Deobi - Tumblr Posts
AFFOGATO TELL YUU SMTH | chp 12
CAN’T BELIEVE YOU HID THIS
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© astrae4 2024 | please don’t copy, translate, or plagiarize my works on all platforms!
AFFOGATO TELL YUU SMTH | chp 13
THE FINAL COMPETITION | wc. 910
warnings — mentions of prayer, anxiety, tears, cringe pick up lines
IT WAS FINALLY THE DAY. The long-awaited DDPA (Deobi Dance Performing Arts) competition finals. The sole reason Juyeon and I reunited once more. He had gone early long before I woke up to catch up on last minute practice. This was a milestone for him, and winning this would also mean that his chances of getting in DEOBI ENT. would be easier than drinking water. Nervous as I may be for him, I tried not to show it as I texted him my last goodlucks, saying that he’d definitely win the competition. (Though I wasn’t so sure about him being able to read that since his device was probably confiscated already.)
It had taken me an hour to get ready. And another 20 minutes to get to the venue. I was lucky to have decided to go two hours earlier, as even then the line for the competition was extensive.
I managed to get the third row in the middle area after a while. Now, I sit with a fresh bouquet of pink, plump peonies laying on my lap while my legs contradict the pretty flowers as it taps the floor restlessly.
After another thirty minutes of waiting did the lights dim, and my goodness, did the people’s screams shock me. The MC entered, giving out an introduction which fueled the onlookers’ anticipation. He then introduced the unbelievable line-up of judges which was brought before me. Even as someone who didn’t really know so much about dance anymore (yeah, I kind of stopped paying attention to it after I broke up with Juyeon the first time), I could still recognize some of the judges.
I might have attended a dozen or more competitions back in highschool, but none had been as crazy and grand as this competition. You could imagine how it felt performing if even me as an onlooker felt intimidated.
About two dozen people had performed so far, all of them different and impressive in their own way. (I would be lying if I didn’t pray that they’d all make a mistake so my boy would get a better chance) Now I am just wondering why it is taking so long for him to come out,
“Next to perform is….LEE JUYEON!”
I swear I’ve never screamed as hard as I have today.
Now, I already know he’s good. I mean, I accompanied most of his competitions back then, but the moment the first note dropped and he started, it was just…mesmerizing. This was totally different from back then. His moves were smoother, agility faster, and the body control he has now is insane. It captured me completely, as if I were trapped in a siren’s trance. I couldn’t say anything the whole performance, even when time seemed to speed up and he finished performing. Even when everyone stood to clap.
I only broke out in my trance when his eyes searched the room and met mine. He gave me a smile, and I smiled back. Gosh, I think I fell in love again. Is this man even real?
It took five more performances before all the participants finished their dances. One by one, the judges started giving out scores starting with the lowest. My goodness was it brutal…some of them left crying. (I would too if I placed last..) And finally, hope seemed to shine as only two participants were left for first place. Juyeon and another talented individual named Ji Changmin, whose dance contrasted Juyeon’s smooth moves with edge-cutting ones.
By this point, I was already very much nervous, hands folded as I prayed hard that Juyeon’s name would be called out in the first place.
“And the winner of DDPA with a whopping 97.2 score average by the judges is…”
Please, please, please, please, please—
“LEE JUYEON!!”
The crowd cheers, the tears spill.
It takes me a while before I can reach Juyeon backstage, seeing how surrounded he was by people. By the time I could see his hair, he was beside what I assume to be Eric Sohn and Kim Sunwoo. It seems that the man has a sixth sense for me though, as his eyes immediately drifted to mine, lighting up.
He seemed to say something to them to make them leave, before he approached me with a big and excited wave.
”Sora!” He exclaimed adorably, reminding me of a golden retriever.
“Juyeon!” I exclaimed back, giving him the bouquet, “You did so good, congrats!”
“Thank you!” He exclaimed, “for the flowers and for coming.”
”Of course, I love watching your performances!”
”Really?” He asked in a teasing tone, “Does that mean I can anticipate your presence in my future performances?”
This man is going to drive me crazy, but in no way was I going to back down now. Take the risk, you know?
”Of course I will. Who wouldn’t want to watch handsome men perform?”
”Oh..” He squeaked out, flustered.
“Cat got your tongue, baby?”
I laughed at his cute reaction. It seemed that I pushed him too much, as he seemed to break down (and by that I don’t mean dancing lol) in front of me.
“Haha~ I’m sorry, you can forget about that.”
“No! No I uh—Sora..” He let out, fumbling his words.
“Yeah?” I asked, “What is it?”
He scratched his neck, as if embarrassed about his next few words. I waited, though impatiently as he struggled to let out his next few words.
“I uh…Affogato tell Yuu something…”
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© astrae4 2024 | please don’t copy, translate, or plagiarize my works on all platforms!
AFFOGATO TELL YUU SMTH | chp 15
PLOT TWIST
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© astrae4 2024 | please don’t copy, translate, or plagiarize my works on all platforms!
AFFOGATO TELL YUU SMTH | finale
EPILOGUE
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final note. Hi guys! This is Gill, the author speaking. Thank you so much for reading my SMAU, I appreciate all your support for this baby 😭 I’m so sad to let go of this work but I’m also so glad to have finished this. You might not know, but this is my first time to ever finish a continuous work. A big thanks to the recipient of this SMAU, @quaissants , for being so patient with me as I took a month too long to finish this baby 🥹💗 Once again I thank you all for reading my work, and if you’d like, please help me get more light by reblogging this work. Thank you and I love you all! I’ll come back with a new project soon 🤍 bye bye!
© astrae4 2024 | please don’t copy, translate, or plagiarize my works on all platforms!
Being a Deobi just means I have 11 different boyfriends and they're all in a fraternity, and they all make music for some reason.
## the boyz edit ─ generation z
REQUESTS: OPEN — ig: papiyeonie
## sangyeon icons ─ the boyz messy icons
REQUESTS: OPEN ─ ig: papiyeonie
## changmin edit ─ ji changmin in 6 secs
REQUESTS: OPEN — ig: papiyeonie
## eric icons ─ the boyz messy icons
REQUESTS: OPEN ─ ig: papiyeonie
please like or reblog if you save
## chanhee edit ─ chanhee cutie 🥺
REQUESTS: OPEN ─ ig: papiyeonie
## juyeon icons ─ the boyz icons
REQUESTS: OPEN ─ ig: papiyeonie
please like or reblog if you save
## sunwoo icons ─ the boyz icons
REQUESTS: OPEN ─ ig: papiyeonie
like or reblog if you save
## chanhee/new icons ─ the boyz icons
REQUESTS: OPEN ─ ig: papiyeonie
like or reblog if you save
★. . sunwoo moodboard 𖹭
☆. . like or reblog if you like, save or use! hey, don't republish without credits!!
that's him, that's just who he is | tbz lee sangyeon
» PAIRING: tbz lee sangyeon x gn! reader (implied afab reader...?) » TROPE/AU: childhood friends 2 strangers » GENRE: angst!, comfort later (more like a peace of mind after all the angst), little bit of fluff from the flashback » WORD COUNT: 2985 » ESTIMATED READING TIME: ~11 mins » WARNINGS (lmk if i missed anything!): as far as i'm aware, none! navi/masterlist!! 🤍 series introduction 🤍 series masterlist
my first story for my personal healing project!
this story reflects how i personally see sangyeon and i am a bit worried that i made it 'too personal' to the point that you guys won't really understand what's going on 😭😭 but i really hope this isn't the case.
another thing i want to emphasise and add! i'm still not used to writing for gn!reader so please, if you see something that should be changed, tell me straightaway! 😭😭 this is a very important topic and as much as i've proof read it, i am still able to make mistakes!
other than that...let's go!
