#‎ ‎ ⋆⠀⠀ʬ.ʬ.⠀⠀٬⠀⠀(⠀⠀&.⠀⠀)⠀...⠀TRANSCRIPT. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moirtre · 3 months

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‎ ‎ ⋆⠀⠀&.⠀⠀٬⠀⠀❝ 1 : 37 AM : BROKEN SILENCE. ❞ ‎ ‎ ┉

i heard you on the phone last night. we live and die by pretty lies, you know it, we both know it. these silver bullet cigarettes, this burning house, there's nothing left.⠀–— from, “Nothing Breaks Like a Heart - Mark Ronson & Miley Cyrus”

&.⠀⠀CHARACTERS⠀⠀┉⠀⠀*⠀SOHN NARYUN, MELANIE BAE, MIN HERI, SOHN NARAE, JEONG KARIN, WILLIAM KIM. &.⠀⠀WORD COUNT⠀⠀┉⠀⠀*⠀2.5K &.⠀⠀WARNINGS⠀⠀┉⠀⠀*⠀car accident, blood, hospitalization, unhealthy dynamics. &.⠀⠀NOTES⠀⠀┉⠀⠀*⠀a closer look at the heri-melanie dynamic. narae can be found at @viriditic! one of my favorite things i've written in a hot minute. this has been canon since like 2021 and it's finally leaving my brain. i'm getting "melanie, don't fuck with me" tatted as we speak, that's gold!

Naryun feels the spinning of her head before she hears the ringing in her ears.

The disorientation throws her for a loop as her conscious screams at her to get up. To do something. She figures something is all wrong when her body can’t seem to understand what her nerves are trying to say. They scream and scream at her legs to push themselves up from her spot; all crumpled on the hard, unforgiving ground. They cry and cry at her neck to swivel itself in a direction— any direction possible; it refuses.

Slowly, she begins to make sense of the chilled grass beneath her, starting to thaw from the heat she feels is escaping her at such a speed she thought was just an exaggeration the true crime stories used to describe the hopeless helplessness she feels at the very moment.

Her fingers dig into the ground, feeling the dirt blend into the carefully manicured prettiness of her nails. It’s an ugly contrast that barely manages to shock her as her eyes peel themselves open. Even if it had shocked her, she wasn’t sure her brain would have been able to process the emotion.

The stabbing tingle of her fingers pulls her hazy attention away from the ground and to the metal on her tongue. The tang of her blood trickles down her chin so slowly it nearly itches. Her eyes can barely bring themselves to fully adjust to the scene in front of her with all of the lights blinding her vision and that god-awful ringing in her ears.

The ringing was supposed to be the worst part.

The inability to process anything besides the dirt underneath her frigid body was supposed to be the worst part.

Instead, the worst part was that she couldn’t bring herself to want to fix it. As if the warming grass beneath her had consumed every fiber of her will, Naryun had no interest in fixing the disorientation or the frigidity. And she definitely had no interest in stopping the ringing that spun her mind and made her nerves scream in an endless loop that made her feel absolutely mad with suffering.

A scream finds a way to escape the confines of her hoarse throat. Slipping through the reddened glow of her whitened teeth and out of her body with such force it rips her voice away from her. The second scream comes as a lower groan and the third is lower still. It is the strength of her whispers that finally tear her will from her. The lights and the ringing begin to still before she can attempt to make sense of them. Stillness—and her sister comfort—embrace Naryun into a void that welcomes her so gently that she doesn’t even miss the ringing in her ears.

It must be hours later when Naryun is finally coaxed out of stillness and back into awareness. Her body shivers from the cold and her nose flares as it takes in the sterility of the hospital air. The mattress beneath her is just as cold as the grass she had last felt the ringing. The ringing itself is gone, though she now longs for its return instead of the screaming she can’t quite register from outside of the hospital room door. The inability to register the words thrown amid argument cannot hide the voices the words belong to— even in her state of slow consciousness.

With a groan, she reaches for the button she’s sure is not too far from her side. The buzz of the alert is fuzzy and barely recognized as she attempts to block out the insults spinning around her head. A young nurse rushes over to the newly alert idol, slowly taking in the sight of her hands covering her ears with her eyes gently adjusting to the fluorescent LED lights hanging overhead.

“Miss—”

“Please tell the divas with the dyed hair to shut the fuck up.”

She throws in a gentle smile to soften the harshness of her words, hoping the poor nurse wouldn’t take her irritation to heart. With a shallow bow, the blue-scrubbed woman carefully exits the room, Naryun almost laughs to herself when she sees Melanie’s head whip around. Her brown eyes make contact with Naryun’s darker ones, drawing a clear path from her place between the three bodies flanking both of her sides. Her shoulder nudges Heri’s whose features twist in concern before following Narae’s eyes to the group’s soft-spoken vocalist.

“Can you tell everyone that you’re perfectly fine?” Melanie’s words are as brash as expected. Naryun catches Karin’s labored exhale as she presses against her tanned temples.

“What- what are you talking about?” Naryun shallowly chokes out, coughing hoarsely before Will raises a bottle of water to her lips. It is at that moment that Naryun realizes her right hand is bandaged up, thumb set in its place, a stark contrast drawn between the forced restraints keeping her in place and the impatient pacing Melanie charts in front of Naryun’s hospital bed.

“Karin and I think that it would be best if you—and the rest of the group take a break from any public activities-” Will, the parent company’s PR representative is cut off by a bright-eyed Australian accent.

Melanie cuts into his words, inserting her thoughts into the conversation.

“Which is overkill because you’re fine, right?”

There’s a hidden force beneath Melanie’s words, one that Naryun is sure only she and Heri pick up on between the five people occupying the sterile room. Naryun’s eyebrows furrow as the boom of Melanie’s voice pounds against her temples. She’s much louder than Will is, more forceful, much less gentle.

“Melanie,” Karin speaks up with a warning. Her gentle stiffness contradicts Will’s all-around gentleness.

