besaem

[besaem]

[ BELLA NOTTE ]

𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑, Seoul, SK Late August, 2023 w. 𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐌 𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆

[ tw: mentions of suicide/suicidal ideation ]

The late summers night breeze ruffles Saem's hair as he stands on the dock, looking out over the city lights reflecting off the water. Above, he can just about see some stars, shining their way through the light pollution he'd never not known. Then, his eyes fall to Sarang, stood beside him, looking as breathtaking as the first time Saem laid eyes on him. No, he thinks, he looks even better than he did then. Since that fateful day, nearing a year ago now, he'd delved into parts of Sarang that he never thought he'd reach in another person, and in turn he'd unfurled himself for the man before him. In growing so close, his beauty had only increased, in Saem's eyes, at the very least. He stands against the backdrop of the city, their home, and Saem understands what they mean when people say they felt as if the world stopped, and all that remained was them two.

Sarang is his anchor in this world; that much he had known for a while now.

There's a weight put on words like that, especially when, along the periphery of Saem's existence, was the unforgettable state of his psyche only a year prior. He doesn't mean it in the way it sounds—not entirely. While Sarang has opened his eyes to the beauty of the world, and the people and experiences in it, Saem's existence doesn't rely on him, and in fact relies on nothing more than his own, surprising, will to live. He'd not taken note of when that returned to him, nor did he feel it's presence like an extra weight. In fact, when not thinking about it, he merely forgot that he no longer wanted to leave this mortal plane prematurely. All it had taken was a light at the end of, what had felt like, an endless tunnel.

"It should be here any minute." Saem says softly, his voice no louder than it needed to be, as he lifts his left arm up and pulls back his crisp white shirt-cuff to reveal the expensive watch fastened beneath. "Thank you for making time for me, and this date, this evening." A fond smile settles on his lips, and he can't help himself—he reaches out and curls his arm around Sarang's waist to pull him to his side, the sensation of his familiar, warm body tucked against him a pleasant relief to the nerves coursing through his veins. He'd not told Sarang what this date entailed, but he'd informed him that the dress code was a loose 'semi-formal', and had watched over him as he picked an outfit, and had, in turn, let Sarang dress him. He'd grown to like the outfits Sarang picked out for him more than the ones he'd pick out for himself, though mostly due to how well Sarang knew his tastes by now.

"You look entirely too good." He whispers, voice a little wistful as he leans down ever so slightly to allow Sarang to hear him, his lips ghosting over the shell of the other man's ear.

[besaem]

[ necessary education ]

𝐇𝐘𝐄𝐉𝐈𝐍​:

the girls where just one of many groups that they shared the same company with. Sure they might not get to see them really but hyejin felt elated that she was even apart of the same company that her favorite groups went in and out of. quartz were apart of different brands so she knew modeling would be apart of her even as an idol. at least it would be more on her terms this way instead of being forced to model when she was still too young to quite understand. besides getting to do what the girls did just made her heart warm. she at least hopes she’ll get to go that far and debut at some point. it’s the one thing she wanted to do and hoped she achieved that down the line. it was the one desire that ran deep in her veins.

“i like chu, she’s the member right here.” she points out the girl on the screen so saem knows who she’s talking about. this has to be one of her favorite songs by the girls so naturally, she’s finding herself bobbing her head along to the beat easily. probably didn’t help that she’s done the choreo to the song many times on stream due to her community requesting it often. A smile spreads across her lips as she hears the male’s words. “I’m glad you like them! i’m sure they’d love hearing that in person as well.” she prevents herself from giggling at the image that plagues her mind. sure there was something always appealing about doing girl group dances but hyejin seems to go with whatever fits at the moment. usually meant doing a variety without thinking if it was from a boy or girl group. “yup. their the last group to debut from studio delta. their quite popular as well.” maybe it’s due to being a fan before that she feels she knows too much about different groups. she could probably list off way too many facts for no reason if someone wanted to listen to her ramblings. though if saem ever needed help, she’d be right there to inform him on whatever he was curious about. “we do. though if anything i’d love learning more dance moves that boy groups do. i like a wide variety. i’m sure you could one day. it’s a fun dance to learn.”

Saem had never envisioned himself to be the type of person to like pop music. He’d always seen himself at a man who enjoyed classical music, or opera, the type of things other people his age saw as ‘boring’. Perhaps, in a way, he’d seen himself as boring, too. He’d never been a high energy person, nor a person who came up with creative ideas, told gripping stories or listened to upbeat music. He was the slow person, the one who lived like the hands upon a clock, ticking steadily round, never speeding up, never slowing down. He was a constant kind of person—steady and predictable. Yet, here he was, bobbing his head to the beat of a song accompanied by a brightly coloured music video. It was pretty, and eye-catching, and made something blossom inside him. It felt akin to the excited motivation he always felt listening to a new piece he was going to learn to sing, or play, or dance to. It was the thrill of possibility. 

“I’d be far too ashamed of my lack of knowledge to meet them any time soon.” Saem admits, tilting his head as the song comes to an end. His eyes scan the recommended videos and he points to another by Quartz. “Can we watch that one, too?” He’d grown interested, already envisioning himself going home and searching up more videos by himself. He can see the appeal—pretty girls in expensive outfits, on expensive sets, with expensive editing, three minutes passing him by almost instantly, and yet sticking in his head like glue. “What are the other ones called?” He asks as the next song begins. He’s particularly drawn to one of them—the one with the distinctive singing voice. She doesn’t sound like the usual kpop girls he’s heard, her voice much more stylistic, almost like American singers he’d heard. 

“Do you think... you could help me learn one of their dances? Of course, if you’re too busy, that’s fine! I don’t want you to feel as though you have to.” Saem can’t remember the last time he rambled, and yet that’s what he think just happened. Who was he becoming?! A girl group listening, rambling fanboy? The girl groups he approves of, the rambling... Not so much. “I think, given my background in ballet, that some of these might be more easy to me than some of the boy group dances we learn.” Then, after a moment of thought, he continues, “What if we swapped skills? You teach me girl group dances, and I teach you boy group ones?”

