#and by 'speakers' i wasn't sure if you meant literally like speaking like they
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OFF THE RECORD ▷ PART ONE (EP1-8)
nonidol!ji changmin x fem!reader
everyone thinks changmin is cute and harmless, but you know that's not who he really is.
▷ genre, part warnings. e2l, childhood friends gone bad, (extra) slow burn, fluff, angst, mentions of childhood trauma and parental manipulation, arguing, bittersweet galore, nct ten is there for the sole purpose of being nosy like the rest of us or for being a 2nd male lead who knows!, swearing, hurt/comfort, ji changmin dancing. (need i go on), symptoms of panic/anxiety, a lot of non-tbz moments sorry i meant it when i said extra slow burn, pining haha...ha (very subtle)
▷ PART ONE WC. 18.5k
this is the third installment of the love in unity series! this can be read as a standalone, but i encourage u to read jacob and eric's storylines too! all prev and future yns will be referred to as _!yn ;) / otr part two
a/n: this was going to be a very quirky author's note, but it's not anymore bc i'm really mad at tumblr. pls enjoy :')
EPISODE ONE (PILOT): OFF THE CLOCK
"NIGHT, Yn!"
"Good night, Yn-ie."
"Make sure you get some rest, Yn-ah! Good luck with the report."
The door out of the laboratory building shuttered closed after your last coworkers and peers swept out to leave you to the white noise of the lights above your head and the cooling units. You were probably the only person crazy enough to still be chained to your lab workbench on a Friday night, especially when it was already six o'clock. Your stomach growled its complaints as you tucked a pen behind your ear with a sigh. There was probably a bag of shrimp chips in the break room snack stash, and you pushed your stool beneath the workbench to head into the break room.
Now that the laboratory was practically barren except for you, it wouldn't be a bad idea to take the reign of Kun's speaker…
The sound of your phone ringtone blared out loud from your pocket, and you scrambled to grab it with your other hand not occupied with shrimp chip crumb dust (after having washed your hands, of course). You put the call on speaker then deposited your phone onto the countertop so both hands could be used for eating. "Yo."
"You've been hanging around Mark too much," Yeri answered from the other end.
You snorted, covering your mouth for a moment, then replying, "Well good evening to you, too, my beloved. What's up?"
You could hear the muffled sounds of your friends from the other side of the phone. A car door slammed shut. "Hey-yo, is that Yn? Yn, what's up, my dude?"
"Mark, can you speak like a regular human?" That was Seungkwan. "Hi Yn-ie! We miss you, mwah!"
"Look, man. Me and Yn are homies, and this is literally just how I talk—"
The car door opened and Yeri must have taken initiative to get out of the car herself at this point. You laughed at her audible eye roll. "Okay, now that you've heard what I have to deal with, will you tell me that you're coming to the dance draft show tonight?"
Your mood soured.
It wasn't that you didn't want to go for Yeri's sanity's sake, you just didn't want to go, period. What the performing arts called a rehearsal, they referred to as a "draft" stage, where they planned rough runs of acts for the showcase. It just so happened that the dance department was holding their draft show for people to sit-in to watch tonight; their final showcase would be held on the Friday night of finals week, which was only in a few weeks now.
(Why did they call it a "draft" stage instead of simply a "rehearsal"? Well, you had no clue, and you didn't have any plans to ask anyone who would know the answer.)
When you didn't immediately answer, you heard Yeri's grumble. "Don't nerd out on me, Miss Yn Ln."
You gasped. "Nerd out on you? I'm being responsible—"
"You're being a workaholic!"
You pursed your lips together and quickly rinsed your fingers of shrimp chip crumbs. "Fair. But I'm sorry, I'm not going."
A brief pause. Then, the sigh. "Okay. That's okay," she said. "Wanna meet us for dinner afterwards at least?"
Your stomach grumbled, right on cue. It wasn't loud enough for Yeri to hear on the other end, but the timing made you laugh to yourself. "Definitely."
There was a smile in your friend's voice. "Cool! I'll text you details once we figure out what's happening. In the mean—" her voice was interrupted by the sound of muffled yelling on the other side, and Yeri pulled her mouth away from the phone so she could screech at Seungkwan, Mark, and now, Kim Jungwoo, to be quiet and put their seatbelts on. You heard vaguely about Jungwoo being late for his call time, and you were not at all surprised. She returned to the phone with a grumble. "You're really leaving me with the kids, Yn?"
You giggled. "Sorry, Yeri. I'll pay for your dinner."
"Deal. See you soon, babe."
"See ya, love!"
When the phone call ended, you realized just how thick the silence fell around you. It settled like a blanket over your senses, and it all became a bit overwhelming, especially after such a loud phone call.
You sighed, putting the shrimp chips back in the snack stash. You might as well go find where Kun hid his speaker to fill the silence then.
— ✶
People were yelling. And tripping. And crying.
In retrospect, this constituted as a normal backstage environment for something like a finals showcase draft rehearsal. It was hardly even a rehearsal, but more so a sneak peek showcase. There were people in the audience, after all.
Ji Changmin would know. This would be his third winter draft show out of his three years here in university. There were always showcases at the end of each quarter, but the winter show wielded the title of most anticipated. With the cold and rainy weather keeping most people indoors, it allowed for a larger crowd to come flocking toward said indoor modes of entertainment. Thus, the winter showcase and all of its hype.
Changmin lingered in his little corner of the backstage area, calmly stretching out his lanky limbs while chaos erupted all around him. He had two acts this time around—a duet with Lee Juyeon, as well as a solo performance. It had been enough to keep him busy for the quarter, among his other classes.
"—Jungwoo, you're late!"
He raised his head at the sound of Lee Minho’s voice from across the room, the dirty blond sending a deadpanned glare at the man in question. Kim Jungwoo’s eyes were wide with doe-like innocence as he made his way toward his friend, his posse following behind and taking in the chaos with amused awe. Changmin could easily recognize those present—Kim Yeri, Mark Lee, and Boo Seungkwan.
He turned his head away; it wasn’t his business, and he had much bigger things to worry about.
He raised his hands to his neck to put his headphones over his ears, but paused when he caught a few more echoes of their conversation.
“ — sorry Minho, but you know I can’t resist getting a free carpool ride,” Jungwoo said while setting his duffle bag in the corner and swiftly joining Minho in stretches. If Changmin was a hard ass when it came to dance and schedules, Minho was much worse. But Changmin respected him a lot, especially in a craft like dance and performance—he saw him as an equal.
A sigh from Minho. “Yeah, yeah. Poor Yeri.”
Yeri huffed, her hands shooting up into the air. “Thank you!”
Minho folded his arms over his chest as he stood up straight to stand next to Yeri as the two of them absentmindedly watched Jungwoo fold himself in two to stretch his long legs out. “Huh, no Yn tonight?”
Changmin didn’t know why he was still listening. He slowly lowered his headphones back to their position around his neck, then resumed stretching out his hamstrings. He could wait a couple more minutes before getting into his choreography…
“You know you’re not gonna see her anywhere near this place,” Yeri said with a pointed look. Changmin held back a retort, or even a snort. “Wanna get dinner with us tonight? She’s coming to meet us after the show.”
“Ah, I’d love to, but I promised Jisung I’d swing by the studio afterwards. Hey, have you met Ten yet? You should ask…”
Changmin decided that this was an appropriate moment to tune out. He swiftly donned his headphones and reached for his phone hidden in the pile of his duffle bag and jackets in the corner. He didn’t even know why he listened in when your friends brought you up. Why were you even still connected to the dance and performing arts department people anyway? He huffed, rolling his eyes with a small shake of his head. It wasn’t like you wanted to be connected to dance anyway. So why give him a constant reminder of your existence and the past you shared—
“Changminnie!” Juyeon appeared in front of him, waving to him with that goofy smile to get his attention.
Changmin broke into a smile as he shifted one side of his headphones from his ear. “Hey. Wanna go over some of the routine?”
Juyeon nodded. “Yeah, I’m ready. I was trying to get your attention, but I think you were just occupied.”
Whoops. Changmin flicked his wrist as he followed Juyeon down the hallway to a more private place to practice with his friend. “Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking of something.”
“Oh, okay,” Juyeon ducked his head into an empty dressing room in the back hallway, beckoning Changmin to follow him in. “Nothing to worry about though? You can talk to me; no judgment.”
Changmin chuckled and closed the door behind him. “Nah, nothing important. Let’s just focus on the performance.” Anything involving you? Definitely not important anymore.
— ✶
Late February brought the cold, bitter winds of night to the university, so the trek all the way across campus from the laboratory buildings to the performing arts hall was a hellish one. You kept your head tucked into the puffy collar of your puffer jacket, hands stuffed into your pockets, a happy tune blasting in your ears to keep you going all the way up the road. It was around nine o’clock by the time you made it to the front of the performing arts hall, and you could already see the sea of people meandering outside its doors post-draft show.
You shivered and pulled your phone out from your pocket to see where your friends were waiting for you.
“Yn-ie!”
Your head lifted and you grinned, waving your hand at Seungkwan who was making his way over to you. “Hi Kwannie,” you greeted and wrapped your arms around him in a warm embrace.
When you’d pulled away, Seungkwan made a face as he shuddered. “Jesus, it’s cold. I should have brought a scarf or something. Did you walk here?”
You began to nod, but he tsked. “Aish, Yn. You should’ve called! No one should have to walk in this torturous cold.”
You laughed. “It’s no big deal. We’re about to go get some hot food, so it’s cool.”
“We might have to wait for a little longer.” Both you and Seungkwan turned toward Yeri, Mark, and Jungwoo who were walking over. Jungwoo had a sweatband holding his bangs out of his face and his duffle slung over his shoulder. He had his jacket draped over his arm; he was probably warm from the showcase. “We’re waiting on Ten to finish up.”
“Hi Jungwoo,” you greeted him, and the man returned the expression with a side hug. You furrowed your brows. “Who’s Ten?’’
Mark replied with a sniffle from the cold, “Oh, he’s a new exchange student! Well, he was originally admitted here, but he went abroad for a year. He's with the NCT frat. Super cool, super funny. He’s great at dance though.”
“I think you’ll vibe with him, Yn,” Yeri chimed in. “He’s asking a couple people for their opinion on a few parts of his routine, so I think he’ll be out soon.”
You nodded in understanding. You didn’t mind waiting, but you hoped what Yeri said about him was true. Hopefully you did get along with him, because you were honestly far too tired to forcefully play nice. You were hoping for a chill night anyway. Then again, as long as you could avoid a certain someone tonight, this would turn out to be a chill night in general.
You and your friends chatted for a few minutes only before Jungwoo caught someone’s eyes from behind you, Yeri, and Mark. He brightened. “Ten! Ten, over here!”
You all swiveled.
Ten was just as lean and lithe as Jungwoo was, but with black bangs, a pair of round spectacles hanging from the collar of his white T-shirt, and a cute smile on his face. You and he made brief eye contact before Jungwoo was hopping on the balls of his feet to greet him.
Jungwoo slung an arm around Ten’s shoulders as he brought him over to the group. “Yn, this is Ten Lee. Ten, this is Yn-ie—the friend we mentioned earlier.”
Your eyes widened slightly. “Why was I mentioned?” You laughed nervously.
Ten flashed you a boyish kind of smile. “Oh, it was nothing; don’t worry. It’s nice to meet you though.”
Your heart didn't slow at his assurance. “Ah, okay then. Uh, nice to meet you, too!”
“Did you get your routine settled?” Seungkwan asked as the lot of you began to move in one, loose blob toward Yeri’s car. (How all of you would manage to fit, that was something you mentally were trying to figure out. In Yeri’s tiny sedan, you might have to squish four people into the back seat.)
Ten nodded enthusiastically. “Yup, it’s all sorted. Minho and Changmin were really helpful with their comments.”
You felt the people around you freeze at the mention of Changmin’s name. You stiffened as well, but tried to force the strange feeling to go away. Your friends knew the drill, too, but you saw the way they glanced at you from their periphery.
Ten was smart, you realized, when his head tilted at all of your reactions.
Time for damage control. “That’s—that’s good!” Mark’s voice cracked and coughed to clear it. “I mean, Minho’s always been really attentive to details and stuff. I think he was almost recruited to become an idol or something like that…”
Ten pursed his lips, as if silently saying, ‘I’m not buying this bull’. You decided to just… do it. “Changmin’s a great dancer, too,” you said, and everyone shot disbelieving glances your way, but you could already see how Ten was grasping onto everything you were saying. You forced a neutral tone into the way you spoke, forced yourself not to let the bitterness seep through. No one deserved to fall victim to the feelings that were only meant for one Ji Changmin. “I’m glad he helped you out. He’s really good at sharp movements and isolations.”
“Oh, do you dance, Yn?” Ten piped up with a twinkle in his eyes.
“Ruh roh,” you heard Seungkwan murmur, and he shuffled away from you to go to the other side of Yeri’s car.
Maybe you purposefully let him see right through you. “Not really. It was a long time ago.”
You and Ten held eye contact, the silent tension like communication passed between the two of you—this was personal, but Ten could figure out that there was more to the story. It was odd though; the way he didn’t fear prodding just a little bit. You didn’t know why you were letting yourself feed him more bait, but Yeri was hollering for the two of you to squeeze into the backseat, and you snapped out of it.
Weird…
Ten held the backseat door open for you. “Looking forward to getting to know you, Yn,” he said pleasantly.
Your eyes narrowed slightly as you slipped into the backseat. “Same to you…”
EPISODE TWO: OFF THE TABLE
YOUR curiosity won you out.
In fact, it won you over so much that you agreed to get coffee with Ten Saturday afternoon—with Mark and Yeri, of course. The four of you had coordinated stopping by one of the coffee shops in the shopping mall just down the hill from the university to hang out and destress a little from the incoming second wave of STEM midterms. Well, you needed to destress. Mark was in communications, Yeri in psychology, and Ten was… what was Ten’s major again?
“Foreign affairs,” he answered before lifting the straw of his iced americano to his lips. “Lots of foreign language classes and politics and history. Politics and capitalism classes are not my favorite, but all the cultural courses on campus are really great.”
You bobbed your head, propping your chin onto your palm. You sat across from him at one of high tables in the cafe; Mark and Yeri’s stools were barren, save for the belongings they left for you and Ten to watch, while they literally sprinted across the mall to the grocery store because they forgot they were supposed to bring booze to the NCT-RVE joint alumni homecoming tonight. You probably weren’t going to go just because social energy came in short supply these days, but you promised to send a card for your friends in RVE.
“I can imagine,” you commented. “I took a really neat course on African tribes and culture in freshman year, and I miss my professor a lot. I sometimes wonder what would have happened had I joined his study abroad program in Ghana instead of staying here.”
Ten’s head did the tilt thing again, the one you recognized from last night as something he did when he was intrigued. “That does sound really cool. What made you stay?”
Where do I even begin? “My major,” you replied simply. It wasn’t really a lie—not entirely a lie. You sipped on your latte, a faraway look in your eyes. “I was so set on a plan that I guess I got nervous about the unknown should I have gone on that trip.”
“Mm, I understand.” He had taken on a softer look now, something more akin to empathy. “It is a little scary, but while I was in Indonesia, I realized I wouldn’t have traded such an experience for anything else."
You set your cup down. "Have you always wanted to dabble in global affairs?"
"Uh, I'm not sure," he said, head tilted upward with a scrunch in his nose. He nudged his glasses up the smooth slope of his sculpted nose. "I was kind of put in a situation where I had to learn a lot of new languages, and I luckily turned out to be pretty good at picking up on them."
"Wow, that's really cool," you chuckled. A talent you definitely envied. And it seemed like Ten had made the decision to pursue this future of his on his own. You wished you could say the same.
From the counter of the café, you heard one of the workers call out your order number for cinnamon rolls, fresh from the oven.
You began to slip off your stool, and Ten spoke up, "Oh, I can totally go get those."
"It's no problem," you chirped, "I'm already down anyway." You were swift to scurry over to the counter and pick up your table's tray of cinnamon rolls with a smile at the worker in deep gratitude. The thick, warm sweetness wafted into your nose, and you inhaled the delights with a blissful grin.
However, as you turned to head back to the table, you halted abruptly, nearly knocking the plates on the tray into each other.
There, standing next to your table and chatting with Ten, were Ji Changmin and Choi Chanhee.
Great.
The sweet dessert smell soured and tasted like acid on your tongue. Bitter, like the taste of hot coffee straight from the pot. You schooled your face into neutrality, but there was no way all of the uncomfortableness could stay away.
You made your way over; the tray was getting heavy.
"—actually here with Yn, Mark, and Yeri—" Ten was pointing your way and you had to control your urge to hide.
Changmin and Chanhee's heads turned in sync, but only Changmin's eyes narrowed at the sight of you. You returned the expression wholeheartedly.
Chanhee held his breath, muttering a "Yikes" under his breath, while Ten observed the interaction with slightly parted lips. Huh.
"Ji."
"Ln."
You deposited the tray onto the table and your biceps sighed in relief. Those four cinnamon rolls truly were quite hefty on their own.
You could still feel Changmin’s eyes on you as you slid onto the stool across from Ten. “Something you’d like to say to me?” You addressed him with ill-suppressed snark.
Changmin’s eyes narrowed. “Nothing that you’ll take into importance anyway. Just didn’t think you would ever hang out with someone from the dance department.”
“Ten’s got a life outside of dance, Changmin,” you replied. You flashed him a thin-lipped smile. “He gets it.”
“And you’re so much better than me for having a so-called life,” he rolled his eyes. “You know, some people are just really passionate about dance—something you seem to still not understand.”
“I really don’t think you want me to bring up the trove of things you don’t understand—”
Chanhee subtly moved over to Ten’s side as the two of them observed the sparring match between you and Changmin. A sigh fell from his lips, and his eyebrows raised up all the way to his pink-dyed hairline.
Ten had taken one of the plates of cinnamon buns in front of him, silently offering Chanhee some. The latter refused, and Ten began to peel away one of the sultry, sweet dough layers. “Is this… normal?” He asked Chanhee under his breath, motioning to the still-bickering couple across from them.
Chanhee snorted. “It’s their mating call.”
It seemed he had said those four words loud enough to catch yours and Changmin’s attention. A miracle, indeed.
“Ew,” both you and Changmin immediately grimaced at Chanhee. Then you looked at one another with a greater degree of disgust. “Stop copying me!”