If she had even the slightest clue what Melanie was so worked up about Naryun might have even found the tension a bit humorous. But with Narae’s controlled anxiety and Heri’s flat-out anxiety, Naryun can’t help but find herself bothered by Melanie’s bluntness.

“I- I don’t..” She draws out, eyes closing as she grows frustrated with her brain which can’t seem to remember why she has a headache or why she’s in a garish white gown. Narae releases a controlled breath through her nose, taking a step towards Naryun the others in the room wouldn’t dare to.

“You were in an accident, bear.”

Bear. Her words are so gentle and so direct that it takes Naryun a moment to piece everything back together. Her twin sister’s hands softly tug at Naryun’s chestnut hair, eyes communicating much more than those nearly harmless five words.

“Car?” She whispers, unable to tear her eyes away from her sister’s. With a nod so quaint the other three miss it completely, Narae’s eyes lock onto Melanie’s figure, signaling all her sister needed to know at the moment.

Naryun swallows slowly bringing Will to draw closer, offering another needed sip of water. He begins to speak once more as he watches her drink from the bottle in his hand.

“We want to give you as much time as you need. I’ve spoken to the others, their priority is your recovery. Nothing happens without your word, Naryun.”

His calming tone does nothing to ease Naryun’s gradually quickening heart. Nothing could calm her heart when Melanie’s eyes blaze with a fierceness Naryun is much too familiar with.

Karin is the next to step forward. Motherly hands reach to envelop Naryun’s damaged ones in her own. “Take some time, go back home. We’ll circle back in a few months, okay?”

Naryun nods, incredulous as she takes in the two executives’ words while simultaneously trying to decipher Melanie’s stony expression as she leans against the frame of the door. A few moments of silence allow Naryun the clarity to finally voice her thoughts.

“What’s wrong with you?” Her two groupmates seem shocked by her lack of filter. The most conscious member pulled into a state of bluntness. A state that perfectly aligns with the bruising injuries that decorate her skin.

Melanie’s raised eyebrows illustrate her perplexion, releasing a much gentler, “Me?”, in response to Naryun’s frankness. Receiving a nod in confirmation, she sighs with her head hanging in what a stranger would view as shame. Naryun knows better than to believe the act so she waits in silence, eyes unbudging from Melanie’s figure.

She parts her lips to answer before quickly closing them. She repeats the action once more before finally pushing herself up to pace closer to the pale vocalist.

“Sunny-”

“Melanie, don’t fuck with me right now.”

Their eyes lock in a stare. Heri shifts uncomfortably in her spot. Karin’s hand reaches to massage her temples once more.

Melanie’s jaw clenches. “Naryun,” She tests out to begin. “You- I’ve been working really hard on my album, you know that better than anyone.” The switch in her word choice tells Naryun exactly where she was going.

Still, a little part of her wants to give her the benefit of the doubt, nodding twice to give her the okay to continue.

“If I wait on this, I risk missing my window-”

“Your window?” Narae scoffs. Will sighs. Karin remains silent.

Ignoring her completely Melanie continues. “A December release date. It’s perfect, you know that right?”

Naryun can’t help but blink up at the older girl. The silence in the room is thick, nearly strangling Melanie whose eyes have yet to let go of the fierceness Naryun despised. She struggles to find the words as her head continues to pound, louder than before, in response to the plea Melanie presents her with. Instead of responding, her head turns to face Heri whose eyes are fixated on the ground. Her bangs cover her face as she all but fades into the distant background of the tense conversation.

“Heri,” Naryun speaks up, grasping the attention of the younger girl.

“What do you think?”

Naryun feels her heartbreak at the vulnerability in Heri’s eyes. Her head shakes in a desperate plea to remain without a voice. This time it is Melanie who scoffs. Will sighs again. And Karin’s eyes roll so subtly that Naryun knows she’s hit a vein.

“I’m asking you what you think, Heri.” A little more forceful this time, Heri’s eyes close in discomfort as if wishing reality—or herself— to disappear.

She whispers lowly, “I can’t.”

Naryun’s eyes blaze as she whips her head towards Melanie. The blonde meets her eyes in challenge, a smirk reaching her own as her arms fold one over another.

“Heri.” Narae is the one to speak up this time. Melanie keeps staring at Naryun.

“It’s not fair!” She finally exclaims, cracking under the pressure of the three older idols. Her eyes continue to shy away from any eye contact, fixed to the floor as she hugs herself in self-comfort. Naryun holds her gaze on Melanie, urging the youngest girl to continue, “What’s not fair, Heri?”

Heri hesitates this time, chewing at her lip as it quivers in discomfort. Tears threaten to break at the surface before she finally finds the strength to look up from her found comfort on the floor. It’s at that moment that Melanie breaks the contest between Naryun and herself. Faux gentleness floods her eyes as the twins look on incredulously. Not yet understanding what was soon to occur, Narae turns to face Naryun whose jaw is set in a low anger.

“What’s not fair, Heri?” Melanie’s voice, echoing Naryun’s words, oozed with honeyed care. Her eyes warm with a comfort that only Heri can see. It’s that same comfort that finally draws the words out of Heri’s mouth.

“It’s not fair to Melanie.”

Karin and Will are shocked into silence as Narae struggles to contain her amazement. Naryun, who already knew what the girl’s next words would be, doesn’t react. Her breathing is even for the first time since she woke up, and her eyes stare straight ahead, through Karin and Will who struggle to believe Heri’s words.

Narae is the first to speak up.

“Is this a joke to you?”

Her voice cuts through the silence, aimed at Heri who refuses to look up at her, eyes back to their comfort spot on the floor.

“You cannot be serious.” Narae scoffs, turning to leave the room. Her footsteps are heavy as her cloud of disappointment follows her through the door of the hospital room.

“Melanie can have her album then. Since Heri thinks it’s unfair… Melanie can have her album. That’s fine.” Naryun’s words are curt, delivered with a level of restraint that manages to astonish even Melanie. Sensing the protests fighting to tumble from Will’s lips, Naryun eyes him with an air of decisiveness.