[besaem]

[ new routines ]

𝐃𝐎𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍​:

new routines | @besaem

the morning dew was settling in on dohyun’s exposed forehead.

he’d pulled his hair back into an apple ponytail immediately after leaving the gs25, steadying his morning iced americano on one of the outside tables, so his forehead wouldn’t get too sweaty once the mid-morning humidity hit. it was a blessing now, as the breeze hit the dampness of the dew on his skin and cooled him down. it was early enough that there weren’t many people out on the streets near the company yet. just the few older shop owners doing their morning prep, breaking down boxes and getting ready for inventory deliveries. his morning schedule would be starting in another half an hour or so, giving him enough time for his morning indulgence.

now that he was in a closer neighbourhood, it took him less time to get home at night making it easier to wake up in the morning. he was tired enough from all that was happening that he usually slept through the night, or whatever time he had before his morning alarm. he was so thankful to even have this now, no matter how hard he’d have to work to keep it, thanks to siwoo’s kindness and generosity. working so hard during next gen just to have it go up in smoke because of what was going on at home would have been devastating, especially when it felt like he was actually doing something, not just wading through the fog of life day by day.

sitting out here in the morning, no matter how early it was, was an easy substitute to meditation- maybe it was its own form. there was a stillness to it all that was unique to the sunrise, a different energy that just seemed to melt the tension from his shoulders and back. it was needed when most of the rest of the day was full of hustle and bustle.

dohyun almost didn’t notice the incoming footsteps until they nearing the steps up to the building. he recognized the other male, han saem, sharing some of the delta trainee scheduling together. he’d never really interacted with him yet due to the busyness of being a new incoming trainee and ending off next gen stuff, but knew at least he didn’t have an asshole reputation, his name thankfully left out of the passing gossip dohyun had heard so far.

“good morning sunbae!” he lifted himself up from the concrete awning he’d been sitting on, bowing his head and offering the beginnings of a smile with his calling.

It had been many months since Saem’s life had changed in too many ways to truly count. At the beginning of the year he’d been living with his parents, working in the funeral home, and wondering if he’d ever feel the warmth of happiness again. He’d yet to grow comfortable with all the changes—being a trainee still felt strange, although he’d managed to find a routine around his new life. Day in and day out he learnt to dance in a way he’d never thought he would, reawakens his vocal chords, and pushes his body to extremes he’d never attempted before. He’d noticed a change in his build since he’d taken up a more active lifestyle, one that meant quite a few of his clothes no longer fit in the chest and shoulders, but he found it liked it. 

Changing, at first, was rather frightening. He’d been the same for his entire life, walking a path etched out for him by his parents, being a person built to merely please everyone around him, and now he had to figure out how to please himself. He’d almost forgotten how. Those tendencies, however, to think of everyone around him first hadn’t disappeared even with his new surroundings and daily routine. He still thought about the other trainees, the trainers, everyone who worked in Studio Delta. Saem had to prove every single day that he was meant to be here, that he was worth their time and effort, and that he was keeping up with everyone else, even if that meant staying behind longer. It also meant trying his hardest to make friends, even when it had seemed almost impossible when he first got signed. Somehow, he’d managed to make a few stick. 

It’s early, and he’s heading towards the company building, when he spots another figure sitting outside with some sort of iced drink that makes Saem’s mouth water a little. He’d been trying to drink a little less coffee recently—which had, of course, only led to him desiring it more. Perhaps, he thinks, he’ll grab himself one from the canteen before training begins. As a treat. He recognises the man, though, as one of the newer trainees. Another thing Saem had been doing to keep others in mind was trying to learn all the new trainees names, so they felt welcomed and acknowledged. This man, he recalls, is Park Dohyun, an incredible singer and dancer. He’d taken note of his voice during a group vocal class. 

“Oh- Good morning, Dohyun.” He responds, addressing him rather formally, considering they’d been gravitating around each other for a little while already. He’s surprised Dohyun recognises him, though. Saem had considered himself a slightly more forgettable trainee, considering he wasn’t as familiar with the songs they learnt, was still unsure in his dancing, still struggling to unlearn some of the things he’d been taught during his years of ballet classes. “How are you? How are you finding trainee life?”

[besaem]

[ a romantic gesture ]

𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐀𝐄​:

she swirls her glass, watching intensely as the water forms a whirlpool. indeed, eunae is quite bored. she’s never been good at making casual small talk, especially not when all her energy is focused on trying to be prim and proper in order to make a good impression. she doesn’t need saem telling his parents that she was absolutely dreadful at conversation and lacking in the manners department. 

“what you owe them for raising you,” she repeats softly, thinking about the statement the other had made. “that’s an interesting way to put it,” the feeling of owing her parents something, especially since eunae’s parents adopted her, wasn’t foreign to her either. however, they had always reassured her that they never wanted her to feel that way. she will admit her life growing up was shaped in their image, and they did have plans for her they would have liked her to fulfill, they weren’t mad or angry when she told them she wanted to go her own way. 

they had their concerns at first, obviously. eunae’s guardians, however, trust their daughter to make her own decisions in life. 

“i’m not really a dancer, so i won’t lie and tell you that i understand what all goes into performing ballet,” she admits, shrugging. “i’ve watched it performed, though. i think it’s quite beautiful,” eunae remembers attending dance recitals with her mother as a child, the elder woman enjoying the art of dance almost as much as she enjoys the art of music. 

as she watch saem’s eyes drift to the menu, eunae realizes she hasn’t picked out what she’s in the mood to eat yet. she follows his lead, looking down at it herself. “whenever i get the chance, my time is a bit tied up with school right now,” and training, but she doesn’t mention that to him. 

“an idol?” she stiffens, but keeps her eyes on the menu in front of her. how is it that so many people in her life share the same goal? “why don’t you think it’ll happen now? don’t companies hold open auditions frequently? i don’t see why you can’t give it a shot,” eunae settles on a simple pasta dish and side salad for her meal and finally looks up to scrutinize him. “if that’s something you really want to do, i don’t see why you shouldn’t at least give it a try.” 

Saem isn’t entirely ignorant to the ways of the world outside South Korea. He’s aware that not all cultures put such weight on collectivism and filial piety as Saem grew up with, but it’s hard to understand those mindsets when collectivism, and the important of doing his filial duty, is such a deeply ingrained part of him. He feels as though he has to repay his parents, that they didn’t have to do many of the things they did for him, or allow him to do many of the things they allowed him to do—they sacrificed a lot for him, and he has to repay that selflessness. It’s only right. “I have the ability to live a life that pleases them, and that’s the least I can do to thank them for all they’ve done for me.”

There’s something calming about talking about ballet that puts Saem at ease. It had always been a happy place of his—the dance studio with it’s mirrored wall and long bar. Talking about it took him back there in a way, and he can’t help but smile as he thinks about it. “It is... I’ve not been to see a ballet in a long time but I remember my first. I think it’s what solidified my love for it. It’s breathtaking.” Saem isn’t used to expressing himself so openly like this. In fact he’s a little caught off guard by it and attempts to hide his sudden mild embarrassment by taking another sip of water and turning his attention back to the menu, despite having already chosen what he was going to order. 