…Or, less so a miracle, but rather, a tragedy.
Chanhee let out a haggard sigh, eyes sullen to a deadpan. “One of the few things the two of you will ever agree on.”
“The last thing we’ll ever agree on,” Changmin grumbled as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “C’mon Chanhee. We should probably order before JC!Yn and Kei finish loading up the car.”
Changmin was already making his way over to the cashier when Ten managed to get in a final question, “Are you guys coming to the NCT-RVE homecoming tonight?”
“Sure—”
“No.”
Chanhee sent Ten an apologetic look for Changmin’s brusque answer. “Sorry about him. We were thinking of it, but he might be practicing with Juyeon tonight. See you later, Ten—and Yn!” He chased after Changmin, ambushing his friend by practically leaping onto his back and then smacking his shoulder.
Now that Changmin was away from you, the red in your vision had begun to clear away, and you finally remembered the set of delicious cinnamon rolls waiting for you.
Ten propped his cheek against his fist. “So… you and Changmin…”
You made a sour face as you cut off a slice of your cinnamon roll. “What about the gremlin?” You asked. As soon as the buttery, sweet delight hit your tongue, you felt your body lighten and you did a little happy dance in your seat.
Ten chuckled at your behavior. “Lovers gone wrong?”
You choked on the bite.
Your new friend’s eyes widened comically to the size of saucers as he literally pounced across the table to pat your back. “Shit—sorry, Yn. I probably should’ve waited for you to finish swallowing, huh?” He winced when you’d managed to breathe correctly and washed the bite of food down with a sip of coffee. He returned to his perch, letting you recover while he talked through his thoughts. “I don’t mean to pry—actually—” he paused, reconsidering, “—I do mean to pry. Sorry, I’m kind of a sucker for this kind of stuff.”
One of your eyes squinted at him as you massaged your throat. “Yeah, I kind of figured.”
He beamed at you boyishly, the kind of expression that almost had your defenses slipping. Almost. Ten was one slippery fellow. For some reason, you kind of respected him for being upfront about the nosiness, and if you were being honest, if this drama wasn’t yours, you would also be curious about the whole thing.
“Can’t help myself sometimes,” he confessed with a mere shrug. “You don’t owe an explanation or backstory, of course.”
You sucked in a breath, opting to hold back on eating your pastry until you and Ten were done with this topic. “I’m just going to say that Changmin and I were not ‘lovers gone wrong’,” you said, body shuddering.
“Mm,” he hummed. His eyes wandered behind you and over your head, swiftly followed by the action of waving to Changmin and Chanhee on their way out of the cafe. “It’s just interesting to me. Didn’t you just advocate for him the other night at the draft show?”
That rang a bell, unfortunately. “It’s complicated.”
Ten pressed his mouth into a saccharine smile. “I can imagine.”
EPISODE THREE: OFF THE PHONE
THERE was an avid knocking at the laboratory door, usually done by those who didn’t actually work at this specific lab. This lab area was usually reserved for upperclassmen and graduate students and their work.
“Yn-ie, could you get the door, please?” You heard Kun called out to you from his office. It wasn’t just the two of you tonight, but rather, just a few others you didn’t know as well as you did Kun. He often worked late hours like you did, always overworking himself even more as a fresh grad student. You, on the other hand, were trying to finish up this one research paper resulting from last quarter’s research project. If you were lucky, you would be able to send it off to be peer reviewed soon.
You slipped out from behind your workbench and maneuvered the maze of workbenches to head out into the corridor. Exhaustion wore at your bones from having such a long day, but you really did need to get some productive work done so you could focus specifically on your midterms approaching at the end of this week and the beginning of the following week.
However, as you turned the corner into the corridor, you nearly missed your footing. At the end of the hallway where the glass door to the outside was, you found yourself identifying one Ji Changmin and his friend, someone you didn’t recognize. The latter wore a gray hoodie beneath a black puffer vest, and he reacted the opposite to how Changmin did when they caught sight of you.
“Hey! Could you open the door, please?” Not-Changmin hollered through the glass, furiously shaking his sweater-pawed hand down at the door handle.
You didn’t want to. God, you really didn’t want to.
Changmin stared you down, as if daring you to come closer.
You opened the door, and let the cool gust of late February air and two outsiders into the safety and warmth of the laboratory building.
Hoodie Guy shuddered violently to get the cold out of his system. “Jesus, it’s cold outside. Thanks,” he said to you. Then he nudged Changmin with his elbow, as if jolting the man into reality.
“What are you doing here?” You asked, words directed toward Changmin in particular.
His dark bangs were tucked beneath a black beanie with his pair of black headphones hanging around his neck. “You think I want to be here?”
His friend sent him a look, his eyes flickering between you and Changmin furiously until the pieces clicked into his mind. “Well, uh oh…” he muttered while turning away slightly to scratch his head. He gathered his wits then. “Uh, Yn, right?”
You perked up. “Yes.”
“Uh,” he drawled. “We’re actually here for Jacob Bae. You see, we told him we’d come pick him up to take him over to—”
“Is he here?” Changmin asked.
Your eyebrow shot upward. At least they were here for a proper reason. You crossed your arms over your chest, glancing back toward the main laboratory floor way down the hall. Man, the safe zone felt so far away. “He actually just left like, ten minutes ago. Sorry.” The apology was said to Changmin’s friend, the one who seemed to have been able to figure out who exactly you were to Changmin. Not that you were anything to him. And did Changmin just talk about you to all his friends or something—?
“Oh.”
Changmin tapped his friend with the back of his hand. “C’mon Sunwoo. We’ll just meet him over there.”
Sunwoo wrinkled his nose. “I just think it’s weird that he didn’t text us to let us know before we came over here.”
There was a pause and you could practically see the gears in Changmin’s head turning. You would have left them to their own company, but you technically weren’t allowed to leave unauthorized students alone.
It was strange seeing Changmin break into something akin to sheepishness. You saw the dimples appear in the apples of his cheeks as he cupped the back of his neck. “I might not have told him we were coming…”
Sunwoo’s eyes and mouth widened and he whacked his friend with the length of his hoodie sleeve. Changmin let out one of those hyena laughs that set off triggers in your mind. It’d been awhile since you heard that… “Hyung! You’re so unreliable sometimes, oh my god. Even Eric would have remembered to tell him!”
Changmin made a noise of dismissal, slinging an arm around his friend. “Ah, it’s fine. We’ll just meet him there—as you said.”
“Worst texter award goes to,” Sunwoo rolled his eyes.
“I guess some things never change.” The words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop yourself, and both Sunwoo and Changmin suddenly remembered that you were in the hallway with them. Sunwoo had perked up as if he were surprised you would even comment on their situation, but Changmin cut an unreadable expression your way. You didn’t want to read into it.
“You literally forgot to answer a text I sent for three days,” Changmin quipped.
Well, if he was going to play the back and forth game. “That was once out of how many other times,” you scoffed. “You refused to answer anyone’s texts in the mornings anyway, so don't get on my case about that.”
“He did that to you, too?!” Sunwoo cut in with fire behind his words.
You could’ve sworn you saw the slightest bit of blush grace Changmin’s cheekbones as you hid a laugh behind your hand. “He did that to everyone—”
“Hey, I’m better over call; you know that!” Changmin argued. “Sunwoo, you can’t even talk about being a bad texter. I have to hunt for you on discord sometimes to get a straight answer.”
Sunwoo groaned, “Yah! Whatever. It’s still better than your average three-business-day reply speed.”
Changmin stammered, “It is not an average of three business days.” If your ears were not deceiving you, Ji Changmin was whining. “It’s a couple hours at least.”
“A couple hours means half a day,” you said to Sunwoo.
Changmin whipped his attention back to you, finger jabbed accusingly in your direction. “Hey, missy! You always fell asleep on-call, even when you promised that you would stay up to help me study.”
You shook your head. “Not my fault! You know that I always fell asleep around midnight back then.”
“Well, back then—”
“Is everything okay out here?”
Everything in the corridor came to a stand still, and Changmin closed his mouth, mid-sentence. Kun had his head poking out of the door to the main floor, a crease pressed between his brows and right above the rim of his thin spectacles. He eyed the two non-laboratory students with a slight grimace. Of course, Kun was aware of who Changmin was. He could recognize him because of his famed performer reputation on campus, but he knew his history with you because you had spent far too many late nights here at the lab with things plaguing your mind. You and Kun both had a problem with trouble sleeping and being workaholics.
You turned slightly to Kun. “Yeah, everything’s okay, Kun-ge.”
He sent you an unimpressed look.
“We,” Changmin piped up as he urged Sunwoo to the door, “were just leaving.” The mirth and fire from the bickering just a few seconds ago had faded, and you could feel him slipping away.
Kun drummed his fingers along the doorframe, eyebrows shooting up for a second. “Oh-kay… Yn-ie, Ten says he’s right around the corner and asks if you want some company walking home.”
The door to the laboratory behind you was held open, and the night breeze brushed through your hair. When you looked back, you saw that Changmin had stalled in the door for a second. But, it had only been that second before he and his friend were gone.
“Oh.” You made your way over to Kun. “That’s really cool of him. I’d love that.” Some company on a late-night walk back to your apartment did not sound bad at all. You’d done plenty of trips on your own, but sometimes having even one person with you would have been nice.
Kun nodded, pursing his lips, as the two of you walked into the main lab together and toward his office off to the side. “Okay, I’ll let him know. You’re for sure okay though? That must have been… not nice, seeing Changmin here.”
You gave a stiff shrug, your hip leaning against the door of his office while Kun settled back at his desk. “It’s fine,” you said. To be honest, you weren’t even sure if that was a lie or not. You’d heard Changmin laugh for the first time in years. You’d seen the dimples in his cheeks, the sheepishness in his expression—you swallowed.
Once upon a time, you associated all of those things with something like happiness. Your happiness.
Kun fixed you with a pointed look. “If you need to talk.”
You gave a firm nod. “I know where to find you.”
He clicked his tongue, shooting you a finger gun, then shooed you off to finish your work and pack your things. Ten was just around the corner, after all.
EPISODE FOUR: OFF THE RECORD
CHANGMIN liked to think that he became nosy, and that he wasn't born this way. But ever since he overheard that Kun guy asking about Ten wanting to walk you home, he couldn't help but wonder…
He shook his head, brushing his hair out of his eyes and off his forehead, before those same bangs flopped back into their place. He walked back onto the main stage of the performing arts hall to the soundtrack of a hype playlist blasting from the ears of his headphones. As he made his way past groups and individuals doing their own thing, he absentmindedly searched for one person in particular.
Conveniently, he found Ten setting himself up right by Changmin's things. He was shouldering off his black puffer jacket, rolling the material up into a manageable ball to shove into his duffle bag.
"Hey," Changmin greeted, bending down slightly to grab his water bottle.
Ten straightened and flashed him a smile. "Hey."
It wouldn't be awkward would it? Probably not. Just be cool about it, Changmin. He smiled slightly, the dimples in his cheeks disarming his acquaintance. "I didn't know you and Yn were close."
Your name felt so… foreign, yet familiar, on his tongue. It was like tasting déjà vu, like eating a treat from childhood that had been associated with good feelings, but he couldn't decide if it was still as good as he remembered or a trick of his mind.
The mention of your name brought a jolt of energy to Ten's body and Changmin saw the man lean into the conversation. Curious… "Oh? Well, I mean—" he gave a shrug, "—she's really cool. She just seems like a good person to get to know, y'know? Why do you ask?"
Changmin couldn't tell how much he trusted the slight narrowing of Ten's feline eyes. There was no way you hadn't mentioned him to Ten at some point or another. To be honest, he didn't like the feeling of you still lingering in his head if he didn't linger in yours. It meant a myriad of things that he loathed to admit.
He let the feeling slide away, let his mouth tilt upward like his eyes to the spotlights in the ceiling. "Just be…" He shook his head. "Nothing. It's nothing." He flicked his wrist, as he spun his water bottle cap on tight. "You can forget about it."
Ten sent him a look that Changmin pointedly ignored.
Somewhere within the depths of the performing arts center, Changmin could hear the howling laughter of his friend Hyunjae as he most likely bugged his best friend out of her mind, both to her chagrin and her delight. That was another can of worms entirely.
Ten piped up as he settled onto the backstage floor while Changmin mentally went through some of the problem sets he had to review today. "If you don't mind me asking, why are you and Yn on such… uneven ground with each other?"
There it was. Changmin snorted. "Uneven ground? I don't even know if we're on the same ground."
"You're both really friendly people," Ten added, "so it just doesn't make sense to me."
Changmin pursed his lips. He never felt the need to divulge this stuff to anyone but his friends, but he didn't know what Ten already knew. He didn't know what you told him, but based on the fact that Ten wasn't looking at him the same way you did… Changmin scratched the back of his head and leaned his side against the wall to face him. "Something happened a long time ago. I guess we just both hold a grudge well."
Ten huffed a laugh in response. "Remind me never to get on your bad side then," he joked.
— ✶
There was a buzz about the university newspaper room. The Daily had only a handful of crew members onboard, mainly because it was so selective. Over the past few years that you had been apart of the staff, you and a few others had gradually loosened the reputation of the Daily's elitist interview process—there was still some level of intimidation that ensured the publication took on the hard workers and not those simply looking for an extracurricular to put on their resume though.
So when there was talk of a new staff member, everyone knew about it.
You let yourself in the door with a sigh, brushing the hair from your eyes held up with a random, blue claw clip you found on your bathroom sink. The bus had been late this morning because it broke down, but you luckily were able to make it to your lecture on time. You had run over here for a quick meeting that Kim Doyoung had summoned you for, no doubt about the new hire.
"Hey guys," you said as you passed by clusters of desks piled with copyedits and heads buried in monitor screens. The sounds of typing stopped briefly with each head you walked past:
"Yn!"
"Hi Yn!"
"Sup Yn—HEY! I just did my hair this morning!" Mark yelped, hands smoothing down the braids in his hair.
You giggled as you patted his head. "Your hair needs a break, Mark."
As you disappeared around the corner, you heard him shout back, "So do you, but you never hear me complaining!"
You rolled your eyes with an ill-concealed smile. The door to Doyoung's little editor in chief office was right down the hall next to the office for the sponsoring professor. As much as you and the others teased him about getting the "Boss man" office, he always complained to you about being on edge with the professor's office next door. You didn't quite understand since Professor Woo was almost never in his office anyway, but you supposed you could see.
Doyoung's door was open, and the fourth year's head perked up at the sound of your voice and nearing footsteps. He didn't even wait for you to knock or say hi, before beckoning you inside. "Yn, thank god you know how to hustle. Close the door on your way in. Thanks."
Your eyebrows shot up at the terseness in his tone, but didn't question him until you'd closed the door and settled into the chair opposite him. His desk, much like those outside, was covered in a sea of paper, with his laptop being the only land in sight. "What's up? You sound stressed."
He shot you a look over the rims of his thin glasses. "When am I not stressed?"
"Valid."
"Okay," he began with a sigh that made your concern rise just a bit more, "you know the situation with our performing arts review section, right?"
You nodded. "Of course."
The situation with the performing arts review section of the paper was inherently a mess. For a handful of years, the performing arts section was written under a pseudonym (lovingly dubbed Opera Glasses)—the identity of the reviewer was anonymous—which was a product of an incident a few years ago where a performer was unhappy with a review left by someone on the paper and came to ask, very unkindly, for a rewrite. Since then, the paper had been swallowed up by so much that finding a permanent writer or reviewer for the section became less and less of a priority.
When you joined the publishing team, it had been in the middle of freshman year when you were also putting your application out for research projects. Joining had felt like the right thing to do, as much as it was an act of rebellion against your mother and your childhood. They had asked if you knew anything about dance of all things.
And well, you did know.
You'd written one piece—one piece that was entirely you. It had been for one of the dancers just debuting at his first winter showcase. Since then, you couldn't stomach writing another one or watching another one.
You ghost wrote, you edited, you advised—but you stuck to putting your energy into covering the STEM-related sections of the paper now.
So Doyoung already knew your relationship with the performing arts review section. "Well," he cleared his throat, making a vague flourish with his hand, "I'm sure you already know that I just interviewed a new prospective recruit. I was wondering if you would be willing to take them under your wing and to show them the ropes."
Oh. That wasn't exactly what you expected him to say. Your heart kicked up for an entirely new reason, however. You'd always wanted to be someone's mentor. To be someone's older sister. "I mean, yeah. I'd love to," you stammered, a smile slowly curling onto your lips. "That would be really cool."
Doyoung sighed, his shoulders sinking in relief. "Thank you."
"But wait." You cocked your head to the side as you asked, "What does Opera Glasses have to do with this?"
"I want her to eventually take over for it," he explained. "She knows quite a bit about theater and music—little less about dance, though. I know that you have your issues with the dance department, but out of everyone here, you probably understand dance stuff the most. I just ask that you help her out a little with that, and maybe even introduce her to some of the people there so we can ease her in with interviews—"
You opened your mouth to interrupt him, but he sent you a pointed look. He continued, "Just hear me out, okay? If you're uncomfortable at all, you can back out. And you don't even have to back out right now or completely; maybe you could have Mark introduce her to Jungwoo for interviews, and you can just stick to the behind-the-scenes stuff."
Doyoung exhaled. "Okay, so what are your thoughts?"
You worried your bottom lip between your teeth. What did you think… What did you think?
Even the thought of stepping foot into a practice room made the yelling and screams echo in the caverns of your mind. But you'd missed them—missed the polished wood floors, the floor-to-ceiling mirrors, the people. God, you couldn't even stay away from the people if you tried, no matter how much you tried convincing yourself you could.
You weren't fooling anyone.
You swallowed. You'd always wanted to be a big sister.
What was the harm in giving this a try?
(Changmin. You'd probably run into Changmin a lot more often than if you didn't accept. But you could see him from that one night: the sheepishness, the dimples, the laugh. Why couldn't you get over that interaction?)
You mustered up your courage and straightened in your seat. "I'll still do it. When do we start?"
EPISODE FIVE: OFF THE MARK
IT turned out that Doyoung intended for you and your new recruit, Bae Sumin, to get started right away. With the winter showcase only a couple weeks away, it was imperative that the two of you dived right in.
