#sarangbe

siwoo isn’t exactly one to form genuine bonds easily. if anything, he can count the number of people he feels comfortable enough to be his authentic, true – asshole – self with in one hand. one et sized hand ( he doesn’t need all four fingers, either ). still, it had come as a bit of a surprise to him that it was sarang of all people that siwoo had formed this bond with so quickly. they didn’t seem to run in the same circles, hell they weren’t even in the same company; yet somehow sarang had quickly turned into a confidant of sorts to siwoo, someone who siwoo would actively seek out in the axis building, just to hang out with.

and they seemed much more similar to one another than he’d first expected. aside from their need to put up false pretenses at times, being with sarang was like a breath of fresh air. where siwoo was a pessimist through and through, sarang felt like an optimist, a reminder that the deadly thoughts in his head would never really last. so he’d been more than happy to tag along with sarang for some shopping.

that and well, siwoo thinks sarang is cute. he thinks sarang is really fucking cute. he isn’t going to deny it, he doesn’t really hide it either – his attraction for sarang. sarang is exactly his type, a little smaller than him, with cute curves. it’s a blessing to his eyes on a windy sunday, he thinks, as he walks along the rows of outfits beside the smaller boy. 

it’s a shame though, that sarang hadn’t been his coach in next gen. somehow amongst the plethora of episodes, their paths never quite seemed to cross. which was fine, but siwoo would’ve appreciated the advice that sarang would’ve given him back then – and also it would’ve worked as more healing for his eyes after hours of staring at sheets of paper scribbled with nothing but notes on how to dance. 

“you know,” he says, turning to his friend, “i picked out two shirts for myself,” he waves the hangers with his right hand. “but like… fifty for you,” he lifts his left hand, full of clothing he’d picked out for sarang to wear. “should we go try them on?” he gestures to the empty dressing rooms in the far corner of the store. 

( cw: suggestive content )

sarang is sweet. sarang is nice and friendly and soft and joomi is sad and lonely and that isn't really enough of an excuse to sleep with him, but it's enough of an excuse for joomi, apparently, because that's what he does.

plus, why does he need an excuse? jinyoung is distant and jinyoung is not his boyfriend and with each passing day joomi feels more and more like he needs to move on. it's not like his unfortunate feelings for the man he used to hate are that longstanding; if anything, they're newfound feelings, but they're exhausting and it's painful and joomi knows it will never end well for him. whatever it even is. (nothing, really.)

so sarang says he wants to take him on a date and joomi says like, a friend date? and sarang agrees, and joomi thinks, why not? he deserves to do something fun with someone that actually wants to spend time with him, and he hopes he can forget about moon jinyoung for a while. even if it wasn't just a friend date, he deserves that too, doesn't he? it doesn't matter if he wishes he was with someone else, because what he wants is never going to happen. he'll just try to have fun, and to stop thinking about it.

it works and it doesn't. he does have fun, and he stops thinking just long enough to feel guilty once he starts thinking again.

guilty, because now, laying in between the sheets next to sarang, he really just misses jinyoung, and sarang deserves better than getting used as a distraction. he knows sarang will probably tell him that he doesn't mind, but joomi minds. god, he just wants to be happy. why is it so hard for any happiness to stay?

he knows sarang is perceptive enough to know something is wrong, too, and joomi doesn't want to make him ask. "sorry," he croaks, and he has no idea what to say next, really. "i, um..." he knows it's not that deep. he is not here with sarang because sarang is in love with him or vice versa, and he is still too embarrassed to express his unwanted affection for jinyoung out loud, but...he'll try, to do it in some way that isn't humiliating. "i've been sleeping with this guy...? and he's been like...busy, and weird, lately, so i haven't seen him as much, and i really just fucked you and was immediately like...damn...sarang is so nice but i miss the idiot that doesn't give a shit about me."

it's a little funny when he says it like that, but it's also pathetic, and joomi mostly feels the second part. "and i feel really bad. i know, or at least i think, you don't like me like that, but you're...a really nice guy, and never wanna use anybody, especially not...nice guys. and it's not your fault. you're genuinely great, i'm just..." his voice trails off, and when he finishes his thought, he says it quieter than the rest: "stupid."

𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐌 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄, Seoul, SK Early March, 2023 w. 𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐌 𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆

A heaviness lingers in Saem’s bones; a feeling he’s becoming all too familiar with. There’s a comfort to it, a reminder that he’s working hard. It’s reminiscent of the days he’d lay awake, aching from hours of extra ballet practise, his leg muscles on fire. He’d not realised just how much he missed the physical effects of a days hard work. It’s as though he can measure his progress by just how much he aches. Somehow, the pain makes him feel alive in a way he hadn’t felt since he was still in school. Well, perhaps that’s not entirely true. Recent months had awakened Saem to a feeling that reminded he was very much still walking among the living. A warm feeling, that trickled out from the centre of his chest, down along each of his limbs to light a fire under every inch of his skin. 

Perhaps, Saem thinks, as he closes the apartment door and slips off his shoes, hangs up his jacket and breathes a long, heavy sigh of relief, it’s all to do with a certain someone becoming a fixed feature in his life. It had been a few months since Saem had taken to the nightclubs of Seoul in search of a man to spend the night with. Instead, each night, he falls into bed beside one man. A man who he had yet to define his relationship with. They’d taken to walking life side by side, arms linked, yet never plainly talking about what any of this meant. As ever-present as these unspoken realities of his new regular were, Saem rarely delves into the depths of them, as he refuses to do now, as he walks into the kitchen and places the plastic shopping bag on the counter, beginning to unpack a few groceries he’d picked up on his way home. 

@sarangbe — BACKDATED TO OCT. 2022

in the beginning, alex didn't really think all that much about what he was doing or the future consequences of his actions. he saw someone interesting, someone who shined just a little bit brighter than the rest, and he wanted to know what would happen if he made himself close to them. he just happened to get lucky that that someone wanted to get closer to him too. and that shine never wore off; if anything, he was warmer and brighter than alex had even imagined, loving so openly and freely in a way that was completely unheard of in alex's world. alex kept coming back and eventually, he had to admit to himself that he coveted more.

i don't want to change a single thing about you. he's tried to tell sarang that aloud, in different ways, and he means every word. does sarang notice the way alex looks at him with stars in his eyes, watching his brilliance even as sarang flits and flirts with other men? can he tell that alex kisses him a little differently when sarang lets his guard down a little bit, drops that perfect mask and unveils a little bit of his truest self? alex isn't sure if he's ever met a more beautifully messy person; someone so unafraid to be himself and to enjoy and indulge in life's pleasures.

they don't call this a date. they don't call themselves anything at all. but as alex sits next to sarang, something he doesn't care about on the television and a homemade meal on the coffee table in front of them, he can't help but wish that he did have... something. it's easy to dote on sarang and alex doesn't think twice about it; when the other man has a bit of sauce on the corner of his mouth, alex just murmurs a soft "hey," as a warning not to startle his companion before swiping his thumb over the spot himself. he smiles, eyes as warm as the feeling that's been growing in his chest for weeks. i want to bottle this moment and keep it forever, he thinks.

he wonders if he can.

noel had found himself staying late more often when it came to practice. noel was a slow learner, he wanted to be as good as the people around him, but that was difficult. noel hadn’t been singing, dancing nor rapping for long, all of this felt new to him. so whenever he didn’t have work after practice, he’d stay late, practice a little more, hope to soon be as good as the trainees among him. another trainee is staying late in the same practice room as noel, but their music is so loud, the male decides to find somewhere else to practice.

new faces popping up in sr media aren’t bad. sure, maybe yuji is a bit tense at the prospect of more girls joining because of her own spiraling and daydreaming-- but it’s not the worst. change is just intimidating. and yuji doesn’t like change that she doesn’t give the okay too. control issues, she’s sure of it-- but it’s also not the end of the world, even if her head is convinced that it is. it’s all about adjusting, she feels. it just takes time.