“What’s university like? I always thought it would be nice to go, but I had a job lined up for after high school anyway, so there didn’t seem to be much point in going.” He doesn’t say that he feels like he’s missing out on something that everyone else his age is doing, nor does he say how much he’d have wanted to pursue music in college. Had his life gone another way, perhaps he’d be looking at a different future—but he can’t change the past. Not that he would if he could. He’s doing what makes his parents happy, and proud, and that’s enough for him. 

As Saem’s about to reply, a waiter approaches to take their orders. Saem places his, then looks to Eunae to wait for her to order. Once they’d both made their choices and the waiter leaves them, Saem speaks. “To actively choose a different future from the one my parents have always wanted for me... feels like it’d be disrespectful to them. I don’t want to upset them. Besides, I’m sure entertainment companies look for teens, and I’m not a teenager anymore.”

[besaem]

[ undefined ]

𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆​:

a cheeky grin tugs at one corner of his mouth at saem’s words, and after a brief pause, he leans in and plants a kiss on his cheek; hoping it’ll soon bloom into a rose that paints over his lover’s glowing complexion. “mm, they can try to steal you away from me all they want to, but i have a feeling that that’s not possible,” he teases, emphasizing his playful tone with a wink. “that, and i, personally, think it’s sexy when people admire you. i’ll have you know, i notice women, and even other men, checking you out whenever we’re having dinner, or when we’re out shopping. instead of feeling jealous or possessive of you, i feel like i can relate to all of them because they’re just seeing what i see.” saem is beautiful, there’s no doubt about that. he takes care of himself; he’s tall; his face is immaculate; his proportions are stunning; and the aura that swathes him is sweet, and warm, like honey on toast. he’s like a magnet that attracts the eyes of all around him, and sarang feels like it would be silly if he got perturbed every time someone stopped to take in his lover’s ethereal beauty. it happens so frequently that it would be emotionally taxing to succumb to that.

it altogether seems foolish to put so much stock in something like that when, in his heart, he knows saem is true, and will always be true. that, and well, honestly speaking, the two of them haven’t had a conversation regarding their relationship status yet, so it would be even more ludicrous if he allowed himself to fall prey to unattractive feelings like jealousy and possessiveness. he wouldn’t like it if saem acted in that way with him, so he refrains; putting more trust in saem, himself, than anything or anyone else. though, his thoughts shift gears when the offer for a massage is accepted. sarang beams at saem’s answer; adoring the compliment that he’s given. “magical, huh?” he asks, knowing it wouldn’t hurt to be told so again. “i’m glad you think so, and well, the massage is also for me, too. i love being able to get my hands all over you…” the instant the phrase leaves his lips, he watches as saem kisses the back of his palm, and swoons at the romance of it all; chills glissading down his spine at the sensation, his hands admittedly rather sensitive to touch.

however, saem doesn’t stop there. he grabs at sarang’s waist, then backside, in a manner that feels serious as opposed to casual. it makes his heart skip a beat. all he wants is get lost in him; to end their day how they always do—with one another, and most importantly, enjoying each other. “the feeling’s definitely mutual, my love…” he purrs in response, adoring how close their bodies have become so quickly. his desire for saem is insatiable, and he looks forward to every moment they spend together, and in this particular one, sarang completely hands himself over to him; melting into the kisses peppered along his neck, then stamped to his lips. this affection alone is nourishing him in ways more profound than he even realizes, and though it’s rare, he responds to the motions without words, and he wraps his arms around saem’s neck; fingers weaving themselves into his hair, hands cradling the back of his skull with tenderness. guiding their mouths together once more, conveying the words he would’ve spoken with the dance of his tongue. he hopes saem knows what he’s trying to tell him, and he clings onto him as if his life depends on it. feeling needy somehow.

it’s then when he regretfully breaks their kiss, and as he reopens his eyes, his sights are set on saem’s—pupils dilated with ferocious attraction. “take me to bed…”

Sarang’s right—the prospect of anyone stealing Saem away seems laughable. Here, entangled with him, hands on his body, he can’t envision anywhere he’d rather be. He’d not noticed it at first, the feeling of peace he’d long ago forgotten. It had crept up around him as he settled into life in this new normal, but it wasn’t until recently that he’d noticed the way his body relaxed, the tension melting out of him as soon as he felt the comforting presence of Sarang beside him. It had been, at first, strange. Both the desire to be with him all day every day, and the slight uncertainty of being in someone else’s space so much had made for a confusing existence. The first few weeks of Saem sleeping over, not returning home from training, but rather seeking out the relief of Sarang’s open, accepting warmth. After a long day in such a cut-throat environment, that feeling of being cared about for who he is, not who he can be, made it all feel so much easier. So, the thought of choosing anything or anyone over him seemed ludicrous. 

“You’re right. No one could persuade me there was anything out there more worth my time than you.” Yet as Sarang talks about the people he notices noticing Saem, he bites back an almost shy smile. Saem isn’t unaware that he’s considered attractive, he’d been told it enough by so many people that he’d simply accepted it, even if he wasn’t sure he saw what they did. He didn’t think he was ugly, but he seemed blind to the supposed intensity of his ‘good-looks’. “I see people looking at you too, you know. I must say... while I love to love people desiring you, I can’t help but not want to share you with them. Not entirely, at least.” He says it casually, putting no weight on the declaration, but he’d grown aware of how desperately he wanted Sarang to be his in some way, in a way he wasn’t anyone else’s. “Perhaps I only want you to touch me... No one else.” 

Sarang’s body feels different to Saem’s—it’s something he finds addictive. His hips are soft, a delicate hill from waist to thighs, his butt so terribly tempting. His arms, hands, fingers; all so soft. He’s delicate, in a way—not breakable, but almost too good to touch. Saem had always been drawn to pretty things, and Sarang appears to him to be the prettiest thing of them all. His hands slide down and in one smooth, controlled motion, he lifts Sarang by his thighs, bringing them up around his hips. There’s three words resting on the tip of his tongue, words that feel too heavy for the moment, yet it’s moments like these that make him want to say them all the more. As he carries his lover to the bedroom, his lips ghost over his neck, breathing in the scent of him—his bodywash, his perfume, all the little lotions and potions he uses; everything that melds into one to become his scent. Once inside, he closes the door behind them with his foot and gently sets Sarang down on the edge of the bed, his hands coming up to cup his cheeks and draw him into a kiss. 

“You’re perfect...”