“I’m home!”
The house chorused in a series of ‘welcome back’s and variants of ‘omg! I need to tell you something!’. You hug your mum in the kitchen, craning your head forward to her shoulder, observing her working hard on the food that she’s making for the neighbourhood party that is happening across the road from your house in about two hours or so.
You relax in contentment as the smell of your mum’s homemade food fills the whole house and you can’t help but let out a deep sigh to relish the familiarity of it, only being able to get a whiff of the aroma maybe once a week, sometimes unfortunately even less.
“How was work?” Your mum strikes up the conversation when you put your chin on her shoulder, your whole body almost dangling if you could due to the exhaustion, “You look like you’re enjoying it.”
You roll your eyes in response, whining for your sister across the other side of the room, in front of the television to keep it down as you could barely hear the sizzling of the meat on the frying pan, “Well, it’s fine, I guess?”
“Why? Cause at the very least you can see the love of your life?” Your chin detaches from your mother’s comfort, your spine straightening and you let out a gasp, almost scandalous at the words your mum just said, “Hey! You were the one who told me that all your co-workers were teasing you both for that ring on your finger!”
“True.”
A radiant smile pulls up on your lips when you remember the way your partner knelt on one knee after casually asking you “Do you want to have little, mini versions of us walking around someday?” You, being slow, just leisurely answered back with a “Duh! Of course!” and before you knew it, the ring on your left fourth finger solidified the promises between you two to make that, and so much more happen.
Leaning onto the cupboard that stretches from the floor to the top of the ceiling, you play with the continuous silver band and the shiny diamond protruding on your ring finger. Already touching and feeling it so many times, you remember its grooves and design happily, reciting the next spaces of the ring in your head easily. The smile pulls up further on your face and you squeal at the thought of you walking down the aisle soon.
“Hey, hey, hey!” Your sister shouts in obvious annoyance, “You told me to be quiet and now you’re the one being loud!”
Ugh, this little demon.
“And what are you doing when mum is obviously working her ass off in the kitchen?” You observe your very very lazy sister’s surroundings: she rests her whole body on her side to watch the blown-up performance stage of one of the many groups that she likes, fully stretching and sprawling on the whole couch, bags of opened processed foods on the glass coffee table within her reach and her phone somewhere in the messy pile, “Geez, do something productive for once in your life.”
“Hey.” She finally sits up, not bothering to pause the big screen as the cheers of the fans could be heard clearly and from the corner of your eyes, you could see the new ‘ending fairy’ trend in the new generation of K-Pop, zooming from one member to the next, “Being happy is being productive.”
And you couldn’t refute that, knowing that she was absolutely right.
“Hey!” Your mum hollers your attention back to the kitchen behind you, the steam of the soup creating a soft and white fluffy barrier between her somewhat mischievous and guilty grin, “Do you mind helping out with the mango dessert? I don’t think I can finish it in time. I slept in and started preparations late.”
“Sure!” You immediately agree, glad to be spending some time with your mum anyway, “I’ll just quickly wash up and change. I’ll be right there!”
The routine isn’t anything special for a regular neighbourhood party: shower, do some quick skincare, put on light makeup, style your hair appropriately, match it with appropriate attire and off you go to the kitchen with an apron to save your clumsy, silly self.
“What do you need me to make?” Your eyes quickly scan the fruits, ice, beverages and decorative flowers.
“Your sister was craving some fruit punches. I only have mango and passionfruit available.” Your mum sets some more ingredients for you to use on the kitchen island before turning away to face the stove once more, “You’re good at making these things.”
“That’s just an excuse right, mum?” The older woman chuckles, nodding in agreement.
You were about to ask your sister to get an idea of what exactly she wanted but the underaged sibling suddenly squeals and the beginnings of a soft instrumental bounce from the walls of the house before a deep, gentle timbre sings. Your lips twitch when the younger girl turns up the volume at the masked man on the television screen.
“I should add alcohol to this.” You mutter as you start to work on the drink, focusing intently back on your work.
But along the way…
Is a voice from deep within you telling to to listen carefully to the male singer.
When your hand retrieves the unpeeled mango, you stare at it fondly, turning your hand to observe the little marks and imperfections on the skin. Suddenly, the fruit didn’t seem to just be a fruit. The orange-yellow shading reminds you of a boy from your childhood who had the same hoodie as the colour and you remember how he said he would dye his hair to be the same colour when he could one day when he gets older.
Having some sort of background to hair and colouring as your auntie has a salon herself, you commented that it would need a couple of bleaches and an unhealthy hair condition for him to achieve the vibrant colour. You could hear the surprised and stuttering voice in your head, compromising his choice to have a more pastel, lighter look rather than the look that would totally steal the attention of any crowd.
Smiling at the really faint memory, you couldn’t help but sigh as you recalled that you no longer had contact with your primary school best friend. You both separated when you entered different high schools and despite promising to still have daily meetups in the neighbourhood park, you immersed yourself in your studies as he immersed himself further with the things he wanted to do. It was somewhat bitter but you both had the feeling it was coming anyway. Ultimately, you were glad that the friendship didn’t fade away because of some dramatic high school, hormonal drama.
“Lee Sangyeon, you’re such a good singer ugh!”
“W-Wait…” Your fingers quickly retract from the fruit peeler, whipping your head to the television at the familiar first name that your sister cheerfully shouted for.
It’s also when you realise that your sister isn’t watching live television but rather a replay of a video; I mean, it had to be a replay because your sister obviously knew the name of the singer even when he still had his mask on to conceal his identity.
Unknowingly, your eyes stuck to the screen, the mango slowly rolling out of your grip, your breath hitching as the familiarity of the song starts to take over your whole mind. The first observation you had was that his voice changed drastically. It wasn’t as high pitched and the lower register made your entire system start to relax when your lips unconsciously started moving to the shape of the lyrics to the song.
And there he was.
When the MC announced the name that you knew all too well, every muscle in your body froze except for the ones around your eyes as you couldn’t help but let a tear slip out. The nostalgia hits you and the second observation you had was that his smile never changed. It was still the gentle, wide ones that he always offered you whenever he answered your ridiculous questions or when he would ask you to accompany him to play on the swings instead of the slide. No, he didn’t have that hair colour that he talked about with you around fifteen years ago but his light brown shade showed you that he definitely did use similar hair products to achieve the look.
But that smile.
That smile told you a lot; one of them being that you were sure that Lee Sangyeon was still a very much reliable, positive person.
Even when he introduced himself to the audience, bowing politely as his hair was all messed up due to him taking off his mask, you could tell that even though he was nervous and most probably sweating buckets, he still beats all the allegations from when you were children saying that he looks cold and unfriendly.
His smile and the way his eyes disappear behind his eyelids make the corner of your lips lift as well; even his eyes still hold a smile similar to his lips. It contrasted heavily with his no evident smile, the vertical lines between his eyebrows and how he only made short bursts of eye contact with the audience when he was singing beforehand.
“You should just become a singer! Not an astronaut!”
“Should I?” Sangyeon could barely kick the surface of the sand with his legs, adjusting his posture on the swings to make sure that the swinging didn’t make him fall off to the ground and potentially embarrass himself in front of all the other kids, adults and their pets.
“For sure!” You exclaim, excitingly rattling the metal chains that held your weight in the air. You lean forward a little bit to escape the said chains and observe your friend beside you, “You have such a gentle personality and I could see you becoming the best leader ever! I could see you taking control, making sure that everything will go well and just being really reliable. Or you could go solo but honestly, it would be fun to see you dancing on stage.”
