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A pin dropped. The soft clinking of the metal danced, rhythmically, predictably. It jumped, lower and lower yet faster and faster before calming, slowly rolling against the varnished stage.
Taerae’s heart clattered, palpitating, fighting against the tarnished metal beating the ground. Blood thumped desperately against his temples, threatening to burst through his fingertips and spill through the balls of his feet.
The crowd cheered, the pin was snatched by a staff member as it rolled warily to the edge of the stage. The crowd cheered, his torso bowed, in tune with the eight other people with beads decorating their warm cheeks. The crowd cheered, the pin was hastily relocated to a plastic box, rolling in a place it didn’t belong to yet had to be in.
He looked back at the people who were too far away.
His tears no longer belonged to him. His tears belonged to the people that were stolen away from him, or that he was stolen away from, or that were on the other side of the cavern with the rickety bridge now falling into the unknown.
Did he belong here? Did anyone belong here or was it destined to be a tragedy from the moment pen struck paper? A tragicomedy, almost. A tragicomedy with shards of life managing to make it through the other side, yet stones and cliffs of life were still left behind with luck to decide whether it sits in solemn silences or sweet victories.
His hand weighed light, yet he couldn’t bear to reach out for the hearts that were beating in tune, in time, with the pin clattering in its small plastic box. He was afraid of not being able to touch them, that another pin would clatter onto the lonely, tattered floor.
It was all irrational, but in this still, loud, mourning, celebratory moment, it didn’t matter.
Junhyeon was a funny little man. A funny little man who was intermittently lost to space, who wore his heart like a crown, who listened to Crush’s 2411 in one ear while blurting more jokes that would be lost to the sky.
“Taeria,” with a special little trill on the r.
Taerae found himself wishing that he could perform with him again. With a man who he could silently, hesitantly reach out to, and would sometimes reach back even as he was drifting amongst the stars.
“Junhyeon is five years old.”
He’d memorised Junhyeon’s moods at this point - they were fun to figure out. He painted his sleeves with bright, bold colours that were splattered to be taken at face value, but every colour had its own undertones that Taerae loved to uncover, especially those that Junhyeon had yet to realise himself. He could smile as Junhyeon told his shitty jokes because he was ecstatic, and he could smile in sweet melancholy as Junhyeon looked to the moon for pause.
“Moe moe kyun.”
The shittiest, silliest joke that Taerae almost hated. Except Junhyeon made it funny. Almost. It wasn’t that it was funny, but more enjoyable whenever he’d get excited about delicious chicken or when he was trying to deliver his love or when he was trying to cheer other people up. It was admirable. Taerae would’ve said almost admirable, but there was no almost when it came to it. It just was. He just was.
“Taerae Taerae Kim Taerae.”
It was irrational, it was weird, the amount he’d silently laughed to himself in the dead of night while remembering Junhyeon’s antics. It was bad, it was irrational, it was wrong. Not wrong that he was laughing at memories, but wrong that he was awake in the middle of the night too distracted to sleep after another incredibly long day of shooting and practice.
He should sleep. He was supposed to sleep, not because he had to but because he should for the next day. And the day after that. And the day after that.
“Jiwoong-hyung! Are you watching?”
He hated his own brain for distracting himself.
His second love was the guitar (his first was singing).
His fingers cramped as he struggled to grasp a new chord, his bones seeming to twist in pursuit of song. His guitar strap dug into his shoulder as he stood up to try to get a better angle of his wrist.
“I did it!” he whispered to himself when he was finally able to get the chord. Then he practised his transitions, chord to chord to the broken sounding chord he just learned. His fingers calloused, stung as he dug his fingertips further into the strings with every struggle, with every empty sounding strum.
But he enjoyed it. He enjoyed it as each time he failed, he failed less than the previous time. The guitar made him make sense. He could sing, but it was always too loud or too quiet or too different or too anything that made his pin rust a little more. But the guitar made him belong, in his own, shining, correct place.
On the corkboard in front of him, he had chords and songs he wanted to learn pinned all across it. He’d decorated it a little with small images and polaroids, but it was mostly music. Pencil marks littered the pages of song lyrics and chords and fingerpicking, Taerae making adjustments when the music didn’t sound quite right.
