TY TRACK

"don't think this is wh-" the words slipped out under her breath as she glanced down at her phone. there was a message from johnny somewhere in the endless string of texts she'd been skimming through. a quiet sigh escaped her. "i swear, if he sent me on a scavenger hunt, i'm filing for divorce." the threat held absolutely no weight behind it. still muttering to herself, minnie turned the corner, only to stop short when a familiar face appeared down the hall.

"oh, thank god" immediate relief washed over her features. "taeyong."

suddenly, she looked much less like someone trying to navigate the building and much more like someone who'd been caught being hopelessly lost.

It remembers everyone—each distinct cadence of footsteps, each rushed greetings, each bad decisions made after midnight, each younger versions of themselves.

And apparently, it also remembers Minnie getting lost.

❝ Hi. ❞

Quiet. Simple. Almost too late, because the greeting came from her first. Corners of the mouth moving before the will could stop it from becoming obvious.

❝ It has been a while. ❞

Vision shifting toward the hall she trailed from earlier, then toward its opposite side, mind calculating all possible routes where johnny could have sent her through. The wrong elevator. The old conference room. The floor with identical doors that even any staff members still occasionally entered with false confidence and hope.

❝ I saw him earlier. He said he was going to pick something from the studio... ten minutes ago. ❞

Gaze dropping briefly to her phone, then back to her face. Slow. Tired maybe. A little amused. Still Minnie. Not the exact same, no. Nobody was, himself included. Motherhood had placed something new in her, or maybe brought something forward that had always been there—Johnny's wife. James' mother.

But still Minnie.

❝ Congratulations, by the way. Late, I know... but properly meant. Marriage. The baby. Surviving Johnny's directions long enough to reproduce with him. All of it. ❞

Amusement flickering, yet caught immediately before it becomes something generous enough to be filed under trespassing.

❝ Come on, I'll walk you before you end up in accounting. Or worse, A&R. And if he tells you he gave clear directions... ❞

Expression stays solemn and serious with a faint tilt of the head.

Smoke from the cigarette in between fingers thinning out. Fading. Breaking. Disappearing before it reaches to anywhere useful. Jaw shifting once, subtle enough to be mistaken for the cold chill of the wind. Thumb resting against the bottle cap, nail pressed into its ridged edge. Feeling its grooves as it bites shallow into skin. Gaze still remains on the river, some things easier to say when nobody is directly looking at the wound.

❝ ⸻No. ❞

Plain. Immediate. Unembellished.

❝ Not completely. I didn't stop noticing... that part doesn't really turn off. Just⸻ ❞

Inhaling through the nose, slow, practiced, too practiced maybe. Wind pulls at the loose bleached short strands near the forehead, cold sliding beneath places the fabric failed to protect. Letting it. Deserves it a little, probably. Some small punishment from the weather. Some stupid private accounting only the self would keep. Corners of the lips move, almost humorless.

❝ I learned that not everything I notice needs my hands on it... ❞

Feels closer to the truth. Not stopped. Translated. Tamed, perhaps, on better days. Listening without interrupting, words sitting heavier than the alcohol. Once the title, the position slips, making something in the chest pull tight. Not guilt, exactly. Recognition with sharpened teeth. Now twisting the bottle's cap until it cracks, holding without drinking just yet, condensation cold enough to bite against skin, clean enough to focus on.

Eyes narrowing faintly toward the river, not out of anger but of something older. The title. The box. Professional when convenient. The opposite when inconvenient. That strange, insulting little switch people love pulling that only benefits them until it becomes a disadvantage.

❝ If you perform well, you’re mature. If you understand the work, you’re professional. If you carry pressure without complaining, you’re reliable. But the second you disagree, suddenly you’re young again. Suddenly you don’t understand. Suddenly someone needs to explain the world to you. Convenient, right? ❞

Much like how the rest of the world operates, the industry only making it much sharper. Much brighter. Much easier to make of an excuse under endless exhaustion, fluorescent lights and packed schedules. Finally taking a drink, the familiar burn languidly tracing and settling. Letting it sit as the words and experiences are not wrong.

Because the unfairness is real.

Because sometimes validation has to arrive without a lesson tied around its neck like a leash.

❝ You learned fast. I believe that. Just don't confuse fast with finished. ❞

Hand shifting, pushing the opened bottle a little closer with two fingers before it rests back against the knee.

There’s still humor in it all, but it softens when she actually thinks about the kind of day he’s had. The noise, the pressure, the return. Not just a release, but a weight finally set down too late to feel light.