"—so what made you interested in joining the team?" You asked, shoving your hands into your jacket pockets to hide signs of nervousness from your underclassman peer. The two of you were walking from the Daily's newsroom and over to the performing arts center. It was about a ten minute walk, but you figured that it would give you two the opportunity to get to know one another.
Sumin was a multimedia major, as you had been told earlier when the two of you just met for the first time in the entryway of the Daily newsroom. She was cute and well-dressed—she wore a pleated skirt and sweater with a white collar peeking through. Her smile was dazzling, and reminded you of someone who would do well on stage. No wonder she had theater and performing experience.
"Oh!" She shot you one of those dazzling smiles, her hand shooting up to shift the white, fluffy earmuffs seated over her head. "I actually had a cousin who came here and shared with me some of the Daily's earlier issues. She always said it was kind of competitive to get in, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to try."
You bobbed your head. "That's really cool." A small laugh fell from your lips, "I'm glad you did try! Lots of people just assume they're gonna get turned away and they don't try at all, you know?"
Sumin hummed in understanding.
Something had settled nicely in your chest throughout this walk. Even if your past anxieties were beginning to bubble up to the surface at the sight of the nearing performing arts buildings, Sumin's easy conversation calmed you. It was one less thing to worry about.
Yesterday, when Doyoung had proposed this job for you, you had asked Mark to accompany you and Sumin to the arts buildings. He couldn't walk with you two, but he promised to meet you there. Now, you were kind of glad you got to have this bit of bonding time with her.
“I think Doyoung said that I should introduce you to a few people in particular,” you said offhandedly and pulled your phone out to check yours and Doyoung’s text thread.
Sumin did the same, most likely taking out any notes she had taken from Doyoung’s instructions. “Yeah, something like Lee Minho, Kim Jungwoo… the Hwang?—the Hwang siblings, uhm and Ji Changmin…?”
Your footing faltered for a second, and Sumin asked if you were all right, but you recovered quickly. You let out an embarrassed laugh, feeling heat crawl up your neck. Why in the world did his name catch you off guard like that? Maybe it was because you assumed Doyoung would just let you avoid Changmin, but realistically, if Sumin was going to do an interview with the dance department’s most prominent members, then there was no avoiding Changmin.
You just had to suck it up and be an adult about it.
It was three years ago… What was the big deal?
But as you moved to open the door to the backstage area for Sumin with your ID card, you felt your throat tighten in on itself. You forced a smile to your face as you let Sumin go in before you so you could turn your head out to inhale a large lungful of fresh air. Then, you ducked in after her.
The backstage corridors were as hustle n' bustle as you expected them to be. The lights were dim-looking from the black walls and floors marred with scuff marks from years upon years of use. It was an overwhelming tidal wave of sensory details—what, with the clashing sounds of chatter and music, the smell of some kind of polish (or maybe that was resin?), the warmth of energy in the air and all around you.
The hairs on the back of your neck stood like you could sense someone was coming this way.
You gestured down the opposite direction to Sumin. “Come on; I’m pretty sure they’re down this way.”
It was a curious thing, memory. You could recall late nights of catching the bus to these very practice rooms and backstage rooms from when you were in high school. Performing on the stage was a whole other experience in itself, and though part of you missed it, there were other feelings that dominated the hints of nostalgia now.
You could hear the chatter even clearer now, even if their words were muddled.
The door to one of the larger practice rooms were left ajar, and though you only peered in, you felt the warmth hit you like a wave. Your throat was closing up again—breathe—
“Hey,” you said into the room, catching quite a few eyes. From an initial scan, you determined that Changmin wasn’t amongst the crush of people socializing in here, and you couldn’t identify the feeling manifesting in the pit of your stomach.
Jungwoo was the first to bound over toward you, swiftly followed by Minho and Hyunjin, one of the Hwang siblings. “Yn-ie! I can’t believe you actually came. I thought Doyoung was joking.”
A smile made its way onto your lips and you accepted Jungwoo’s side hug. “Yeah, well Doyoung doesn’t joke around.”
“He really doesn’t,” Hyunjin said with a grimace. “He’s kind of scary, that one.”
“If you can survive Minho,” you said to him, “then you can survive Doyoung.”
Minho made a face at you. “What have I ever done to you, Yn?”
Nothing; this is just me trying to pretend I’m not seconds away from quivering like a leaf in the wind. You laughed. “Nothing yet. Guys, I'd like you to meet Sumin. She’s our new recruit at the Daily, and she’s gonna be the one conducting interviews for the winter showcase this year.”
Sumin didn’t need much prompting to smile and wave at your friends in that same charming way. “Hi, nice to meet you!”
The three dancers before you replied in kind. Jungwoo offered to introduce her to some of the others in the room, and before you knew it, she was swept away.
Hyunjin made a comment about needing to go check up on a friend of his, leaving you and Minho chatting to the side of the room.
“Wow,” Minho said offhandedly as the two of you watched Jungwoo and Sumin work their way around the room, “she’s a natural at this. Where’d Kim find this one?”
“She saw some of our older issues,” you replied. You watched as Sumin ignited a sort of brightness in every conversation she started. You struggled to swallow; now that you didn’t feel obligated to keep up appearances, especially in front of Sumin, your jitteriness was beginning to come on just a little stronger. You absentmindedly massaged your throat, willing it to loosen up.
Minho glanced over at you, his eyes catching your anxious actions. “Must have a lot of confidence in her if he’s throwing her straight into taking charge of interviews. How’re you holding up?” The latter was said lowly and under his breath in case someone just happened to be close enough to catch onto your conversation.
Minho didn’t know your history with the dance department as thoroughly as your close friends did, but it didn’t take a genius to see that you weren’t at your absolute best right now. You gave a stiff shrug. “I’m alright,” you managed to say.
He nodded, though it was probably more for your sake than him saying he believed you. “It’s funny,” he drawled, “one might think that by sending you here on behalf of the paper, that you were behind Opera Glasses.”
Now that, you could let out a genuine chuckle at.
Minho gauged your reaction but smiled to himself. He wasn’t one to really care for the drama and gossip side that came privy to the performing arts review section, but you couldn’t blame him if he was curious.
“That would be really stupid if that was the case,” you mused.
“It would be,” he agreed. “Is this a sign that this will be the end of Opera Glasses then? Finally a face to the name?”
You pursed your lips. “Actually, I’m not too sure what Doyoung will end up doing. I’m sure he’ll call for a board meeting to decide what the review’s fate will be, but it’s not exactly our top priority—”
Your voice and words trailed off as your eyes met a pair coming into the practice room. You and Changmin froze at the sight of one another, two deer caught in headlights, and you felt your heart palpitate violently in your chest. Your breath left your lungs—his expression was filled with surprise, until it morphed into something you couldn’t read.
“What are you doing here?” He deadpanned.
Minho’s eyebrows shot up. “You didn’t know Yn was stopping by? We all got the email from Director Lee, man.”
Changmin pressed his mouth together and it made the dimple in his cheek deepen. He looked you up and down, and he opened his mouth to say something else, but paused when you unconsciously brushed your thumb against the hollow of your throat. (Dear god, why couldn’t you breathe? Breathe, breathe, breathe—)
He seemed to lose whatever he was going to say. You swore the sharpness in his gaze softened.
But then his jaw tightened; you didn’t know why. “I didn’t think you’d actually show,” he muttered under his breath.
Ouch.
The words from his mouth pricked uncomfortably at the back of your mind. You found your voice again. “I’ll be gone before you know it,” you replied tersely.
Your response touched a nerve for him, too. He cut his attention to the rest of the practice room. “Where’s your new girl?”
“Over there,” you said, inclining your head across the room where Sumin and Hwang Yeji were currently swapping contact information. Something soared in your chest at the sight, but you couldn’t tell if it was pride or envy.
Without any additional prompting, you watched Changmin make his way toward Sumin and away from you. You didn’t realize you were holding in a breath until you finally exhaled—
“Yn! Sorry I’m late.” Mark bumbled into the practice room, wiping a drop of sweat from his forehead as he quite literally crashed against the wall next to you and Minho. He was panting and gasping for breath, and you and Minho couldn’t help but express your amusement.
“It’s all cool, dude,” you assured while patting his head.
“I should probably get back to it,” Minho said as he began walking away from you and Mark. “Nice to see you, Mark. Feel free to take a water bottle from the green room.”
Mark thumped his head against the wall with his eyes closed. “Thanks, man,” he huffed.
With a snicker under his breath, Minho went his separate way.
You gave Mark a moment to catch a breath or two, and you slid down next to him against the practice room wall. Folding your knees up against your chest, you copied Mark’s position with his head tilted back as you both inhaled through your nostrils and breathed out through slightly parted lips. While Mark might have been trying to get a moment of rest from (no doubt) running here from the bus stop, you were trying to steady yourself.
The anxiety was starting to make your hands feel numb cold.
“You don’t have to stay, y’know,” came Mark’s voice, followed by the back of his hand gently nudging your arm. When your eyes fluttered open, you found him already looking at you. “You asked for my help; you can go take a breather outside and come back in—or maybe don’t—whatever you’re comfortable with. This can’t be easy.”
You were struggling to swallow again. One of your hands drummed messily against your kneecap. “It’s—” you shook your head, “—I’ll be okay. Thanks for coming though.”
“Yeah, dude. Of course.”
Something prodded at the side of your head, like someone was staring at you, but when you turned to see, it was just Changmin talking to Sumin. They were both smiling and making good conversation, it seemed.
You let out a sigh and closed your eyes again. Wishful thinking.
— ✶
Mark stayed behind to “vibe” with the remaining dancers still at the performing arts building while you and Sumin pushed out into the crisp, cool evening. Even after walking all the way to the bus station, your hands were still numb, and the cold definitely wasn’t helping.
“How do you feel about the dance interviews now?” You found yourself asking Sumin as the two of you sat on the bench at the station waiting for the bus to come pick the two of you up.
Sumin beamed. “I definitely feel a bit more secure about conducting them. I’ll definitely need some help with dance terminology and editing and stuff though.”
You nodded. “No problem at all.”
“The people are all really so chill and nice…” Your eyes definitely weren’t tricking you when you saw the bashfulness that her expression took on, and the little giggle you heard could not have been the wind. “Especially Changmin.”
Ha. What.
A weight fell to the pit of your stomach. Maybe you were hearing things… “Sorry?”
She blinked, and the blush on her cheekbones darkened. “Oh, haha, it’s nothing! I just… he was really sweet, and he has a really pretty smile and stuff—do you—uh, do you know if his previous dance showcase performances are online?”
(Something about that detail—he has a really pretty smile—rang a bell for you.)
It was really an innocent question, but you knew if Sumin went searching online for Changmin, and if she went deep enough, she’d find you there, too. You sucked in a breath. “I can—” you winced inwardly, “—send you some of his performances, if you want?”
You couldn’t deny the warm and fuzzy feeling in your chest when Sumin practically lit up at your suggestion. “Would you? I would really appreciate it, Yn! You’re the best.”
From your periphery, you saw the bus approach from down the street, and you gestured for the both of you to stand up and get your ID cards ready to board. You sent her a small smile—at least it felt good to help her out. You could pretend for a second that this was just a little crush or infatuation on some other colleague of yours that Sumin had. “Yeah, no worries.” No worries at all.
EPISODE SIX: OFF THE [TOP OF YOUR] HEAD
FRIDAY night brought you, Seungkwan, and Doyoung to the hotpot place located in the university district. The three of you were the unconventional combination of your friends, but Kun and Ten were supposedly on their way over as of five minutes ago. Thus, with the last of your party nearing, the three of you deigned to begin ordering almost everything off the menu—just to whet your appetites, of course.
Doyoung slumped down in his seat across from you and Seungkwan as soon as the waiter left to input your table's hefty order. "Ugggggggh."
Seungkwan snorted. "Ah, my favorite sound."
Doyoung passed him a dirty look over his lenses. "Is that sarcasm I hear, Boo Seungkwan?"
"I have no idea what you mean," he said with feigned innocence as he looked away and scratched the side of his head.
You chuckled to yourself, drawing your phone out from the inner pocket of your puffer jacket when you heard the series of buzzes. Your screen lit up with notifications from Sumin, all of them thanking you profusely for the spam of links you'd sent her way. These were on top of the videos you had dug up from your secret locked folder in your phone—and here you were, wondering why in the world you were doing this to yourself and for her?
"I can't decide if I dread Doyoung's noises of discontent or your expressions of pain more," Seungkwan commented, effectively pulling your focus away from your phone.
Both of your friends were now looking at you, patiently awaiting your answer to what ailed you tonight. Where should you begin?
"I'm not in pain," you scoffed. You set your phone facedown on the table next to you to avoid looking at the notifications. Huh. "Did I look like I was in pain?"
Doyoung's smile was wide like his eyes as he nodded. "Yup," he chirped in that sweet sarcasm of his. "Like you'd just watched a video of someone stubbing their toe against a doorframe."
Seungkwan blinked. "That's so—specific."
"You do not want to know what my For You Page looks like—"
You recreated the look of pain from earlier, holding your palm up. "Respectfully, Doie? I don't."
Seungkwan let out another snort of delight and had to hold a hand in front of his mouth.
Doyoung leveled a half-hearted scowl at you. "You're lucky I'm not your boss right now."
"As opposed to every other moment in time?"
"You have a mouth on you tonight."
"I do like to use it every so often," you quipped, the corner of your mouth lifting in an amused smirk.
Doyoung sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "I don't get paid enough for this."
"You're literally not getting paid at all—" Your words were sliced off at their end when you gasped—it was all a blur: a mass of reddish-brown hair, your phone snatched from right in front of you— "SEUNGKWAN!"
Seungkwan held his breath with an impish grin as he turned his back to you and shielded your phone from your attempts to get it back. "I just wanna see!" He said with a cackle. "Every time you've looked at your phone today, you looked like you wanted to fall into an abyss."
You glared at him, pulling away to cross your arms firmly over your chest. "You can't just steal my phone, dude!"
"What's so important on your phone anyway, Yn-ie?" Doyoung asked good naturedly, reaching for his glass of ice water. "You're usually not so attached to that thing."
Your lips snapped shut and you wondered if the heat creeping up to your face was obvious.
"You've been sending Changmin videos to Sumin?!" Seungkwan bursted out, his eyes so wide that you could see your reflection in his pupils. As you'd feared, Seungkwan still had his fingerprint registered into your phone from before (long story; don't ask), and had cracked the device open, as well as your most recently opened application—yours and Sumin's text messages.
You did nothing but stare at the table like you were getting war flashbacks, while Doyoung had even gotten up out of his seat to take a peek at your phone, too.
"I haven't even seen this video before," Seungkwan hissed as if you weren't right there.
You fixed them both with a stink eye, but at the same time, maybe this was for your benefit. They could help you without you actually asking for help—
Doyoung's face contorted into a laughable expression of shock (eyes wide, mouth wider, eyebrows pinched, nose wrinkled) as he viewed what Seungkwan had selected. "Oh my god. He's a child in this!"
"Actually he was a senior in high school—" You slapped a hand over your mouth. Whoops.
Both of their heads whipped over toward you. "I thought you deleted all your high school shit!" They chorused together. If it had been any other situation or context, you might have laughed at the hilarity if it all.
Instead, you averted your gaze, making a show of looking for the waiter or maybe even Kun or Ten. What was taking them so long anyway?
"Yn," Seungkwan addressed with a tone akin to that of a parent on the verge of lecturing their child, "what in the name of god are you sending Sumin and why?"
Helpless, you held both your palms up in a sheepish shrug. "The kid has a crush on him, and being the best mentor figure ever, I… did some compiling for her." You paused, "Now that I say it out loud, it does sound pretty stupid."
Doyoung returned to his seat. "Ya think?"
You wrinkled your nose at him. "Hey! Sometimes, some of us have bad nights and we wanna feel something." Out of context, this was a really suspicious conversation.
"Isn't this just you torturing yourself?"
Seungkwan slapped his hand against the table, and both you and Doyoung startled. "That's it! I'm calling for an intervention."
Your mouth parted open. "Right now?"
He deadpanned at you. "No, when Kun and Ten get here—of course, right now!"
You returned his deadpan expression. The adrenaline from all this back and forth was slowly fading, and what you were left with was something that felt like emptiness. So… now they knew.
Doyoung and Seungkwan exchanged looks with another from across the table, but it was the former who spoke first. "Why do you still have videos from back then, Yn-ie? I thought you told us you deleted them all?"
"I mean, we're not trying to be judgmental or anything," Seungkwan added firmly, but not unkindly, "they're your videos and photos, your past and memories, but… based on everything you've already told us before, wouldn't it be best to delete them?"
You didn't like the emptiness. The adrenaline had stripped you of energy and confidence when it faded. "I," you stammered, "I just… I couldn't bring myself to delete them." Your voice was quiet, almost inaudible compared to the liveliness of the hotpot shop around you and your friends. "I mean, how could I? Sometimes, I want to watch them and try to find the courage to say that I'm sorry first."
Yeah, you wanted to feel something. That "something" was actually a lot of things—courage, happiness, nostalgia, anger, melancholy, love, passion, pride. A life and childhood you had lost; who's fault was it but your own? You felt nothing short of pathetic.
Seungkwan frowned deeply, his eyes softening. He leaned forward and drew you into his embrace, his hold warm and comforting. "Oh, Yn. I'm sorry; I shouldn't have pried like that."
You wrapped your arms around him, eyes shuddering closed. "Yeah, you shouldn't have."
He grunted into your shoulder, a noise of defiance and attitude.
Doyoung had a similar expression of sympathy present on his face. You didn't often see something like that from him, but after years of friendship and working together, you'd begun to see a lot more of him. "I'm sorry too, Yn. It probably still hurts, and I know I was probably really insensitive when I asked you to introduce Sumin to the dance department—"
"Hey guys! Sorry we're late."
Everyone jolted at the sight of Kun and Ten arriving at your table. Kun sent Ten a sharp look along with a sharp jab with his elbow for interrupting. Kun shot you an apologetic look. "Sorry, we didn't interrupt anything, did we?"
You shook your head as Seungkwan pulled away. Doyoung and Seungkwan were both looking to you to make the decision of whether or not you would let Kun and Ten in on the prior conversation.
No, you didn't want to put a damper on dinner any longer. "Ah, no worries. We were just… discussing a couple work things. What took you guys so long?"