“Oh come on!” The little boy grunts in response to your laughing, recalling the way he was forcibly picked out from the crowd to do a little routine. Needless to say, he ran down the stage to sit back down with you, hiding his reddened face behind his arms above his knees, “Was I really that bad?”
“Nah.” You immediately saw the smile from back, “You looked a bit silly though.”
Sangyeon rolls his eyes away, still with a wide grin on his face as he observes the sun setting behind the trees and he takes notice of the way the warmth from the orange light slowly disappears from the top of his head to his forehead and is now down to just his chin.
“Well, I’ll just have to go with the flow, I guess.” You admire the way that Sangyeon looked at life. At such a young age, you always thought that he was mature and would take the cruel obstacles that life threw at him one step at a time, “It’s simpler that way anyways.”
His positivity definitely grew on you healthily and he would occasionally remind you that even though life is crap, it’s okay to feel like the whole world is against you and to cry once in a while. Your friendship with Sangyeon most definitely strengthened your mental health and amidst the hard times in life, you also believed that good things would happen one by one slowly.
“As they say,” You follow his gaze to the barely visible hemisphere that was once high in the day, “Simple is Sangyeon.”
“But I guess I still want to be greedy and achieve all the things that I want quickly with whatever it is that I’ll pursue.”
The little chuckle that escaped from you made Sangyeon turn his attention back. He then sees the series of nods and your closed smile before hearing your approving hum, “Fair enough, fair enough.”
That was around the end of primary school and was one of the last regular meetups before high school where it became irregular and unsteady.
You were happy though. You still are.
You’re happy that you met Sangyeon even though life took you to your different, diverse paths. Making friends in high school was a big pain in the ass as you had to start all over again from basic introductions and discussions of hobbies. It was so much easier because Sangyeon’s extroverted self carried you to make friends and drag other people into the conversation easily.
“You alright?”
Your feet had a mind of itself when you realised that the television wasn’t on your ten o’clock anymore but more like your twelve. The younger at the couch had her legs tucked in beneath her body, kneeling on the leather sofa with both of her eyebrows raised in suspicion and concern.
“Y-Yeah.” You gesture to the big screen with a chin tilt, “So…which group is this?”
“THE BOYZ! Oh my gosh, this is what I was going to tell you about when you walked into the house! Look! There are eleven members and they’re all so handsome!”
The contrasting volume between the two siblings, as they engaged in their back-to-back conversation, had the older woman from the kitchen sighing at ease. Though time was running out and they needed to finish as soon as possible to avoid being late (or being late at an unmannered time), she could see how her oldest child bent their upper body down and used their elbows to support their weight on the backrest of the couch while her youngest flips through the various video contents of the said group. She also remembers the existence of the now way more mature boy that she once knew personally and she has always been aware that even though the friendship ended peacefully, it was still hard on you as you jumped from group to group to find the right people to spend your time with.
Turning the red line of the stove knob to ‘off’, picking up the steaming pot and placing it on top of the coaster to the barely changed arrangement of ingredients that she sets for the dessert on the kitchen island, she lets out an exhale that blows the fragrant ginger away from her face. She didn’t have the heart to tell any of her children to help her out anymore, not when the younger was enthusiastically teaching the older the names of all the members once again after the latter only recalled around three of the names; the mother thought it was a good effort already on her behalf.
Similar to the stuttering one who points at the still unfamiliar member, she rests her elbows on the cold table stone, one of her palms as a rest for her cheek. The ‘ten more minutes!’ reminder on her phone rang but as soon as the first note blared, the mother let out a quick, surprised sound, lunging to reach her phone across the island, tapping on the ‘silent’ button repeatedly, not wanting to break the chaotic atmosphere of her two kids, “I guess after all these years…”
Finally making the final decision inside her head, she opens the group chat for all the mothers in the neighbourhood to tell them that they won’t be able to make it to the monthly gathering. Amidst the happy squealing and claps when you were able to recite all the members’ names, the front door clicks open to reveal the other parental figure for the two busy children.
“What’s up with those two?” The man amusedly comments at his two precious children, dipping his head down to kiss his wife, “Don’t tell me they tried something for the first time.”
“No, no, no.” Immediately backing up the radiant smiles on both the younger’s faces that pasted on their faces across the room. The couple stays in the hallway, watching the way that you finally sit down on the couch properly next to your sister who shows you yet another stage and a song that you were sure was going to make it to your main playlist, “Let’s just say that there’s a boy who not only makes our oldest the happiest, but now also our youngest.”
“Well,” The dad exhales happily at the good news. One of his hands tucks itself into his pants pocket, the other wrapping around the waist of his lovely wife, “that’s good to hear. Sounds like a decent guy. Who is it?”
“Lee Sangyeon.”
“Damn,” he nods, slightly pouting as he reflects on his own actions, “maybe I should take notes from this guy.”
“Don’t be silly, love. You’re a great dad.” Before kissing another reassuring kiss onto his lips, “Lee Sangyeon…he’s just that type of person, you know?”
“What type?”
“The type that’s capable of making people happy.”
You and your sister finally take notice of the new figure in the house, jumping from your seats to tackle your parents in a hug. More variations of ‘welcome back’s and ‘omg! I need to tell you something!’ spewed out the still-excited youngsters. Your mum calms you both down from your jumping sprees, placing a hand on each of your backs. You make eye contact with your mum and she could see the swirls of adoration, peacefulness and a sort of…relief just swimming freely in your eyes.
The hand on your back runs up and down, your mother understanding how you feel without you even saying it. Once more, she lets her thoughts run and thanks the boy on the screen who was a strong figure in your childhood:
“That’s you. That’s just who you are, Sangyeon.”
navi/masterlist!! 🤍 series introduction 🤍 series masterlist tags (send a dm/ask if you would like to be here!): @deoboyznet 📢❤️ @k-labels 💙🤍 @k-films 🤎🎞️
that's him, that's just who he is | tbz kevin moon
» PAIRING: tbz kevin moon x gn! reader (proofread but lmk if i missed anything!) » TROPE/AU: childhood friends 2 strangers, highschool and slight uni au!, non-idol au!, idol au! (just kevin towards the end) » GENRE: once again...angst, fluff and comfort from the flashbacks, kevin being an extremely supportive friend, you're also an extremely supportive friend!, platonic 'i love you's being said, you both met at church, choir and ensemble singing!, you both are shy introverts that are only chaotic with each other » WORD COUNT: 4179 (2k word limit who?) » ESTIMATED READING TIME: ~15 mins » WARNINGS (lmk if i missed anything!): mentions of Christianity (not sure if it's a 'warning' but i felt like it should be mentioned!), swearing (b-word), mentions stress relating to: academic (high school), music and performing » PLAYLIST: you never know - HSMTMTS, you better know - red velvet, reflection - christina aguilera, steal the show - lauv, try everything - shakira navi/masterlist!! 🤍 series introduction 🤍 series masterlist
my second story for my project! this may be my favourite story ever ❤️🩹
ahhhh this got so personal so quickly 🥹 performing has always been for leisure for me, and for the same reasons in this story, i got so burnt out last year. writing this really made me realise how much i miss the stage. going from about 7 performances a year to only about 1 is to put it simply, heartbreaking.
but i learnt that there are opportunities. i learnt that i'm satisfied with just getting my voice out to the world whether it be through choir, the internet or on the streets. i think things will work out; time does help sometimes 🫶
for those who may not know, kevin's representative number is 16 🌙 and the meaning of this number is explained in this video! i did some research and found that it's from 1 Peter 5:6.
to my readers who are followers of God: I pray that you will always be filled with hope and joy as you advance in your daily endeavours. Believe that God has the best plans for you and that He will never leave you behind, especially when you are at your lowest. Confide in Him and love Him as much as He loves you.