Karin, ever the businesswoman, clears her throat and turns to face Melanie.

“I’ll see that everything is finalized. I’m looking forward to hearing it.” Her lips purse in obvious disappointment as she carefully eyes Heri whose bowed head causes her hair to fall over her face once again. With a shake of her head, she exits the room.

Will, who says nothing, follows behind her, his phone pressed to his ear with seasoned speed.

Melanie reaches for Naryun’s hand, holding it so warmly that Naryun almost begins to understand Heri’s cowardice.

“I’ll be thinking about you the whole time. Thank you, hun.”

Her accent creeps into her pronunciation in a way that Naryun finds ironic considering her false sincerity. She glides out of the room with an ease that leaves Naryun numb with anger.

Heri turns to leave the room without a word of comfort. Head hanging low as she drags her feet across the gray vinyl flooring, following Melanie so predictably it finally draws a scoff out of Naryun. Stopping in her tracks, Heri looks up at the hospitalized vocalist. Naryun watches in distaste as a tear falls from Heri’s eyes leaving a wet path along her sunken cheeks.

“Do me a favor?” Heri speaks up cautiously.

Naryun doesn’t respond.

“Please don’t tell the others what I said.”

The edge of Naryun’s mouth twitches in response. Her nose flares as she tries, and fails, to contain herself.

“Do me a favor?” Naryun echoes her words.

She takes a deep breath as the pounding in her head finally clears and her voice returns to its full strength. A rush of will surges through her as she pushes herself up to her full height. Their eyes meet for the first time that day before Heri breaks the hold, another tear falling from her eyes.

“Let me know what her dick tastes like when she finally fucks you.”

Heri doesn’t respond.

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moirtre · 2 months

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‎ ‎ ⋆⠀⠀&.⠀⠀٬⠀⠀❝ 2 : 33 AM : EVERGREEN. ❞ ‎ ‎ ┉

one day, i will stop falling in love with you. some day, someone will like me like i like you. until then, i'll drink my coffee, eat my pie, pretend that we are more than friends. then, of course i'll let you break my heart again.⠀–— from, “Let You Break My Heart Again - Laufey & Philharmonia Orchestra”

&.⠀⠀CHARACTERS⠀⠀┉⠀⠀*⠀NAIRA CHRISTIANSEN, CARTER KIM. &.⠀⠀WORD COUNT⠀⠀┉⠀⠀*⠀2.7K &.⠀⠀WARNINGS⠀⠀┉⠀⠀*⠀suggestive content, manipulation. &.⠀⠀NOTES⠀⠀┉⠀⠀*⠀apologizing in advance. it's not heavy but it approaches being heavy. carter (derogatory) can be found at @genav0s. naira's (unfortunately) a little dumb in this one but i really can't blame her! not proofread bc i never proofread anything <3 takes place in 2019 when both of them had way too much time on their hands.

Naira feels the buzz of her phone before she can process its awakening by her side.

Her hands, covered in the gray mush that rests on her wheel, scramble to grab onto the towel that lies discarded beneath the carefully sectioned block wrapped up in plastic. The mush splatters onto her cotton overalls as the wheel comes to a halt. The music playing in her ears mimics the wheel, ceasing to play as her ringtone fills her ears through the white headphones attached to the jack of her phone.

She huffs in frustration as the towel sticks to her hands. Pressing against the material, she silently prays she can free up a few fingers before the call disappears.

It’s 2am in Seoul, midnight in Bangkok.

“Must be important,” is what she tries to rationalize in her mind as she continues the scramble.

The ringing ends before she can put the towel down. With a low curse under her breath, she relents to cleaning her other hand. Before she can pick up the phone, it buzzes with a notification.

thought i was special :(

A scoff leaves her lips, her hands clamoring to answer the melodramatic man on the other end of the text.

it’s 2am carter

She responds, fighting off a smile that pulls at her cheeks and warms her skin.

The late-night texts from the Canadian were nothing new between the pair. In the month or so since the two had begun whatever this was, Naira had found herself in conversation—or in his sheets—more times than she would readily admit to the other members of their respective groups. A part of her found it a bit embarrassing; how easily he could draw her in with his empty words and blistering kisses. But they were good together. So good she’d forget her name and giggle a bit too loud at his half-assed flirtations.

It takes a simple, come over, for Naira to pull herself away from her wheel. She smiles a bit too widely and moves a bit too quickly. With a glance towards her reflection in the mirror adorning the left side of her entryway, she grabs her keys with one hand while fluffing her hair with the other.

He doesn’t try to text her again as she makes the drive from her apartment to his penthouse on the west side of the city. Naira’s not sure she would even notice a text coming from him with the way her imagination runs wild. The embarrassment of the situation is lost on her. She can’t bring herself to worry about the chances of getting caught when she can practically feel the warmth of his body and the drawl in his voice pulling her in gently.

Her hands shake in anticipation as she twists the key—one he’d taken her to get a copy of last week. His foyer is dark, devoid of both light and life. He had just moved in the day before she had gotten her copy of his key. She remembers the box tossed to the side of his couch; the same box she had tripped over as she lied to Sanghyuk and Romeo about her presence in the kitchen that early morning.

The fading smell of cigarettes draws her to his room where he stands over his record player. His favorite ashtray sits on the small nightstand next to the wall of vinyl she had organized for him—by genre and artist—the last night she was here.

“What am I doing here?”

Naira rubs at her face. The cold from the blistering wind battered at her nose, chapping her lips during her walk from the parking garage to his door.

Her accent blends familiarly into the consonants. The English leaves her lips with the subtlest twang of uncertainty; though she’s fairly sure he senses it from the way he smiles graciously.

They always spoke in English. Carter never cared enough to pretend to learn Thai for her. She had asked him about it once during one of their early encounters on a company trip to Tokyo back in September. He had looked away from her naked face as he told her that he felt safe around her—vulnerable might have been the word he used back then.

