  was  humiliating  him  in  front  of  everyone  inside that meeting room necessary?  their  words  kept  floating  in  the  dark  behind  his  eyes  like  a  cheap  led  sign  that  won't  stop  blinking.  "...we  need  to  consider  your  capacity."  capacity?  that's  such  a  hilarious  word  to  use  for  a  human  being  who  gave  the  teenage  years  of  his  life  to  a  company  that  wouldn't  even  pay  for  his  cab  ride  to  the  emergency  room  when  he  gave  out.

he  rests  his  forehead  against  the  concrete  wall,  letting  the  harsh  texture  press  into  his  skin  just  to  anchor  himself.  he’s  so  tired.  he’s  tired  of  being  the  adult,  tired  of  playing  the  martyr,  tired  of  calculating  every  single  word  before  it  leaves  his  mouth  like  a  politician  trying  not  to  lose  an  election.  "...we  have  to  be  realistic."  fuck  being  realistic.  they  didn't  want  realistic;  they  wanted  him  docile.  they  wanted  him  to  sit  there  with  his  hands  folded  in  his  lap,  smile  for  the  camera,  and  pretend  he  didn't  notice  they  were  slowly  carving  out  his  spine  and  handing  it  to  somebody  else  he  also couldn't  blame.  because  why  would  he?

and  then  daehyun.  god,  daehyun.

"...he’s  the  leader."  the  line  echoes  through  the  stairwell,  sharp  and  uninvitedly  cutting  through  the  red  haze  in  taeoh's  mind.  it’s  not  even  the  fact  that  daehyun  said  it  --  it’s  the  way  his  voice  sounded  when  it  ripped  out  of  his  throat.  "...you all  ran  him  to  the  ground—"  nobody  talks  to  the  board  like  that.  nobody.  especially  not  someone  whose  whole  career  depends  on  the  goodwill  of  middle-aged  men  in  tailored  suits  who  view  twenty-somethings  as  disposable  assets.

taeoh  doesn't  want  to  come  off  rude  or  ungrateful.  he  really  doesn't.  deep  down,  past  the  humiliation,  a  part  of  him  is  stunned  by  what  the  younger  man  did  --  no  one  has  ever  stood  up  and  taken  a  bullet  for  him  like  that,  especially  not  against  executive  management.  but  the  absolute  terror  of  watching  daehyun  torch  his  own  safety  just  to  defend  him,  is  so  overwhelming  it  makes  taeoh  feel  like  he's  drowning.  he  has  no  idea  how  to  handle  being  protected.  so,  when  he  hears  the  emergency  door  click  open  and  pull  back  against  its  hinges,  his  defense  mechanisms  kick  in.  if  taeoh  doesn't  act  angry  right  now,  he's  certain  that  he's  going  to  completely  fall  apart.

he  turns  his  head  a  little  to  the  sound  before  turning  around,  leaning  his  back  against  the  wall  as  his  jaw  aches  from  how  hard  he’s  been  clenching  it.

there was quite the small practice room all the across the kh entertainment building that most idols didn't care to use. it was something of a popular spot for rookies back when skyler was one; most debuted idols tended to go for the larger, spacious rooms which left this one a bit more free—there was no chance of being seen by staff or senior idols alike, which felt a lot less nervewrecking when you were a rookie trying to reach the bar being raised right before your eyes with every group's newest comeback.

(at least, that's how he felt way back when.)

as usual, he's making the trek to that room once more, messenger bag looped around his shoulder with his handy ipad inside, and a cup full of the protein smoothie he made himself for extra strength in hand—anything to get through his late night practice session, when he needed to go all in on preparing for wonder's next comeback. he had no reason to slack off when the other boys were working so hard.

he enters his code into the door, not knocking as he wasn't expecting anyone else's presence… only to pause in his tracks.

there was someone here, someone who he's seen plenty of times before, actually. through posters, and photocards, and wallpapers on his sister's phone—origin's d, or well, daehyun. he truly didn't think anyone else used this room at the same time as him, so now he feels the cold weight of embarrassment on his shoulders.