Luckily, no one (namely Ten) called you out and the two newcomers slid into their respective seats. Dinner would arrive soon, and you could fill your belly with something other than negative thoughts for once.
— ✶
boss bunny: hey, i didn't get a chance to say this earlier, but i'm so sorry for expecting u to introduce sumin to the dance dept
boss bunny: i didn't think at all abt how that might trigger u, and i still want u to know that u can back out whenever u feel uncomfortable. seriously.
your phone: it's okay, doyoung. i get it, i really do. and i promise that it didn't feel like u were forcing me or assuming that i would do it either
your phone: i knew it would probably trigger me like this too, but i kind of really wanted to be someone's mentor yk? it just… called to me ig
your phone: sounds kind of sad lol
boss bunny: nonono! not at all :( i understand that too
boss bunny: i admire ur strength, yn
your phone: DOIE 🥺
boss bunny: …okay love u and all, but let's not use that emoji yeah? T-T
your phone: okay wtv 🤧 now stop texting cuz ten is starting to realize ur not slick at this
boss bunny: AM TOO. >:(
— ✶
"He kept looking at his phone and then at you, like, every five seconds," Ten giggled, his shoulder absentmindedly brushing against yours as the two of you strolled side by side through the numbing cold night. Dinner had concluded just about half an hour ago, and while Kun ferried Doyoung and Seungkwan home, you and Ten decided to head down a few blocks to get milk tea and hang out.
You clapped your hands together in delight, your laughter lighting up the night. “That’s what I’m saying! He just wasn’t subtle about it and he kept arguing with me that he was.” You shook your head, tongue darting out to lick your lips, “It’s okay though. I think Dad Doyoung’s antics are charming.”
Ten grinned. “Dad Doyoung? I think he’s more of an uncle; ‘Dad’ is Kun’s title.”
“Fair enough.”
“Ayo, Ten!”
Both yours and Ten’s heads whipped upward at the sound of his name being called. You didn’t actually recognize the voice, but when you saw the lineup of four young men coming toward you from the opposite end of the street, you didn’t need to recognize it. Because, well, you recognized their faces.
Huh, you had been running into Changmin and his like a lot more often recently.
Heading straight for you was Changmin, Chanhee, Juyeon, and—you thought his name was Kevin. Kevin was the one who had called out to Ten, and he waved excitedly over to your friend. Based on Changmin’s not-so-subtle frown at Kevin, you could assume that this was not expected. Maybe he was going to advocate crossing the whole street to avoid you.
“Oh, hey Kev!” Ten greeted back cheerily, glancing at you beside him. “Do you know Kevin and Juyeon?”
You bobbed your head. “Briefly,” you replied. The two of your groups met in the middle, two blockades in the smack middle of the sidewalk. Impromptu meetups like this always seemed to end up clogging up the sidewalk for some reason.
After a swift greeting, Chanhee was already gesturing to the direction his group had already been headed in. “Hey, I’ll probably run up the street and get us a table. Haknyeonie says the tables fill up fast after eight o’clock.”
Juyeon perked up. “Oh, I’ll come with!”
Chanhee made eye contact with Changmin from across the group, and a silent form of communication passed between them. You watched this happen quietly, standing to the side with your hands tucked into your pockets while Ten and Kevin caught up from the last time they saw each other (apparently, it was a drawing and painting course from last quarter). However, instead of leaving with Chanhee and Juyeon, Changmin lingered with the three of you.
He naturally came to stand semi-close to you since he wasn’t exactly a part of the “drawing and painting” conversation. The frown from earlier had disappeared, though, and you didn’t know if you could call that a win or not.
Perhaps to you, the tension between the two of you was palpable. There were… far too many things up in the air at this moment, and it was nearly impossible for you to figure out just one thing to start with.
Plus, now was no time to get into all of that baggage. You needed to finish that intervention with Doyoung and Seungkwan before you could handle that kind of conversation—at least, that was what you would have preferred.
But for now, you found yourself clearing your throat and sparing him a glance. “Hey.”
Changmin’s eyes darted over to yours in ill-concealed surprise. “Hey.”
And that was that.
Luckily, Ten nor Kevin dragged on their conversation longer than it needed to be, and soon, you and Ten were passing by Kevin and Changmin as both parties went their separate ways. (You were going to pretend that you hadn’t looked back to watch Changmin walk away. Definitely not.)
“All good?” Ten asked, though, his voice was quieter than it had been before.
You could meet his eyes and nod. “Yeah.”
Ten followed up with an idle sort of humming noise, like he was one of those really loud computer fans (what in the world led you to think of that—?), “A few days ago, I kind of asked Changmin what the deal between the two of you was.”
“Oh?” Nervousness bubbled up the column of your throat. “What’d he say?”
He gave a shrug. “Something like a long-standing grudge.”
You let out a laugh that didn’t exactly sound like a laugh. “Well, I guess that’s one way to put it.” Was that how you would put it? In a way, that was what it was, but there was so much more to that, wasn’t there? Did Changmin think so little of what transpired between the two of you or was he just trying to deflect Ten’s interrogation?
The two of you had arrived at the tea shop by now, and Ten opened the door for you. The shop’s insides were warm and bright, and the tables were already filled up with fellow students who decided to hang out with friends on their Friday evening. You and Ten shifted over to the self-order kiosks to the side of the room and continued your conversation in low volumes.
“How would you put it then?” He asked. When you looked over at him, you realized that there was something scarily disarming about his eyes. “No pressure, of course. I mean, you can call me out on being nosy whenever; I figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”
You pursed your lips as you turned back to the screen to absentmindedly swipe down the page to find your preferred order. On the inside, you fought for the right words. “Changmin and I were best friends since we were kids,” you started, inputting your preferred level of sugar and ice like clockwork, “and we met through dance.”
Ten nodded to signal he was still listening, and the two of you swapped places so he could input his order.
You cracked your knuckles and rubbed your palms together to generate some kind of heat between them. “I didn’t really like dance at first. It was just one of those things my parents put me in to occupy my time after school and while they were working. But… well, you know how Changmin is with dance—it was and is his livelihood.”
“Even then?”
A nod. “Even then.”
When your orders were paid for, the two of you moved to a quiet corner of the shop to wait for your number to be called from the counter. You leaned your side against the wall next to Ten, your eyes staring blankly at a crack in the floor. “He was actually the reason I grew to love dancing,” you confessed. “As we got older and went into high school, sneaking out to practice together and performing together on stage became as easy as breathing air and as normal as…” You shook your head. “It was just a lot easier I think, back then.”
Ten tilted his chin toward you. “What happened between you two, Yn?”
You swallowed roughly. “In my first year of high school, my parents got divorced. I always suspected it would happen, but my mom kind of changed after that.” Your eyebrows crinkled as you recalled the memories of your early teenage years and tried to grapple with an adequate way to express them aloud. “And, to be fair, the more I danced, the more I didn’t want to focus on school work, but my mom became really hard on me about all that and I started to crack down on that stuff.
“Eventually, she got tired of taking me to dance practices and shows, and she blew up at me about how useless dance was going to be if I was going to become a doctor or something like that.”
Ten heard your number being called and nudged you to follow after him. He handed you your drink, and the two of you pushed back out into the chilly night. You didn’t really know where you were trying to go, but you didn’t really care. You both ended up in one of the small parking lots squeezed between two fast food restaurants, and you sat yourself down on the curb.
You continued, “And so, she would purposely forget to come home in time to take me to competitions and rehearsals. By the time I realized she wasn’t coming, I was already late every time. I would start walking myself there and taking the bus instead. Changmin started noticing that I was slacking, but I…”
“He didn’t know?”
“No.” You didn’t want him to know. Maybe it was your stupid pride that was preventing you from admitting that aloud. Maybe you were ashamed that your mom wasn't as accepting of dance as his parents were. You let out a shuddering breath and watched it come out in a visible puff in front of your face. “She made me grow spiteful toward dance,” you said stiffly. “I would be trying to stretch or practice movement in my bedroom while studying for exams, and she would come in and berate me.”
The yelling echoed in your mind, all too vividly. Your mother never physically hurt you, but there were still scars. “She’d discourage me from rehearsals or signing up for competitions by telling me I was nowhere near good enough, that dancing wasn’t going to put food on the table, and that I was—” A complete disappointment. You could pick those exact words out of a line up.
Ten’s eyes glistened with silver in the amber glow of the streetlight above you. “Jesus, Yn. I’m so sorry; that’s—that’s awful.”
You didn’t know how to accept the sympathy, even after having received so much from your other friends already. No matter how many times you retold your story, it was never quite right or in the way your brain wanted to portray it. You didn’t want to portray anyone as the villain; you figured that maybe you could have done something back then to prevent this. (You couldn’t have, actually, and that was the most difficult part to accept.)
“Yeah,” you murmured, setting your drink on the ground as you curled in on yourself slightly. “Anyway, by senior year, Changmin was obviously really into dance and was probably really stressed about auditions and end-of-the-year competitions. We basically… we basically took out our anger on each other. He said some things, I said some things. The rest is history.”
It was quiet for a moment as you let the words sink into the open air. Your chest loosened a bit after being able to tell another person about it, but for the most part, your hands still trembled. You reached for your drink again to take a sip and to force some kind of liquid down your throat.
After a while, Ten piped up, “Yn… I hope you know that you are not whoever your mother was trying to make you believe you were. You’ve probably realized that already—or maybe you’re still working on it—but please know that you’re probably one of the strongest people I know. It must have been really hard for you and I…” He exhaled, “Sorry, I’ve never been great at this.”
You sent him a small smile in return. “It’s okay; I still appreciate it.” After a beat, you added, “I know I act like I hate him, but I still want to see him succeed. I can’t think that ill of him, especially when he wasn’t the only one at fault.”
“Ah, that’s why ‘it’s complicated’, huh? I get that.”
“Yeah.” Your hands—god, if they could just stop shaking—
Ten reached over and covered your hands with one of his, and you let the heat of his palm warm yours. “You’re doing great, Yn. You know that, right?”
You couldn’t choke out an answer to that. You could only really say, “I just miss him sometimes.”
A sad smile. “I know. Maybe he does, too.”
You wanted to laugh, or maybe cry, at that. Anyone who got in the way of Changmin’s passions was no one to him. You would know exactly how that felt.
EPISODE SEVEN: [ROLLS RIGHT] OFF THE TONGUE
WHENEVER Changmin was feeling unsure of himself, he would retreat to his safe space: the practice rooms. Even if it was some time in the ungodly morning, like 2am as it was now, he would make the trek beneath molten gold streetlights and barren cobbled streets. It was the one place where he could focus his energy solely on dance, and forget about everything else.
Once upon a time, it had been your safe space just as much as it was his.
Changmin huffed a sigh as he hiked up the remaining flight of stone stairs that led up to the backdoor area of the performing arts building. It was a handful of hours since he and Chanhee parted ways with Kevin and Juyeon after enjoying dinner together. Chanhee was probably dead asleep by now—he was probably going to wake up and continue studying for his exams anyway.
As he turned to his right, his breath hitched as he caught sight of someone standing right outside the door. Usually, he had no trouble getting in and security wasn’t exactly strict in this area of campus. In fact, he almost never bumped into anyone, as strange as it sounded. Maybe he should have counted his blessings.
But then he recognized your jacket from earlier this evening, the very same one you were wearing while walking next to Ten—practically squished up against each other, two peas in a pod. He didn’t like how irked he was by that detail. He still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that you had said “hey” first.
You weren’t looking at him, rather, your body was completely turned toward the door as if you were trying to decide whether or not you should go in. You were as still as a statue, frozen in time.
The moment, however, faded as quickly as it had come. You must have sensed his presence, and your head whipped around to face him.
There.
His heart leapt into his throat—dear god, why did you look so afraid? And then he noticed that you weren’t frozen still, but rather, channeling all your energy into keeping your body from trembling. Were you cold? What were you doing here so late? Why weren’t you with Ten?
He watched your throat move as you gulped. And then you were walking toward him—no, past him—wait, come back— “So that’s it?”
The grip he had on his duffle bag strap tightened when you stopped next to him just as you were going to walk past him toward the stairs. Your gazes clashed like a pair of twin lightning bolts slicing through the night sky. There had always been a sort of energy between the two of you, and when you were young, he had been so very attracted to that kind of power, one so similar to his… he didn’t think he was mistaken back then.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You said, still there. Your voice was low, but he could detect the edge.
He didn’t know what it was supposed to mean; he just didn’t want you to leave without knowing why you were here. Were you looking for him? “You’re not gonna say anything to me? Why are you here?”
(He swore it wasn’t supposed to come out that brusque-sounding, but he also didn’t know what it was supposed to come out sounding like…? He felt like he didn’t know you anymore.)
There was a narrowing of your eyes, and you both angled your bodies to face one another like a standoff. “No one said I had anything to say to you. And I—” You tripped over your words, “—I don’t know why I’m here. That’s why I was leaving.”
Oh.
Why was he disappointed by that answer?
“So you’re not here with Ten or something?” He asked, unsure what else he could say to keep you here, even for just a couple seconds longer.
Your mouth curled. "Clearly not. Why are you so pressed about me and Ten?"
Changmin pressed his lips together. "I'm not." Okay. Very believable.
The face you made said the same thing. "Okay, yeah. I didn't expect you to care so much anyway."
For a reason he loathed to admit, anger spiked in his blood and he felt the distinct need to defend himself. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"I don't know," you replied sarcastically, your volume rising, "maybe it's that you've never really cared that much about things that concerned me in the first place?"
"Now that's rich coming from you."
Your glare pierced his. "Oh, please. As soon as I started slacking—god, it took so little for you to just abandon me."
His jaw fell slack. Where the fuck did this conversation just turn to? "Abandon you? You abandoned me!" He exclaimed, finger flicking between the two of you as if he could impale both of your chests with the sharp edge of his accusations.
"How could I have possibly been the one to abandon you?" Your face contorted with so much more emotion than Changmin had ever seen from you over the past three years. Suddenly, he could see the underlying desperation and devastation hidden beneath the lines of bitterness and anger. His heart sank, but his blood still boiled and pumped. He couldn't get the distinctly awful hole in his chest to stop aching. He could remember exactly when you just stopped coming to practice with him. He could remember exactly the day he gave up hope.
"You—" you stammered, your hand flying to your throat. It was the same action he had seen from you just a few days ago while you were in the practice room. He recognized it as a habit of yours for when you were anxious or overwhelmed because your throat closed in on itself. If that wasn't enough to make him want to lay down his sword… "—you stopped caring. When did you stop caring? I just want to know."
Everything went silent for him, just for a split second. You thought… you thought he stopped caring? How could he ever stop caring about you? Wasn't that why he was so upset in the first place?
And when the world zapped back into play, he was sure his skin was ashen. His throat bobbed. "How could you think so little of me?"
Your forehead creased. "Little? Changmin, you were everything to me."
Dear heart—
You were shaking your head and taking a step away from him then. "You couldn't possibly understand."
Just like that, there was fire in his veins again. "That's because you never gave me a chance to understand!"
You threw a look back at him and again, he could read everything there like an open book, so much unlike the wall he had been met with all this time. "And I can say the exact same thing about you. If you think I kept things from you, Ji Changmin—" you said with the undertone of a snarl, so fierce that, as you turned on your foot to face him again, your breath came out like that of a dragon's smoke, "—then how much have you kept from me?"
His nostrils flared and his hands gestured wildly, vaguely—he pressed his palms to his eyes with a haggard sigh. "Why are you here, Yn?" He asked again, finally. He lowered his hands and took a step toward you. "Are you here just to pick a fight with me?"
You paused.
He watched you open your mouth, then close it.
You pursed your lips, finally murmuring, "No. I didn't come here for you."
For some reason, that hurt even more.
— ✶
The practice room was colder than it usually was.
Changmin kept the lights dim for the sake of his stinging eyes, and he dumped his duffle bag in the corner of the room before making a beeline for the aux cord for the speaker system. He hooked up his phone and opened up his music files, his forehead pressing against the cool mirror wall.
For a moment, he simply let his eyes flutter shut and his lungs to breathe.
You were long gone by now, and Changmin considered just going back to his apartment, but he knew he would just lie in bed awake for hours if he did.
When he opened his eyes, he swiped out of his music and instead went to a file kept deep down in the depths of his storage. He had purposely named it so it would remain at the absolute bottom of the list when alphabetized, and the pass code on it was supposed to dissuade him from accessing it.
Supposed to.
He punched in the four digits of your birthday and the lock clicked open to reveal a hefty file of video after video. There were photos of you, too, somewhere, but the videos were all at the top of the file because of their size. He didn't know what he was gonna do when his phone ran out of storage; he figured that when that day came, it would either be when you and he finally figured shit out, or he got closure and could delete them all.
He sighed.
His thumb hovered over one of the video files near the top, one where he could see your face in the thumbnail.
When he opened it, his younger face filled the screen. His tongue poked out from his lips as he carefully settled his phone against the wall next to yours as both of your phones recorded the run-through that was about to happen.
"Changminnie! Come on, I'm starting the song!" Your voice echoed against the practice room walls, and his laughter soon followed as he scurried into place next to you.
Changmin watched his younger self transform his expression into something more serious, while you had looked at him through the mirror and burst out laughing.
Younger Changmin broke his facade, the dimples in his cheeks deep, his smile bright. "What?"
You grinned back at him. "Sorry, sorry! Nothing; it's just interesting how you can just shift your facial expression like that."
"You have to practice like you perform though!"
"I know, I know. I just like your smile better, y'know?"
Changmin could see the hearts in his younger self's eyes. Jesus, had he really blushed that hard? Younger Changmin cupped the back of his neck bashfully. "Really?"
You punched his arm playfully. "Yeah. It's really pretty, Changmin. I thought I told you this before."
"Well yeah, but it doesn't hurt to hear it again—yah! Hey, I can bite back, you know—!"
Changmin's eyes shuddered as the familiar melody of the song flowed into his ears. He abruptly slammed his thumb down onto the pause button.
No, he couldn't stomach hearing it. Not when he could recall every move from memory and not when he had no partner to complement those moves. It just reminded him of the gaping hole in his chest and the emptiness of this room.
"Let's get to work, Changmin," he muttered to himself as he swiped out of the folder and back to his music files. He had an actual to-do list in mind, after all, and it did not include a dive into the forbidden folder. (No matter how much he needed to hear your voice again, for once, not arguing with him.)