[besaem]

[ tunnel vision ]

𝐘𝐔𝐉𝐈​:

yuji blinks, one brow raising as she stares at saem for a moment. she wasn’t too happy when it happened, sure. but it’s long since left her mind as more than a funny little thing to laugh about. “it wasn’t the worst thing to happen to me. doesn’t matter now,” she waves a hand around in dismissal. she didn’t think much about it afterwards. 

her head lilts to the side a bit as she listens, letting out a soft ahh in acknowledgement. that makes sense, given the circumstance. even if yuji would have grown far bored of that if she were in his shoes– it makes sense. “that’s interesting.” she says, mildly surprised and genuinely fascinated, even if her tone probably doesn’t indicate that. “i don’t know much about trot, honestly. classical was always my family’s preference.” yuji waves a hand around vaguely. “i can make you a playlist?” she offers, mouth quirking up in the corner. it’ll be fun for her to do in her free time– she’ll apply the knowledge she’s learned on saem’s music taste today. it’ll be a fun little project. “i’ll add it to your tab.” she says playfully, though she’s not exactly kidding. 

if she were in his shoes, she’d be at every nook and cranny she could in studio delta’s headquarters. there’s so much to learn. so much at your fingertips when it comes to music production. yuji crosses her arms, fingers curled into fists because she’s so jealous. she hums instead, offering a pursed lip smile. “well…maybe it’s fate then? that you ended up here.” something like destiny or fate. “you gave up on it, but it never gave up on you. that’s nice. it’s good you took the opportunity– could have been once in a lifetime, you know?” 

despite all her own gripes with companies, yuji is happy with what she does. it’s why she auditioned, why she took the contract. why she kept a contract anyway despite moving to another company. they have their own pros and cons, but in the end– yuji just wants to sing. she wants to perform and she wants to write and make music. she doesn’t regret anything she’s done this far to get her to this point. some people aren’t as lucky. 

“if you need any help, or anything– i don’t mind lending a helping hand. or an ear, if you need it. training sucks at times.” yuji shifts her balance from foot to another, hip cocking out a bit. 

“Well, I’m still thankful. You were kind to me.” Saem isn’t one to let kind deeds go unthanked, and while he feels as though right now may not be the right moment, he makes a mental note to treat her to a drink or food at a later date as a proper thank you. Or perhaps, he hopes, a nice gesture between friends. Lord knows he needs some of those around here. While he isn’t usually one to marry himself to the idea of befriending someone without fully feeling them out as a person first, he’s seen nothing that would put him off Yuji so far—she seems like the kind of person he’d appreciate having around. He’s acutely aware, however, that his first impression left a lot to be desired, and Yuji seems quite hard to read, so he’s unable to gauge how well this interaction is going, at least not past being able to say they’re amicable with one another. 

“I’d really like that, actually. So far I’ve felt like I was studying for a very stressful exam. I’m constantly worried someone will ask me which of my seniors I most look up to, and I won’t be able to give them a very well thought-out answer.” He admits with an ever so slight flush of embarrassment dusting the apples of his cheeks. He wants to improve his knowledge and grow a interest in things that other people his age are into, but a part of him worries that his soul had aged well past that of his peers, and he’d forever be cut off from them in some way. He felt a cavernous divide between them right now, and he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to cross it, but he knew he’d try anything to do so. This was his dream, and part of it was entrenching himself in current music trends—he couldn’t let himself stay stuck in an era long past. 

For a moment, Saem’s a little surprised at her offer, but he knows better than to let it show in his expression. He can feel her extending a sort of olive branch of friendship towards him, and he’d be a fool to jeopardise his chances at something he so desperately wants. So, he smiles. A bright, genuine one that he so often bites back (Why? He doesn’t know). “Thank you, that really means a lot to me. I’ve been finding it hard to grow close to the other trainees... So knowing I have at least one person to talk to is a great comfort.” He says, hoping his genuine gratefulness is apparent. “And, of course, I’m here for you too if you need to talk. I may be new around here, but I already see it can get quite lonely at times.”

[besaem]

[ necessary education ]

𝐇𝐘𝐄𝐉𝐈𝐍​:

hyejin wasn’t going to say that she was always well versed in what songs were out since there was always music coming out no matter what which made it difficult to keep up with. didn’t mean she wasn’t trying to at all though. it was just one of many things she fixated on and during streams she did, hyejin got to share in that interest with others. though now with being a trainee at studio delta, she couldn’t help but feel elated that she was in the same company that debuted some of her favorite groups like vertex. she wonders if she’ll ever get to meet some of the other groups one day. she can dream at least with being at the company.

it’s different that what she expected but she already knows she’s gonna love being apart of studio delta. she wasn’t shy to making friends, maybe a bit weary at times but always open to getting the chance to befriending someone else. though besides all that, she wonders if her previous knowledge from being a trainee before would come in handy. not that she was gonna shut off learning more and enhancing her skills. she finds herself talking to saem though, gladly sharing whatever he wanted to know about herself.

when learning that saem wants help with learning about popular music, hyejin is ecstatic about it all. she’s already eager to show the groups that are apart of studio delta first since that makes the most sense to do. it wouldn’t seem right to not know the music of the senior artists before anyone else. watching the video alongside him, hyejin finds herself nodding her head along to the beat, feeling herself having to resist singing along at the moment.

“this is quartz.” she let him know, her eyes almost sparkling at seeing how amazing the girls were even back then. Hyejin hopes that one day she’ll get to be like them and get a chance to debut.

The girls on screen are vaguely familiar, Saem realises with a start. It takes a moment to place them, but he soon recalls seeing at least a couple of them on posters and advertisement boards in beauty stores, selling moisturisers and lip tints. Could that be him one day? He’d considered, once before, what it might be like to do modelling of some kinda—he’d been told more times than he could count, by older women at the funeral parlour, that he was attractive, and tall enough, to succeed in it. However, it hadn’t seemed like something he’d ever have the chance to do at that point in time, when being an idol was merely a childhood dream he’d since set aside and left to gather dust. Realising now that that could be a possibility, though, births a tiny flame of desire inside him.

“Which member is your favourite?” He asks as he watches intently. It’s with a start that he realises he’s actually enjoying the music. It’s entirely different to the sort of thing he usually listens to, and evokes such a different feeling, that for a moment he doesn’t even realise what it is he’s feeling. There’s the temptation to move his body to the music. In the past, he’d listened to classical pieces and envisioned ballet dances for them, but he’d never felt the unescapable need to dance to the music the way he did right now, as though the beat had seeped into his very bones. “I like them.” He says, leaning a little closer to keep his eyes glued to the girls as they dance. Could he learn that dance to practise? It seems as though their dances have a far more delicate, graceful feeling overall than many of the boy group dances he’d learnt since becoming a trainee, where power was so important. 

“And... they’re the most recently debuted group from Studio Delta, yes?” He’d tried hard to brush up on his general knowledge of the company and their groups beforehand, though it had been far too overwhelming to sift through all the albums and singles and special songs that each group released. His brain told him to go in order or debut song, to most recent release, but it felt impossible to figure out what came next when he’d tried to look it all up himself. Hopefully, he thought, he’d get better at it with time. “So, in the girls dance classes, do you learn stuff like this? I’d like to learn this dance one day.” 

