#type:thread

                that’s the paradox of loss. how can something’s that gone weigh us down                 so much?                                                                                           — j. picoult ( @idtaekyoon )                                                                   ★

it hurts too much. it hurts too much to be with young taekyoon.

because he broke her heart, maybe---or rather, she broke his. she still remembers it vividly: the break-up, that is. his face, his expression. it was around this time, in fact---a cold, winter day in december. the weather clouded with gloominess, as if in some sort of foreshadowing. she remembers she couldn’t look him in the eye the whole time, not even once, because she knew that if she did, it’d be over. she’d lose.

if that’s what makes you happy, hyera. she wonders if, after four years, she can confidently say that,  that she’s happy?

but the answer still remains clear, even without words---it speaks through hollow eyes, empty movements. through unconscious isolation, the relentless throwing of self into work as a distraction from such a fact. through the scattered beer cans on her floor, the sudden text message of her asking him if he’d like to catch a drink the middle of the night. and then, she’s reminded---that she’s not happy ... at least, not when others are.

kiss her! it’ll be cute! why can’t people just mind their own fucking business?

for with their drunken stupor and blissful ignorance, they don’t notice---how painful it is, to look at him and realize that a part of their past still lingers (and bears no sign of letting up any time soon). is this what they wanted?---their jeering, did they know that, instead of bringing them together, it succeeds with the complete opposite? did they?

how is this fair?

because of them---because of complete strangers, with no awareness of their history (of their baggage)---she’s on the verge of tears, eyesight blurring as she makes contact with the floor. she pushes him away, obviously, to a distance that feels like miles apart. her jaw clenches, eyebrows furrow---why did he have to do that?

“it’s not fair.”

her fingers furl inward, hands balling into fists. “i worked so hard---these past four years, i did everything. to avoid you, to forget about you, so why---” her breath hitches, lips quiver.

                       sometimes doing things we used to                        reminds of who we used to be, and not always in a good way.                                                                                                   — b. sanderson                                                                    ★

maybe she’s being petty.

(but then again, this is ban hyera, and ... well, when is she ever not petty?)

the broadcasting station has become a kind of second home for hyera---obviously as an idol and the like, as it is for everyone, but for some reason it’s just ... different to her. when she’s not promoting, she’s filming---for a variety show, for a drama. and when she’s not filming, she’s auditioning, meeting with potential producers and directors for that ‘next big break’ everyone always seems to talk about.

(it happens to everyone, they say, well, when’s it going to happen to her?)

she can’t remember the last time she’s laid in her bed, gotten a good hour or so of shut-eye before her manager’s knocking on her door and shuffling her out the front door and into the passenger seat of their van. sure, she could catch up on some much-needed z’s at the hair salon, but the fluorescent lights and company of strangers has her wide awake, has her thinking that she can’t be wasting her time.

so she practices---her lines, of course, from various scripts. not choreography (never choreography) or the like for, by now, it’s been deemed useless to think progressing those kind of skills are vital to her career ... whatever that is right now. an idol? an actress? a general celebrity, maybe, but the thought of it has her seething, has her frustrated with the thought that that’s not good enough.

which such thoughts on her mind---and a busy schedule, to boot---it’s understandable that hyera’s grown a little ... irritable, though, a ‘little’ might be a bit of an understatement.

she’s sitting in her waiting room at the broadcasting station, as she always does, though her door’s wide open this time---something about the air conditioning not work, how the room needs air circulation, blah blah blah. and she overhears voices, loud enough to catch her attention and scan the faces of those loitering outside the room.

and something in her just snaps.

it’s not like she usually cares about whether her not her reputation as a senior in the industry is respected or not, but, chalk it up the lack of sleep or the lack of significant work, she’s sending daggers to the person across the way who she swears debuted after her.

                     i was mortified by the prospect of becoming hopelessly trapped in                      someone else’s story.                                                                                     — l. shriver ( @idsooyeon​​ )

                                                                     ★

ban hyera hates im sooyeon.

okay, maybe hate is too strong of a word--- ban hyera very much dislikes im sooyeon.

and there’s no clear reason why, rather, it’s a gut feeling, a natural instinct to visibly frown and scorn at the other brunette’s way when she enters the room. the way she carries herself---sooyeon, that is---just pisses her off, and the fact that it’s only hyera who seems to realize how despicable the other is ... well, that just adds a whole other layer to the ‘fuck you’ that she wishes she could tell her.

but with tonight, maybe that’s a wish no longer.

for with the recent turn of events (and the hushed murmuring to reinforce so), she masks the mischievous smirk tugging at the corner of her lips with the rim of her glass, the glint of trouble in her eyes with the glare of her cellphone.

as this, you see, is a weapon in disguise---the mass text messages, the unknown kakao accounts. the high stakes, the push for danger and risk. 

oh, hyera might just melt from the excitement.

because she already knew that this night would be one for the books, but rather under the guise of a drunken stupor and a slip of the tongue---but now, with any chaos she erupts, she can just blame it on the anonymous perpetrator in her defense of just ‘having’ to do it.

for she needs to win, and no one else screams ‘being a winner’ quite like ban hyera does.

and so when she scrolls to the bottom (for only pansies would idle near the top of the dare list), her eyes are immediately drawn to one challenge in particular.

red (5 game points) insult the person you’re closest to, in front of others

she scans the words once, twice, before she glances up and notices the perfect target just walking past, with her typical entourage in tow, too.

she laughs---silently, to herself---as she finishes her glass, places it on the nearby bar counter, before she tosses her hair over one shoulder and begins her trek. “oh, sooyeon!” she calls for the other’s attention. “are you busy right now?

                                in the best conversations, you don’t even                                 remember what you talked about, only how it felt.                                                                              — j. green ( @idyujin​ )

                                                                      ★

it isn’t that hard of a decision.

no, it’s rather easy, actually, because while everyone else gasps and murmurs in confusion around her, she just smirks---mischievously, devilishly.

because this is her chance, to do what social norms usually prevent her from.

and so she silently chuckles to herself, glances over the list of dares that glow on her illuminated screen before she inhales---contently, that is---eyes raising to scan the room as she shoves cellphone into her purse, rim of glass raising to the meeting of her lips.

then she spots her from across the way: kang yujin. perfect.

so she downs the rest of her champagne (given to her for more ceremonial purposes than anything) before passing the empty glass to a nearby waiter, heels clicking behind her as she makes a beeline for her target---conveniently stopping at the bar on the way, order not one but two shots vodka for that so-called liquid courage (not that hyera’s ever been the type to need it, no, but it’s always a nice alibi to cushion on) before continuing. and then she stops in front of the other, interrupting her ongoing conversation or whatever it is yujin’s doing to speak up.

“yujin---ah!” she exclaims, fake smile and all, as she moves to place her arm on the brunette’s shoulder. “we’re friends, aren’t we?”

yellow (3 game points) pick a fight

hyera doesn’t even wait for the other to respond as she just goes on, stepping even closer to the other female---so she can hear her loud and clear. “and as friends, you’d want me to tell you anything that’s on my mind so that there’s no ... hard feelings, right?”

and then she has to stop herself from smiling of glee from the thought of her next few words. “and if that’s the case, then you really have to know just how despicable you are.”