Her expression eases as she types.

soyeon: no laughing, fresh air after such a long day is doctor's order👨‍⚕️🩺

soyeon: meet near the bike path behind yeouido?

soyeon: less people, more air 👍

soyeon: last one there owes the other food

soyeon: and skateboards count as transportation tools, thank you 🤝

Soyeon pushes off lightly on her skateboard, wheels catching smoothly against the pavement as she turns toward Yeouido. Her phone stays close in her hand, held loosely but never far from reach, like she’s waiting for a message that might come at any second, though her feet had already made the decision before it ever did.

There aren’t many places idols can truly disappear to, but as the day winds down, even the city seems to loosen its grip. Crowds thin out, noise softens, and the streets feel a little less like a stage.

As she passes people along the way, she finds herself quietly people-watching between movements, some heading home to families after long shifts, others still caught between work and wherever they’re rushing off to next. A few just moving to leave quickly, as if the city itself is something to outrun, and some days it felt like that for her too.

Welcome back...

Phrase echoing, drifting through the mind once more, less sharp, less complicated this time. Black hoodie pulled over the head, sleeves pushed up once before immediately pulled back down again. Running shorts. New pair of sneakers waiting by the entrance, Yuta's doing. Somewhere between comeback preparations and military stories and apparently becoming the kind of person who voluntarily suggested morning runs. Barely broken in. Still lacking the scuffs and weathering necessary to earn legitimacy. Not enough miles in them yet. Not enough cities. Not enough river paths.

The apartment door clicks open again, and then shut.

tyong: omw

Cool air washing over immediately, slipping beneath the fabric. First few strides settle naturally—left, right, left, right... Familiar. Measured. City slipping past in steady increments right beneath the soles. Breath even, controlled. Pacing arrives almost immediately now, something that's consistent and reliable. Habit, formed and molded, the navy remains tucked in every cadence and every breathing.

After slipping through the door, Soyeon moves through the aisles at an unhurried pace, fingers brushing along old records and newer releases while quiet music hums softly overhead. An old Lenny Kravitz album catches her eye first, earning a small grin before she pulls it from the shelf without hesitation. Further down the aisle, another display makes her slow again. A full stack of Taeyong’s new album sits near the front beneath promotional posters, impossible to miss. Her smile softens slightly as she reaches over, taking one of the copies and turning it over in her hands for a second longer before tucking it beneath the other album in her arms. Eventually, she makes her way toward the cashier, setting both albums down on the counter with a quiet nod. “This one too, thank you.” As she waits to pay, her phone buzzes softly in her hand, stealing her attention once again.

soyeon: i think after military, comeback prep and all the pressure your brain probably forgot people can just be happy for you without something bad happening after..

soyeon: birthdays are nice, i like that comparison because it does feel like that sometimes

soyeon: as a fellow overthinker i still will say try not to think too much about it hah

soyeon: “passing the torch and the nightmare” sounds like the start of an sm horror movie 😭

soyeon: cursed giant idol head haunting every comeback generation 👻

soyeon: id say get away from that statue as fast as you can, you should celebrate today 🕺🕺

The message sends before he can overthink it. Easy. Casual. Safer that way.

Another pause follows.

Longer this time.

Fingers curl once against the phone case, nail catching faintly along the edge. Studio lights hum overhead, thin and artificial, turning everything slightly too pale. Reflection in the window looks more tired than he feels. Or maybe exactly as tired as he feels and that is the problem.

The giant prop watches him from the corner.

❝ Heh. ❞

Jacket picked up from the chair. One sleeve turning inside out, pulling it on too quickly, earning the faintest annoyed sound under breath. Small battle. Fabric unyielding. Shoulder rolling once, then again as if the body has finally remembered it has been held together all day by schedule adrenaline and caffeine and other people's watchful eyes. Cameras lingering much longer now. Headlines too.

Welcome back, indeed.

Phone in one hand. Cap tugged lower with the other.

The neon glare of the SM practice room and the rushed blur of a late-night restaurant dinner were already fading into a distant, muted background. Now, the night had slowed down to a crawl.

The Han River at two in the morning was stripped of its daylight romance, reduced to a bleak, vast expanse of black glass swallowing the neon bleeding from the city’s distant skyline. It was dead silent, save for the low, rhythmic lap of the water against the concrete banks and the biting wind that whipped off the surface. Ni-ki sat a few steps up on the stairs, a dark silhouette thoroughly drowned in the heavy cotton of an oversized hoodie and loose sweatpants. Between his sneakers and Taeyong’s shoes sat a handful of condensation-beaded bottles bought on a whim from a fluorescent-lit register, clinking like a dull wind chime whenever the breeze caught them. He leaned his elbows on his knees, hands dangling in the space between them. With a careless twitch of his fingers, he tapped the side of his cigarette. A tiny constellation of orange and gray drifted down into the dark before he pulled the filter back to his lips. The sudden, hot glow of the cherry caught the sharp visual of his jawline, cutting through the shadows for a split second before drowning him in darkness again.