[besaem]

[ undefined ]

𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆​:

“i did,” sarang replies, sighing contently before continuing. “i think it did a great job, don’t you?” with that, he runs one of his hands through his hair—soft black whorls donning a moisturized glow beneath the lowlight of the kitchen. “that was a good call on your part. i’m glad you saw it. we’ll have to try it on you soon—make sure you’re looking dazzling and fresh for training!” the mere mention of it brings a half-smile, half-frown onto his countenance; mostly because he, too, was once a trainee at studio delta, and had he been able to work hard and keep up with their arduous demands, the two of them could’ve been at the same company. there’s a wistfulness that swathes him whenever saem leaves him in the early hours of the morning. sarang aches to tagalong and go with him, but he can’t. however, deep down, he knows that where they’re both at in their lives is fine for right for now. he’s still able to go to bed beside him every night, and he’s able to help ready him before he sends him off into the city, and that’s what’s important. if he can support him by fixing his coffee every morning, and making sure his clothes are steamed and attractive, then that’s what he’ll do—all with a smile on his face, and high hopes for a kiss in return.

when they’re finally face-to-face, sarang gazes into saem’s eyes; a hand instinctively reaching up to tidy his hair, removing any strands from his face. though, when he feels the strength of his lover’s arms curl around him, paired with the delicateness of the kiss on his forehead, it fills him with such a profound sense of comfort, and ease. he feels so safe, and so cherished, and it seems effortless for saem to rouse those sensations in him. “mmm, well, i hope that i’m able to help you relax. if you’re not quite ready for bed, i can give you a massage?” the suggestion is offered with no hesitation. in fact, it would bring him so much joy to be the one to help relieve saem’s muscles of their soreness. “trust me—there’s nothing i look forward to more than lazy sunday mornings with you. they’re honestly my favorite thing about each week.”

the admission is smooth as butter, and in that same moment, his face is cradled by saem—its moon-like shape held tenderly, lovingly, as compliments are crooned over to him. his heartbeat escalates, and a brilliant smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he scrunches his nose toward him playfully. “mmm, you’d miss me terribly, huh?” he asks before he returns the embrace; adoring the sweet reunion of their mouths. “you always know how to make me feel so special,” sarang lilts, hands kneading into the breadth of saem’s shoulders. “please know that i feel the same about you every time you head off to training. i miss you so much.” with that, he tiptoes up slightly and stamps a kiss of his own onto saem’s mouth; fleeting and short, like the one before. “why don’t you go and get changed into something more comfortable, and while you do so, i can make you a midnight snack? y’know, unless you want me as your midnight snack… i can definitely arrange that, too.” sarang teases with a wink.

[ tw: mentions of suicidal ideation ]

“You look even more radiant than usual. A feat I didn’t believe possible.” Saem says lightheartedly, a light chuckle underlying his words. “You aren’t worried that if I look too good, others might try and steal me away from you?” It’s something Saem knows could never happen, given how utterly smitten he is by Sarang, but he can’t help but tease a little. He hopes Sarang knows that there’s not a force in the universe strong enough to drag Saem away from him. He’d never felt quite so attached to anyone in his life, and that fact, in a way, terrified him. Realising that he needed Sarang struck fear through him that he’d never felt before. How was he meant to let him go one day, when his parents asked him to get married? There’s a part of him that wonders whether, by then, he might have plucked up the courage to explain to them that he’d found someone he wanted to spend forever with, they just weren’t a woman. That, and he didn’t want kids of his own. The thought of telling them any of that now, however, makes his palms sweat. 

At the offer off a massage, Saem bites back a wide smile. He’d still not managed to allow himself to entirely drop his guard around Sarang, despite how much he truly cared about him. He had yet to entirely open up about his life, his feelings, his fears and the things that were holding him back. The guilt of hiding parts of himself from Sarang eats away at him every night as he lays beside him. He wants to tell him everything, but he can’t yet. He can’t even admit to himself that there’s something not quite right about the way he feels about his potential future of nothing but woe and sadness. Saem’s aware that contemplating ending ones own life is not normal, and yet he can’t seem to accept that he’s anything but. “I’d like that. A lot. Your hands are magical.” To punctuate his words, he gently takes one of Sarang’s hands and brings it up to his lips to press a soft, slow kiss on his palm. 

While Saem is a man of few words sometimes, only saying what is absolutely necessary, he finds other ways to communicate with the man he’s quickly growing to declare such deep affection for that a certain four letter word begins to tickle his tongue. Ways such as sliding a hand down slowly from around Sarang’s waist to rest on one of the perfect globes of his behind. “I have been craving you all day, I must admit.” A smirk dances at the corner of Saem’s lips, and he slowly dips his head, letting his breath ghost over the warm skin of Sarang’s neck. “I’d much rather spend as much time as I can with you, darling. Food is nowhere near the top of my priority list right now.” His other hand slips down to join his first, and though he doesn’t squeeze, he does pull Sarang closer, holding him flush against him as he presses kisses along his neck, up over his jawline, until he reaches his lips once more. “God, you drive me crazy.”

[besaem]

[ soju, makgeolli & more ]

𝐍𝐎𝐄𝐋​:

          surprisingly, somehow, wook’s apartment isn’t actually somewhere wook is often, it’s more just of a place to sleep and sometimes study. he’s an university student, and he works many jobs, often coming home late, and when coming home he takes his dog for a walk before returning to sleep, then wake up and do the same routine of leaving his apartment behind. he loves his dog, and spends lots of time with him, but it’s barely ever in his apartment, they’re always outside, going for walks or to dog parks, or just being outside. it’s also not that often noel invites others into his apartment, somehow whenever meeting with someone they always go out, or maybe meet at their place. sometimes wook almost feels like a stranger in his own home. but as others need to go out more, he needs to stay in more, always so busy, always doing something, when does he have time to relax?

but with saem’s foot, he doesn’t mind inviting the other over, no he wants to, and it’s finally a chance to make a bigger meal, get to use his kitchen, he does love cooking after all. he looks at the other’s message, a chuckle escaping his lips. but though saem is his longest timed friend in south korea, wook still feels like he doesn’t know enough about the other. not sure which food the other would like, so accidentally ending up making far too much, just so there would be something the other could eat..

he’s setting the table when he hears the buzz, his dog quick to let out a bark to let him know he’s hearing it too. he walks to the door, his dog happily following him. he opens with a smile, “hey saem!” looking down to see the other’s leg, “come in, and tell me how your leg ended up like that”. “want me to help you take off your shoes?”. “ah, you’re not afraid of dogs, right?”.