“Can I sing this part with Kevin?”
The question is new to everyone who heard it. Did you just ask to do a supposed solo with someone else? No, you were not a greedy performer though you understood why most people would think that. The choir conductor looks to the other side of the ensemble where the group of altos stood. Including the older woman, all the children including the said boy stood there surprised at the request you asked for.
You’ve been singing in the church youth choir since you were ten and you were incredibly gifted. For example, you landed most of the solos and smaller ensemble parts whenever there was a chance. At first, you didn’t want to be in this church because you were shy (incredibly shy) and you never made a lot of friends in school and most definitely, outside of school. Needless to say, your parents were pretty worried but at the very least, they found that when you were asked to go to church events, you were able to talk with people, smile, and laugh but then you would go back into your shell.
Your parents met at this church through singing and performing together as part of the choir and the band. The children were around your age but you found that your interests mainly conflicted with them and it was hard to keep up with their conversations.
So, when a certain Moon family moved into your area and started attending their local church, Kevin, who happens to be a boy who is incredibly gifted in music, joined the choir with that unique, radiant, excited smile on his face. With a simple and friendly “Hello everyone. My name is Kevin, I’m fifteen and am very excited to be here!” Contrasting to his introduction, you found that Kevin was just as introverted as you were and with your courage to finally approach someone, you made your first friend. School life became better as well when you found out that Kevin attended the same school as you.
Going back to the first dialogue though, the duet did happen and the church community knew that you both were the perfect musical partners for each other. Your softer soprano voice complimented Kevin’s deeper alto voice easily. You both found yourself auditioning, performing, and showcasing your team work together in a bunch of school, church, and even the larger community-based musical events.
Now, after eight years of joining the choir, three after meeting Kevin, you were both in a state of uncertainty, distress, and frustration with the piles of sheet music that scattered everywhere to the point where it was almost covering the surface of your room’s floor. Your hair strands were everywhere and you were sick with the school uniform that you’ve had on since seven in the morning. You both have been secluding yourselves in your room, going back and forth with the arrangement of your final high school piece that you are going to perform with Kevin within less than a week.
The current situation in one word: messy.
It’s all a mess. About a week ago out of nowhere, your voice decided to have its own mind and leave for about a week. Kevin had a sudden test that his teacher thought would be fun to assign at the last minute. You also had this assignment that you were going to do but you found a mistake in the written arrangement, a note that was about a tone and a half out of your range, and since Kevin was better at rhythm, arrangement, and using the composing software, you could only sit next to his left in the corner of your room as he groaned at how the app was not doing what you both wanted to do.
So yes…it’s a mess, and it’s been around three hours.
“This is impossible.” A few more of your tears manage to trickle down your already red, puffy cheeks, “Okay you know what, I’ll just sing it. It’s fine. It’s not even two tones above what I usually sing in AND I’ve done it befo—”
“Lost your voice and felt lightheaded after.” Kevin cuts off your panicked rambles. No doubt, he’s feeling all the things that you are feeling right now but the only reason why he’s still able to muster up a smile and just ‘inhale, exhale’ through it all is because at the very least, one of you should be able to stay grounded, “We’re not going to put out a performance that we’re not proud of, okay? Especially when this is our last high school performance together.”
“We also said that we wouldn’t do any performances that were out of our capabilities.” At these words, you were both reminded of the promise you made to each other in front of your melted ice creams. It was an ‘oath’ that was made when you both realised you would be standing on the same stage, at the same time more often:
We will finish every performance to the best of our capabilities. We will focus more on quality rather than quantity.
At the new educational path that you were about to embark on, automatically closing this one that you’ve been on for just about six years, you were both starting to get greedy, wanting more than anything now to be on stage. With you both turning eighteen, you both couldn’t sing with the youth choir anymore. Taking music as a subject in high school meant there was a certain prerequisite in terms of how many stages you would have to perform; you and Kevin always exceeded this regardless with solos, duets, or larger ensembles. With graduation, however, the granted opportunity to perform would be taken away from you both and you were getting restless.
You were both greedy, forgetting almost all the other priorities that you had set out, and raked the internet for any chances to perform on stage. For the last two months, both of you have been juggling between your heavy study load, auditioning, composing, arranging, practising, and bowing at the end of it all. To the untrained ear, they could have probably missed the way you were momentarily out of tune or the way that Kevin missed his entry due to his fatigue. The greed consumed you both and most of the stages that you performed were nowhere near satisfactory for any standards that you both set for yourself. After the first performance that you were bashing yourself over, you rationalised that you would need to do another one to make up for the ‘loss’ from the previous one. That you NEED to go to another stage to make up for the ‘loss’ from the previous one.
That cycle is deadly and it keeps going for a while.
“Kev…I’m tired.” It feels like after a whole three years of back-to-back, almost seemingly non-stop performances in addition to the sudden addition from the past two months, you have finally hit a wall that you never wanted to admit. Kevin didn’t need verbal words to know the reason behind the lack of enthusiasm and the way the lyrics sing are no longer as projected and emotionful as before; because it was the same way to him.
“I know…” Kevin sighs. He finally relieves the downward strain on his neck, pulling it back up to rest against the wall. Offering you both comfort, he wraps his arm around the back of your shoulder, his palm pulling your left forearm to get you closer to him, “I’m sorry, I can’t get this right.”
“No, don’t say that.” You finally give in, plopping your head on his left shoulder in defeat, “I’m sorry. You’re doing your best.”
You let most of the silence fill you both, the hints of the trackpad clicking and the way the note that Kevin clicked would play out of his laptop’s speaker to audibly confirm the note that he just readjusted on the musical lines. Kevin’s left hand is maneuvering on the trackpad while his hand pats on your head that rested on his left shoulder, humming comfortingly while you calm your racing thoughts.
“But hey.” Kevin finally speaks up, “I just wanted to say that I like how busy this is making me.” Nodding to his own words, “It makes me forget the other subjects for a while.”
You exhale, knowing how much Kevin has been having a hard time with the other core subjects but still wakes up every day and chooses to smile courageously, “But this isn’t the right way. To forget other things, I mean.”
“I know, I know.” The boy lets out a little ‘aha’ when he finally finds the rhythm that you both wanted, playing the bar again and again, tapping his index finger on his thigh as he follows the 4/4 count, “But hey, thanks for accepting this performance even with all the final year-end exams. Or else I would REALLY be overthinking that recent chemistry test.”
“Love you, bro.” Reminding him thoughtfully to calm the noise in his head, “I’m always here for you.”
“Love you too, sis.” Playfully, he makes a fist and gently taps your forehead with his knuckles, emitting a laugh from you, “Just take a rest, okay? I’ll just,” Kevin adjusts his slouching posture, straightening his back fully against the wall so that his shoulders are higher and more comfortable for you to lay on, “be on another war with this app. You would expect I know all the tricks after using it for a year but guess not.”
So yes, it was a bit of a mess but on the bright side, you are both extremely proud of that final stage together as high school students. It earned a huge round of applause from the audience and many thankful regards were given by all the teachers in the department of music. It was a bittersweet feeling to see the head of music cry at the realisation that he would never see his two best students attend his class anymore but he made you both promise to visit once in a while.
But the performance being an open event, neither of you realised the opportunities or the types of people that would attend the concert. And so here you both are in an educational setting but with casual clothing unlike the blazer, tie, and the one hundred percent cotton blouses that you were forced to wear.