EPISODE EIGHT: OFF THE HOOK
"HE'S been pissy all morning—"
Changmin suppressed a groan of frustration as he heard his friend's voices nearing the dressing room he was in. All morning, the performing arts building had been a madhouse, even worse than the night of the draft showcase. Everyone just decided to be here today, whether they were his fellow dancers trying to score a practice room, one of the prospective actors auditioning for a part in Hyunjae's best friend's thesis play, or one of the tech members trying to make sure everything worked behind the scenes.
Changmin had gone from room to room in an attempt to find an empty one where he could have some peace in working on his own. He would have just gone home at this point, but Chanhee was stressing over his own exams, so Changmin was stuck here.
So taking all of that into account, including the rough encounter he'd had with you a couple days ago, plus a lack of sleep and coffee—not the happiest squirrel on campus.
(How could you just drop a bomb like "You were everything to me, Changmin" in his lap and expect him not to think of anything else for days on end?)
The door to the dressing room he was hiding in cracked open, and all of the cacophony from the outside flooded in, as well as a crush of his friends.
"Don't you guys have class?" Changmin moaned, his hand coming up to rub his sleep-deprived eyes.
"Well, yeah, but this is much more fun," came Younghoon's teasing chuckle as he walked over to Changmin and clasped a hand on his shoulder.
Changmin made a face. "I just wanted some peace and quiet."
Sunwoo scoffed. "Peace and quiet? You've come to the wrong place, hyung."
"Yeah," Hyunjae added on, "might as well take a break for once and come watch auditions with us! HJ!Yn needs help judging people anyway."
Changmin cocked a brow at the blond. "You should call Chanhee for that then. Shouldn't you be out there, Younghoon?" He nodded toward the tall, lanky drama major present.
Younghoon shook his head, bouncing on the balls of his feet. How did he have so much energy? "Nope. I'm auditioning for a part, so she's gatekeeping me from watching."
Changmin turned from his friends slightly as he reached down for his phone that he had situated on top of the small bluetooth speaker he had the good sense to bring. Then again, maybe he should have just stuck to earbuds… whatever. He was too tired to care. Part of him wanted to add to the chaos anyway.
"What's her thesis play about again?" He asked no one in particular. Sunwoo waddled over to him and stole his phone right from his hands and began browsing through the music selection.
"It's a modern take of one of Shakespeare's plays: Much Ado About Nothing," answered Younghoon. "It was really funny actually, like the original play. Lots of matchmaking, lots of stupidity. I think they dump someone in a lake..."
Hyunjae perked up. "Oh yeah! That was probably my favorite part of the whole script."
Changmin chuckled. "I was expecting you to say something like 'the whole thing's my favorite because my best friend wrote it'."
"Oh, no, that still applies."
Changmin, Sunwoo, and Younghoon all exchanged knowing looks with one another. Mhm… so they thought. There were a few too many in their friend group who had interesting relationships with their other friends. Exhibit A: whatever the fuck was happening with Hyunjae and his.
Hyunjae caught their silent communication and furrowed his eyebrows. "What?"
Sunwoo snorted, but Younghoon was the one to drawl, "It's absolutely nothing."
Changmin pressed his lips into a cheeky smile, brushing the bangs from out of his vision. Hyunjae's lips quirked to the side in a frown, but didn't make any comment on it. It wasn't a new reaction from the group, by any means, but… oh well. That would be a tale for another time.
With that being said, Changmin followed the three of them out of the relative privacy of the dressing room and out into the hustle-bustle of the main backstage corridor. As soon as that dressing room was vacated, however, somebody was swift to occupy it. Changmin cursed inwardly; guess he wouldn't be able to come back to that room later.
With the switching of theater leadership over the past year (a changing of the guard, if you would, but with professors and sponsors), the management of the entire performing arts department was a mess and a half. There were a few stand-out graduate students and undergraduates who were keeping everything in check for all of the events happening over this year—like Hyunjae’s best friend, Lee Jihoon (a graduate student specializing in sound and music production), and Moon Taeil (a graduate who was a soloist in the chamber choir).
As the four young men made their way closer to the immediate backstage, the sound miraculously dulled down. The lights were a lot dimmer here, as the spotlights were turned toward the main stage. Changmin spotted a few people scattered throughout the backstage area with phones or folded script packets in their hands as they recited their lines to themselves, with some even making exaggerated facial expressions and grand hand gestures.
Hyunjae’s best friend was one of the up and coming director-screenwriter “prodigies” that the drama department championed. She was a year older than Changmin was, and he didn’t need to be a genius to know that there were a crowd of people vying for a role in her graduating thesis play. It must have been stressful as fuck, but he knew that she had a good head on her shoulders—
“—I’m gonna stop you right there.”
HJ!Yn’s voice resounded from the other side of the hefty velvet curtains separating the backstage from the main stage. Hyunjae made a show of pressing his index finger to his lips to signal his friends to be quiet—Sunwoo thus made a show of rolling his eyes (“Duh, we’re gonna be quiet.”). They all huddled to the side of the curtain and poked their heads out to see what was going on.
The university performing arts hall was likely one of the most magnificent places on campus. It featured a vast array of floor seating, while also boasting three levels of balcony seats. Changmin remembered once briefly learning the anatomy of the theater seating: the floor or nosebleeds, the slightly lofted box seats, the grand circle, loge circle, and upper circle—the gods. It was all very antiquarian, but it was a place Changmin had become quite familiar with over the years.
The director herself sat in the dimmed nosebleeds section, in the smack middle. Someone had dragged out one of those plastic, foldable tables for her to set her paperwork and a small, battery-operated lamp on top of.
Curiously, sitting next to her was none other than Bae Sumin, your new recruit.
Changmin straightened, accidentally bumping into Younghoon’s shoulder as he did. “Sorry,” he whispered.
Younghoon shook his head to say that it was all good, his hand lifted in acknowledgement.
“Did you know Sumin was here?” He asked his friend.
Younghoon’s expression was thoughtful. “I think so? I left to go find you when I thought I heard someone say they saw her come in. Why? Did she not tell you when the dance department interviews were gonna be held?”
Changmin recalled receiving no notice. “No. I—I figured Yn would be here, too, then. Right?” Was he ready to face you again so soon? Would you even acknowledge him this time—?
Younghoon passed him an amused glance with a small smile fitted over his face. “That would make sense,” he murmured with his arms crossed over his chest. One of his hands reached up to idly massage his jaw. “I’d imagine she would be with her friends, somewhere around here. Though, it would also make sense that she would be sitting with Sumin, too. Then again—”
“You are… no help,” Changmin deadpanned.
His friend chuckled lowly, eyes upturned into slim crescents.
“Uh Jihoon-ah?”
Changmin and Younghoon’s attention flitted over towards the far side of the backstage and they watched as a girl chased after the resident sound producer graduate student. He was, perhaps, smaller than one might anticipate from the intimidating man, but he still harbored so much scary energy and talent within his body. Like all of the staff on the technical team, the pair were clad in all black.
Jihoon glanced up from his clipboard and at the girl. “Hm?”
The girl nodded toward the curtains. “Director is calling for a break and is asking if the house lights can be turned on.”
“Ah okay, come on then. Follow me.”
As the two of them strode across the length of the backstage, the girl’s eyes found Changmin and Younghoon, and… She was looking past him now at someone else. She lifted her hand in a small wave, paired with a smile, “Hi, Sunwoo.”
Changmin whipped his head around, only to realize that Hyunjae had disappeared, but Sunwoo was now standing on Changmin’s other side. He watched in utter delight as his younger friend flushed, even in the dim lighting, at the girl’s greeting. His eyes were wide as he squeaked out a quick, “Hey!” in return.
When Jihoon and his charge had gone out of view, Changmin turned on Sunwoo with a hyena cackle. “Oh my god! Who was that, Kim Sunwoo?”
Sunwoo seemed to shrink into the collar of his hoodie. “No one.”
Changmin’s laughter lit up the room just as the house lights thunk-thunk-thunk’d to life. Younghoon had slipped away, most likely to meet Hyunjae in the nosebleeds, which left only the two of them there alone. “Do you have a crush on her?”
“Yah! You’re such a menace,” Sunwoo groaned, whacking Changmin with the extra length of his sweater paw. “You can’t even talk, dude! You’re in love with a girl who can barely stand to be in the same room—” Sunwoo realized his slip up and slapped a palm over his mouth.
Ouch. The truth hurt, didn’t it? Changmin chuckled, though it was noticeably quieter now. “Well, you’re not wrong—” He shook his head, eyebrows creased together, “—wait, no. Wait, I’m not in love with her!”
Sunwoo rolled his eyes so hard he must have seen his brain up there. “Oh, please. The last time you were drunk and emotional, you showed us that secret little folder in your phone.” He jabbed his finger accusingly at the phone in Changmin’s hand.
Changmin scowled, pressing his phone to his chest as if to protect it in case Sunwoo decided to have wandering hands. “That was told to you in confidence!”
“No, it was told to me in a drunken stupor—” The two of them began to make their way back toward the edge of the curtain, ducking out from its shadow and onto the main stage. Hyunjae and Younghoon were indeed in the nosebleeds now, but Sumin was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she had only been here to observe the audition process. “And you guys say I’m the lightweight.”
“That’s because you are the lightweight.”
Just as the two of them hopped down from the stage and onto the ground floor of seats, Juyeon came in from the doors located at the back of the seats. He raised a hand in greeting to all present, cheerfully waving with that golden retriever-esque grin. “Hey guys! Oh, Changminnie, I was just looking for you.”
Changmin’s eyebrows flew up. “Oh? What’s up, Juyeon?”
Sunwoo retreated into the rows up where Hyunjae and Younghoon were, while Changmin met up with Juyeon in the rightmost aisle.
Juyeon threw a thumb behind him toward the direction he had just come from. “Sumin was asking if you would be willing to do your interview right now.”
His eyes widened slightly. “Right now?”
“That’s what I just said, wasn’t it?”
Changmin pressed his lips together, before nodding. “Uh, for sure. Yeah, lead the way.”
The two dancers hiked their way back up to the back of the area and through the door Juyeon had originally entered through. The main lobby was much less crowded—it was practically barren, which made it the perfect environment to conduct an interview in. Sumin was setting herself up at one of the couches, setting her laptop, phone, and coffee cup on the coffee table opposite to her.
She raised her head when she heard the door open and close, and a bright smile graced her features. “Oh, you found him! Thanks, Juyeonie.”
“Yeah, no problem,” he chirped. “I’ve got a couple things to handle first, but just ask someone to come find me once you and Changmin are done.”
With Juyeon swiftly taking his leave, Changmin was left to take a seat on the other end of the couch that Sumin was sitting at. “Hey, nice to see you again, Sumin,” he said, crossing one ankle over the other and resting his arm along the back of the couch.
The corners of her smile widened. “Nice to see you, too, Changmin! Sorry this was so sudden; I figured that I could get started on some of the interviews while I was here.”
“Oh, yeah, no worries,” he chuckled.
She reached for her phone, fidgeting as she swiped to a simple recording application. “I hope you don’t mind me recording this…?” At his consent, she nodded. “Okay, cool. I did wanna say something before we started.”
He sat up just a bit. “What is it?”
There was a sort of twinkle in her eyes, and if he wasn’t mistaken, her manner became a lot more bashful all of a sudden. “I have to confess that I asked my mentor, Yn, if she could send me some of your dance performance videos and I’m literally in awe of your talent. Like, I wanted to tell you how starstruck I am just being able to tell you this right now, but I just wanted to say this before we started.”
He broke into a boyish grin at this, his dimples becoming craters of joy in the apples of his cheeks. “Ah, thank you—that really means a lot,” he smiled.
Sumin added on, one of her palms pressing against the couch cushion as she leaned toward him slightly, “I mean, I don’t even know how Yn was able to find videos of you from high school, but I’m so glad she did, because—”
Wait what. Changmin was watching Sumin’s mouth move as she talked but he wasn’t truly hearing what she said. His humble, albeit a bit dumbfounded, smile remained, but her words from just before resonated in his head. There were definitely a few of his dance performance videos online from his high school days, but did you keep links to them? Did you keep the recordings on your phone?
The fact that Sumin asked you meant that she probably had no clue about your past, only that you were the person Sumin could rely on if she had any questions.
What did it mean? What did it mean?
His heart pounded in his chest at the thought that maybe he could possibly have an excuse to get you to talk to him, even if it was one, truly dumbass excuse.
“—ready?”
Changmin snapped out of his dazed state. “Sorry?”
Sumin blushed slightly, clearing her throat. At some point, she had pulled her laptop onto her lap and prepped her phone by placing it in between the two of them to record the following conversation. “Are you ready to start?”
He coughed, straightening and adjusting his position. “Oh, yeah—uh, sorry. Yeah, whenever you’re ready.”
Sumin gauged his reaction carefully, but instead of pressing the record button, she hit the power button. “If I may, you seem a little distracted. I don’t really want this to feel like a burden if you’ve got a lot on your plate.”
Shit. “No, I mean,” he shook his head, “I’m sorry. I guess my mind just wanders really easily when…” He huffed a sigh, dragging a hand down his face. “I’m a little tired, that’s all.”
“I totally get that,” she sympathized. “You’ve probably been practicing non-stop lately for the winter showcase. We don’t have to do this today if you’re not in the right headspace.”
He sighed and couldn’t help but feel just a little relieved. He needed to talk to Chanhee about this, math exam or dance practice be damned. But there was a part of him that definitely felt awful about having to cut off her interview even before it began. He gestured to her phone. “How about we reschedule? We could meet up sometime else during the week to redo this and I promise I’ll be all yours.”
He didn’t know what he did, but the pink on her cheeks deepened to a cherry red. “Oh, uh, sure!” She giggled, taking her phone and passing it over to him. “You can just put your phone number in there and I’ll text you to ask when you wanna meet up.”
Changmin nodded his agreement and swiftly inputted his contact information into the given slots. “Definitely,” he said before handing her phone back to her. The phone fumbled between the two of them, but Changmin was already standing up with the goal to go retrieve his bag (wherever it was), and to go consult Chanhee and the man’s infinitesimal opinions. “Really sorry again, Sumin.”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it!” She dismissed his worries with a flick of her wrist. “Would you mind finding Juyeon, though?”
Changmin sent her a thumb’s up over his shoulder on his way to the door. “Yeah, for sure.”
She returned the gesture, watching as he disappeared out of the main lobby. It was only when he was definitely gone, she covered her mouth with her hand and stared at his saved contact in her phone. Then, with a silent scream of happiness, she ran to her text chain with you to tell you all about it.
a/n: PLS STILL REBLOG THIS PART EVEN THO ITS NOT THE FULL THING PLS PLS PLS IM BEGGING
read part two here (also linked at top)
permanent taglist: @honeyhuii @crazywittysassy @seomisaho @stopeatread @enhacolor @rnjfy @jaehunnyy @kpopjackie @spiderrenjunfics @soobin-chois @ethereal-engene @mingiholic @ja4hyvn @vatterie @yogurteume @justalildumpling @hyunjaespresent-deobi @hongyangi @pxppxrminty @nerdypastacalzonespy @jcmdoll @kflixnet
taglist: @oi-miya @loveliestfelix @sickvision @jaerisdiction @stealanity @magnificentjudementmoneyhands @inthesunnn @igotkpoopsss @letsnotdoanything @starryjww @sodafy @rreneeeeee @dajanxekiwi @sseastar-main @jenowithjaem @moonyswolf @sleepymoon27 @floatingpluto @fictionlover100 @winterchimez @softie00 @sseuyeon @qkyuscult @hwanunjin @zlebooks @mcu-incorrect @nctzennikki09 @hrt4cheol @moontyuns @quill-ink
#kflixnet#the boyz x reader#ji changmin x reader#changmin x reader#q x reader#the boyz fanfic#the boyz drabble#the boyz fluff#the boyz oneshot#the boyz angst#the boyz imagines#the boyz scenarios#ji changmin oneshots#ji changmin drabbles#changmin imagines#changmin oneshot#changmin fluff#changmin angst#changmin scenarios
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Deepsea Glass
This is a pre-Splatoon fan fic that takes place in Alterna, days before its destruction.
Selena (Saline, moon) is an analogue for Marina
Kohime (little princess) is an analogue for Pearl
Inspired by the squid ink panels reflecting the desires of humanity.
Read below the cut.
Selena wanted to bash her head against the wall. She was the project lead in Alterna's delusional corporate suicide cult. Sorry, she meant 'Happiness Research Lab', a once important figure in maintaining Alterna's long-term survival, now a haven for madmen demanding humanity return to the irradiated, flooded surface.
Her job was to figure out the logistics of building, and launching, a rocket from deep beneath the sea and into the Earth's soil. Needless to say, all calculations show the probability of successfully launching a rocket deep underwater was literally, no smudging the numbers, 0%. And that's ignoring the readings showing that the surface is still flooded, irradiated, and over 15 degrees hotter than is ideal for agriculture, let alone maintaining human life. And THAT is ignoring the fact that the force of the rocket would fracture the stone of the cavern in which the population is maintained, assuming the psychic backlash of every neuroLCD panel suddenly exploding from energy overload wouldn't kill the population outright.
So obviously, the higher-ups appealed to reason. Or not. Instead, they scrapped the research to start building the rocket. Needless to say, it was now up to Selena to build an anti-gravity device which could withstand the water pressure while her roommate and boss, Kohime, tried desperately to get the company to stop.
It had barely been 60 years since Alterna was finished and colonized, and yet already people were demanding the impossible. Small crowds creating conspiracy theories about the land being just outside the walls, as opposed to the waterlogged crag of the flooded cavern that you can very clearly see if you just switched off one of the panels.
Selena needed a break. She decided, if her job wasn't going to listen to her findings, then she wasn't going to bother staying the full day. Clearly she wasn't alone in this thought, as when she approached the door, she caught her roommate standing outside on her phone. Selena's own phone pinged a notification right as she opened the glass door, greeting the shorter woman's slightly embarrassed face. That didn't last long however, as she begun to speak:
"Oh good. I just texted you." Kohime said. "You wanna head out early?"
"Absolutely." Replied Selena. She was glad that she was living with somebody who had some sense. The two of them grabbed a frozen tofu desert on the way home (most of the non-seafood was tofu, as it was one of the few crops to easily grow down here), and Kohime began to complain.