Already, Saem’s evening feels eventful. He’d not left his home since returning home from the hospital, so the journey had really taken it out of him. His hands hurt from where they grip the crutches, supporting his weight with every other footstep. He’d seen people hobbling about on them before, and hadn’t realised just how difficult it would be to go about your daily life subjected to them. He’d feared that the embarrassment would be the worst of it—he’d not factored in the pain and exhaustion of it all. He was right to think that getting injured was possibly the worst thing to happen to him since his unfortunate birth. At least, he thinks, the rest of his night he’ll be safely out of the public eye. Wook’s opinion of him doesn’t bother him; a fact that surprises him. Which is why he relaxes as soon as the door opens, and finds himself smiling at the sight of his old friend. 

The appearance of the small dog at Wook’s feet, however, surprises him. He’s not opposed to them, but he much prefers cats—they’re not as loud. However, as he steps inside and slips off his shoe, taking a moment to glare at the boot which must, according to doctor’s orders, remain on his foot, he pauses to bend down and offer the back of his hand slowly to the dog. “I’m not, no. What’s it’s name?” Once he feels confident that the dog won’t take offence to him reaching out to scratch it behind the ear, he does so. “I didn’t know you had a dog.” A fact that makes him feel like rather a bad friend. He should have kept up with the happenings in Wook’s life more, and yet he’d somehow been far too wrapped up in his own. He’d have to remedy that. He’d find out all he’d missed tonight. 

“How have you been?” Saem asks as he shrugs off his jacket and hangs it up, then makes his way into the apartment, smiling fondly at the sight of a ready laid table, more food than he’d expected set out for them on the table. “You made rather a lot.” He comments with a chuckle, then reaches out to gently squeeze Wook’s shoulder affectionately, hoping it will get across how appreciative he is of his friend for inviting him over and saving him from the never-ending misery of being confined to his home where he never quite feels like himself. “Let’s sit down, and then I’ll tell you the whole sorry story.” He supposes it’s better to get it out of the way first, so they can move onto things that will help Saem, hopefully, forget about his injury. 

[besaem]

[ necessary education ]

𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐈𝐎 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐓𝐀 𝐏𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌, Seoul, SK Late May, 2023 w. 𝐌𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐘𝐄𝐉𝐈𝐍

Saem is well aware that his popular music knowledge if woefully lacking. He’d never been drawn to pop music, or whatever his classmates were listening to. It wasn’t that he didn’t like it, he was just constantly surrounded by classical music; it was what he knew best, and Saem wasn’t used to leaving his comfort zone. Now, however, he’s beginning to regret not paying more attention to what was played in stores, or on the radio. He’d been trying to find things on youtube, but he had no idea what to search. Not only did it feel like a personal failing, but Saem suspected it could have something to do with his current difficulty befriending the other trainees in Studio Delta. 

It’s strange, he realises, being not the new guy anymore, as a batch of new trainees joins them in the practise rooms. He realises that he’d been a trainee now for nearing five months, and yet he’d still struggled to make any proper friends in the company. He knows he’s not like them. Classically trained pianist and ballet dancer—doesn’t really go with kpop idol. However, Saem likes to think he’d made progress, and shown he was serious, and now just there ‘by accident’, or merely for his appearance. He’s determined, however, to not let the new trainees feel as alone as he did when he first began. That’s how he begins talking to Hyejin, asking her about herself, about Next Gen (which he’d watched, but mostly paid attention to Sarang), and about her goals. 

They’d been on friendly terms for a while before it comes to light that Saem knows absolutely nothing about popular music these days, and thankfully, she offers to help remedy that. Which is how they find themselves sat in a small practise room, big enough to hold two chairs and a piano, going through old music videos of senior artists from Studio Delta, because if there was one thing it was absolutely shameful not to know, it was your labelmates music. 

“And this group’s called...?” He asks as he watches the girls on the screen dance. They’re very good—it makes Saem wonder how he’ll ever be able to do that. 

[besaem]

[  a romantic gesture ]

𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐀𝐄​:

eunae’s nails tap idly on the glass in front of her as she listens to the other speak. it’s not that her date is boring. no, he seems like a fine young gentleman. she’s just not interested in dating, she has too much on her plate at the moment to be worrying about boys. she reminds herself that this is a favor, and the night will be over soon enough. at least her parents didn’t set her up with some creep. 

she raises a brow, noticing saem cut himself off quite abruptly. she stops tapping on the glass and focuses her gaze on him. “ballet?” eunae asks, looking him up and down. well, his torso up and down. she can’t see farther than that, unfortunately. “you don’t look that graceful,” she chuckles, smirk appearing on her face. 

“i’m joking, obviously,” she adds, remembering that her humor isn’t for everyone. “that sounds neat. did you quit that too? were there other styles of dance you were interested in?” eunae wonders what made saem stop pursuing his hobbies. “i’m not much of a dancer myself,” if she was going to be honest, she’s not a dancer at all. “i like to swim, though.” 

eunae takes a sip of water and nods, showing that she’s paying attention. “i don’t think i’d be very good at it,” she says, shrugging. she wouldn’t be able to deal with grieving families day in and day out, she doesn’t have the patience. “what’s your dream, then?” she asks, bluntly. “you don’t have to follow in their footsteps if you don’t want to, you know,” the feeling of pursuing a career different than what her parents want already a reality for her. 

If Saem’s being entirely honest, he’s not sure how the date’s going. Usually, he’s rather good at picking up on how people are feeling; it helps with his job. Right now, though, he’s finding it hard to read Eunae. Is she bored? Does she not like him? Or is she perhaps shy, or holding back a little, since they’d only just met? Whatever it is, Saem finds he can’t relax with her seeming, in some way, not entirely into the whole thing. He supposes, however, that it would be hypocritical to ask that of her, when he himself isn’t all that into this either. At least, he thinks, if she’s not keen on him, he’s at least free until the next woman his parents set him up with. 

Talking about something important to him, though, does brighten his mood. He misses ballet—in fact there’s so much he misses that he struggles to remember anything he doesn’t. He chuckles at her observation, taking a sip of his water, partially to feel as though he’s got something to do other than sit entirely still. “I did. I felt that I should focus all my energy on working for the family business. It was what I owed my parents for raising me.” He explains, though he’s sure it’s not a foreign concept to her, or to anyone really. A lot of his friends in school had been aware that they had to please their parents to repay them, though they were a lot more begrudging of it than Saem. “I was interested in contemporary for a while, but I never dabbled in anything other than ballet, as I wanted to maximise the energy I put into that, rather than spread myself too thin.”