Observance watches the wet ring forming beneath the bottle, the ash trembling at the end of the lighted cigarette, the hand that hangs loose but still restless, fingers too still in between each drag, pretending that carelessness with the kind of effort only people tired of being studied ever learn how to do. Sounds familiar. Far too familiar for his liking. Sitting one step lower, one shoulder angled against the railing behind, jacket zipped only halfway despite the cold beginning to bite through nylon. Own cigarette resting between fingers, mostly forgotten, burning down in a slow orange blink while gaze stays fixed past the river, past the broken reflection of towers trembling beneath the surface over black water.

❝ Yeah, they forget you grew up while they were busy worrying... ❞

Finally lifting the cigarette, inhaling once with a measured restraint before lowering it again. Its ember glowing briefly against the hard line of fingers. Fading. Glowing. Fading... Thumb dragging along the ridged edge of the lighter in his palm, a small metallic scrape beneath the gust. Not looking at the younger and perhaps that the mercy of it. Not performing sincerity under direct attention. Not pinning the frustration down like evidence.

❝ I get it. More than I probably should. ❞

A breath, mouth almost curves bereft of any humor in it. Just familiarity, recognition. Something that's old and ugly... Leaning forward now, elbows resting loosely against the knees, the cigarette tilted toward the ground as the ash falls in a soft ruined line near his shoe.

❝ When I was younger, I thought being responsible meant catching everything before it fell. ❞ Eyes still focusing across the river, but the practice room, emerging somewhere else at the tone of voice. LED lighting. Mirrors all fogged up until they could no longer see themselves. Count after count. Choreography after choreography. Monitored until the break of dawn. At least twenty bodies moving through one reflection, every mistake multiplying until it looked like failure before it even had time to become learning. ❝ If someone was late, I noticed. If someone was off-beat, I noticed. If the energy dropped, I noticed. I thought if I didn't say it, if I didn't fix it right away, then I wasn't doing my job. ❞

Tapping the cigarette once against concrete, ash breaking clean from the end before the wind steals that too.

❝ I don't think the standard was wrong.... But the way I carried it then, was... I was intimidating sometimes. ❞ Voice flattening slightly, like the word alone still feels unpleasant on the tongue even after all these years. ❝ Not because I wanted them scared. I just thought pressure made people sharper... It does, sometimes... ❞

Gaze shifting only enough for the younger's silhouette to sit within peripheral vision.

Her phone buzzes in her hand while she slows near the sidewalk, one sneaker keeping the board steady beneath her foot. A small laugh escapes her at the messages almost immediately.

soyeon: “survived” is crazy 😭

soyeon: awkward lives build character taeyong-oppa

soyeon: that statue is bigger than some apartments in seoul 😭

soyeon: either you’re rich enough to keep it or sm is turning it into a company landmark, so which is it? 👀💸

soyeon: but seriously, you did well today ✨️

tyong: kinda scary now that i'm alone with it ngl tyong: thank you though really tyong: today just felt... tyong: idk weird i guess

Message just sits there, the unfinished thought echoing the events from earlier. Passing like waves.

tyong: but in a good way tyong: i think it's just all in my head thinking and waiting for something to go wrong but everyone's just being nice to me all day tyong: felt like my birthday, honestly

Another pause, the typing bubble appears. Disappears. Returns again.

soyeon: it was genius you just won't admit it 😔

soyeon: minty fruit.. like decide, is it a fruit or cheewing gum? 🤔

Another concert video plays across the screen, then another, fingers lazily skipping through clips from the previous stops of the tour.

At this point, it was almost muscle memory. She barely needed to focus anymore to notice when something felt off, a step half a second late, spacing slightly uneven, a camera angle missing the right timing. Even while half distracted by messages and exhaustion, her eyes still caught everything automatically.

soyeon: maybe those few hours of boxing could come in handy 🤔

soyeon: cube would finally respect me more after surviving australian wildlife

soyeon: so i cant add taeyong oppa as an emergency contact 💔

Screen lighting up notification stacking after notification, mostly from her. Each progression slowly pulling another snicker out of him.

tyong: yah chewing gum? tyong: can't it be both it's called lime crush for a reason tyong: also i don't think boxing classes can save you from australian wildlife tyong: i need you to understand kangaroos are built like 백수 (unemployed) gym bros tyong: lesson 1: know your enemy

Faint huff escaping his lips at the thought alone. Head tipping back briefly against the glass while the rain continues to rattle harder against the windows. Louder. The beat filling the pauses between the exchange of messages naturally.

tyong: mm cube respecting you after surviving one sounds unrealistic honestly tyong: you've survived much more by now anyway :P

Another message, thumb hovering longer this time at the mention of him being a potential emergency contact.

tyong: i mean tyong: you can tyong: just know there's 23 more of you tyong: and if a kangaroo replaces you in i-dle tyong: at least make sure it knows the choreo better than your dancers in the last tour clip ㅋㅋㅋ

Corners of lips twitching again before settling, then finally...

soyeon: you could’ve fooled me

soyeon: taeyong could easily be TEAyong 🧐

Not long after, small droplets of rain begin tapping softly against the concrete around her. Soyeon glances upward automatically, watching the dark sky for a second longer than necessary.

