#s.lo

the dark circles have been making themselves more and more prominent underneath his eyes for the past few weeks, and they didn’t go unnoticed. he can’t help it though, and for an individual like jung hoseok– who laughs like the sun is always shining, who waters his plants religiously, who can see the bright side in every single situation, not having enough sleep is taking a toll on his psyche.

he doesn’t know how he can though, all things considered. his phone remains dark no matter how messages he sends, no matter how much he wants to see the phone light up with an unread message– it remains stoic. endless sighs leave his lips and it becomes a routine– he simply can’t figure what else to do about it.

no matter how much he tries, his thoughts chase each other in circles and leave him more confused than before. the harder he thinks about it, the more his brain hurts and he’s never felt like this before. he can’t explain it– an odd feeling of emptiness. his hands fidget uncontrollably, fingers tugging at each other as his lips pull into a small frown.

before he realizes it, he drifts into an uneasy sleep.

and he dreams about the same thing, the same subject that plagues his mind even while he’s awake and has too much time to think. the same face, the same smile, the same laugh. they’re in gunhee’s apartment this time. it’s like old times– when things were simpler, when hoseok was happy all the time and he could always tell what gunhee was thinking. they are playing one of their favorite games together, some old racing one. hoseok’s loud voice fills the apartment as he whoops and hollers as the race ends. he’d lost a while ago, but he cheers gunhee on all the same. he always does.

a fist punches the air when gun crosses the finish line, and his eyes are crinkled into half-crescents as he turns to gunhee– and loses his breath. there’s an easy grin on his face and his hair is soft– unmarred by one of his caps or beanies, slightly overgrown bangs falling into his eyes. his mouth is moving, eyes still fixed on the screen, but hoseok can’t hear it. he continues to stare– as gunhee’s eyes finally drift over to meet his, the smile still lighting up his face.

and the first thing hoseok does is lean in without a second thought, hand coming up to rest on the side of gunhee’s face, thumb resting against his jaw as their lips press together– softly, effortlessly, and hoseok can’t help but think this– this is what he was trying to figure out.

a gasp catches in his throat as his eyes fly open, jerking awake in his seat, and he can’t breathe. his eyes blink rapidly as if they can stop the wetness suddenly and startling pooling at the corners but they begin slowly anyway– and he only notices when one drop, two drops hit the paper and stain the ink. and he looks down, incredulous little hiccups as he tries not to cry making his chest quake as he rubs at his eyes vigorously until the last page of his notebook swims into view, the last lines not scratched out by his sleepy hand– and everything falls into place.

you’re there but for some reason, i can’t reach you, stop–

the tears spill over. 

but the laugh that bubbles from his throat leave him feeling lighter than he has been in weeks.

the dramatic makeup was not something jung hoseok was used to. although he’s had it done several times in the past (courtesy of a certain older jung who has always loved to use him as her guinea pig), it’s been a while since the last time and hoseok nearly scares himself when walking in front of a mirror. but it’s not a look he hates, and hobi was always open to new things. he fusses over the two younger trainees before their turn, like the proper older brother he is. he hasn’t known soyeon for too long, but he hopes he’d given off a friendly impression. after all-- he’s always had a soft spot for his dongsaengs.

he forgets all about his bold makeup and outfit when the three of them are on stage. instead, he goes over the lyrics religiously in his head. one of hoseok’s insecurities has always been his ability to speak english, especially after living in the united states for a year. it’s not that he thinks it’s terrible, but his accent is something he is mindful of. so he’d practiced the pronunciation over and over, pushing it closer to where he wanted it to be before he was satisfied. 

he puts on his best smile (it’s natural, even without the one drawn onto and around his mouth) as the song begins, and does his best to remember the dynamic of the three characters they’d practiced for several weeks. he throws in some adlibs too, based on the personality description he’d researched with help from seungyoun.

kidnap the sandy claws throw him in a box bury him for ninety years then see if he talks

his acting skills are put to the test as he tries to add a sinister tone to his movements as well as his voice. singing has never been his strong point, but he knows that he’s not terrible at it, and he enjoys it as well. this song was a good fit for his singing style, and he emphasizes his parts with his loud voice.

he'll be so pleased by our success that he'll reward us too, i'll bet

it’s a little harder than usual for hoseok to focus, but he pins it on the odd nature of the performance, even though it was definitely a fun project. he bounces around on stage, interacting with the yougner two just like they’d rehearsed-- the jovial, playful atmosphere had to have been apparent to anyone who watched.

 kidnap the sandy claws, chop him into bits mr. oogie boogie is sure to get his kicks kidnap the sandy claws, see what we will see lock him in a cage and then throw away the key!

while most people perform worse when distracted or troubled, on the contrary, jung hoseok shines in his determination. he concentrates all of his efforts into one thing, casting all doubts and other burdens aside. he gets along well with his two younger partners, and being around their energy is almost (read: quite probably ) infectious, and there’s nothing artificial about the bright smiles or laughter when they’re working together.

and for the days leading up to the evaluation, aside from activities, he thinks little about anything else, preferring to spend his free time practicing, adjusting, talking with the other two trainees to make sure their performance is one that would impress.

he didn’t give himself time for anything else.

when the day comes and he, seungyoun and junhong are awaiting their turn, he stands quietly, adjusting seungyoun’s hair, smoothing out junhong’s shirt-- fixing a bright smile on his face and encouraging them. he is eerily calm himself, mind still stuck in work mode. and it’s hard to believe, that he gets to perform with trainees from other companies, let alone the dongsaeng he’d watched since the days the younger would follow his underground crew around, would dance with them as hoseok watched him improve more and more. if anything, he was sincerely grateful for this chance.

and the last thing he wanted to do was let him down.

as soon as the song starts, hoseok is focused, his tiny smile that is often interpreted as a smirk resting on his face. as usual when he dances, he doesn’t think-- he practices too much, too precisely to be worried during the performance that he’ll make a mistake-- he focuses only on the here and the now and focuses the rest of his energy into staying in position with the other two. and while he’d judged himself harshly during practice-- too robotic, too sharp, too sloppy, too, too, too... too obvious -- he’s completely relaxed on stage, riding the rhythm and refusing to control his expressions, letting them come naturally.

dancing is fun, even when it’s work. it always has been.

and as he stands panting in the fading light, his eyes are focused again-- like a renewed purpose has come to life in them.

if it’s the area he’s most comfortable with, he had no second thoughts. for as long as he could remember, just being in the dance studio calmed him. the process was almost the same every time. he spent a long time picking the song, experimenting with different beats and tunes. he started with freestyle, solidified his moves, approaching it almost as a science. and once he had a minute of routine, then he would loosen up, run through it once, twice, take a break and work on everything else and choreography from lessons and training, before coming back to it so it wouldn’t tire too fast.

a flexible perfectionist is what he’d like to see himself as.

everything is easier, when he has to think of nothing else but catching the beat, but moving like he always does. he keeps it moving, and keeps his mind blank to make space for nothing but the music and the lyrics, letting it echo and fill up the hollowness left behind by suppressing his thoughts. it’s not calculated and it’s not exact, he just stays in the studio during independent study and after schedules end, and moves and glides until there’s a bittersweet ache in his muscles, and his hair is drenched with his sweat.

he breathes heavy, eyes cast down, and he keeps going to banish all thoughts of staying in the same place, of never improving, of never getting anywhere further than where he’d started out.