Naira wasn’t quite sure she bought it then. But she couldn’t think much about it after the words left his mouth. And how could she? Not when his chest was so warm underneath her blossoming cheek. Not when his hands wandered slowly beneath the covers shielding her bare chest. Her mind let go of the thought just as quickly as she perceived it.

She never asked him again.

Carter barely spares her a glance before motioning her over to his side. Sensing her wariness of the lit cigarette resting in the ashtray, Carter chuckles, taking a slow drag before stubbing out the flame in the tray it once lay in. With a release of her shoulders, Naira carefully crawls into the mess of his sheets, perching herself against the headboard to watch as his tanned hands skim over his collection of records.

“What are you doing here?”

He laughs at her question.

It was one of the things that annoyed her about him. Everything seemed to be a joke to Carter Kim. That distinct, perfect laugh he always managed to release made her feel smaller than she already was by his side. He’d throw his head back. His perfectly browned, floppy hair mirrored his movements; falling back, perfectly, over his face once he was done. She’d get caught up in the shine of his perfect teeth—another thing that annoyed her about him.

Carter Kim was always perfect.

“I can’t answer that for you, hon.”

Hon. It was embarrassing the way she sucked in a breath at the release of the pet name he had chosen for her. If Carter noticed, he never said a word, continuing on in that perfect Canadian drawl he added to the ends of his sentences.

“I called, you didn’t pick up. I asked you to come over, and you did. Don’t know why.”

She rolls her eyes playfully at that, leaning up to shove at his shoulder.

“You know why.” She mutters slowly.

Her hand caught in Carter’s as he continued to skim his collection. With a tug, she’s pushing herself off his bed and onto her feet. He guides her hands to the player. Having finally picked an album to play, her fingers nudge the play button at his will. French Exit’s opening track soothes out of the player so low Naira strains to recognize it.

With a turn, Carter finally faces her. A shared glance is all it takes before her hands are on her waist—hers crawling from his shoulders to the nape of his neck—and his lips are on hers. In what feels like forever, Naira lets go of any clever quips loaded to bite back at the Libra.

“I knew it,”—he’s deliciously breathless between kisses—“you’re obsessed with me.”

Naira groans into his mouth, pulling away to shake her head. He’s pulling her wrist to his lips before she can think of any words to say.

That was simply all it took for her to lose herself in him. That was what it always took. A tug of her waist, a caress of her neck, the sweeping off of her feet.

Naira was aware of the absence of rationality every time she let him draw her in like this. She was aware of the way he tugged at her boundaries, pushing them a bit farther every time he summoned her with a text. She was aware that she knew next to nothing about him—instead, he would distract her from any personal details the same way he lured her to his bed in the first place. She had known all these things, but all of a sudden she was aware.

He bites at her neck—something he never did—and it rouses her out of her Carter-induced haze. With a jump, she pulls away from him, suddenly too aware of all the things she knew before. All the things she chose to ignore. His eyebrows furrow as the record changes to the next song. The silence between the two of them cut away at any notes lifting from the player. Their eyes catch in a deadlock, Carter’s firm hands unmoving from their place underneath her shirt, her own pulling into a fist from their place on his chest.

“I’m obsessed with you.” She whispers. The edge of her lip twinges in realization, and his eyes remain fixed on hers. Unrelenting and emotionless.

“Hon,” he sighs, finally breaking eye contact. His arms bring her in closer as he tries to distract her once more, “Is that supposed to be a bad thing?”

He laughs again. Naira grits her teeth, turning her head away from him.

“Yes, Carter.” She snaps. If he was taken by surprise at her outburst, he doesn’t let on to it.

“I’m obsessed with you and that’s a fucking problem.”

His eyebrows raise as his hands loosen their hold on her body. Naira frees herself from his grip, suddenly feeling uneasy in his presence. Her anxious pacing does nothing to tick Carter off. Instead, his eyes slowly track her movement away from his side to the other side of his room.

“Why are you doing this?” Carter groans, his hands resting on his hips. Eyes continuing to track Naira’s pacing figure.

“Because you…” Her words fail her with a groan. She can feel the words on the tip of her tongue but they don’t connect to her brain. And it frustrates her.

“Because I what, Naira?” His voice rings out once again, this time much harsher. She makes contact with his eyes through the mirror laid out in front of her. She can just make out the furrowing of his eyebrows and the irritation set in his hardened jaw.

“Because you’re not obsessed with me.”

The words connect with her brain in Korean.

The switch visibly knocks Carter off of his chilly pedestal, the shock marked in his face striking Naira. She—admittedly—had never conceived Carter could process any other emotions beyond being smug and just okay. The shock held a bit of fear she could not begin to recognize amongst his features. It was odd how quickly it all happened. How quickly he became an entirely different person altogether. How quickly she could knock him off balance and a version of himself she was sure not many people could get to.

“I don’t understand,” He resorts to English once more. Though Naira understands what he truly means, she refuses to meet him there. With a shake of her head she mutters, “Of course not.”

His arms cross over his chest, guarding himself from Naira’s words. The pensive anxiety in his eyes brings Naira to turn to face him. He refuses to meet her eyes.

“You know, there’s only a few things the girls can all agree about recently.” She trails off, drawing herself closer to his guarded figure. “And I should’ve listened closer when they said you were a problem.”

Stoic as ever, Carter takes one step closer to Naira, towering over her as he does so. His eyes held a darkness she had never seen in him before, different from the general emptiness they usually held whenever they met up on their late nights.

“How am I the problem, hon?” He hums, his hands reaching out to brush the hair away from her face. Pulling her hair into a makeshift ponytail held in the fist of his hand, he tugs her closer to him; her legs following the yanking of her body.

With a whine, Naira shuts her eyes.

“Can you tell me? Why am I the problem?” His voice is impossibly deep, oozing with both venom and lust in a way that shakes Naira out of her anger and back into that trance. “What happened, hon? You were so worked up a minute ago. Telling me that I’m the problem.”