“Gosh Kev, you’re so funny!” Kevin smiles nervously, biting on his bottom lip as he refuses to look at you at all. You continued to laugh a little bit more, the tears in your eyes and the stitch on your abdomen growing with each breath you took. It’s when Kevin doesn’t laugh along or show any indications of joining in that you raise your eyebrows, some sort of nervousness in your eyes, “Wait, you’re being serious?!”
“It’s crazy, I know!” You just stare at him in shock, your mouth hanging wide open at your best friend next to you, “I think I’ll take the chance and university can wait. People can apply to university anytime but this?” He is finally telling you his worries and thoughts that have been running endlessly after two months of keeping it in, “It’s kind of time crucial.”
"Yes,” You understood his worries, knowing that the life of being a celebrity or an idol is quite limited. It has never been said explicitly but at least for Korean companies, there is a reason why there is always a certain age limitation when auditioning, “I get that but Kevin, are you sure? I get that you've always been into music and you've always been good at it! Trust me, I know! But you've always wanted to be here as well! You never really wanted to be a musical artist."
"That's why life is crazy right?"
You just finished your last class of the day and surprisingly Kevin shows up, waiting for you, looking conflicted and stressed about a subject that you obviously did not know about. His tired smile told you everything, you being able to read him easily like an open book. Kevin realises this, his shoulder slumping in defeat with how you look at him in concern and he feels your hesitation to keep the conversation going.
“Your ‘passive-aggressive tiger parents’ are good with it?”
“Well,” Reminded of the day that Stella convinced their parents to let him go with his path and to support his desires, “I guess so? They let me do everything and introduced me to music so it ain't my fault!" He finally turns to you for the first time after the laughing fit, "You’ll support me right?"
"Of course I will!" You confirm incredulously, both your eyebrows raising and the volume of the sentence rising with each word, “Damn we only met a bit over three years ago but it really does feel like we’ve been friends since birth.”
Kevin shrugs, happy with your genuine response to his uncertainties, “I’m just cool in that way.”
A roll of your eyes is your only response to him, “So, when’s the last time that I’ll see your ‘slay’ful face?”
He grimaces at the way you worded the adjective, “Ew, what is that word?” But then the truth had to be dropped someday; that being right now, “Y-Yeah about that.”
“Kevin Moon.” You frown at the way he just whistles to avoid the subject, an obvious action to buy time, “Kevin.”
"Not too soon! Like…like five days…"
Comedically, the crows on the campus made their signature noise and you took in the information slowly.
"WHAT THE BLEEP DUDE?!"
"OKAY IN MY DEFENCE I REALLY DIDN'T KNOW WHAT TO DO! YOU KNOW HOW INDECISIVE I AM!"
"OKAY BUT YOU NEVER BOTHERED TO TELL ME?!"
"I'M SORRY!"
Smiling at the obvious decrease in the stack of papers that needed to be marked, you decide to stretch your limbs and take a breath of fresh air before your energetic third graders arrive at school. You really left it to the last minute and you can’t wait to finish the last day of the week so that you can chill until another week starts. The weather was strangely gloomy, possibly due to the rainfall and the colder wind. You kind of regretted coming out, especially since the steam from your coffee no longer had that hypnotising white swirl in the air.
But you didn’t leave.
Instead, you even lean over the balcony’s metal railing. Even with the long sleeve covering your elbows, you enjoyed the contrast between your still-healthy body temperature and the icy surface. You weren’t sure why either but you just wanted to bask in the cold air and you can only pray that you weren’t going to get sick. The weather causes your shoulders to tense, bringing them towards the centre of your body to try and conserve some heat. It didn’t work that well but you were still feeling some sort of comfort with the morning weather.
You didn’t realise the time that passed by faster when you were practically doing nothing. The driveway, parking lots, and walkways eventually fill themselves with the diverse colours of school bags, shoes, and hair accessories. Mentally preparing yourself for the day ahead, you prepared your ‘teacher smile’, trying your best to hide your fatigue from the seemingly long week.
"Teacher, teacher!"
You finally lean away from the railing, giving a slight nod to the parent of your most energetic student, and the gesture is returned straight away. Crouching down to match his eye level, you put your palm out to him and he slaps his palm on yours, "Wow. Looks like someone had too much sugar."
"Teacher! Do you know K-Pop?" Your body froze just like the raindrops that didn’t make it to the floor, hanging solid on the rooftop’s overhang, "It's a huge thing right now!"
Oh, if only he knew…
"I can hear your rumbling thoughts like an open book." After his flustered state and a string of apologies that led you to put him in a joking headlock, Kevin grew quiet once again, letting his thoughts fill in the atmosphere between you both, "What's up? And don't lie because you know you suck at it."
The boy attempts to change the subject again, "If it's a book then wouldn't it be read instead of heard?"
"...ok smartass." You stare at him unimpressed with his attempt, "But no seriously, what's up? You know that it's okay not to be okay."
"It's just that…" He ponders, a sad smile on his face as he thinks about his current life situation, "My life is fine as it is right now. It's all great: I'm going to a good university, studying the course I want and I'm looking forward to being a teacher." An eyebrow slowly raised on your side, prompting him to continue, "Why is this happening now? Why is this happening when everything is going fine?" Kevin's facade finally breaks, his eyes pooling with tears with the many unanswered questions, "Why didn't this opportunity come earlier? Maybe when I wasn't in university? I can't even get a refund now…"
"Hey…" Kevin rarely cries in public. For one, you've only seen him cry twice and both times were because he dived in too deep with his plans, making him depressed and lost. You realised once again, with the tears that fell on his jeans that Kevin is not the happy-go-lucky guy who he displays himself to be most of the time. He's human above everything else and even though he always tries to see the best in every situation, it's moments like these that you see your best friend in a different light than the rest of the world, "Money is not all to life, you know? What's the point of stacking up money when you can't even do what you want?"
"But then why would people be so money-crazed then? People work for money…"
"To use it on what they love and need. Some people don't even feel like work is for money." Even though Kevin just stares down at the floor, swinging his legs in the air, you know that he's taking in everything you're saying, "But that's beside the point right now, okay? If making the stage your usual routine will lead you to happiness, then I want you to take it."
"But…why?" The clause can never be fully answered and Kevin knew that despite his multiple endeavours to rake for answers, "Why me? When everything is going well?"
"Because God has different plans for you." Inhaling the colder air, you told yourself to remember this moment between you and him, "I'm not saying you're pretending to be someone you're not. But the moment that you stop pretending, the moment you accept that something out there is better for you, I think will be the moment when you finally accept yourself."
"Are you positive that it'll come?" His voice decreased, along with the final bits of his self-confidence, "The journey of self-acceptance, I mean."
You both have been talking in hushed whispers, as gentle as the whistling wind. But you decide to finally add confidence into the conversation.
"Hey Kevin." The said boy looks up to you, "Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's mighty hand…"
"...that he may lift you in due time." He finishes the biblical passage that he has been fascinated with for the longest time.
Satisfied, you nod, proud of him, "I can't answer your 'whys', Kevin. To be honest, I don’t think anyone can." You finally voice your opinion, knowing now that your time with him is limited, "But just know that even though you would have strived here in university, one of God's greatest gifts for you is your musicality."
Your words relieve Kevin of his headache, heartache, and the shirt that he has been clamping since the start of the day. You chuckle when Kevin asks for a hug, opening your arms wide to offer him the best comfort that he will forever cherish and be thankful for. Soothingly, you sway your body side to side, humming the melody to the latest (and last) song that you performed together. Kevin joins in with his harmony which has always left people in awe and starstruck.