Saem takes a moment to let his eyes trail over the menu as he replies, “Do you swim often?” What a boring question. He’s not doing very well, and he’s fully aware of it. He’s thrown off by the fact he doesn’t really want to be here, and it seems as though Eunae might not either. If neither of them are looking for a relationship right now, he wonders if it’s worth asking her if they can come up with an elaborate story about the date to tell their parents, and why it didn’t work out, and just drop the act for the rest of the night. “I was raised spending a lot of time in the funeral parlour, around the families, so I grew to understand how best to approach them.” Her question about his dream, however, makes him pause. He’s unsure about sharing it, but something tells him he can tell Eunae at least a bit of it. 

“I used to want top be an idol, if you can believe that.” He says with a soft laugh. “I enjoyed singing, and really liked dance recitals, and I’ve always appreciated music, but it’s one of those things that many children dream of at one stage or another. I suppose, now though, I do wish I could have had a career related, in some way, to music. It likely won’t happen now though.”

[besaem]

𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆​:

delicate fingers comb through tousled locks of hair, his lips pursed together as he gazes into the mirror in front of him—observant oculars taking in the sight of his reflection in a manner that’s highly analytical. he watches as each strand of softly waved hair falls perfectly into place, and admires the dewiness of his complexion after wrapping up his skincare routine; moon-shaped cheeks resembling glass in a manner that gives his features more dimension. sarang adores feeling beautiful, that goes without saying, and being that saem is set to return home from his training soon, he’s putting extra work into himself—aiming to be as desirable as possible to the man that’s been spending an increased amount at his home… and in his bed.

their relationship has always been perfumed with desire, their limbs often tangled up within one another’s to create a variety of angles and shapes, but outside of their carnal desires, the two of them have created a safe haven out of themselves for one another; one that sarang is becoming all too addicted to. there are many reasons for this, but due to the higher amount of time they’ve been around each other over the last few months, sarang’s beginning to feel attached to saem somehow. so much so that, the few nights that he’s unable to slowly fall asleep wrapped up in saem’s strong arms, he feels incomplete. it slightly scares him, but deeply excites him, all at once.

reaching forward, he grabs onto the cologne he’s been using—the one he’s noticed saem really likes on him—and spritzes himself a few times, then unbuttons the first few buttons on his silk pajama top; its seductive navy hue looking magical against his cool toned skin and dark whorls. then, almost as if on cue, he hears the door to his flat open, and he beams warmly knowing just who it is. when his name is called, he singsongs an “i’m here!” from his bedroom as he stands up, checks himself once more in the looking glass, and heads for the kitchen; pupils dilating the instant he gets an eyeful of saem, glad to see him after an uneventful, sadly long, day all alone.

without waiting another second, he wanders over to the object of his affection and gracefully wraps his arms around him from behind; resting his head between saem’s shoulder blades so he can reacquaint himself with his heartbeat. “i missed you,” he murmurs, squeezing tighter. “i spent all day waiting to see you; gave myself a spa day in preparation.” the admission makes him blush as he loosens his grip, aching to meet him face-to-face. “how was your day, hm? i can’t wait to hear all your stories.”

In the years that Saem had spent wasting his weekend evenings away in clubs, finding men he’d spend a single night with, who he’d then move on from without even remembering their name, he’d never thought he’d become this person. The man who, in some way, settles down with someone he actually likes. He’d envisioned a future spent, largely, in an entirely miserable situation. Pressured into marrying a woman he could never love, purely to please his family, and then having to fit into a domestic, family life in a way he’d never want, even with someone he loved—that had always been his plan. It had been one he’d carefully planned out, envisioning the type of woman he might marry, hopefully one who was at least agreeable enough to be friends with. He wondered often if she’d ever realise he never loved her, if she would be able to feel that his affections where hollow. He’d felt bad for this imaginary woman—she deserved someone who could love her, and that someone was not, and never would be him. 

Yet, as the winter began to thaw, the sun returning from it’s long vacation, Saem began to realise that he’d slowly morphed into a man he’d never planned to be. His life was meticulously planned out, even from a young age. He’d known his schedule, his extracurriculars, his plans in and out of school, his future; everything. Now, however, he wasn’t sure who he’d become, or how he’d become this version of himself that found domestic bliss with a man he wasn’t even officially dating; another thing he’d never considered happening for himself. Even so, he found nothing disagreeable about it, apart from it’s unexpectedness. In fact, Saem found he thoroughly enjoyed living away from the suffocating presence of his parents, in a place he could be freely himself. Something he’d, perhaps, never been before. 

As the object of his affection emerges from his room, Saem finds a warm smile spreading across his face, and as his familiar arms curl around him, he relaxes entirely, his usually ramrod straight spine softening, just a little. “I missed you too.” A soft chuckle, emerging from deep in his chest, bubbles up out of him as he continues to unpack the bag, setting a carton of eggs, a packet of dried seaweed, and a container of fresh anchovies on the counter. “How was your spa day? Did you try that new hair mask?” Saem had never had anyone to talk about skin and haircare things with before, and it had, for the most part, been an entirely solitary interest of his. Ever since meeting Sarang, though, his interest had grown as he began to share in it with someone else. After all, it had brought him to this man, who he can’t help but notice makes his heartbeat quicken as he presses into his back. 

Slowly, he turns around in Sarang’s embrace, and curls his arms around him, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead, something tender that had become somewhat of a habit recently. He’d never felt compelled to kiss anyone’s forehead before, until Sarang entered his life. “My day was... tiring. But in a good way. I’m glad it’s a Saturday, we can sleep in a little tomorrow.” He lifts a hand and gently brushes a strand of Sarang’s hair off his forehead, then lets his fingertips trail down the side of his face. He inhales deeply, and lifts both hands to cup his cheeks, an almost imperceptible smile settling on his lips. “I’m afraid if you get any more beautiful you might get snapped up by a high fashion modelling agency, you’ll jet off around the world, and I will miss you dearly.” He punctuates his words with a soft, short kiss to Sarang’s perfectly plump lips. 

[besaem]

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐶𝑂𝑀𝐸𝑆 𝐸𝐴𝑆𝑌 …

𝐉𝐀𝐍.𝟏𝟓𝐭𝐡 – 𝐀𝐏𝐑. 𝟏𝟗𝐓𝐇, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 // 𝚃𝚁𝙰𝙸𝙽𝙴𝙴 𝙹𝙾𝚄𝚁𝙽𝙴𝚈 Saem’s journey from initial probationary contract offer, to full-trainee contract signing … 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1,910 words

It had been three days since Saem had received the probationary contract offer, and he still had not signed it. However, he’d already made up his mind, he just had to speak to his parents. That morning, he’d awoken earlier than usual to make an especially nice breakfast, perhaps to butter them up a little. He’d meant to talk to them as they ate, hoping the addition of good food would make it easier all round, but he’d felt as thought he had food stuck in his throat the entire time he ate. No matter how hard he tried to formulate the sentences in his brain, when it came to speaking them aloud, he felt as though he’d had his voice stolen. 