Red pencil was reserved for the music he’d play for church. Markings for any harmony parts he’d change, writing in his own chords to match those of the piano, circling any parts he’d constantly mess up. It felt almost ironic using red to decorate his church music specifically. But it felt right, as if it mirrored how Taerae felt ironic as he rewrote lyrics to match the church’s standards of love and masculinity and femininity.
He finally grasped his transitions, smoothly, correctly moving his fingers across the fingerboard as foreign words tried to find a home on his tongue. Taerae crossed out another husband he missed in the lyrics, changing the word to wife. A heavenly wife that he’ll find and live with forever.
A wife that was written in bright, bold red.
moe moe kyun: gunwook-ssi told me about you snoring for the first time
taerae taerae kim taerae: what
taerae taerae kim taerae: excuse me
taerae taerae kim taerae: is this why everyone was snickering at me this morning???????
moe moe kyun: hahahahaha
moe moe kyun: 🤷
the new snorer: no one was telling me what was going on
the new snorer: oh my god
the new snorer: did you just change my name???
moe moe kyun: hahahaha
moe moe kyun: they say your soul is a reflection of your name
moe moe kyun: or
the new snorer: it’s the other way around dumbass
moe moe kyun: okay taerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrae-ssi
moe moe kyun: you get what i mean
moe moe kyun: at least i don’t snore
the new snorer: shut
the new snorer: i can’t believe you’d do this to me
Gyuvin doesn’t usually get mad, not when Taerae shuts down his irresponsible ideas, not when Junhyeon accidentally steps out of line, and not when Gunwook makes fun of him endlessly.
It was like a pin dropped on the floor as fire spread through the eight people on the plane.
The other members had been mad before, the other members would be mad after this. But Gyuvin’s fire was something new, he wasn’t this mad at the star masters, he couldn’t be because he knew it was just for drama. Even as he was pissed, he enjoyed smothering Yujin afterwards, anyway.
It was an emotional mess as they got seated on the plane. Cameras were still running, trying to capture the moment an object was ruined a little. Taerae just stared daggers into the camera, just to ensure that this footage wouldn’t make it into their show. He didn’t want his friends to be shown in such a distraught, angry, worried state.
He looked back at Gyuvin. His eyes hid behind his bangs, but Taerae could see his piercing look stabbing into the seat in front of him. His mask covered whatever pissed off look he had, but he could imagine the scowl, the pursed lips, the mouthing of expletives as his arms gripped the airline seats harder and harder.
Taerae sent Ricky a selfie, who sent one back. This was their thing, sending nice looking selfies and talking about God knows what. But no Snapchat, that was something the both of them wouldn’t touch.
taetaetaerrarist: you okay???????
pocky: i’m alright
pocky: but like fuck the staff lol
taetaetaerrarist: it’s because they hate lesbians
pocky: you’re so right
pocky: i’m just too el gee bee tee for them
Junhyeon kissed Taerae in the laundry room after the first elimination. They hugged in the laundry room after the first elimination. They cried together in the laundry room after the first elimination.
It haunted the both of them as Minseoung was the only person to not survive from their group and their stomachs crawled as they realised their labelmates and friends and friends of friends didn’t survive.
The amount of people in the laundry room grew as more people yearned to sob away from the cameras, to mourn the people they lost in peace.
Junhyeon and Taerae sobbed into each other’s shoulders, solemn silence shrouding the both of them in grief. Pins were plucked from the corkboard, their places that Taerae thought were right yet were unceremoniously taken out from. He could feel tears sinking into his shirt, and he could feel his own tears staining the other’s. Taerae was still, Junhyeon shook, his hands and his body shook. They were helpless. They were full of hope and relief, but they were still helpless.
Gunwook’s arms wrapped around both of them, his breaths sharp and his hands tugging on them before releasing them and leaving to hold some of the others. The place where his hands left was warm, heavy with its emptiness.
Taerae didn’t have a perfect thing to say, there were no words that could say everything he wanted to say.
“Goodbye.”
That was enough for the both of them to understand.
It made Taerae mad when a pin was in the wrong place.