"Every day. Every goddamn day, these fucking bastards keep fucking ignoring me! 'Oh look, the princess is mad again' like, no shit? I'm trying to keep you alive! I don't care if the goddamn escapists are profitable, we aren't here to make a profit! We need to focus on the future! Making sure there's a planet to live on, not running to our death as fast as possible! What are we, fish to an angler?!"
Selena sighed in agreement. She had nothing to add, as everything she would say has already been said. Instead, she half-listened to her best friend's impatient ramblings while thinking of how to cheer her up later. There was that one project...
"Hey Kohime." Selena interjected. "You remember that old shark movie we watched the other day?"
"Oh yeah, Jaws, right? You wanna watch it again?" Kohime responded.
"We could, but first there's something I want to show you."
Kohime's attention was peaked right as they got home. From the table in the back, Selena grabbed an audio device.
"I came up with this song while thinking of that movie."
"Oh, fresh! Lemme hear!" Kohime slipped the speaker cuff over her left ear. From it emitted a steady, slightly modern approximation of the shrine music her grandmother would play for her. It was a curious sound, but she couldn't figure out what it had to do with...
"Wait a sec. The chorus, is that-?"
A slightly mischievous grin snuck up on Selena's face, "yup. That was made using the two note progression from the really tense scenes!"
Kohime's face lit up like the midday skylight. "That's hilarious AND awesome! Only you could come up with something so crazy, I love it!" A giggle pushes her face into childish glee, while Selena turned to grab something else, hiding her guilty smile.
It's been twelve years now, but she still couldn't get over that phrase from Kohime. 'I love'. It makes her uneasy every time.
"You wanna watch another movie?" Selena asked, "I found another Jaws movie, although I think it's the third one. Don't know if there's a two we're missing."
"Oh hell yeah! Pop it in!"
An hour later, and Selena was thoroughly bored. This was definitely a sequel to the first movie she saw, but it felt half-hearted and phony, like the corporate slogans she had to write for every apartment and street corner back at her old job.
"Are you watching this?" She asked the small woman beside her. No answer. Her roommate had fallen fast asleep, clearly as bored as she was, and had let her head fall against Selena's shoulder as she dozed.
Selena felt a pang in her chest. A muddy feeling that followed every bit of affection Kohime had given her. She stayed like this however, in part to let her old friend rest from the nightmarish days they've had, and in part for the comfort she has in knowing Kohime would always be beside her, ready to take on the world, which day by day became increasingly relevant.
Selena slowly nodded off herself.
That night, an exhausting dream filled her mind. In it, she was swimming up waterfall after waterfall. She strained against the crashing current, believing that soon, she would find rest. But no rest would come. At the final hurdle, the last jump, she dove straight into the maw of a hungry bear, wearing the Alterna logo on it's forehead, and announcing her retirement.
Selena woke with a start. It was midnight, and she felt dumb for being stressed about such a wild dream. She didn't question why she had it though. She had been working too hard for too little. The research she conducted, the machines she built, all wasted on projects that would kill her led by people who would never listen. She needed to quit. She could do so easily in fact. Sleeping in her lap, having moved herself in her sleep, was the very person she worked under. All she would have to do is wake her and tell her she couldn't work there anymore.
And leave Kohime to fight alone.
Selena let her head fall back onto the couch cushion. She would work tomorrow, if for no other reason than to ease her guilty conscience. To make sure some semblance of sanity stayed in this broken order, just because she knows Kohime would never stop fighting. She's always been bull-headed, and they needed that now more than ever.
"It's is time for your shift at the Happiness Research Facility, Citizen 2117: Assistant Director KOHIME.
It is time for your shift at the Happiness Research Facility, Citizen 2224: Project Manager SELENA.
Have a productive day."
Selena's second waking was a slow groggy ordeal. She had barely gotten back to sleep, and it feels like she just had that nightmare. Clearly some time has passed, as Kohime was sitting next to her. Unusually though, she wasn't dressed yet. Instead, she had an uncharacteristically uneasy glower in her face.
"Oh, you're up." Selena noted.
A long, heavy silence dulled the air at her voice. Kohime continued to stare, pressure rising from her sleep-matted hair. Eventually, she spoke:
"Selena."
At her word, a deafening pause filled the room.
"Do you ever feel like...something big is coming? Like..."
"The end of the world?" Selena finished her thought. "Of course. Every day. It bears down like an ocean of pressure every time I have to think about that goddamn rocket."
"Exactly!" The smaller woman replied "it all feels like we're marching into the end, all over some vague dream!" Tension filled her voice. She lacked energy, however. Selena took notice and pressed the back of her hand to Kohime's forehead.
"! W- what are you doing?" Kohime was flustered.
"You're overheated." Selena spoke.
"Well, that's 'cause you-"
"No, I mean actually" she wouldn't let Kohime finish. Now wasn't the time. "You're getting sick. R.C.A.?"
Selena called to the AI transcriber installed as living assistance. "Contact the HRF. We're taking today off."
"Very well." The voice responded.
Kohime protested: "No! Without us, who knows what those idiots will do?!"
Selena was worried of course, but she wasn't going to let her friend suffer. "How smart do you think they actually are. The lunatics wanna fire a rocket in a closed cave, through the ocean. You think they can think through the logistics without us?" She prattled, hoping she was right. It was her last hope at this point.
"..."
"Come on. You need to rest, and they'll never figure out how to actually build a rocket in the few days we'd be gone. Plus when we get back, you can rub the fact that you were right in their faces."
Kohime couldn't help but laugh at that. "As if. They're heads would be so far up their asses, they wouldn't be able to hear me." She joked, coughing near the end of her sentence.
Selena chuckled back, "in that case, I'll build you a megaphone. Nobody'd be able to ignore you then. Better yet, I'll build a bomb-"
"Okay, stop right there crazy lady. Don't give R.C.A. the wrong idea. Plus, that'd totally defeat the purpose of stopping the rocket in the first place."
The two joked like that for a few more minutes, until the tension left Kohime's shoulders, and she nodded off again.
It would take a week before Kohime would recover. The anxiety from the escape project pushing them to the boiling point. It was only at the end of that week when she had rested enough to feel like working again, and scheduled their shifts for the next day.
When Selena woke, from her bed this time, to the work day she'd been dreading, she noticed that Kohime had already left. Nothing unusual there. She was always a bit of a workaholic, and the praise helped feed her ego. Selena would finish her breakfast before heading out.
Upon opening the front door, however, she was blinded by a scorching white light. The skylight above them was in overdrive, forcing her eyes down. On the porch, collapsed to her knees, eyes wide despite the overbearing light above, was Kohime. Her face was filled with fear as defeat killed what little hope had remained.
Fearfully checking her friends help, Selena would follow her unbroken stare to the neuroLCD panel on the West edge. There, where once was the image of a field with sparse green trees, now stood the image of a white rocket ship, repeating down the walls. The grass, which once had a photo-like quality, now rustled as if blown by the wind. Sparse depictions of clouds were circling the blinding sun.
To any other, it would be an echo of their deep-seated desire to reach the upper world. To the two women here, however, it was a monument to their failure.
Selene rushed to the far moat, from the shore of which she grabbed a raft, unconcerned with ownership. Kohime followed behind, having barely broken from her stupor, and praying her closest could find a miracle. The datapad Selene brought was connected to a terminal on the wall. The screen behind it flickered off, exposing behind it the rocket they had lobbied so hard against, somehow completed.
Selene swallowed her fear as the datapad downloaded the Alterna Logs only people from the Happiness Research Facility has access to. The log read as follows:
"
HRFLog004.02: The Divide
As humanity began it's foolhardy errand to escape their salvation, a small group of resisters, lead by those scientists from the first generation, had resisted the change.
Amongst these were two high-ranking officials who had researched the surface, and concluded escape would doom humanity. These two would be the head speakers, and last bastions, of the Preservationists.
Rather than heed their warnings, those who profited from the Escapist movement would instead sabotage the resistance, slipping a mild poison into one researcher's water.
With the voice of opposition in recovery, the Preservationists were left without a rallying point, and a new fervor would grip the escapists. Thus, the rocket would be built in record time.
Awaiting further data.
"
Selena's heart dropped. A deep, fervent rage built in her heart. They had nearly killed her closest friend, over this pipe dream?! They would doom humanity for their pride?!
Her rage was interrupted, however, by a deafening scream of anguish. Having read the report on her own datapad, Kohime collapsed into a ball, shaking the raft beneath them. Selena steadied herself, then crouched to her friend.
"IT'S OVER. ITS THE END OF THE WORLD. WE'RE GONNA DIE..."
She was yelling, but a defeated misery filled her voice. She was not just screaming out of anguish, but because she couldn't find the strength to control her voice. Selena watched in pain as, for the second time ever, she watched her friend's heart break. She grabbed the girl and held her close, ignoring the pain in her ears. She needed to help her, to make her happy. Something to make her smile. Something she...
A familiar tune resonated from the wall behind her. The neuroLCDs picked up on Selena's desire, and reflected a memory of a week ago, the smiling face of her closest friend. The sound that played was the song she wrote, and Kohime took notice. Her crying slowed as she looked towards the reactivated panel. She couldn't help but laugh.
"Look, it's us." She barely managed to croak through tears. She hummed sobbing in a strained voice to the song that played, while holding desperately to Selena's waist.
This brief reprieve would not last. Those other researchers would hear the song, and, seeing the crying girl, wished for her to be happy. The rocket would be starting it's test launch after all. Soon, she could go home.
As the song spread, more and more people would hear it, carrying with it the image of the surface and the big white rocket. Soon, people began to sing along, making up lyrics that blurred together, as an anthem to the freedom they strived towards. All the while, the woman who wrote the song wondered how her feelings were strong enough to override the panel.
She wouldn't have long to wonder, though, as the nearest panel changed again, this time to a scene all too familiar. A scene she had avoided for so long. As it played, the sobbing in her arms changed to a wretched scream.
At once, two voices spoke. The same person twice, one screaming to a world that would not hear, the other whispering to her closest friend, who alone would listen to her once and once again.
"Selena"
"HOW DARE YOU"
"Is it alright if we talked?"
"HOW COULD YOU DO THIS?!"
"I wanted to get something off my chest..."
"THAT WAS HER SONG"
"It feels like we've known each other forever"
"THAT WAS HER LIFE"
"And I needed to tell you"
"YOU CAN'T TAKE IT FROM HER"
"Just how important you are to me."
"YOU CAN'T TAKE IT FROM US"
"Selena"
"ALL OF YOU"
"I love you"
"I HATE YOU"
"I love you so much."
"I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU"
"You don't have to respond"
"YOU SHOULD HAVE LISTENED"
"And I'm sure you don't feel the same way"
"SHE CARED FOR YOU ALL"
"But I wanted to be honest"
"AND YOU BETRAYED HER"
"I've always felt this way"
"I'LL NEVER TRUST YOU AGAIN"
"And maybe, if you're willing"
"YOU ALL GET WHAT YOU DESERVE"
"We could go out some time?"
"FOR KILLING HER!"
A lump held in Selena's throat. She knew what was about to happen. She felt it. She tasted it. Regret boiled in her stomach. And here at the end, she could only manage one more sentence.
"Kohime,"
"Kohime-"
Behind the wall, the rocket's thrusters burst to life.
"I'm sorry."
At her final word, the pain of her closest friend before her once and once again, the wall cracked. The crying smile shattered into a thousand pieces, lacerating the overflowing wrath. Selena tried to hold onto Kohime's dying body, but was pushed back by the torrent erupting from the wall in front of her.
As Selena fell deeper and deeper beneath the flooding water, shards of neuroLCD shone around her. In each reflected the memories that replayed in her mind. Not the plans to maintain Alterna, and not the speeches she gave to the reckless businessmen that doomed them.
Her memories were of the happy times. The days in University she spent learning. The machines she managed to make float in the air. The simple Japanese style tune she composed from the Jaws theme. The grin on Kohime's face when she showed her.
The times she and Kohime would complain about work. The praise she received when Kohime was in charge. The sleeping face of Kohime resting her head on her shoulder. The day Kohime confessed, and how she stayed beside her despite rejection.
Selena scolded herself as air left her lungs. She should have spent more time with Kohime. She should have done what she could to make her happy. She should have humored her, just to see her smile one more time. She should have loved her.
Oh.
She already loved her.
Selena's thoughts were clear in her final moments. She already loved Kohime. She had spent her life seeking that attention, that love, which was always reciprocated, and she never paid it any mind, taking for granted the bond they had shared.
Warm tears of regret mixed with the bloody seawater, as Selena's thoughts betrayed her feelings. Her love. Her fear. Her shame. Reflected in the shards of the neuroLCD, her memories changed to the visage of Kohime. Her smiles, her rage, her sadness, her love. All surrounding her in the deep dark ocean. Even as her sight went dark and her thoughts slowed, all she could see was Kohime's proud, loving face, smiling back at her, as if everything would be alright.
She should have loved her.
She should have loved her.
She should have...
Tens of thousands of years later, a young woman, barely 18, nervously approached the loud stranger on Mt. Nantai. Just a few months earlier, she had defected from the army she was raised by, inspired by a strange song she had heard. A simple, repetitive shrine song performed by enemy mercenaries. One which filled her with fear, love, and a dream of freedom. One which, two days earlier, she heard screamed from the other side of the mountain, as if sung by a particularly skilled jet turbine.
Five years after, at the height of her career, Marina Ida ducks backstage at the end of her band's world tour. At her side, marches the proud woman who found her, one Pearl Houzuki.
The small woman looks back at her, and flashes a proud grin, as if telling her that everything would be alright. At this, only one thought echoed in Marina's head.
I love her.
#Splatoon#Off the Hook#Pearl#Marina#Pearlina#Alterna#O.R.C.A#fanfic#Selena#Kohime#Blood#death#suicide mention#tragedy#romance#sci fi#I don't have an ao3 yet
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Honey I mean this with all due respect, but your argument with the Japanese fandom about the lust arc didn't hit the jackpot like you thought it would.
As a Japanese speaker who's been frequent with the Japanese fandom, I can assure u not all Japanese fans think he rose from the dead for her. I don't know why you think using the opinion of other ichihime fans proves anything, but it doesn't. They are just like you and are obviously biased towards their ship. Japanese ichihime fans are no different from western ichihime fans and share the opinions you guys do, it's the same with the lust arc. They think ichigo rose from the dead for orihime; they just don't omit a random her kanji to do so.
If u ask an ichiruki in the Japanese fandom about what they thought, you best believe they tell you the same thing that western IRs tell you. Again I mean this with all due respect, ship and think what you want, but the arguement that since Japanese ichihimes think that ichigo rose for orihime and that because they're Japanese, theyre correct and you cant argue with them- makes no sense.
Have a good day, morning, evening or night.
Anonymous asked: I'd also like to add on that most the submissions from Japanese fans that you showed were in third person, since ichigo did rise for her, he just didn't know they were her screams. Again I do speak Japanese myself, (I actually am japanese) and have interacted with the fandom many glorious times. I and many other Japanese fans saw it the same way western irs do, the opinions of other ichihimes from the Japanese fandom doesn't prove anything, they are also ichihime shippers, just Japanese.
That wasn't my argument. That was a post someone anonymously submitted to my blog, that I added no commentary to. So you sending me this message didn't "hit the jackpot" like you thought it would lmao.
It's an interesting post, sure, and a fun look back at the forums from the old fandom days. But it's not needed to prove that Ichigo rose up from the dead for Orihime. The manga already did that, as well as the databook.
You say you don't know why I think the opinion of other IchiHime fans proves anything...but yet you're using the opinions of IchiRuki fans, as if that proves anything? You say you don't know why I would listen to Japanese IchiHime fans, but yet you think I should listen to you and Japanese and/or western IchiRuki fans? You think IchiHime shippers being biased means their interpretations hold no weight, as if IchiRuki shippers aren't just as biased?
Both sides are biased. But being biased doesn't mean you can't also be right. And in this case, only one side was consistently proven right in their interpretations, and that's the IchiHime side.
So I wonder whose opinions and interpretations I should consider more highly: my own, as well as those of my fellow IchiHime shippers who were proven right in interpreting Ichigo and Orihime's relationship the way Kubo meant for it to be interpreted, as an intended romantic pairing. Or...the IchiRuki shippers who were proven wrong about...literally everything to do with the ships in Bleach lmao.
Tough call!
To be frank, the opinions/interpretations of IchiRuki shippers hold very little weight to me, especially after how badly they were proven wrong. Like, embarrassingly wrong. I never gave their opinion much credence before the manga’s end, and rightly so. So why would I listen to them now? That would be like me copying off of the paper of someone who has failed every test lmao.
You people keep coming into my inbox to try to tell me how wrong you think we IchiHime shippers are. What you don't seem to have grasped is that IchiHime shippers don't need ichirukis to "approve" of our interpretations. Your approval doesn't matter. We already have all the validation we need from the sources that actually matter: the manga and Kubo himself.
My day has been pretty great so far, but thanks for the well wishes.
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Also, like, not for nothing, but there was also a Chinese VIP, right? I'm not misremembering that? Given the history of imperialism there (I'm surprised there wasn't a Japanese VIP tbh), it would absolutely also have made sense for the VIPs to speak Mandarin or something instead. That would have been an equally valid option, and they would have had no shortage of native speakers!
...But they didn't do that. They made English the lingua franca. The singular Chinese VIP was the odd man out. This was on purpose. Even the French guy was white. I didn't even remember the French guy until I looked it up. But I remember the Chinese VIP and I remember that he had a strong accent. In order to communicate with the others, he had to speak a foreign language. That adds so many layers of possible analysis.
Despite the very intimate sort of imperialism Korea has experienced from neighboring countries, the people behind Squid Game made a conscious decision to make the majority of the VIPs white, native English speakers, and in order to cater to them, everyone else, including other VIPs, had to speak English as well, because the Anglophones sure as fuck wouldn't bother trying to learn Chinese. English is the international businessman's language, learning English or having an interpreter is almost necessary to get shit done with Anglophones because of the specific way imperialism has influenced language spread, and monolingual English speakers get catered to because they set the world up specifially in a way that meant they could export the effort and
Fucking...IT WAS ON PURPOSE. FUCK.
FUCK YEAH, IT WAS AND I AM SO PISSED PEOPLE DON'T TALK ABOUT THIS??? Like, fuck you all, you were all playing to be the big intelectuals to speak about how people weren't allowed to make shippy content because that was "missing the point", but then none of you even GET the fucking point of why the ultimate bad guy were written to be that way.