Naira sucks in a deep breath, attempting to hold on to the last amount of autonomy she can muster. It’s all too much. His voice and the way it surrounds her. It swirls in her mind, envelops all of her thoughts, and chases them off leaving nothing but him. She can smell the mint and nicotine on his breath. A smell she had come to associate with the late nights in his sheets, covered only by the thin silk and his warm hands.

Then his lips are everywhere. Attaching themselves to her clavicle, his body bending down to meet her height. His hair tickling at her skin, his familiar clean shampoo flooding her senses. Trailing up her neck with his hands holding her to him in their impossibly tight grip. Undoubtedly, leaving a slow trail marking where he’d been along her side. Then they press against her jaw, drawing what little will she has left.

“How could I be the problem, hon?” He hums against her skin. “I’m spoiled by you. You’ve ruined me for anyone else.” Her breath escapes her as he speaks against her lips. Low and controlled, steady in a way she could never begin to pull herself away from.

“All I can do is live and breathe you. Only you.”

His hands move again. Falling away from her hair as if offering her release. When she doesn’t take the opportunity, they pull her body closer to his. Those wandering hands traveling down her arms and bringing them under his control. They pull hers to their familiar place on his chest. He’s a furnace, burning at her hands but so inviting she falls into line with him.

“I couldn’t let you go if I tried, hon. I’m yours.” His face cradles itself into her neck, his whispers slowly crawling into her ears.

“I’m yours.”

Carefully controlled desperation leaks into his tone, furrowing Naira’s eyebrows as she fights against her better interests. Sure that he’s sensed this, her hands ball into fists once more, pressing against his chest as if begging for her release from the hold he’s captivated her into.

“Relax for me, hon.” He soothes, all too familiar to her ears. “Open those eyes for me, pretty girl.” His words pull at her will, ripping her away from her judgment and leaving her waiting for his next words.

As if in control of her reflexes, her eyes pry themselves open, receiving the sight of his own gazing intently into hers. It’s all too much for her; his voice, his commands, his heat, his presence. It consumes her control over her own body and it relinquishes its autonomy to him without much of a fight. Her hands relax from their bounding tightness, her voice loses its edge, and tears begin to flow from her eyes. It’s all too much for her.

“There’s my girl,” Carter hums. His forehead presses to hers, a hand lifting her chin to keep her eyes on his.

“I can’t be the problem. Not when I make you feel this good.”

All sirenic, his voice seeps into her psyche, pulling her out of her own body and leaving her defenseless. Then his lips are on hers and everything melts away. All her anger, all her control, all her confusion. Left in its place is a yearning for his touch, a desperation for his kiss.

Effortlessly, he carries her to his bed. Laying her down as he hovers over her.

She can barely breathe as he pulls at her shirt. Her mind carried away in a sea of loss. All she can think and feel and do is him. It leaves her in a daze that disconnects her mind from her words. And despite it all, she can’t push him away.

She can’t bring herself to let him go.

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moirtre · 1 month

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‎ ‎ ⋆⠀⠀&.⠀⠀٬⠀⠀❝ 3 : 24 PM : NEW ORLEANS. ❞ ‎ ‎ ┉

wear your shit upon your sleeve, stop projectin' on me sense is your surround sound, what's your take on me? kill the ego now, what that make of me?⠀–— from, “New Orleans - Brockhampton”

&.⠀⠀CHARACTERS⠀⠀┉⠀⠀*⠀YANG YEEUN & YANG SANGHUN. &.⠀⠀WORD COUNT⠀⠀┉⠀⠀*⠀0.5K &.⠀⠀WARNINGS⠀⠀┉⠀⠀*⠀mention of death. &.⠀⠀NOTES⠀⠀┉⠀⠀*⠀30-minute drabble from a while ago, nothing i write is ever proofread.

Black was Juniper’s favorite color. It was always clean and distinct but required a certain level of maintenance to retain all the qualities that made it so. She wore black on every runaway and nearly every red carpet. Her fans and the brands she worked with always associated her with the color—that was less than intentional, it was just her favorite color.

Even though Letalis had come to be associated with the color red and all its varying shades of blood, lust, vengeance, and seduction, Juniper had always seen it as black.

Clean.

Trained by the best, made to be the best, and they were: the best.

Distinct.

They had their concept—and it was theirs. None came close to their precision nor their handiwork. Every comeback was a building block laid on top of the precedent set by the previous. Somehow, over eleven years they continued to be just that: precise.

But required a certain level of maintenance to retain all the qualities that made them so.

Juniper hated being the leader. Most days, she resented Naira for her pleas and cries to Karin to pass over her. Every day, she resented herself for being so obsessed with the idea of debuting that she gave in to Karin’s sordid terms.

Leader, or no debut.

It was simple, like her favorite color, and the familiarity of the role kept her blind to the prices she would eventually pay for her shallow hunger for fame and recognition.

Watching her brother, Sanghun, dazzle Korea while lighting up the subways of Seoul with fan-dedicated posters and company-propped advertisements, her thirst for the validation of her talents and achievements drove her to the gates of selfishness. Despite his youth, Sanghun held an air of solemnity that worried Juniper. He had warned her of the pitfalls of his depression and how it had only been stretched to its limits after his debut.

She figured it was the weight of his situation that pushed his limits. She figured debuting as the leader would alleviate some of that weight.

She hoped the other six girls would shoulder the weight with her, that they would be sisters in name and in heart; wholly bound together by the circumstances that pressed upon them the moment they signed their contracts.

Juniper figured they would have been; had it not been for herself.

Herself and her love of the color black.

It had been a slow fall from the top that led to the lost sisterhood between the seven girls. Most days, Juniper blamed her need to fix everything. Her need to keep things clean. Her hunger to make things distinct. Her thirst to be the certain level of maintenance required to retain all of the qualities that would allow them to be her own ‘black’.