"Maybe you're just meant to be up there and twerk in front of the camera and not just to our friends." You comment when the song comes to an end.
"Wow, alright." His sniffles didn't cease even when he dragged the final 'w' and 't'.
"You'll be okay, Kevin." The light but secure taps on his back prove your reassuring words, "I know you will."
"Surely…right?" It's the final question that he would ever ask you about this subject, "As we know, not everything we see on the screen is real. I just feel like I'll lose myself because the idol world wants us to be a certain way."
"No, I don't think you will." You pull Kevin away, pouting at his flushed cheeks and tired face, "I know it's stressful to keep up with society but I hope you know that there will be people that will love and support you. And if you make a mistake? If you lose yourself in shape, way, or form? Then you fight. You fight for your rights and fight for them righteously. You’ll fight because like you always say: learn from relationships. You learn the do's and not do's and still keep the relationship genuine."
“You have that much faith in me?”
“I do.” You tilt your chin high in the air, confidence finally reaching him in the form of a bright smile, "And for those who don’t,” You shake your head, flipping your hair back sassily, “those bitches can walk out the door."
You remember the memory somewhat fondly. To be honest, you found it a bit funny because you lost your best friend over music. You would learn after his departure that you would never find a friend like him ever again. Ironically, it was music that brought you two together—yet it was the same thing that drifted you both apart.
It took a while for you to bounce back. You grew bitter about doing music especially when Kevin no longer answered any of your messages anymore out of nowhere. When you bumped into Stella while grocery shopping, you found out that it was because of his phone ban as a trainee. You remember going home that day, feeling guilty that you blamed him, not considering his external situation; especially when you knew that Kevin would never cut someone off without an explanation. Yes, it’s been lonely; you did lose your best friend after all. At first, you regretted letting him go, you resented him for not texting you back and you avoided the stage because it reminded you of him.
But God had a different plan for you too. Because when you accidentally clicked on one of the recommended videos on your page, the satisfied smile, the happy tears and the relieved exhale showed your real feelings that you were merely in a phase of confusion. All the hate, all the resentment, all faded as soon as you heard the slightly changed vocal timbre that you unfortunately are no longer used to. You found peace with the person who dances happily underneath the flashing, colourful lights with ten other boys.
“Teacher?” The boy’s innocent head tilt pulls you back to the present time and he seems pleased with the way you nod to his question, “I like K-Pop too! I found this group! They’re called THE BOYZ!”
You were amazed at the stars that the topic put to your student’s eyes and you nodded intently to his excited story. It’s not long after when the mother pushes her child in, sitting him down so that you can get on with your priorities. You straighten your knees, standing back up, pushing your hips out side to side to stretch from the unexpectedly long conversation.
“Damn, Kev…” Your shoulders and chest rise at the deep breath and your hands find their place on your hips, “And after all these years…you’re still able to make me smile?”
The starting bell rang just in time for your last student to arrive just before you closed the glass door to block out the outside background noise. With the final student ready and set up, you stand in front of the electronic board that displays the first class of the day. Your mind begins to wonder again, particularly about the boy that you once shared a dream with. Routinely, you rhythmically clap to grab everyone’s attention, and surely enough, the conversations between the students die down, and you give back the fond look that your students gave you.
“Shall we start music class?”
The enthusiastic response answers your wondering thoughts and the question you asked yourself outside the classroom.
“Guess that’s just you, Kevin. That’s just who you are, Kev.”
navi/masterlist!! 🤍 series introduction 🤍 series masterlist tags (send a dm/ask if you would like to be here!): @deoboyznet 📢❤️ @k-labels 💙🤍 @k-films 🤎🎞️ @kflixnet 📺🍿
that's him, that's just who he is | tbz choi chanhee | new
"At least between us both,” the camera shutters and you take a shaky inhale, “one of us took the right path.”
PAIRING » tbz choi chanhee (new) x gn!reader (proofread twice—lmk if i made a mistake!) TROPE/AU » friends 2 strangers, highschool au!, non-idol au!, idol au! (chanhee towards the end) GENRE » angsty angst angst, unread messages, comforting friendship, supporting friendship, you both attend the same music academy, you both are preparing to become celebrities/idols! WORD COUNT » 4168 (no seriously, 2k word limit who?) ESTIMATED READING TIME » 15 mins WARNINGS (lmk if i missed anything!) » financial difficulties, stress relating to: money, music, balancing friendships-work-school, upwards comparisons, failure at achieving dream job (reader's side), unsupportive teachers
navi/masterlist!! 🤍 series introduction 🤍 series masterlist 🤍 part of 'especially to you...'
my third story! i take it back when i said that the second is my favourite story because this is my new (no pun intended) favourite story. i had to stop multiple times because it hit me too many times 🥹👍
well...the self insert is really real here 🫂 and this got seriously personal (let's see how many times i say this with this series 👀)
big respect to chanhee for balancing his education, preparing to be an idol and having a part time job 🫂 i respect him so much
thank you for reading honey bee ☘️🐝 @sanaxo-o and happiest birthday to you!! this story isn't much of a gift since you've read it before but there is the other one hehe 💕
Unlike most of your other lessons, this one passed by as quickly as a blink of an eye. It might be because the air conditioner in the room was set to the perfect temperature or the way the tie around your collar didn’t suffocate you too much or maybe, it was the way that you were practically showered with a bunch of compliments as soon as you took a deep breath from your diaphragm, lifted your cheekbones and sung your heart out.
Swiftly, you smile at the affirming nods that your teacher gave you, writing down her notes to the three-minute performance that you were assigned to for the last month. Across the whole month, you recall the way the tip of the pen scratches the plastic board vigorously, tapping rapidly and furiously throughout the longest three minutes of your life. Usually, you would be assigned a new song every three weeks or have two songs to practice for five weeks. On the times that you didn’t succeed, it would be a hell lot of criticism, tears and punches on the wall as soon as you exited the small studio. Heck, even with the times when the tears made it out in the room, you could tell that even though she toned down her volume, those eyes looked at you no further than disinterest—sometimes she would unmistakably roll her eyes too.
It has always been in short, sickening.
Those were the times that you wanted to just rip out your vocal cords, swear that you would never sing again, not that you even could at that point, and run away from the one thing that gave you life in your tiring days.
“Pick a song.”
The statement made your head slightly crane forward towards your suddenly easygoing teacher. You let out a confusing hum and question to which she responds with an amused smile.
“I can…choose?”
“You can’t truly be a singer if you don’t know what songs fit you best or if you need someone to pick what songs you should sing. You don’t have to choose a challenging song yet. You’ve been singing for the past half year and you’re good at it, but you really only found your style recently and I would rather you focus on further developing it.” She shrugs leisurely after, “It’s up to you though.”
Either way, I’m still going to get paid.
Numerous song titles juggle in your mind, the different lyrics and tunes playing in your head as the memories of your lives flash through their respective melodies. However, it wasn’t easy for your mouth to announce any of the songs, your mind thinking of all the technicalities within each song that would definitely challenge the fragile, insecure side of you.
But art is a special type of hobby.
It’s one of those hobbies that no one would ever be able to ‘perfect’. Somebody would always criticise and pick it apart ruthlessly—and you would always have to pick up their words and carry them deep within your heart.
“Are you sure?” The way that she tilts her head to the side after writing down your choice says everything.
But you stood your ground.
You’ve been in love with this song for so long and all you wanted to do was to learn it properly. Who knows when you’ll be given the chance to pick again? So, with the bravest smile and the most convincing nod that your shaking body could give, she does her final notes on that worn-out notebook of hers. She also recites your homework and expectations for the next lesson before excusing your presence from the room.