Like, people really understood "capitalism bad hur hur" and then fucking ignored completely what capitalism actually implies as a system from which only certain countries get to benefit the most. You all fucking ignored the context of this critique coming from a korean perspective and how does that affect it. You all can't be speaking about anti-capitalism without anti-imperialism, motherfuckers! You are all missing a big part of the equation here, literally the whole half of it!
And yeah, the chinese guy was the Deer-masked one and, guess what: that also makes perfect sense considering the relationship between Korea and China, but even with that in mind the Chinese man had to "submit" for the convenience of the gringos. The whole fucking event started because of a Korean multimillionaire being bored, but even then English has to be the norm because the financing was never going to took off otherwise and the fucking gringos had to be pandered to or else wouldn't do jackshit for anyone.
Like, the more think about it, the more I find amazing that this show metaphorically took the biggest dump I could think all over american imperialism and americans of all people fucking ate it up like chocolate puddin, said it was delicious and then other fucking gringos with money went out to make their own Squid Games to make themselves more money.
Like, that is fucking incredible for me that american brainwashing is so fucking effective that people only whined because "those were bad actors uwuw" or "why they weren't cooler", all the while patting themselves on the back for picking up on ONE of the themes of the show like the smarty cookies they think they are, as the fucking point was dancing the macarena on top of them.
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#easily triggered??? EASILY TRIGGERED??? HELLO???
First of all, chill. It wasn't meant as an attack or to be condescending.
Secondly, I have not read the book(s) either for the exact same reasons you have, I also don't plan to, because it is terrible (from what I have heard) and I also don't want to read lengthy explicit rape scenes. I'd rather fill my head with pleasant things.
Maybe I was projecting, I am easily triggered (at least when it pertains to sex crimes/deviance and things of that nature), I'm sorry about that. Maybe my phrasing could have been worded better. Again, sorry. It wasn't meant to mock or condescend anyone who's triggered, easily or not, because I am one of those people.
Thirdly, because they are thai fans, they have greater and first hand information than the rest of us do. They literally can just ask their search engine or go on whatever socmed and just view the discussions pertaining the books. Literally like we did in a completely different language...in addition to the rest of us non-thai speakers having to depend on secondhand knowledge and shitty translations made by people who also don't read or speak the language.
Point is, if you are triggered, why are you still wanting to read the books- when we are almost finished with the show- when the information available regarding the first few KinnPorsche centric books say that rape is a prevalent theme- of the many problematic themes- the book(s) contains??? And when you know that those themes are not likely to change at all when it's written by the same writers who wrote that type of shit for the main pairing, are now going to write stuff for VegasPete? It just genuinely doesn't make any sense???
If I was watching a show and entered any socmed to participate in online discussions of a show based on a book, and people who have read it keep saying that the book(s) was worse, that the show actually humanized the characters, that this character actually did this or that and it was actually way worse in the book than in the show, that the director toned it down, etc., what exactly are trigger warnings going to do? You know what you're getting into when you decide to pick up their books at this point...
And let's be real here, have any of us that have picked up an actual physical book ever seen a sole, singular page dedicated to disclaim "trigger warnings" or all the problematic themes it may contain? 'Cause I sure as hell haven't. If anything, I've learned about them by searching them up on the internet or by the online discussions started by fans, never by the authors themselves. And no, I'm not defending DAEMI. They're both real pieces of shit who treat the actors like shit and are entitled asses, so I really don't care if their shit goes up in flames. I kinda of hope it does, for them.
And lastly, I don't follow you, I saw you in the tag and decided to share my opinion, I also wasn't meaning to enter into discourse with you. I apologize for any discomfort I may have caused with my ask, it wasn't intentional.
thanks for the explanation. i'll admit i did react strongly, but in my defence you did come into my house and, from my point of view, call me easily triggered. tone gets lost online so the way i read it wasn't how you intended it and i'm sorry for that.
and re daemi and their bullshit i think the larger reason behind the backlash from them dismissing trigger warnings on the novel is less about the trigger warnings themselves and more about the flippancy of their attitude toward the subject material. plus trigger warnings don't have to detail every single thing that happens in the book, any sort of content warning saying "hey there's serious topics in this, be warned!" like if a book had an R rating or something.
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So I am saddened and disappointed and wrecked because I did not enjoy Iron Council. Like, I knew it (probably) wasn't going to topple The Scar as my favourite in the series, but I felt like I was SURELY going to enjoy it.
But alas, I did not.
And here is why.
There is something about London. People from London (lots of them) struggle to see other cities, other places (particularly those also in the UK) as being fascinating and wonderful and varied in their own right.
My source for this is 'being from the Rhymney valley'.
Explaining to London friends that, yep, we are not a cultural wasteland, and yes, we have gays, and you bet, there are non-white people here and MOSTLY everyone is pretty chill (can't speak for everyone's experience of course, YMMV) is quite frankly a bit exhausting.
It is with that background, and the knowledge that New Crobuzon IS London, that made Iron Council rankle me somewhat.
Here you have a story about a group of people, horribly wronged by the Government, through remaking or poverty or other forms of cruelty, who manage to wrestle power away from them, steal away from the city and the parliament that treated them so badly and make a new successful life where they no longer have to fear such punishment, and succeed in creating Bas-lag's version of a socialist utopia.
GREAT! AWESOME! LOVE IT!
Except, when threatened some 20(?) odd years after their successful escape, these people and their children, decide to haul ass back to this city to defend it in what is in all probability an absolute suicide mission?
We can talk about the other implications, but first and foremost, I find it really hard to believe.
Are we meant to assume that a bunch of Remade and sex workers and convicts and labourers who RAN AWAY from New Crubuzon raised their children with stories of how darn brilliant it is, that when offered the chance, the kids leapt at a chance to save the city?
I can't buy it I'm afraid.
I'm sure many of the councillors did have some good stories to tell of New Crobuzon, but surely it would mostly be overshadowed by the tales of mistreatment and hurt? Surely it would end up being this pretty horrid sounding place in the eyes of their children? They can literally see people all around them who have been cut up and remade for servitude or just sadism; who would want to go to the place that does that?
This brings me back to the London point. People from London seem to think it is the centre of the Universe.
'When you are tired of London/You are tired of life'
What is there to save or preserve or delight in outside of its boundaries? Despite its cruelty, despite its historic wrongs, who would not lay down their lives for its hallowed streets?
It reminds me of something a teacher said to me while I was in school. It was around GCSE time, I had put in my preliminary choices a few days previous and got cornered by my French teacher. Why had I not put down French? 'You are a natural linguist! Think of where learning a language will take you! Lots of companies in London want French speakers!' and when I suggested 'hey, what if I take Welsh instead?' she kind of smiled half heartedly and told me that wasn't for me. A waste of time. It is eerily similar to something a teacher said to my mother when she was a teen. 'Welsh is for thick kids. You will move away'
The idea that some of us don't want to move away is still sits uneasy. Some of us are happy here. Some of us don't think its a mark of failure to stay where you were born.
And London is often the place to go when you want something you think Wales can't give you.
I thought for a while that, as each of the Bas-lag novels plays with the 'Save the City' trope, that this one was going to go with a 'don't save the city, save the people' message, but that was not to be. It felt impotent. It felt needlessly hopeless. I wasn't touched by the councillors' sacrifice, I wondered if they had all had lobotomies before making the decision to return.
London always has to win.
Cutter was right. The end.
(I might write an equally long post about other things I did not like about this book but I am tired and my leg hurts)
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On devrait se voir
A lot has happened in the past month let alone since the last time I wrote an entry on Tumblr. Let's catch up as the title says.
But where to start? It's been a few days over 4 months since my last long form post. Since we got back from our cruise to Mexico I have been going hardcore into learning the French language. When I say I went hard, I mean hard. I was reading Le Monde, dabbled in French speaking gamers on Youtube and kicked some serious ass on the leaderboards of Duolingo. While I wouldn't consider myself fluent by any stretch of any imagination I would say that I knew enough that I had no fear taking a journey to the heart of Paris. For those keeping score, French is my 3rd language on my road to being a polyglot. No plans on stopping but I will have to figure out a way to keep going and see what the next language will be.
So why French and why Paris? Our honeymoon of course. Although, that was not the original idea. It was just supposed to be a vacation to tame our wanderlust. I wanted to show Therese Europe because I have far reaching dreams. London got thrown in because it was actually cheaper to fly into Heathrow and then return via CDG from Paris. We will have to revisit London again because 2 days wasn't much of anything even with the expedited pace we ran through many of the amazing things it offers. Honestly, if England was still part of the EU it would make the cut for places I wouldn't mind living. As it stands it will be just on the outside until it decides to rejoin. When you can speak 3 languages why settle for another country that speaks your native tongue? Options :)
London's tube was really great. Then again, I don't live with a metro system but I compare it to NYC. There were moments of extreme crowding during a labor strike day but it was efficient and stops were literally everywhere. The room itself was probably the smallest ever and again I've stayed in NYC. West End felt on par with Broadway in terms of show performance. The locations themselves left something to be desired. A key thing I found was that both London and Paris want to keep their history solidly and keep the modern world at arm's length. Paris was more so giving the middle finger to any modern anything. The most interesting detail we discovered in London was the various languages we hear all around the city. In Florida, we get English and Spanish. At Disney we occasionally hear Portuguese but in London we heard everything and it was really neat, at least for me. Others may find it overwhelming.
I found the train from London to Paris to be quite comfortable and going through the Chunnel was cool. An announcement would have been great but I'm sure many of the passengers (and definitely the crew) have done the journey enough that it lost it's magic or interest. If our country embraced high speed rail we could end some reliance on other vehicles but that will probably never happen. Orlando could really use a better rail option. SunRail is garbage and I often think it was never meant to be a win. It was poorly done to make it seem like rail wouldn't work here. But with proper funding it would. I'd use it with more stops and more hours.
We ran into a weird situation near the Disney train terminal. We were made to leave the train due to a suspicious bag left by someone and told we couldn't complete the train ride to our destination. Many of us were scrambling to figure out what was going on. Luckily, a few really good French speakers helped us figure out what was happening. We had our first French snack (I wouldn't call it a meal) and found ourselves back on the same train but without our seat to complete the ride from CDG to Marne la Vallée Chessy (Disney's train stop). 4 Disney days were ahead of us :)
I would insert a joke about having Disney at home but honestly Disney is Disney. Hearing French instead of Spanish for the 2nd language was cool. Every ride we did was better in Paris. Big Thunder was simply on a different level than everything else including the version in Florida. We rode it twice. It's the only ride we did more than once. The Paris version is the best as advertised!
Paris Proper (as we called it) was pretty spot on from our assumptions via the numerous videos we watched on it. Honestly, we owe a lot of our ability to navigate around to Les Frenchies on YouTube. Their videos are succinct, to the point and offer their opinions. Seeing as the wife is from Florida we felt her perspective would match ours and sure enough, it did.
We did some touristy stuff but we wanted our experience to be off the beaten path and more what a local might experience. Selfishly, I wanted to see if France was a someday home. It could be under the right circumstances, namely a job. I've proven I can learn a language and I'm willing to learn any language that gets me a new set of 4 walls!...and a living wage.
It's safe to say our next overseas journey won't be Paris (because we want to travel somewhere new) but where should a next journey be? I have thoughts but I'm always open to new ideas! I also plan to maybe break down each country a bit more in separate posts if the interest is there. This started out really cohesive and quickly became what you read. It kind of mirrors the blah that is post vacation blues. Coming down from a honeymoon and honestly one of the most amazing vacations I've ever had made real life incredibly hard.
I lost track of my running progress. This half marathon at Disney coming up is going to be brutal. It's on me because no one told me not to run. Told myself it was to save my self from injury for Europe but I could have kept it going. Garbage in, garbage out as they say. I have a few sessions remaining to build small stamina and if I don't I may not cross the line come 13.1 miles.
Also found myself stalling on language learning. It just isn't flowing. I don't know if French kicked my ass or I just need to find a direction and a language to learn. Do I try to get fluent in Spanish? Do I keep trekking in French? Do I start something completely new?! ADHD is a bitch.
2023 was such an amazing year that having it end with me failing to cross a finish line would just be an unbearable scenario. I'm going to push. Just hoping I have enough to get my medal.
-Dave
Gracias por leer
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[ Kiryu - Ayakashigatari | English Translation ]
己龍 - 妖語 [Spirit's Tale]
JP lyrics: Mitsuki Sakai | EN translation: me:3
hiii it's been a while! next in order was benitsubaki but i put it off bc that song is...so hard to translate and this one is more fun LOL. notes at the end as always~
-
If you think about it, when everything is ridiculous, nothing feels particularly strange
Once you get a taste of the futility of your faith, everything will begin to lose its flavour
Perhaps it seemed like smooth sailing... You didn't even notice you were stuck in the mud
Drifting along in with warm flow of joy... You didn't even notice you were sinking in shallow waters
To deceive or be deceived... Always one or the other, such is the nature of our world
What a shame... What a shame... 1
A cacophony of piercing wails and creaking bones, stifled by the sound of raging hellfire
I realise... I realise...
"I" am here... As my tears evaporate, they speak for themselves 2
"You" clear your throat as you're watching "me" lament
You who wears that crooked grin, don't you know who "I*" am? 3
Time ticks by, one and two... as you peel away the monsters' masks 4
It wasn't "me", or even "me*", it was "you" who they believed in
To deceive or to be deceived... It's got to be one of the two
As the clock ticks, I come to realise: "This^, that^, and everything else was just a misunderstanding." 5
How dark... How dark...
Peeling away piled layers of vermillion... Until not a shadow remains 6
Help... Help...
"You" in the sky above, licking your lips, the last thing I saw
What a shame... What a shame...
What a shame... What a shame...
A cacophony of piercing wails and creaking bones, stifled by the sound of raging hellfire
I realise... I realise...
"I" am here... As my tears evaporate, they speak for themselves
If you think about it, when everything is ridiculous, nothing feels particularly strange
Once you get a taste of the futility of your faith, everything will begin to lose its flavour
Even if you're caught deep in the lies, to think you can deny it is a lofty ambition 7
Someday when even your bones decay, you'll have reached your pointless ending
-
1. The word used here is literally "it hurts", but the way it's used is more like "that's painful to hear"/"how upsetting". I think towards the end, however, it's meant in a literal way
2. could not for the life of me make this sound good, basically the speaker is in Hell/jigoku and their tears quickly boil away due to the fire which is what tells them that they're...in hell
3. This one is very important— in Japanese, there are different ways to say "I", and this song uses two different phrases, "watashi" and "atashi". It's not clear why this was done, but I saw another translator mention how "atashi" is often used by girls so it could be that the speaker is male but is referring to a past life in which he was female, or had a false identity which the person who's referred to as "you" saw through. Since many Kiryu songs are about Buddhism, I'm going with the reincarnation theory lol
4. another untranslatable phrase, "peel away the monster's masks", would be literally translated to "tearing off the monster's skin" and basically means revealing someone's true nature. it's a bit confusing but i like to think of pulling off someone's "skin" scooby doo style
5. I probably should mention that every pronoun in this song is written using katakana, the alphabet used to write loan words or add emphasis to things like names or scientific titles. Not 100% sure why, but I think it's because "this" and "that" (are and sore, not usually used for humans) are referring to people, or maybe past lives of the speaker. Just note that this is the case for all the pronouns!
6. The phrase used here for the "piled vermillion" is more like "piled up too high", but I honestly don't know what this is supposed to mean so I can't give more context. But anyways, the "nothing but a shadow remains" is another Japanese phrase, "not even light or shadow remains", to say that there's absolutely nothing there.
7. This line calls back to the last line, I believe the full message of this song is that the speaker was a Buddhist who held onto his faith throughout his life only to end up in Hell, now using this song as a warning to living Buddhists that it will all be worthless. Also, "lofty ambition" is ANOTHER japanese phrase, "to paint the sky" meaning something impossible to do, I liken it to "painting the colours of the wind"
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do you have any resources on christian speakers of color? im reconnecting with my faith after years of negligence and with knowledge of social justice acquired in recent years ive sought to hear out their perspectives as well. thank you kindly & i hope you have a wonderful day!
Hello, yes!! Hearing from Christians of color is essential to any Christian’s theology, so good on you for seeking them out.
First off, there are the amazing folks at the Black Trans Prayer Book, who have an event coming up very soon that i am super pumped for:
On Saturday, January 16, 4 - 6pm EST, the co-directors of the Black Trans Prayer Book are holding a workshop on the direct connections between white supremacy, transantagonism and religious violence -- learn more and register here on eventbrite. (It’s free if you’re a TQPOC, pay as you can if otherwise)
Alongside those folks, below are some more of my faves. You’ll notice that the majority are Black Christians -- so I could use more recs for Christians of color who are Indigenous, Latine, Middle Eastern, Asian, etc....
Christians of color who are no longer alive:
Howard Thurman (highly recommend Jesus and the Disinherited)
James Cone (highly recommend The Cross and the Lynching Tree, God of the Oppressed, or shorter essays)
Pauli Murray
Delores Williams
Gustavo Gutiérrez (one of the founders of liberation theology in Latin America)
I’ve read an essay by Arvind P. Nirmal, a Dalit theologian, that was transformative for me
Richard Twiss (Native American -- Sicangu Lakota Oyate. One Church, Many Tribes is one of his books; you can also find lectures and stuff from him on YouTube)
Christians of Color who are alive and active WITH BOOKS:
Wil Gafney (A Womanist Midrash)
Kaitlin B. Curtice (her book Native brings me so much life)
John Swinton, Black Scottish disability theologian
Pamela Lightsey! (Our Lives Matter: A Womanist Queer Theology)
Dominique DuBois Gilliard (see Rethinking Incarceration)
Drew G.I. Hart (Trouble I’ve Seen)
Esau McCaulley (Reading While Black: African American Biblical Interpretation as an Exercise in Hope)
Michael Ray-Mathews and Marie-Clare P Onwubuariri (Trouble the Waters)
Patrick S. Cheng (Rainbow Theology)
Jione Havea (Pacific Islander. I’ve only read this one essay on Jonah but i think about it all. the. time.