When the news of Sanghun’s death was broken to her in a call from Jaden, it all became lost on her. Those pitfalls he had described to her consumed her will, dissolving what little need and hunger and thirst she had left.

Black was Juniper’s favorite color. Until the red of her selfishness tore through the black, leaving blood in its path.

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moirtre · 6 months

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‎ ‎ ⋆⠀⠀&.⠀⠀٬⠀⠀❝ 3 : 28 AM : SCORCHED WINGS. ❞ ‎ ‎ ┉

like the wind without her whisperings and the colours wept from all her tapestries would be left nothing but sullen imagery the uncertainty of forgotten things.⠀–— from, “Fingerprints - Hiatus Kaiyote”

&. CHARACTERS: min heri, seong jioh, carter kim. &. WORD COUNT: 1.4k &. WARNINGS: swearing & mention of outing. &. NOTES: not super proofread, romeo & carter can be found at @genav0s :), i may have changed my mind about how i tell heri's story but we'll see

Everyone knew Carter and Romeo came as a package deal. They worked well together and worked together often. A perfectly oiled machine without a single screw left unshined— they would never allow their machine to be left loosely screwed.

Time faded through the silence of dark rooms and empty studios, only the two of them and the subtle bopping of their heads. The silence that enveloped the darkened room escaped down the hallways of Apricus and surrounded the building as if a thick blanket of security.

Never a sign of uneasiness, Carter and Romeo, Romeo and Carter just worked. They always worked. With just a glance, they exchanged a cathedral’s worth of both spoken and unspoken words. With so much communicated in just a look exchanged between the group members, Heri was left to observe on in amazement.

Though conceived of the same star, Heri had never felt so removed from a conversation between three people. Her group never had the connection the Avos boys did. It was ironic was what Karin had always said.

“It’s like you’re each other’s opposites. They started off hating each other but somehow became brothers. The seven of you… it’s ironic honestly,” Was what she always mused whenever one of the boys found themselves enveloped in another dumb scandal. The other four would come rushing behind to defend him for whatever he had done.

No matter how dumb.

Ironic as it was, there was something admirable about the respect the five had for each other.

It was a respect Heri had wasted countless nights longing for. She knew the respect she longed for was only found in romances and stories of Greek demigods whose hometowns adorned them with fresh laurels and limestone edifices. Heri had never met someone who thought her to be worthy of the laurels she too often fantasized about— though she had a running list of those she would dedicate mortar temples to. Carter and Romeo were in the middle of the list, just beneath Karin and her parents.

The Letalis girls operated quite differently. Heri had been the most recent victim of the alienation machine that was the “girl group industrial complex”, in Juniper’s very insightful words. The sudden wave of alienation that flooded her standing relationships with other girls confused Heri profoundly. It had been a few weeks of blissful “what-ifs” and rom-com-level daydreaming that suddenly turned into a public humiliation that left Heri confused.

She would often find herself lost in thought in the space between Carter and Romeo. In those moments she couldn’t help but scoff to herself, reminded that everything happened just because she had a crush on a girl.

“I think this is great,” Carter hummed with closed eyes and a rhythmic bopping of his head.

The dim blue pixels were the only source of light illuminating the panel that lay in front of the three shadows. His words broke Heri from her thoughts. With a turn she faced him, carefully observing the slope of his nose and the tan of his skin.

"Yeah, it's great, but we still don't have a theme song," Romeo muttered. Heri lifted her eyes back to the soundboard in front of them, chuckling gently.

"Fuck a kids' theme song, this is genius," Carter groaned as he stood up from his chair. Heri smiled as she watched the two interact so comfortably with each other.

"That's not what we came here for. Heri, tell him that," Romeo said, his tone sweet and polite, unlike Carter's notorious shamelessness.

Heri shook her head at the playful bickering and spoke up slowly, "They're kind of expecting a kids' theme song, Carter. If we show up with this, or nothing at all, they're going to have questions."

"Whatever," Carter shrugged. "I didn't go through that survival hell show to make beats for kids. I need a break." The door closed behind him before either one of the idols still sitting could argue with him differently.

Romeo turned to face Heri, hands rubbing at his temples, eyes squinted to a near close as if the barely-there light had given him a headache. Heri fought the smile that seemed never to leave her lips the longer she was seated in between the two older males before replicating Romeo’s position.

“Sorry about him, he’s a dick,” Romeo shakes his head.

A comfortable silence fell upon the two idols, as it often did whenever Carter had left an empty space in the studio’s chilling air. Heri tried to fight off the uneasy feeling that fluttered down her spine as she did her best to avoid Romeo’s watchful eye. It was a feeling she got much too often these days. Fleeting ‘you okay?’s met with a gentle squeeze to her shoulder after she released an automated nod, too worried about being perceived as needy to voice the thoughts that strangled every semblance of peace in her consciousness.

“Heri,” Romeo’s brown eyes studied her face, his voice gentle, concern bleeding into the vocalization of her name. “You okay?”

The truth was too much for him to bear was what she had always figured. It was too much for most others to bear. But most others would never ask her every time they saw her. Most others stopped asking after receiving her automated nod and the air of uncomfortable silence forced upon them. Heri figured Romeo would stop asking— Carter never asked.

With a forced smile that favored a grimace, she answered with a whisper.

“Yeah, of course. I’m fine.”

For a moment, Romeo continued staring at her. He was good at that, disarming her when she was more comfortable bottling everything up. She never could tell what exactly was brewing behind the strong eyebrows that shielded any thoughts from the eyes he gazed into.

A break in his observation finally revealed an unconvinced incredulity that startled Heri with how quickly he was able to release his emotions from their fortress inside his mind.

“You sure? You seem… I don’t know, more distant than usual.”

Just like that, the knot that had embedded itself into her stomach began unraveling from both ends. Heri sighed, “I don’t know, Romeo. It’s like everything’s slipping away from me. Like— I’m stuck in this weird in-between, and I don’t know how to get out. Everyone… like, hates me.”

