take it to heart

the moment yujin leaned in, janghyuk’s breath hitched. the sudden proximity, the warmth of yujin’s breath against his face—it was all too much, too fast. his fingers twitched at his sides, his usual easy grin faltering as his mind raced. this is for the photoshoot. this is just for the photoshoot. but the way yujin’s eyes locked onto his, the way his voice dropped to that low, familiar tone—it felt like something else entirely.

he forced himself to keep his expression neutral, though his cheeks burned. “y-yeah, it’s—it’s fine,” he managed, his voice barely above a stutter. internally, he was a mess. why does it have to be this close? why does he have to smell so good? why does this feel like the first time and the hundredth time all at once? he shifted slightly, trying to put just a fraction more space between them without making it obvious. “uh, how long do we have to—” his voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “how long do we need to hold this?”

the photographer’s request for eye contact was the final straw. he could feel the heat creeping up his neck, his usual confidence evaporating under yujin’s gaze. this is just a photoshoot. this is just a photoshoot. but the way yujin was looking at him—like he was the only thing in the room—made it impossible to remember that. his fingers curled into his palms, nails biting into his skin as a distraction.

“Just until they’re happy with the pictures.” Yujin didn’t think it would take that long. The photographers loved their faces, but they also loved having options to post as behind the scenes content after the concept pictures had been officially released.

The photographer shouted out additional instructions. For Yujin to shift in his seat, for Janghyuk to smile for a moment, for direct eye contact. There was a blush on Janghyuk’s cheeks, something off.

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋  𝐎𝐅  𝐍𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐄  𝐈𝐒  𝐌𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐃  𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐃  𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊,  seeming  more  so  now  like  a  stifled  echo,  smothered  underneath  makeshift  soundproof  barriers  and  the  organized  chaos  that  was  staff  rushing  around  in  preparation  for  their  respective  groups  performances.  it's  a  stark  contrast  to  the  lively  stage  that  all  of  KH  ENTERTAINMENT  and  their  fellow  conglomerates  were  getting  ready  to  perform  on  —  quieter,  more  intimate,  a  moment  of  tranquility  in  an  otherwise  frenzied  arena.

like  most  idols,  she  found  herself  trapped  in  that  distinct  bubble  of  anticipation  —  going  through  pre-show  rituals  and  running  through  vocal  warm-ups,  all  while  the  backline  crew  set  up  their  mic  packs  and  reminded  them  over  and  over  again  about  where  to  enter  and  exit  the  stage  once  it  was  their  turn.  it's  like  second  nature  by  now,  preparing  to  go  up  on  stage  and  give  her  all  for  the  fans  who've  spent  what  seems  like  hours  on  end  waiting  for  them,  but  yeona  still  feels  that  nervous  fluttering  in  her  stomach,  a  thousand  butterflies  batting  their  wings  at  her  ribcage  as  she  fights  off  the  intrusive  idea  that  she'll  trip  on  the  stairs  leading  up  to  the  stage,  or  suddenly  be  at  the  center  for  her  part  and  forget  all  of  her  lyrics.

she  excuses  herself  from  their  assigned  waiting  room  under  the  guise  of  heading  to  the  bathroom,  but  it's  really  just  to  do  something  with  this  nervous  energy  coursing  through  her  veins.  it  seems  silly  to  be  this  hung  up  on  all  these  endless  possibilities  of  what  could  go  wrong,  but  yeona  has  always  been  hard  on  herself,  her  own  worst  enemy,  tearing  herself  down  before  she  even  has  a  chance  to  think  of  what  could  go  right.

she's  halfway  through  another  spiral,  mind  racing,  palms  sweating,  mentally  repeating  the  lines  to  I  AM  over  and  over  again  as  if  she'll  forget  them  on  that  big,  big  stage  —  just  when  she  spots  someone  down  the  corridor,  a  familiar  face,  his  head  turning  to  the  left  and  then  the  right,  eyes  peering  curiously  at  the  makeshift  signs  on  the  dressing  rooms,  obviously  seeming  a  little  confused  his  own  group's  name  isn't  there.

The day of each event operated similarly to music show promotions, except for the expanded number of groups and the much larger venue. A venue in which Yujin wasn't quite sure where he was. He had left the Origin dressing room to go to the bathroom and find water, but after a few turns and a conversation with various idols that had him following them back to their destination, he couldn't figure out which hallway he was supposed to head back to or which staircase was the right one.

Despite a line of dressing rooms with makeshift signs boasting group names that weren't his own, Yujin didn't feel very panicked. If he was surrounded by other dressing rooms, then he was probably on the right track of where to go. If only he could figure out whether he was supposed to go up or down the hallway. He pat himself looking for his phone to call one of his members to ask where he was but remembered the stage outfit he had already been dressed in didn't have functional pockets large enough for a phone. All he found was lint and a hair tie.

places like these are the places where minsu feels most free. in front of a charcoal-lit grill with one of his closest friends, within the city he calls home but without the prying eyes of the public. the staff here knows that he and yujin are idols—in the way that the owner always comments on how handsome they look and the way that their respective signatures are on past album copies kept near the entrance—but they're afforded their privacy. they're sat closer to the kitchen, further from the busier section in the front. they're allowed to be themselves, be anonymous. they're just like any other two friends you can find in seoul in their twenties, catching up after a long workday. in hong minsu's case, when it comes to chae yujin, he can use this opportunity to be a loving and doting thorn in his side.

He crinkled his nose hearing Minsu speak the words he says like a habit every time they cross paths. Still, he couldn't help the small smile inching onto his face. "You're being cheesy again. You're looking just as handsome today as you did last time."

he stays in that solace of the quietness for the moment. even if his head isn't quiet. though, he really couldn't help but to think about what the others are thinking, what they want to do. but, he almost didn't want to ask because it felt really personal, in a way. though, as soon as he hears yujin, he looks up again. "hm?" he says. though, as soon as he hears the question, iseul goes back to silence for a moment. he's trying to think exactly how he should word it, if he made any sense. his heart seemingly pounding a bit, feeling a bit nervous. though, he guesses he should just say it, right?

Now as an idol, as someone who spent almost half his life as Origin's Chae Yujin, he thought he understood those trainees better at this fork in the road better than he did back then. That deep rooted love, that deep rooted hate. He knew that this was a turning point, for Origin and for himself. Ten years of their lives following the contract they had signed as teenagers. Now as adults, he wondered if he, or the others, really knew what to change for the better.

He smiled as he heard Iseul's last words. He too, despite it all, had found a place in the world because of the members. A safe haven, a place for the real unfiltered Chae Yujin that wasn't allowed in public. "I don't want to lose anyone either. I don't want to give up."