On a corkboard, each poster, each piece of paper had a place for each pin it should have. If a poster had one pin, it should go in the middle on the top; two pins should go in the middle of both the top and bottom or the top corners of the paper; and so on. Circles and other shapes also had their own rules, and extra pins went in the pin’s house at the bottom right corner of the corkboard. It all made sense.
What didn’t make sense was the pin struck in the poor cartoon boy’s pupil instead of its place at the top left corner of the poster. He immediately grabbed the pin’s head, slowly, carefully pulling it out so as to not rip the paper past the puncture point.
The teacher came to the corkboard to put another pin in the pin place.
“What are you doing?”
“Fixing the pins,” Taerae responded, flattening the top left part of the paper that had been folded over itself due to the lack of a pin.
She smiled at the young boy, “Thank you.”
He stood on his tip-toes to reach the corner of the paper, pressing hard to get the small pin into the corkboard completely. His thumb throbbed as he dropped back onto the balls of his feet - the pinhead had marked itself on his thumb, painful, red, stinging. But it was a sign of the hard work he put in.
Taerae looked proudly at the now upright, smooth poster with two pins shining in the top corners of the paper. There was still a mark, a small hole where the pin had wrongfully been, but it was okay now. Everything was right.
“Gunwookie!”
The tall boy whipped his head around so fast as Taerae called his name.
“You look really good today.”
He smiled back, putting a hand to his chest.
“Why thank you, Taerae-hyung. Means a lot coming from someone so sexy.”
Taerae still didn’t get why Gunwook always said sexy in English. He’d gotten scarily good at specifically saying sexy in a more native speaking way.
“No one ever seems to tell me that,” Gunwook continued. “I’ve even asked people.”
Gunwook dramatically wiped away a tear.
“Who have you asked?”
He shied away before weakly responding, “Hao-hyung.”
“You asked Hao-hyung if you looked good?”
“I asked him if I looked sexy.”
“What?” Taerae laughed, covering his mouth in incredulity. He was definitely not making an effort to hide it, either.
“Hey, hey!” he protested. “Other people do that, too.”
Taerae raised an eyebrow full of suspicion.
“Ricky-hyung,” Gunwook said bluntly.
A smile creeped on Taerae’s face, “Okay, but Ricky-yah asks everyone that.”
“And I can’t?” he put a hand on his forehead, as if to simulate fainting.
Taerae just rolled his eyes.
Jiwoong and Yujin snored so fucking much.
How Taerae survived it? He didn’t know and frankly refused to think about it any more as the drones began buzzing in his ears some more.
“Taerae Taerae Kim Taerae-ssi,” a voice softly spoke over the bulldozers in their room. “They’re like lions with megaphones attached to them.”
He stifled a laugh.
Junhyeon kept talking, “Is this normal? What is happening? I want to leave. Do you want to leave?”
Taerae nodded emphatically. And then mentally facepalmed as he knew Junhyeon couldn’t see him because he was on the bed below him. At least he could see his sleepy stupidity.
“Yeah, let’s go.”
So, with his blanket shoddily over his shoulders and his pillow under his arm, they travelled to the shitty sofa in the hallway by the water dispenser.
“It’s like living with helicopters.”
Junhyeon was a wonder, it was so fascinating how his brain worked. He was honest, conventional when it was convenient but sometimes he was so unconventionally inconvenient. And it was adorable.
“What?” Taerae breathed out through his struggle to laugh quietly. It was about 3:30 am and he was not about to wake up an entire camp of exhausted trainees.
“They’re unmissable. And it’s exciting and kind of fun but also you get tired of it very quickly. And they sound like a billion choppers whirring right next to your ear.”
“Oh,” Taerae had barely managed to calm down. “I was thinking more like race cars.”
“Okay, but race cars are always exciting. They’re not that exciting all the time,” then he paused for a bit. “Actually, that analogy makes more sense. I’m keeping that.”
Taerae could barely manage to keep his laughter in. Junhyeon was so fucking stupid and he loved it. He was funny and silly and his doe eyes (that he refuses to admit look cute) always swept Taerae to the moon Junhyeon was living on.
“Hey, also, I’ve talked to Gunwook-ssi about this and I think I like you.”
His train of thought had reached a sudden red light. This was his blunt, incredibly blunt honesty sending its silk to catch Taerae in a web.