Romeo’s expression softened, allowing her the energy to continue. “I don’t even get what I did, that’s— that’s so bad, you know? I liked a girl and had the nerve to… admit that. And— suddenly I deserve to be outed? Everyone else is so put together with their… love lives and everything, I just—”

“It sucks.” He completed her thought and a grave nod of his head clues Heri into a vulnerability she had never seen from him before. “You’re the only one who’s still putting the pieces together and that bothers them because you’re supposed to know who you are.”

Tears prick at the corners of Heri’s eyes, her eyes transfixed upon Romeo’s. A side of him slowly revealed itself that she had never been lucky enough to witness before. She wondered if anyone had been able to witness this side of him. A more melancholy version that mirrored his namesake rather than the played-up sensitive artist persona that he was more readily inclined to share with the world.

“I’m losing friends that I never had,” Heri whispered with a sadness that struck Romeo with a wave of deja vu he couldn’t begin to explain to an outside observer. He leaned closer, his hand resting on her shoulder. Instead of words, he offered his arms, a makeshift sanctuary for the words that were too painful for either of them to begin to think of uttering. Silent tears fell down her face, only the soft whirring of the machines surrounding them.

She was the first to pull away. “I’m sorry Jioh,” she mumbled, embarrassment settled over her cheeks, turning them a light pink. “I didn’t mean to—” Romeo shook his head, bringing a hand up to her face to wipe away her tears adding, “It’s good to cry… you’re letting go of pain. That’s good.”

“Romeo, Romeo!” Carter’s voice boomed through the space, cutting through the two of them as he fell back into his chair on Heri’s right side. “Remind me to pay attention when you flirt.”

At his words, she released a genuine laugh. Between their jabs at one another, Heri found herself sinking into the chair underneath her, shoulders relaxing and cheeks raised in amusement.

“If this is how you landed that girl from—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Romeo cut him off, a balled-up piece of sheet music perfectly aimed at Carter’s head catching him off guard. “Asshole.”

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moirtre · 11 months

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* 10 : 09 PM . POSTURE: jan. 13, 2016.

CHARACTERS: melanie bae & yoon yeeun. WORDS: 739. WARNINGS: swearing.

Easily attached. Those were the words noted by Yeo Joo-eun in Heri’s file after her 6-month trainee evaluation. Always a half-step behind, Joo-eun pitied the fourteen-year-old whose bold features never seemed to match her muted nature. Uninteresting, at most. Those were the words remarked by Jeong Ka-rin to her creative director when Heri broke down in the practice room at sixteen, heartbroken for reasons other trainees would’ve been overjoyed.

Disappointment always seemed to hang over Heri’s head. Following her like a shadow, reminding anyone who glanced at her of the muteness that defined her personage. That muteness, somehow, never attacked her talent. Everyone knew Heri was talented— quite so. She was known for her voice, effortlessly high with a natural airiness. For her ear, musicality is embedded in her every thought. And for her kindness, like snow with its beautification of everything it covered. If it were not for the permanent sadness stitched into the creases of her eyes, Heri could have had her every wish. But self-sabotage never allowed for many wishes.

Within the group, Melanie was regarded as Heri’s direct opposite. Where Heri seemed to dampen with melancholic disappointment, Melanie blossomed with poise— the same elegant poise that escaped Heri the moment she debuted. Jae-jin, the girls’ manager from the beginning, liked to joke the two were yin and yang. Melanie, known to scoff at any comparison between herself and Heri, liked to make the point that yin and yang were direct opposites, equal opposites. And Heri was never Melanie's equal.

No one quite knows when ‘Heri and Melanie’ became ‘Heri’s obsession with Melanie’. but sometime between their debut and Melanie's first solo project, Heri's eyes gained vitality. The muteness that dominated her bold features grew lost in a glaze of enchantment. For the first time, “possibly in her life” (Naira was known to scoff at any mention of Heri), Heri allowed herself to be. Casting a wish as blissfully as the white snow cataloged on gorgeous winter days.

“It's like she puts you on a pedestal,” Juniper mutters half-heartedly. Melanie's eyebrows raise, making eye contact with the group's leader through the mirror.

“And you don’t?” She speaks with a laugh, drawing an unimpressed stare from Juniper.

“Personally, I think it’s cute. like-” she pauses. “When was the last time she looked like- I don’t know… like she didn’t dread her existence?” Juniper giggles at this, deep dimples appearing in her pale, apple cheeks.

“Can't remember.”

Melanie hums in affirmation of her point. A brief silence enveloped the two girls before Melanie spoke up once more. “Apparently she’s pretty good at making songs. like, producing them.”

It is Juniper's eyebrows that rise this time, surprised brown eyes watching Melanie and anticipating her next words.

“Jae-jin told me they’re giving her a chance. She might end up producing something with Carter for some kids’ show.”

“So they're like… testing her.” Melanie nods, “Yeah, Carter gets to evaluate her, see how good she really is—”

“Potentially make her cry.”

Juniper interrupts, adding in the thought with a brief chuckle released from Melanie.

“He's excited about it for some reason. Don’t know why, really.”

“Mels,” Juniper begins, sending the golden-haired singer a deadpan look. “Because he can be an asshole to her and get paid for it.”

She nods, slowly, pensive in her agreement. “He's mean for free, getting paid for it? That’s like- the perfect scenario for him.” Juniper mutters, shifting in her position perched on her closest friend's bed sheets.

“How do you think it’s gonna go for her?” Juniper speaks up quietly, almost as if she was afraid of posing the question. Her gentle fear is validated through Melanie’s casual scoff accompanied by a roll of her eyes.

“Honestly? I don’t give a fuck.”

Juniper's eyebrows shoot up in surprise once again. Despite her increasing awareness of how much Melanie resented the group’s second-youngest, the depth of her disdain for Heri never ceased to catch Juniper off guard.

“I want her gone. If Carter can’t manage to do that, I’ll go to Trenton— shit, even Ka-rin if I have to."