sarang makes it easy to adjust. having heard sr media was the one he choose, yuji is pretty thrilled; a familiar face, but a sweet one too-- one that’ll likely help take her attention off of whatever it is sr media is planning with all the girls. if they even are. it helps that they’re friends, too. 

it’s too much.

joomi didn’t even sing in front of other people until a few weeks ago, and apparently, bom thinks he has an incredible voice. that alone is too much to process, let alone the fact that they actually brought him on this stupid show to be a contestant. then there’s what that entails: at least six hours of practice every day, barring sundays, but even then, there’s the unspoken expectation that they don’t really get any time off. they should practice, and practice, and practice, until this stupid song and choreography is in their very bloodstream.

he’s not built for this. he doesn’t want this, and he is surrounded by people that do. he can see it in their eyes, when his own wander from the form of yoojung when he teaches them the choreography, or his own blundering limbs.

second place. he doesn’t want this and he’s in second place. he doesn’t understand it. it makes him feel kind of sick, too; the pressure, the confusion of filling this spot when others want it more, like he’s stealing something that doesn’t belong to him. the judges want him to run with it, but joomi is paralyzed here, by this overwhelming feeling of how wrong it is. this isn’t mine to take. i do not belong here. i want to go home.

these are the thoughts that repeat in his head, but for some reason he still practices. he wants to quit, but he doesn’t, and he doesn’t know why. maybe he’s afraid of disappointing stevie, or the other people that know him on this show and are happy for him. he can’t dance or rap at all, though. he’ll certainly lose his ranking and fall near the bottom, and hopefully he’ll be eliminated soon. but what if he isn’t? what if he makes it to the end, and for some unfathomable reason, one of the companies wants to sign him? he isn’t cut out for this. he doesn’t want to be a kpop idol or a trainee or anything.

he just wants to go home, but he tries not to think about it too much. he can’t bring himself to tell anyone on the production team; to ask to be eliminated. he doesn’t know why that’s the case, either. he hopes if he makes it farther, he gathers the courage. the idea of getting one of those sought after contracts in his hands makes him feel sicker than anything else. please no. 

he takes it one day at a time. maybe he shouldn’t try so hard if he wants to go home. maybe he should just accept his fate as a terrible dancer and rapper and let it do him in without wasting anyone’s time; his own, trying to learn any of this, and the instructors’, trying to teach him. for some reason, though, he can’t do anything else. maybe it’s because he’s on camera, and he doesn’t want to be known as the guy on next gen that threw the competition instead of just bowing out for personal reasons. 

maybe part of him wants to want it. maybe that’s why he stays: because he’s here and people believe in him and it would be nice to have some sort of dream other than just surviving another day. could it be his dream?

he doesn’t know. he has a headache and feels a little dizzy. probably needs more water. he knows it’s because his body isn’t used to being pushed so hard. even two hours of dance lessons would be bad enough, let alone how many more times he’s gone over the choreography by himself tonight only for it to end in more frustration.

he’s alone in one of the practice rooms now, but not really alone. he knows the cameras are still rolling, and that anything he does here could be broadcasted to kpop fans all over the world. he doesn’t even know what time it is, but he’s exhausted, so he lays down on the floor after another failed run through of the choreography, sweat making his hair cling to his forehead.

he feels like crying, and he’s too tired to unpack why. it’s just all too much, and maybe that’s all the reason he needs. he feels like crying but he doesn’t want to, especially on camera, so he covers his face with his palms just in case.

lost in her head, yuji stares mindlessly at the collar of a coat she’s looking at, holding the cuff of the sleeve in her hand. she’s lost in thought, holding the sleeve up as if she’s studying the coat; but she’s considering. not about the coat, but about how to bring it up. slowly, yuji’s eyes flicker from the garment to sarang, then back. her lips purse, lips curving into a small frown as she hums, dropping the sleeve. lifting her half-finished beverage to her mouth to take a long sip, she taps the tip of finger on the side of the cup. 

thinks about what she would do if she were in his situation; wonders what she’d be feeling. wonders if it would drive her insane. wonders if it would rile her up. one of the last things she would have wanted to happen; she feels bad because that would have took a blow to her pride like nothing else.