“It’s, like, Jiwoong-hyung makes me feel things but you make me feel things . Does that make sense?”
Taerae hesitated, he always hesitated, as he brought his face closer to Junhyeon’s. His breath hitched, eyes darting everywhere before finally looking into Junhyeon’s sparkling, hopeful eyes. His sleeves were painted with youthful, innocent, sweet, happy hopes that hid the smallest colour of his anxiety that was barely ever seen.
“I think I like you, too,” he whispered.
Junhyeon’s doe eyes slightly widened, his mouth widening to form a toothy, happy grin that was only reserved for moments of pure excitement.
“I want to kiss you,” the words tumbled off of Junhyeon’s tongue.
Taerae didn’t hesitate to lean into their first, soft, sweet, silly kiss at 3:30am with the faint chorus of snores of multiple trainees coming from all ends of the corridor.
The moment his name was called he was genuinely surprised. Not because of his interim ranking, or for any reason he could pinpoint. There never was a reason when surprise caught him in a moment of anxious melody.
It was a song of joy, the melodies of Jamsil Arena screaming at him, for him. Jeonghyeon, Hanbin, Jongwoo, everyone shaking him with soft words of congratulations, of comfort. He would fit in, he would do great, that he is doing great.
He almost wanted to burst into sweet melody right on the spot, but that felt wrong, out of place amongst the quiet words meant for him and him alone. He wanted to say words to Hanbin, to everyone, individually, apart yet together. Words that were dedicated to them that he wasn’t prepared to say.
He could only recite the sweet words he’d prepared for the crowd.
taerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrea: he’s so cute
taerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrea: oh my god
wonnie: are??? you okay??
wonnie: you’ve been like
wonnie: dead
woongki warning: yeah since like the past few hours
woongki warning: since you saw it
taerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrea: he’s just so fucking cute akjdasdlaskd
taerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrea: i miss him
woongki warning: girl you’ll see him soon
woongki warning: calm down
wonnie: he’s going to debut like soon right???
wonnie: i heard he’s debuting around the time
wonnie: of our comeback
woongki warning: speaking of debut
woongki warning: when the hell am i gonna debut huh
taerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrea: cmon it hasn’t been that long
woongki warning: haruto-yah got picked up but they refused to take me
woongki warning: i’m so sad
taerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrea: no trust you’re gonna pull like
taerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrea: like a late introduction to the group
wonnie: yeah like
wonnie: right after your fanmeet
wonnie: bet
woongki warning: ugh you better be praying for me
wonnie: yassss 🙏🙏🙏
taerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrea: gay jesus let’s debut
Taerae looked wistfully at his collection of pins. Each one in their own packet or stuck on the incredibly filled corkboard.
He rolled his favourite one in between his fingers. It was clean, unrusted, pristine despite its age. He gently pushed the top of it, not enough to hurt but enough to ensure that it was still sharp. The head of it was flat, circular, painted blue with a shark in the middle of it.
He traced the shark with his nail. Taerae’s friend got this for his birthday alongside a multitude of other gifts, but this was his favourite. It always made him happy when his friend would listen to his more weird interests, and it made him even happier that he’d gotten him gifts tailored to who he was.
A guitar pick, a more durable capo (he’d managed to break two in the past year, no one was exactly sure how), a joke ring made for children that just had I love Jesus written on it, and this pin. It felt right, it marked how well his friend slotted in his life.
He traced the shark, grinning to himself as he remembered how he’d been endearingly called a shark by his friend. Taerae wished he was more than a friend. But he’d already rejected his advances. They were still friends, though, he was just that perfect.
(Taerae would get over him in the next hour he spends tracing the shark on the pin and pondering about love and life.)
“Ah, Musk-hyung.”
An incredulous laugh escaped Taerae’s mouth.
Ricky was witty, he was funny, he could come up with the sharpest of jokes and teases in split seconds. But he wasn’t goofy or silly, for the most part. He had a sharp, soft tongue that could almost always successfully hit his pinpointed target.
He was different from Junhyeon, who was goofy, silly, and generally had no filter. His tongue was directly linked to his heart, it was loose and threw whatever it wanted on the wall. And it wouldn’t stick on every wall, but it would stick on some of them and that’s what mattered to him.