You couldn't wait to scream the excitement out of your body, tell your parents and your best friend about what just happened, analyse the song and its technical aspec—
"I just don't think you'll make it."
You halt your steps and your journey. For such a good music academy, these rooms seriously needed thicker walls. You were genuinely surprised that you were still able to focus on your lessons (most of the time) through all the electric guitar, drum kits and unfortunately, other singers who were unable to hit those certain high notes.
It's times like these that you wish the academy could invest in their building more. You were lucky that your lesson room is located at the end of the hallway meaning that your criticism could only be heard by you, the teacher and maybe the two rooms in front and beside yours.
Chanhee wasn't so fortunate, being at the very front, the first door on the left. It left him vulnerable. The voice cracks, the times when he would go off tune or the rare times when he missed his count. It would all mercilessly be heard by anyone who would pass by just to go to the toilet or refill their empty, cold coffee mug.
You stood next to the wall where the glass doors of the lesson door, biting your bottom lip and you noticed how Chanhee wouldn’t even say anything to his teacher’s words. You could imagine how he had his head hung low, nodding occasionally at the words and was forced to repeat the same line over and over and over again until he got it right. You prayed silently in your heart and mind that time would go quicker for him so that he could walk out, breathe in some fresh air and take a break from the suffocating practice room.
When the door clicks open, Chanhee has that tired, sad smile to you that he gives most of the time. Your eyebrows fell a little but you were still able to give him an encouraging one back.
“No?” You asked even though you very much knew the answer.
“No.” He quietly affirms after a short pause.
“I’m still proud of you though.” Just like any other day at school, after lessons or any other time, you lightly punch his shoulder, him chuckling and shoving you back. “I guess…that’s why they’re called ‘lessons’ after all.”
The realisation of your words made Chanhee groan. Lessons that are made throughout a lifetime—one that he has been attending for a year and a half unlike you who only started at the start of the year. He gave up his time with his friends, time to study which most of society thinks is the best way to secure a well-financed job, and gave up his money to buy clothes for himself that he just walked past whenever he knew he would get tempted. All those part-time jobs, ones that would go late into the still busy nights of Seoul or the ones early in the morning before school when most people would still be snoring, were all done with his dream that someday his voice would be heard by the world.
“How did yours go?”
You know that you should just be truthful. You both have been stuck to the hip for the last few years and Chanhee is not an easy person to deceive. Plus, you need to take into consideration as well of lying at this current moment. You didn’t want Chanhee to think that you were trying to make him feel better by potentially pitying him. What good would that bring to anyone right now in this situation? That’s not what friends do.
“I was given a chance to choose a song.” The small genuine, congratulatory smile that Chanhee gives makes you relax your back into the wall further, the tension easing away from your body. “I also managed to get through that vocal run that I’ve been agonising and crying to you about for the past week.” You slump your body against the wall as you recall your homework, “But she gave me more scales to use as runs for practice.”
“Scales really do suck.” Chanhee whispers to you teasingly, once again getting pushed by you.
“Yeah.” You acknowledge shortly after. “But it does help me with my breathing and flexibility which I highly suck at.”
“Hey,” he scolds your words lightly, “at least you have a distinctive sound and know how to put emotions according to the sound. My teacher just said I sound generic.”
Yes. That description for Chanhee—no, just any singer—is weird and you would dare to say, highly misleading.
If we’re talking about musical terms, every single singer has a unique timbre. Even if the note stays the same, every person will have a different tone colour because well, every person is different. Saying that a singer has a generic voice, highly contradicts the definite concept of instrument timbre.
You know how much this troubled Chanhee even though he tries his best to hide it. The comments about his timbre have been repeated so many times that it’s got to him a lot. In the beginning, he would just smile bitterly and indicate that he wouldn’t want to talk about the lesson, kicking the group of stones on the pathway to release his anger. However, as you both grew closer after an assigned duet performance, he was able to open up to you little by little, slowly but surely, keeping the friendship that grew even after you did your ending bow to the audience. He would still hide a little bit of his feelings to himself, embarrassed that he would talk about himself even though you reassured him that it was completely fine.
To him, how others see him is the most important thing for him. From the compliments that would grow the contagious smile on his face, to the heartbreaking crying scenes that he would hide from the rest of the world, all those words he took to heart so that he could improve himself as a person—and in this case, as an artist. In this harsh world, the words that would be spat out by teachers would be so deeply etched in a person’s heart that all of a sudden, giving up everything that they have worked so hard for would be easier done.
It’s during those times that you and Chanhee would lean on each other, reassuring each other not to run away from the weekly lessons and giving comfort after each one. Chanhee is internally grateful for the times that you would hold his shoulders, lightly shaking his frail, tired body before giving him words of encouragement. He would do a similar thing for you when you feel like you didn’t progress, stopping your self-criticism and pushing you to keep going. To you, he would just let you cry on his shoulder as you hug him tight, patting your back calmingly.
The light snowing season greets the both of you as soon as you exit the building. For you, your next destination is home but for Chanhee, ninety-eight percent of the time it would be his job at the barbeque restaurant, the seafood restaurant or even that new Chinese restaurant that he recently just started.
Given the good results of your lesson, you selfishly wanted to have some fun but the words died down in your throat when you slightly turned your head towards your friend. His black hair still peaked out from the beanie that kept both of his ears warm, the scarf that you gifted him hid the slight downturn of his lips and the physical expression of his heavy heart. His eyelashes fluttered away the snowflakes in the cold but still bright night and his rosy cheeks only grew brighter and more evident the slower the journey to your next destination would take.
“Just a little penguin in his somewhat natural habitat?” Your attempt to get a response out from him is successful when you see his cheekbones rise—the same way that they would rise whenever he sings his heart out.
“What a way to start a conversation.”
Your heart lightens at your successful attempt, linking your right arm with his as you continue to walk down the still-shared path that makes the distance between all your worries and yourself further away. However, like all journeys, you finally arrive at that one spot.
The one that split into two different roads, unlike the one you have been walking a few minutes ago.
The right road would take you both to safety, warmth and relaxation.
The left road would force you to unlink Chanhee’s arm, sending him to the busy, loud civilisation where he would put on his apron and raise the pitch of his voice fit for customer service.
“Are you…off to work?” He senses the sadness lingering in your voice and the way your right hand tightens around his forearm even through the thick, winter clothes.
“…yeah.”
“I see.” You managed to muster a stable response tone. “Come on, I’ll drop you there.” You turn your body towards the crowd but can’t go too far due to the other set of feet that stays grounded on the worn-down, cold stone floor, “Chanhee?”
“Maybe…” Suddenly, the sky starts to sprinkle down its pretty shapes of ice. “I’m just not meant to be a singer.”
You gasp quietly, the faint white exhale slowly disappearing behind the dark background. Seeing the tears finally slide down his cheeks made you realise one thing: he’s opening up. He’s doing the thing that he has tried to hide from everyone. In tune with his emotions, your eyes started to build their layer of moisture, the wind making it harder for you to keep your tears in. You couldn’t think straight, your free arm wiping your eyes to rid the hardships from your face while trying to give Chanhee words of encouragement.
“You’re going to get ther—”
“What if you had to give up so much,” He cut you off, gasping and inhaling more air to accommodate his crying, “earn so much money, gave it away and it didn’t give you good results? Whatever it may be…An event, a trip, an investment.” His voice gradually trails off as he lists life occurrences.
You’ve thought about the same thing thousands of times, back and forth, no matter where, when and who you were with. In a world where pursuing art can be a hard, long path, what would happen if nothing good were to come out of it? All your hard work, all your money, all your time…you’ll never be able to get those back.