Christians of Color with lots to say on social media, or with videos, podcasts, etc. (some of these folks also have books btw)
Enrique Cintrón! (Social media; podcaster; find my interview with them here)
Rev. Broderick Greer (queer Black Christian)
Rev. Jacqui Lewis - Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, website
Rev. Dr. William J. Barber II - Twitter, Facebook
Judy Wu Dominick 吳曉青 - Twitter, website
Jeff Chu 朱天慧 - Twitter, Facebook, website
Angie Hong - Twitter, Website
Bree Newsome Bass - Twitter, website
Adrian L. H. Graham - Twitter, Facebook
Crystal Cheatham - Twitter, website
Austin Channing Brown - Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, website
Daniel José Camacho - Twitter, website
Rev. Dr. Neichelle Guidry - Twitter, Facebook, website
Dr. Monica A. Coleman - Twitter, Facebook, instagram, website
Finally, some more resources from my masterpost of resources for white Christians (and others) who want to be anti-racist:
This list of 5 podcasts by and for Christians of color
List: Womanist Theology books
List: of Asian American Theologians - links to their blogs, books, and more
List: A Latinx Theology Reading List
List: “23 Latin American Women and USA Latinas in Theology and Religion You Should Know About”
Rescuing Jesus: How People of Color, Women, and Queer Christians Are Reclaiming Evangelism
Anyone have other recs?
#and by 'speakers' i wasn't sure if you meant literally like speaking like they#mostly lecture or preach or if i could include authors too#so i just did all of the above haha#resources#ref#christians of color#theologians#Anonymous
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Permanent Ink \ 2 // kth
a/n: Im now on spring break!!! Well it technically starts on march 4th and ends the 10th, but anywayssss that means more updates. This is a little shorter than the first part, but id call this a filler! I hope you enjoy!
I RECOMMEND LISTENING TO THE SONGS I SAY IN THE STORY FOR FULL EFFECT!
Main Masterlist~
( Permanent Ink ) masterlist~
WARNING- um sensual dancing
word count: 3k+
__________________________________
Taehyung unlocks his front door and enters his apartment. It was the smallest thing he has ever lived in. But he didn't mind it at all, in fact, he loved it. It was easy to clean, and it was only him, so he didn't feel as alone. He went into the bathroom, wanting to take a shower and go to bed.
As he was towel drying his hair, he quickly pulled on some underwear and some sweats. He went to his fridge for some water and he sits down on his bed so he could roll up a joint before he went to bed.
As he finished licking the paper, there was a quick knock at the door. Taehyung sighed and set his rolling tray down next to him and get up. He looks down at himself noticing that he was shirtless. But at this point he could care less. He wents to the door and opens it up. When he sees who it was, his face dropped even more than it already was.
“Sinsi? Why are you here?” He asks, his voice was laced with irritation. She rolls her eyes at his attitude and pushes her way inside.
“You could at least try to sound excited to see me.” She says setting her purse down on the bed.
“How can I, when you literally annoy the hell out of me.” He says shutting his door and finds his spot on the bed again.
“Shut up.” She frowns and sits down next to him.
“Like I said, why are you here?” He grabs his lighter and sparks the joint up.
“Why do I always come here?” She says in a duh tone and looks around his home. “I mean come on, I wouldn't come to this shoe box for anything.” She stands up and starts to take her jacket off. Taehyung just laughs at her sass, more like scoff and smile at the same time.
“I like you better when I've fucked you speechless.” He mutters and hits the joint. “Speaking of fucking you, how’s the fiance?” He asks sarcastically. He always mentions him when she comes around. After all she left Taehyung for him. BoGum.
After her family found out that she was dating a ‘poor artist that lives on the street’, they made her choose. Taehyung or to continue to be supported. Which meant to continue to spend her parents money. She come to Taehyung one day, he thought she chose him. But instead she was there to say that, even though she loved him, she can't give it up.
But that was two years ago. It was a year ago when she was forced to marry Bogum. She came running to Taehyung, not wanting to marry him. Next thing they knew, it was morning and they were both naked. The next day she found out that if she and Bogum got married then she will be the co-owner of a high end fashion line. She then knew she couldn't leave Bogum. In fact she fell in love with him, but she was still stuck on Taehyung's dick.
“He thinks I'm at the shop right now. I have a hour.” She says. Taehyung nods taking another hit and then putting the joint out.
“Alright, lets go.” He says standing up. She comes right up to him trying to connect their lips. But he tenses up and doges it.
“You know I only kiss the girl I love.” He whispers, a frown settling on his face.
“I miss your kisses Tae.” Sinsi pouts and tries again, but Taehyung just shoves her down making her laugh as he crawls on top.
Your launch was a success. You've never thought about what the outcome would really be like other than a total fail. You didn't think that two hours into the clothing drop everything would be sold out. Only so much was made, but you of course had more coming. It was only available online, but you soon hoped to have your own stores.
Rowan was currently working on planning a party for you. It was going to be tonight, and instead of thinking about what you will be wearing, you were focused on inviting Taehyung. You go to his instagram page and click on the number options. You knew that it was to make a appointment, but you were lowkey desperate. You couldn't get him out of your mind, and it was your mission to at least kiss him.
“Vante’s Tat Shop, How many I help you today?” A deep voice enters your ear. Your heart started beating really fast when you recognize who it was.
“Taehyung?” You ask, really hoping it was him.
“Um yea, do we have a appointment?” He says confused.
“Uh no actually. This is YN.” You say, “ I was wondering if you wanted to come to my party tonight. I just recently dropped a clothing line, and it did really good, so we are throwing a celebration.” You say quickly. You cross your fingers hoping he would say yes.
“Where is it?” He asks after a slight pause.
“The club two doors down from your shop. I rented it out for the night. I just posted something about it, so it should be like a normal night at the club.” You say over explaining, you were so nervous. You had mixed feelings about this whole situation. You hated the nervous feeling he gave you. You wanted to never talk to him again but yet marry the man.
“Are there free drinks?” He asks after you were done. Actually it wasn't, it was still the bars price.
“For you, sure.” You say. You quickly put the phone on speaker and text Rowan to put him on the list of VIP, which include free drinks. You then take him off and continue speaking.
“I just put you on the VIP list. Come if you want. I'm sure there will be weed as well.” You say. Your heart was beating in your ears. But you felt relief when he spoke.
“I guess it will be a surprise.” He says then he hangs up. To say you were worried was a understatement. But you take a deep breath and focus on getting ready, because you didn't want to focus on him the whole night, just for him not to show up.
You look at the time and see that you have three hours until you had to arrive. You then wondered if he knew what time it started. But then again his shop was only a few doors down, i'm sure he will know.
You quickly got into the shower and you washed your body and brushed your teeth. You got out and put your lotion on. You put on a all black bra and underwear set. Then you braid in some weave to your hair, creating two long braids. You then did your makeup, and put on your outfit.
After you finished getting ready. You take some picture in your full body mirror and you make sure they were cute before posting it to instagram. After you did, you got a text from your driver that he was out front. You quickly put some sneakers on since you were going to a club and you grab your phone and wallet and then you left.
You met up with Rowan at the back entrance. You were immediately taken to the VIP section, it looked over the whole club, giving your perfect view of the DJ, and whoever was performing.
You walked over to the balcony, watching as everyone was dancing to the music, drunk out of their mind. The DJ, did his thing, and started talking.
“And, the amazing YN YLN. Let's give her a loud cheer, congratulating her on her success!” The DJ yells and points up to you causing the crowd to erupt in cheerings, and going even crazier when they seen you. You couldn't really see everyone, but you could tell some of them have some of your clothes on. You wave back down with a huge smile on your face.
You go back into the VIP area and people one by one came up to you, congratulating you and wanting to take pictures. Most likely to post later.
“YN.” Rowan runs over to you. You quickly hug her since this was the first time seeing her tonight.
“Hey, this party is awesome, I'm happy you could get it together in such a short time.” You say looking around. She smiles.
“Yes, I know right. When i mentioned your name to the club owner, they were excited because the knew you would bring customers. There's a huge line outside still.” She says pointing towards the normal club area.
“Are you serious? It's literally packed though.” You say shocked. She laughs.
“Exactly! But anyways, they need you out there.” She says grabbing you hand and pulling you along.
You were so confused until the security guard opened the door and you seen Taehyung standing there with a irritated look on his face.
“What’s wrong?” You look between the security guard that was letting people in and Taehyung.
“I understand that Mr. Kim is on the VIP list, but his other two friends are not.” The guard says. You look back and see Soobin from the shop and other girl behind Taehyung.
“Hi YN! I'm Sinsi, i'm Taes friend.” Her hand slipping into Taehyung's didn't go unnoticed. “I'm a really big fan of yours. When Tae said he was invited to your party, I just had to come.” Her voice was filled with excitement, but you couldn't help but to cringe.
“You just had to, huh?” You ask raising a eyebrow. She looked confused. But Taehyung quickly pulled you to the side.
“Hey, she's just wanting to have a good time. I didn't think it would be a problem.” He shrugs.
“What do you mean not a problem? Do you not see the line outside of the door? The club is packed Taehyung. The VIP are my close friends and the people I work with. A place where we can enjoy ourselves, and walk around without worrying about bumping into someone we don't know. I don't know this girl. That's the problem.” You say crossing your arms.
“You barely know me.” He explains. He was getting more and more annoyed, he should’ve known not to bring Sinsi, but then again he doesn't understand the problem of one person.
“That's different, and you know that. I literally trusted you to put a tattoo of your choice on my body.” You sighed. You weren’t going to get anywhere with him acting like this. “I can get her into the actual club and she can get free drinks.” You turn to walk away, not wanting to ruin any actual chance you had with him with your loud mouth. But he grabs your arm again and pulls you back. He itched his neck and sighed once again.
“Fine, Ill tell her she can't come.” He says and walks away back to his friends. You roll your eyes and watch as Sinsi pulls Taehyung away with Soobin behind.
“Hey Soobin!” Rowan yells out. He stops and looks back. She waves him over and he smiles slightly telling Taehyung something and running up to us.
“Yes?”
“Tonight, you are mine!” She giggles and she pulls him inside.
You eventually had few drinks, not really drunk, but buzzed enough to want to dance. It seemed like everyone around you had someone else. Rowan had Soobin, they were now dancing together. Your other friends had their boyfriends or just found someone period.
But you, you sat in a booth, with a glass of brown liquid. You couldn't stop thinking about Taehyung. You wished he was ugly so you wouldn't think of him. But since Sinsi couldn't come in, he wouldn't either. You weren't used to not getting someone you wanted, so now you really wanted him. He clearly knew you wanted him, and he hasn’t completely rejected you, which gave you a little hope.
“Come on, why are you sitting here upset. Let’s dance.” A voice says, your head shoots up to see a good friend.
“Where’s your boyfriend Jinnie.” You smile at him. Kim Seokjin and his boyfriend Kim Namjoon where wonderful makeup artists. They both have worked with you a couple of times.
“He’s at the bar getting us drinks. He told me to come over to get you up and dancing until someone wants to take over. You look distracted, when you shouldn’t be. Come on!” He grabs your hand and pulls you over to where the crowd of dancing bodies were. Right now, the song that was playing was quite a hype one. You both went over and started dancing. You were laughing at how Jin was dancing, it didn't match the beat at all. You could feel the alcohol race through your body making it easier to let loose with him.
You heard another song slowly turn on as the one before slowly turned off. Jin laughs it off and he leans into you.
“Stay calm, everything will be okay.” He whispers into your ear then he backs away. You were confused to what he was talking about, until hands came up and around your waist. Your heart started to beat so fast and your hands came up to the strangers. You tried to turn around to see who it was, but his hands turned you back around. You looked down at his hands and you noticed how big and beautiful they were. You know everyone who is in the VIP area, so it wouldn't be a complete stranger, so why not just dance along.
You noticed that the song was Thirsty by Taemin. So you smirked knowing that you were going to torture whoever was behind you. Your hips started moving, you leaned your body into theirs more. They moved their hips more into yours, letting the friction increase. His right hand started getting higher and higher on your body, not bothering to just trail, but to feel every inch until he was reached your neck. You raised your right hand up and wrapped it around his neck. He wrapped his hand around your neck as his other hand pushed your lower abdomen into him as his hip came up and moved against your. He had you caged in, moving your body along with his. His hand around your neck squeezed as he got closer and closer to the side of your head. His hand helped move your head to the side, letting his lips graze your neck. You felt goosebumps raise on the back of your neck.
His left hand wrapped around your whole waist, pulling you closer. As he did, your pushed your ass harder on his, making him tense up a little. He surprises you by biting down on you neck, closer to the meeting of your collar bone. You continue swaying your hips, and pushing your butt into him. His hand tightens even more around your neck, but not actually choking you. You couldn't help but let out a slight moan, near his ear.
Suddenly his hands move and he spins you around, you look up to see who it was. Your breath caught in your throat when you see Taehyung looking down at you. His eyes were low and darker, the horrible lighting in the club not helping much.
He pulls you back into his grasp, the song going hard as it reaches the peak. Your hands wrap around his neck. You bite your lip not sure of what to say or what to think. His eye twitches a little and he looks at if he wanted to say something. But instead he leans in, tucking his head into your neck, making you sway against him. His warmth was all around you, making your body hot. His hands grabbed and kneaded at you, you hoped it meant he never wanted to let go.
You looked down a little and noticed how easily and open his neck was. You didn't know if it was the alcohol running in your body or the heat that is making you extra hot and bothered. Maybe you should’ve thought about it beforehand, but you didn't, you couldn't let this opportunity go.
Your lips latched onto his skin, the spot right between his collarbone and neck. Right where he bite you at. You sucked and nibbled at his skin, only slightly. You felt his hands tighten on your body and you could’ve sworn that you heard a little groan. But before you could confirm it, he yanked himself away.
“Congrats on your line.” He mutters and walks away, leaving you with swollen lips and confused.
Taehyung walked away from you, wanting to go to the bathroom. As soon as he was approaching the door he was pulled back and pushed against the wall.
“Yah!” Jin stood across from Taehyung with his arms crossed and a deep frown settling in his face. Taehyung rolled his eyes, already knowing what was happening.
The other day, after you left, he remembered that Seokjin, his older step brother has worked with you before. He texted him mentioning how you were interested in him. Of course he knew.
He was so used to girls throwing themselves at him, so even though you were quite subtle than most girls, he could still tell.
When you called him, inviting him to your party, Jin was standing right in front of him. Jin of course knew about it from Rowan, so when he found out that you invited Taehyung yourself, he knew that he was going to make Taehyung go. Jin wanted him to tell you congrats himself, to make you happy. He didn't expect you both to be so close.
“What? I said congratulations.” Taehyung sighs and leans against the wall.
“And when was that, when your hand was around her neck, or when you were giving each other hickies?” Jin was surprised that Taehyung even got that close to you, he's only ever had one girlfriend, to whom he was close to. But Jin stopped counted his bodies after it hit ten.
Seokjin was there for Taehyung when Sinsi family found out about how poor they both grew up. He was there when they forced them to break up, he was there when she chose money over him. He was there through everything. So when he was so close to you, someone who wasn't afraid to drop 100k a day, he was nervous. He doesn't want Taehyung to get hurt again. But then again, Jin knew you. He knew you wanted nothing but relationships and that you weren't really into hooking up unless you knew it was going to lead somewhere. He wasn't really sure how Taehyung's closed off personality will clash with your careless and free one. He isn't afraid to admit that he was afraid.
The crazy thing is that Taehyung was afraid. The whole time he was close to you, dancing with you, his heart was beating like crazy. When he hands first came around your waist and he molded himself into you, when he turned you around, when your lips touched his skin...his heart went faster, and faster. But it was when your lips touched and his skin turned into flames was when he was ticked off.
The last time lips made his skin feel the slightest bit hot was with Sinsi. So when he felt like he was standing next to a active hot volcano, just when your lips touched, it triggered him. It closed everything down. He wanted to get away. He didn't get far though, clearly.
“After.” Taehyung says, his smirk that was sitting on his face didn't help Jin much. In fact it worried him.
“Don't mess with her. You treat the girls you hook up with like trash.” Jin says seriously. Taehyung just rolled his eyes. When Seokjin spoke ‘seriously’ to him it always annoyed him. Because that's when he knows he can’t cross him, and that's just Taehyung being his respectful self, to his family.
“Why would I hook up with her, she's not my type.” Taehyung was already bored with this conversation. Only because he knew he messed up by saying that.
“OooOooOohHhhHhh.” Jins faces changed from serious to surprised and in disbelief. He was bent over laughing his ass off as Taehyung stood there, his cheeks burning a little. He put his head down as a couple of people passed by to go to the bathroom, Jin had no problem with laughing still as they passed for a more dramatic effect.
“I remember when we traveled to Europe-” Jin started to say as he calmed down, but Taehyung instantly cut him off by raising his hands up, making Jin start to laugh again. “You seen this women there. It was like you fell in love!” Jin continued.
“Shushh!” Taehyung was trying to cover his mouth up, but Jin was too fast.
“She turned you down and you tried to find her everyday until it was time to leave. You told me she was you dream girl!” Jin couldn't stop. He loved fucking with him.
“Yea?! What's your point?” Taehyung gives up and backs off.
“The point is, that women has the exact same skin tone as YN, the same body type as her. You are attracted to her, don't lie.”
“Okay? Sure i'm attracted to her, but she's a spoiled daddy's girl, and I can't deal with that.” Taehyung was getting irritated again. Now that he actually admitted it, it was weird. He felt weird, and he hated that you already made him feel like this.
“Sure her dad spoils her, but I know her dad. I had to go through him most of the time I've worked with her. He's only that way until someone comes by and takes over.” Seokjin was now leaning against the wall across from Tae.
“I still don't see what you are getting at, I can't spoil her.” Taehyung scoffs.
“Money wise maybe not. But you can spoil her in many other ways. She's not the person to show off her money, she just lives her life. I believe that her personality would be the exact same if she didn't have all of her money, her taste would just be cheaper.”
“So what are you trying to say? You want me to marry her or something?” Taehyung says standing up straight and sticking his hands in his pocket.
“No, I'm just saying that Yn isn't a bad girl. I can tell she likes you, so don't be so rough on her. Try to give her a chance? It will never hurt. You need a girl to make you soft again, I hate this hard ass Tae.” Jin jokes around chuckling making Taehyung roll his eyes once again.
“Whatever.”
___________
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