Another thing that was different was that Ricky liked to stay in reality. He’d pick his skin, worried that he’d drift and start outwardly panicking on the spot. Gyuvin would usually take his hand, rubbing at the bruise that was almost as permanent as Ricky’s tattoo.
On the other hand, Junhyeon liked to leave reality. His brain was too busy and too loud, so he liked to fly above the clouds to just stop all the noise for a bit. Taerae would just sit by the Junhyeon that was now on autopilot, that would still let a small joke escape his lips that he’d just laugh at because anything Junhyeon said was funny.
Ricky was well put together, maintaining a pure balance between femininity and masculinity, as well as soft and sharp features at all times. Junhyeon was put together with different parts for different times. He was a pure teenager at times, incredibly wise at others, goofy but also dead serious and honestly cool when he wanted to be.
Ricky hated wearing anything revealing, he’d rather leave his shoulders and knees covered if he had a choice. He’d reject anything uncomfortable softly, politely, not so eloquently but still keeping his composure. Junhyeon would go along with it for the most part, but he’d protest incredulously when it got too much for him. In a joking way, of course, he wouldn’t actually hate someone if they tried to put him in a sleeveless shirt.
Shen Ricky could be Kim Ricky, for fun. Kum Junhyeon could not be Kim Junhyeon, or any other family name. He was just Kum Junhyeon.
It was weird that his brain was thinking about this, instigated by Musk-hyung of all things, and how it kept churning as Ricky joked about swimming with the billionaire.
He needed to play poker with Ricky, or something. Maybe they’d goof off like they always do, or maybe they’d have incredibly deep talks. Taerae wanted to find out.
Church felt wrong. He felt out of place.
It felt like everyone else had their pin perfectly placed in the corkboard with a place to go. Some pins were so important as to hold roles, duties, callings of the church, and others were in the waiting place ready to be chosen for a holy job.
Taerae felt like he was shoddily placed on the corkboard by a well meaning yet hurried kid. He was crooked, sticking out of it at a weird angle in a completely random spot. He might as well have been pinned in the eye of a photo of Jesus as he felt like his every sinful thought was being judged by those in Heaven above.
“And Jesus said ‘I am the light of the world.’ Now, what does this mean?”
Jesus said He was the light of the world. That’s what it meant. The light that was supposed to shine on all of us. The light that was supposed to guide us, to help us. The light that was supposed to do something. But Taerae didn’t feel like he could see the light. There was no light guiding him and there was no light at the end of the tunnel.
He raised his hand to answer despite knowing the follow-up question that he’d be asked.
“It means that Jesus will guide us and help us to make hard decisions. He’ll help us to keep the commandments, and He’ll help us to make good decisions even if they don’t necessarily relate to God.”
His teacher smiled at him. She had a dimple on the right side of her cheek, opposite to the side of his own.
“Very good. Do you have a testimony of that that you’d like to share with the class?”
A lie simmered on the tip of his tongue. No matter what he’d say, he’d have to lie. Taerae knew he’d gotten over the whole religion thing a while ago, but he still felt a little pang of guilt as he’d have to lie in the house of the Lord .
“Yeah, actually,” Taerae took a long pause as if he was pondering his next words. He actually already knew exactly what he was going to say, but he needed a moment to compose himself, to make his pin straight and shiny.
“When I was younger, I was going to join this choir but they required me to practise on Sundays. Even as much as I wanted to join, the Lord helped me gain the strength to say no. And now, I’m very happy here.”
Taeree was not very happy. In fact, he was still pissed that he was forced to say no.
Mother. Mother Hanbin. Mother Taeraesa.
Hanbin had swiftly swept him off his feet with his dances and Taerae swiftly stood while shooting back at him. He hovered his hand tentatively over his hip, sending a knowing look towards the other man. He let himself move slowly, teasing Hanbin, his hands finally finding purchase before his shoulder slowly sassed up and down.
“Can I kill you?”
Taerae laughed at how polite he was even in his threats.
“You can definitely try,” not-so-subtly sending Hanbin the message that he’d be attacked by his posse that were always ready to scratch and bite and claw.