She loved rain. Always had.

But not like this when stuck between schedules, company walls, and exhaustion, with barely enough time to sit near it before having to go back inside.

A quiet sigh leaves her as she grabs the tea from beside her and pushes herself up from the stair, slipping back into the building just as the rain starts falling harder behind her.

soyeon: how will i survive if i dont smoke? besides less harmful than certain batteries 🔋💨

soyeon: unless i meet a kangaroo who doesn't like my music, then im in real danger 🥊

tyong: TEAyong is horrible tyong: and you know it

Thumb hovering above the screen longer this time while rain continues crawling down the windows in uneven paths.

Slow, repeating, repeating...

tyong: at least mine smells like minty fruit tyong: have you heard about the kangaroos? tyong: they could wrestle you

Phone shifting loosely between fingers before another message follows underneath.

soyeon: my company will collapse before i do don’t worry 👍

Another vibration follows not long after, though this time it’s not her phone pulling attention away. Voices suddenly rise outside the studio, confused staff, excited dancers, someone already claiming two drinks for themselves. Brows lifting slightly, Soyeon finally pushes herself up from the chair and steps outside, immediately spotting the drink carriers being passed around. The attached note earns a quiet snort from her.

"…insane."

Still, she takes the tea without hesitation before quietly slipping away toward the secured back alley behind the company building. High walls enclosed the space completely, shutting out most of the city noise and leaving the area strangely calm compared to the chaos upstairs.

The cool night air greets her instantly. She settles down on the back stairs, tucked between the concrete walls and the quiet hum of the building behind her. Cigarette between her fingers and jasmine tea resting beside her on the step, she takes another slow sip before leaning back against the stair behind her slightly. Pulling her phone out. The screen lights up her face in the dim alley as she types, cigarette still resting between her fingers.

soyeon: it's actually really good, never thought myself as a tea person but i guess miracles still happen

soyeon: staff looked suspiciously happy tho, you sure its just tea? 🧐

soyeon: on another note, thank you ty. everyone really appreciated it

soyeon: i’ll send snacks over next time.. without judging your dancers stamina

Unmoving, half-slouched against the gigantic marble likeness of his features lying cracked open across the flooring. One knee pulled up slightly, towel draped forgotten around the back of neck. Damp strands sticking against forehead, fresh remnants of comeback choreography. Cooling down slowly.

A quiet huff slipping out at the first message, then another at the succeeding ones. Head lowering briefly as thumb drags across the screen, eliciting the corners of the mouth to twitch.

tyong: wait. you're not? tyong: i just accidentally made you a convert?

Pausing, long enough to reach blindly for an abandoned water bottle beside the speakers before thinking better of it halfway through and letting his hand fall back against his lap instead.

tyong: it just tastes expensive for no reason tyong: yah i didn't make the tea. how would i know

Somewhere outside, thunder rumbles low across Seoul. Or maybe traffic. Hard to tell anymore from this high up. The windows trembling faintly either way.

Typical.

Seongdong District, Seoul

She sits in one of the studio rooms, phone resting beside her while a laptop plays back their last performance on loop. The lighting is dim, only the screen lighting her face as she watches closely. Silent, focused, analyzing every movement like she always does. It's late, the building is quieter than a stage, but the pressure isn’t. Next week is Australia. Another switch, another schedule shift already waiting.

Her phone lights up with a notification, pulling her attention away from the paused performance on the screen.

soyeon: neither sadly

soyeon: cube is currently doing emotional damage instead 👍

soyeon: wbu? heard the backup dancers need extra days off just to keep up

tyong: they're surviving tyong: rumors are getting exaggerated now i can tell

Another glance, one dancer visibly cramping near the back.

tyong: only two nearly collapsed today tyong: i think my company needs to start doing the same thing with yours tyong: ㅋㅋㅋ

Somewhere in between exchanges, rehearsals and meetings, several drink carriers begin appearing one after another. Enough for the members. Managers. Crew and staff lingering around the studio running mostly on caffeine and stubbornness alone.

CHAGEE—premium oriental tea brand, Seoul's newest obsession after 두쫀쿠 (Dubai chewy cookie) and ube (purple yam).

Condensation already gathering along the sides from the cold of the air conditioner and the warmth from outside. Staff blinking in mild confusion at first before one of the attached receipts gets turned over.