Juniper breathes deeply, fear creeping into her eyes as she takes in the words of the woman she’s looked up to since she first entered the company. In that moment Juniper understood the depths of Heri’s reverence for the group’s most popular member.

And Juniper knew better than anyone else that when Melanie Bae wanted something, she would get it.

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moirtre · 9 months

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* 08 : 22 AM . WE GO GENTLE: jul. 11, 2015.

CHARACTERS: emiya ueno & sohn naryun. WORDS: 1061. WARNINGS: swearing, they're a little mean to sienna & heri in this one, mention of cha*s theory members bc they're a warning on their own idk, dead parents mention, an allusion to unspecified teenage trauma, melanie says not nice things.

Emmy had always been prone to migraines. It was a wonder she had made it this far in her career without getting on some serious medications with all the bright lights and noise she dealt with on a daily basis. Her father often chastised her, begging his only daughter to see a doctor about the malicious pounding that frequently left her miserable. It wasn’t lost on Emmy that living in the Letalis dorm was likely the most central piece of her intolerable affliction.

The seven girls were by no means friends. They were close, sure. Emmy knew every last thought that passed through the others’ heads, as she was sure they reciprocated. But it was also true that Emmy wasn't overly fond of any of the others, besides, maybe, Naryun when she didn’t lock up the room they shared for reasons Emmy was never too interested to pay attention to.

Not that she paid much attention to what the other six girls did in the dorm they shared anyways.

In the nearly three years that the girls had been living together, Emmy had never experienced her migraines as frequently as she did the past two weeks. Melanie and Heri’s almost-friendship had completely broken down (Emmy didn’t quite care enough to find out why) leaving the younger a victim of the Australian’s vindictiveness. Emmy often found herself in both shock and horror at the venom that seemed to come naturally to Melanie’s expressions and exclamations.

“Bullshit like that is why everyone you know is ashamed of you,”

Is what Emmy last heard before she carefully closed the door to her room and tugged on a pair of headphones to drown out the sounds of the argument of the hour. Taking a seat on the floor of her room, Naryun floated out of their shared bathroom, wrapped in a towel Emmy was sure Juniper had last threatened the others about using just the other night.

“Is that Mels and Heri?” She asked with her face turned towards the rapper expectantly.

Emmy only offers a hum paired with a nod before opening up her spiraled green notebook. Naryun offers an incredulous chuckle as she continues, “It’s…” She pauses, a huff escaping her nose delicately. “It’s sad, they used to be kind of close, right?”

It is Emmy’s turn to chuckle. “I dunno, were they?”

Naryun takes a moment to think, searching for god-knows-what in her mess of a closet as she does so. Emmy found it funny how easily Naryun could construct her own version of a reality so widely shared between so many people. She figures it’s a coping mechanism she adopted before becoming a trainee. But Naryun doesn’t talk about her early teenage years much, so Emmy doesn’t ask either.

“Yeah,” Naryun speaks as if her decided-upon response was especially obvious. Emmy waits for her reasoning before realizing Naryun didn’t have one, she never did.

“If anything, I think Sienna and Mels are closer than she and Heri ever were.” Emmy shrugs, matching Naryun’s matter-of-fact assessment. Of course, Naryun takes another moment to contemplate her roommate’s point of view.

“Well, they’re… related, so, I don’t think they have much of a choice.” Emmy doesn’t react, she doesn’t have to because she knows she’s right— she’s always right, and Naryun is only working it out in her mind aloud.

“She can’t be super bitchy to Sienna, dead parents and all that.”

Emmy laughs lightly at the remark adding, “God forbid her platonic relationships don’t work out.”

Naryun, only providing fire to the embers of a joke continues, “Always the fault of some distant sky deity who’s had it out for poor Miss Sienna van der Roest since birth.” Emmy rolls her eyes at the thought of one of Sienna’s many familiar excuses and accusations.

In her mind, the only thing separating Sienna and Heri was their approach when it came to playing the victim. Sienna had always played the perfect victim.

Her normally generously honeyed tone became nasally, wrought with a pleasant vocal fry, and the slightest bit pathetic— the perks of being an admittedly talented actress. Heri never could manage to emulate Sienna’s perfect act. Emmy knew better than to expect Heri to be capable of crafting anything unless someone had already set it up for her.

“Do you ever feel…” Emmy trails off, deciding at that moment to choose her next words very carefully.

Naryun turns back to her, hands carefully rolling her dampened, dark hair into rollers sitting next to the blowdryer adorning her side of their vanity.

“Do I ever feel what?” She speaks, almost impatiently eager to hear Emmy’s typically hidden thoughts.

“Do you ever feel just— exhausted by all of this fighting and screaming and— and crying? Because it’s starting to really get to me.”

Though the sentiment begins with a loud rumble, it reaches a whisper towards its end as Naryun stares back at Emmy with wide eyes. It’s not often Sohn Naryun is confronted with a version of reality she must address head-on, but it’s obvious from her spot in the creaky chair that Emmy is reaching for a lifeline.

A real answer.

So she takes a deep breath, “Emmy, have you thought about moving out?” Receiving a shake of Emmy’s head in response, Naryun continues on.

“I know your migraines have been getting worse since— since you and Juniper stopped getting along. I’ve been looking for apartments with Narae, you should… think about it. Might be good for you.” She chooses to bite her tongue after this, turning back to her vanity to continue her routine.

The silence between the two of them is not quite silent as the echo of raised voices and slamming doors from down the hallway travel along the pale walls of the dorm. But Naryun doesn’t have to keep staring at the rapper to know her words have penetrated through Emmy’s headphones and into her subconscious.

For Naryun, it’s not much of a surprise when Emmy hauls all of her belongings from the dorm with the help of various members of Chaos Theory as her unofficial roadies just three weeks later. She’s understandably peeved the 20-year-old never offered a warning of her pending development.

She knows it’s for the best, silently hugging her goodbye and flipping Quinton off as he attempts to pull off a joke at her expense.

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