The Hanbin that was standing in front of him was very similar to the Hanbin he’d known for a while, yet they were very different. Park Hanbin had easily forced himself into Taerae’s life, squealing like it was his second nature and was born to lead. Sung Hanbin had gradually grown into Taerae’s life as they practised Say My Name, spoke softly and politely and was still figuring out the whole leader thing. Park Hanbin jokingly tried to pray the gay away, Sung Hanbin would never. Park Hanbin didn’t know if he was going to debut, Sung Hanbin definitely was.
“If Hao-hyung was here, I’m just saying, they could do nothing.”
“If Hao-hyung was here, he’d sit back and eat popcorn with Yujin-ah and Ollie-yah,” Taerae retorted, grins not wiped from either of their faces. “Besides, if he gets to come then so does Park Hanbin which means like half the trainees here would come.”
Hanbin raised an eyebrow, “You think he’d help?”
A pregnant pause filled the small space between the two. They stared at each other, sending firing neurons as pieces locked into place.
“They’d all just watch, huh,” Taerae broke the silence.
“And laugh at our misery, too.”
“Ugh, bitches.”
wook: taerae-hyung
wook: you look so sexy driving
sexy driver: thank you
sexy driver: but you already told me that
sexy driver: why tf did you change my handle????
wook: a wise man once said
wook: “a name is the reflection of the soul”
sexy driver: yknow
sexy driver: junhyeon-ah messed that saying up
wook: haha
wook: of course he would
wook: what was the context
sexy driver: he renamed me to “the new snorer”
wook: hahahahahahaha
wook: hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
wook: did he tell you
the new snorer: yes
the new snorer: oh for fucks sake
Around him were people that Taerae thought deserved better, people that Taerae had known for a few years and people who he had just met, people named Sung Hanbin and Park Gunwook who already memorised the dance, people who he could see in the final group, people that he couldn’t keep up with, people he didn’t deserve to be with, people who had to deal with his limp and way too loose arms, people who deserved to practise in peace rather than be incessantly annoyed by him.
Taerae tried to find comfort in the two Junghyuns who should be wearing four stars on their shoulders instead of three as their limbs coordinated with the music.
“It’s okay, you’ll get it. I believe in you.”
He doubted that.
He tried to find comfort with the Jellyfish trainees and the Redstart trainees and all the other trainees who all picked up the moves quickly.
“Come on, your voice is beautiful. You’ll be okay.”
He doubted that.
He tried to find comfort with Seowon, who Woongki was excited for Taerae to get to know.
“It’s so hard,” he whined to mirror Taerae’s own whinging. “But, let’s try together.”
He felt better. Just a little bit.
“Let’s practise this part. Try to think like you’re slapping your worst enemy who’s right in front of you.”
He laughed a bit and found himself a little cleaner than before.
“See, you did it!”
He felt a lot better as Seowon clapped in soft cheer, before repeating the moves again and again before they felt slightly more natural.
“Look at you,” even with his quiet voice, Seowon always made Taerae’s small achievements feel exciting. “With this and your voice, there’s no way you’re not getting all stars.”
He doubted that, but Seowon’s sweet smile, Gunwook’s sturdy shoulder pat and the thumbs up from his fellow WakeOne trainees behind him still lit his hopes a little that he could wear a shiny purple shirt. A shiny purple shirt that would pin his achievement, that he could possibly debut, and to match that one loud man with a voice of summer candy.
(Seowon was right, by the way. He got all stars and nodded to himself in a swell of self-pride, a little self-doubt, and a moment that couldn’t be taken away from him.)
“What the fuck are you wearing?”
It was more of a statement than a question.
“Okay, Ricky-ah, not all of us dress like we’re lesbians.”
His sharp cat eyes stared daggers before throwing up one of his classic cat punches.
“Rather dress like a lesbian than like I was going hunting.”
Taerae scoffed, exaggerating his eye roll.
“You’re never letting me live that down, huh?”
Ricky just smirked before returning to his strawberry ice cream.
“Taerae-hyung, I think you look sexy,” Gunwook chimed in, emphasising the word sexy as he always did .
“See, someone appreciates my beauty. Sexy sexy Taerae Taerae.”