Is it worth it? Is it worth the gamble?
“I would probably beat myself over it.” You tried to keep your whimpers at bay as you confessed the same answer that would come back every time you went on your downward spiral, “I would most probably always question why I did what I did. If I did the event with someone, and for some reason, they were the ones that made the situation bad, then I would’ve gone back and forth, asking myself if it was worth it. Why didn’t I go alone? Why was I so scared? What was I so scared of?”
Should you move to a different academy? But your teacher is well known. Should you still do it anyway? Knowing that you had to go through many processes and hardships to even get lessons with this teacher. Even if most of the time, you felt like giving up music, surely her experience would lead you to someplace good…right?
“But then…would answering those questions lead to happiness?” Chanhee scoffs at his absurd thoughts. Tilting his head to the sky, he relishes the way the snowflakes land on his pale skin, disappearing when they touch his skin, the side branches melting into his warmth. “Even after answering the question, would you be able to know what to do next? What would it lead to?”
Even though Chanhee was the first one to cry and break down, your wails were louder the more his words resonated within you, touching the parts of your heart that you never wanted to say out loud, scared of where and how your unconscious mind would take you. With everything in him, he untangles his arms to wrap them around your neck, patting the back of your head as you cry on his shoulder. He also lets his tears soak your scarf, resting his cheek on his arm and his chapped wavering lips rubbing against the delicate wool of your scarf, trying his best to soften his cries.
“I just…” One of his hands pats your back, giving you his comfort—even though he probably needed it more than you, “Music and singing used to be happiness that could fit in my pocket. It felt secure and safe. I could just put on my earphones and I’ll feel happy.” You notice the tighter hold after, “But music grew too fast and too big for me that I couldn’t catch up with it anymore.”
You only nod to his words, knowing how much Chanhee sacrificed to pay for his lessons. Some judged him, calling him stuck up and selfish even though they knew that he was independent in his journey to become a singer. It pains you to hear those words come out as scoffs and laughter and soon enough, you hold his hand and cut ties with them all, leaving their flabbergasted faces behind.
The sky starts to cry with you both beautifully in the form of its unique icy shapes. You both watch the snowflakes disappear on the ground, on each other clothing, on your noses. Finding the strength and breath to continue, you slowly push your body away, wiping the last bit of your tears to face your best friend straight into his eyes.
“You’re going to find happiness that you can rely on, Chanhee.” You couldn’t see his lips but you were sure that it was pouting and shivering, “It may be music or it may be something that music brings you. It may be the stage or maybe people who you will come to work with or maybe the people who will cheer you on but I’m sure you’ll find it soon.”
Even with the bustling environment around you both, there was no way that you could have missed his muttering, especially with the white puff of air, “At this rate…”
He feels the weight and pressure of your palms on both his shoulders but he still looks down to the ground where the snow slowly buries the sides of his shoes, “I promise you that if you keep going, I don’t have a single doubt that you’ll find your style. Regardless of what your crappy teacher says, you’re unique and I love your voice.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.” Wiping the lone tear on his cheek, “The world is going to be amazed when they hear your voice and I'm sure you'll be a good influence to them.”
For the first time in the day, Chanhee finally smiled. You observe the way his eyes disappear into pretty little upside-down moons. His head tilts back slightly, revealing the upturned corner of his lips behind the scarf that kept him warm and his teeth shine brighter with the help of the light from the marketplace behind you. Your hands were able to finally relax and mirrored the same expression back to your now radiant friend.
“Promise me that we’ll stand on the same stage someday.”
But life plays a twisted fate on you both and loves to put more pressure than you can ever carry. Having to move to a different school and a different region is not on your list of expectations. You argued endlessly about the decision to move, feeling unfair that none of your opinions mattered to them as they relentlessly started to look for moving trucks to hire. With the good offer that your dad received and realising that the youngest in the family had no final say, you tried your best to hold back the tears when telling Chanhee the news.
He cries for you and himself, already imagining the loneliness of walking to the music academy after a long day of school and the drags of his feet across the gravel in the night after each lesson. You assured him that you would call often and unlike you, he promised you the same thing. Time told you both that your friendship was still strong despite the physical distance between you both and with time, so did both your musical skills.
The trade-off for talent in your friendship is the less frequent phone calls and text messages. It was decreasing steadily and slowly until eventually, there was no more red dot beside his name on your phone even though you're sure there would be one beside your name on his. When sadness turned into confusion, then morphed into anger, hate and bitterness whenever someone asked you about him, you still found yourself swiping through your many photos with him. Just like how he cries on your last day, you cry from the silence of him.
Thankfully, time did heal your heart even though you couldn’t find a friend like him ever again. Things have changed for you and you were sure that it was the same for Chanhee. You grew taller, changed your hairstyle, hobbies, dreams and aspirations. What time didn’t seem to change however was the delivered sign that never changed with your messages. You let it go and went on with your life.
When you did come back to Seoul, you realised that the city had changed drastically. You wondered if it’s really that or if you were just struggling to remember the city that you once walked around in every day. But unlike your thoughts, maybe Seoul did change drastically. Amid the new but still bustling environment, there was this one cafe that was incredibly packed. Needing to get away from the cold, you entered to be greeted with a well-decorated interior and the gold ‘Happy Birthday New’ balloon shines brightly, especially with the light that is right above it. Many were posing in front of the gold foil fringe backdrop.
You almost didn’t recognise the boy in the picture. You don’t remember when you took your scarf off and picked up a random framed picture in the frame before picking up another one next to it, and another one, and another one. Each showed his growth. You could tell not only from his appearance but also from the bigger stage that he performed along with ten other boys. Suddenly, it clicks and it all makes sense. Hearing everyone else around you talk about him fondly took away the heavy weight that his name brought and a new feeling overtook your heart.
For the first time in a very long time, seeing his face made you smile and it didn’t hurt.
Your phone slides into your shaking hands, swipe open the camera app from the lock screen and point it at the framed picture in your hand, “At least between us both,” the camera shutters and you take a shaky inhale, “one of us took the right path.”
You know from the laughter in the space, the feeling of the radiant energy of those around you and the happiness on people’s faces as they point their cameras to their fanmade goods and the interior of the place, that Choi Chanhee has done it. The stage looked extremely good on him, even if the light was too bright and he looked so pale sometimes.
“I’m glad it was you.”
You whisper somewhat solemnly and with a bit of jealousy. Your clenched fist is a puny attempt in trying to keep your tears from expressing the hurt that suddenly hit you as you recall that moment in your life. The multiple rejections to the companies that you auditioned for, the way people on the streets pass by more frequently as their ears and eyes are focused on other’s performances—the night where you listed all your musical instruments for sale and promised that you would never sing ever again.
“You shy, talented, loveable penguin.” And it would seem that his fans agree with the chosen animal with the pouting blue penguin on top of his head. “That’s just who you are, Chanhee.”
Maybe the fame wasn’t for you. Shortly after moving, you found out that the stage was more of a hobby, especially with how you just wanted to stand on stage but never wanted to practise and study music theory properly. You just wanted to shout out the lyrics and sentimentally sing the lyrics of existing songs instead of having your name in an album or next to the credits and royalty rights to the song. But knowing that it fit Chanhee well, it was more than enough for you. He may not have known it before but you wish with all your being that he knows his capability to make others smile, including you.
Even if your broken smile is within millions that he probably would never see from the podium that rightfully held him high.
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concert tickets berlin
wassup deobis :D i am currently still selling 3 tbz standing tickets for the the boyz theb-zone concert in berlin on the 28th. if you are interested, or know anyone that is you can very gladly contact me :)