Taerae flipped his imaginary hair over his shoulder, swishing his invisible locks as if he was shining in the sun. Gunwook laughed, his shoulders hunching over a little and air escaping his nose.
“Gunwook-ah, are you blind?” Ricky retorted.
WWJD. What Would Junhyeon Do? Or, in this case say.
To be completely honest, Junhyeon would just sit there quietly laughing. He might say something like Gunwook you don’t even wear your glasses half the time, how would you know Taerae-ssi was sexy? And then Ricky would nod and probably say something in agreement as Gunwook laughed louder while also trying to defend himself.
“Maybe you’re just in denial about my effortless beauty.”
Gunwook nodded, “Yeah, maybe you’re too lesbian to see the absolute beauty of the McDonald’s colours.”
Taerae then shot Gunwook a dirty look who just held his hands up.
“What? You look like a pack of fries.”
Ricky’s laugh was cute, Gunwook’s laugh was cute, Junhyeon’s laugh would have been cute.
moe moe kyun: hey
pack of fries: hey
pack of fries: oh my fucking god
moe moe kyun: just wanted you to find out
pack of fries: i-
moe moe kyun: byeeeeeeeee
moe moe kyun: love you~
pack of fries: love you too
pack of fries: 😭
“Zerobaseone Kim Taerae,” Junhyeon said while motioning his hands in the sky. “Sounds good, doesn’t it.”
Taerae sent him a questioning look, “Zerobaseone?”
He shrugged, “Group name sounds stupid. But it’s your name next to the group name. It’s your group! You’re going to debut!”
Taerae just looked mournfully at the man who was more excited for his debut than he was. He could see the tears in his slightly red eyes from Gunwook’s speech. He knew there was hurt in his mind, but he wasn’t going to express it as he only held congratulations for the people that made it.
“And you’re going to be with Gunwook-ssi. And everyone else and it’ll be so cool to hear you sing. Zerobaseone Kim Taerae main vocal.”
“I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you, too. But don’t miss me too much. There’s no point in that.”
Junhyeon’s mind was so funky. As much as Taerae wanted to capture the intricacies of how his mind worked, he could never grasp every little thing that he’d do. Everything Junhyeon did made sense, everything he said was never something you couldn’t hear him say, but you could never predict it.
They made it backstage, away from crowds and the public eye.
That’s where Taerae could finally kiss him. Kiss him because he wasn’t sure when he was going to be able to do that again.
It was sweet, sugary and soft. It was like salted caramel bled between the two of them, emotions of happiness and relief intertwined with the worries and the disappointment. Junhyeon was not Taerae’s other half and Taerae was not Junhyeon’s other half, they were like a lotus flower and the lilypad it sat on. Both could exist by themselves, and were often separated yet were more beautiful and more right together.
But only the lotus flower would be recognised, only the lotus flower would be picked. Yes, people loved the lilypad, they loved the frogs and the animals it would home, and they loved the sweet delicate lilypad for itself. But never as much as the lotus flower who would bloom above the water’s surface and twinkle as the stars shined on its petals. People always recognised the lotus flower for being gorgeous, yet people would forget how well the lilypad complimented it and made it shine just a little more with its own beauty.
Taerae took out two pins from his pocket. Their heads were a lotus and a lilypad, carefully constructed before being encased in a circle of clear resin.
“Take one, to remember me.”
Junhyeon smiled and picked the lilypad, and Taerae tilted his head to question it.
“I’m the lilypad, you’re the lotus.”
Taerae knew that, it was unfortunate because Junhyeon was the lotus in his mind. Junhyeon lifted him up, made him laugh and made him spark. But he knew he was the lotus flower, at least to the public.
“Why wouldn’t you take the lotus if you wanted to remember me?”
“Because I can’t forget you,” Junhyeon said, wistfully. “I’ll see you on all the variety shows, anyways.”
Taerae laughed a little.
“But I won’t see you, so how will I remember the lilypad?”
“I’ll message you too much for that. Besides, don’t you always want to be reminded of your absolute grace and beauty?”
Taerae laughed a lot. That’s how Junhyeon’s mind worked.
“I love you so fucking much,” Taerae said. He didn’t hesitate, he refused to hesitate this time.
“I love you, too.”