Breakfast came, and went, without a mention of the contract. So, Saem tried another tactic. He invited his parents out for a pre-lunch stroll around the local park. Getting out and stretching their legs might make things easier, the fresh air and cold breeze might shock him into simply blurting it out. Yet, around the park they walked, and back home, bundled up in their coats, and still, he’d not told them. He was beginning to get desperate, as the sun began to set and he’d still said nothing. 

But finally, over a dinner Saem had made, he cleared his throat and, in the silence that followed as his parents looked to him expectantly, he realised he just had to do it. “I’ve been offered a training contract at an entertainment company.” He begins, and as he pauses, to watch their initial reactions, he relaxes a little—he reads nothing but confusion on their faces, and confusion is far better than anger. “A few weeks ago, a man approached me on the street and invited me to audition at a company, and... I did. I didn’t think anything would come of it, but they offered me a three month probationary contract this week.” 

Finally, his mother speaks. “What does that mean? A probationary contract?” 

“It’s a bit like a trial run, to see if I’m cut out for it. If I did well, they’d offer me a full contract after that.” Saem’s sweating a little now, his palms clammy. He sets down his chopsticks and rubs his palms on his thighs, then reaches for his water to take a nervous sip, still unsure as to what their reaction is going to be once they fully understand what he’s saying. 

“And this is what you want? To train to be an... idol?” His father asks, his tone measured, giving nothing away. 

“Yes.” Saem replies simply, the strength behind the word surprising even himself. 

“You never mentioned wanting to before.” There’s a concerned furrow between his mothers brows, and she too take a slow sip of her drink. Both of them seem to be processing the news—Saem can practically see their brains whirring. 

“You wanted me to work for the funeral parlour. I didn’t want to disappoint you, or seem ungrateful. I’m sorry for springing this on you, and if you really don’t want me to do it, I’ll turn down the contract. I don’t know why I auditioned in the first place-” 

“Saem,” His father cuts him off, a stern expression etched into the faint lines in his skin. “I’m sorry if you felt we weren’t giving you the option to choose your future, that was never our intention. That was never my intention. Of course, I wanted you to come and work for the funeral parlour, but if I’d known that wasn’t what you wanted, I’d have supported whatever other path you’d wanted to take, son. You showed such great promise in music and dance, we know how much it meant to you. We were surprised when you stopped, honestly. I just assumed you’d grown out of it.” There’s a furrow in his father’s brow, one that suggests a shadow of guilt passing over him. “If this is what you truly want, we know you’ll give it your all. We want you to be happy, son.”

And for the first time in Saem’s life, he realises just how very wrong he read his parents all these years. He’d prided himself on being able to understand people, and what they thought, and felt, until now. He’d been reading everyone but his parents. He’d seen in them only what he expected to see, not what was truly there. His hands, clasped around each other in his lap, begin to shake as he swallows the lump in his throat, blinking back the sharp sting behind his eyes. He’s not sure what to say—his head seems filled with static all of a sudden. But, his parents wait patiently for him to speak again, and when he does, his voice sounds just a little thicker than before.

“Thank you...” This wasn’t how he thought the conversation would go, and he’s wholly unprepared for this outcome. “I may not make it past the probationary training. It’s a notoriously difficult company to get into, or stay in, for that matter, so would it be possible to... only temporarily fill my position in the parlour for three months, and then see what happens?” He’s asking a lot, he knows, and it’s terribly selfish of him, but the thought of not having a job to return to should he not pass the probationary period makes his stomach churn with dread.

“Of course, Saem. We can handle things just fine without you for a while, and if we have to permanently, well, I’ll celebrate it. It’ll be a great thing for you, I’m sure. If this is what makes you happy, then I’m happy. We’re happy.” His parents smile at each other in agreement. Saem wonders, for a moment, if this is a dream. It seems far too good to be true. How could he have gotten his parents so wrong? The people he’d lived with his entire life, should know as well as himself. Yet they’d surprised him more than he ever thought they could.

It’s difficult for him to understand—that his happiness, regardless of where it came from, meant their happiness. Logically, he gets it, but at the same time, it goes against everything he’d ever believed about a parent-child relationship, and the expectations that hung over the child, to repay their parents by doing what would make them happy. What is Saem meant to do if what makes his parents happy, if him being happy, when Saem isn’t sure he’d felt wholly happy since he was in single digits. He’d lost the part of himself that could feel entirely happy. In fact, he’d lost so much of himself over the years that he’s not sure he really knows who he is anymore. Is there even a him to know? 

“I’m planning to sign the contract tomorrow.” He finally says, staring down at his plate, still ashamed of his selfishness, despite all his parents had just told him. It simply won’t line up in his brain—he needs time to process this new reality. 

“We’ll go out to dinner tomorrow night, then. To celebrate.” His mother declares, and Saem can do nothing but stare at her incredulously. “Oh, don’t look so shocked, Saem. Did you really think we wouldn’t be happy for you?” 

If Saem were to be truthful, his answer would, of course, be ‘absolutely’, but somehow, now that feels too harsh, so he simply shakes his head, as though to express his uncertainty. At least he knows there’s one part of himself that his parents reaction to he’s certain of. One part of him he can never tell them about. At least some truths will remain the same in his head. 

𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙴𝙴 𝙼𝙾𝙽𝚃𝙷𝚂 𝙻𝙰𝚃𝙴𝚁 …

They’d had it penned into the calendar on the kitchen fridge, so he’s not surprised when he receives a text on the morning of April 18th asking him to call that evening, no matter how late, with the news. His parent’s support still hadn’t sunk in. Three months had gone by, and Saem had repaid their kindness and understanding by avoiding going home in favour of spending his nights with a man his parents simply could not know about, despite the growing desire in Saem to just tell them. He’d gone, in his mind, from the perfect son, to the most selfish son to ever exist. Is he happy being a trainee? It’s easy enough to answer—yes, he’d never been this happy working in the funeral parlour, and yet he can’t say he’d wholly happy with other aspects of his life. 

He’s happy at night, with him, and during training. He’s happy with friends on his day off, happy with his progress, his prospects, and yet he’s got this gaping hole in his chest, a constant reminder that he chose himself over his parents. They say they’re happy if he’s happy, but how he can be happy when he’s keeping secrets from them, when he’s not happy because he can’t be himself entirely without hurting them. His very fundamental truths would tear them apart, so he can never be happy. Somehow, his mind tells him that’s selfish. 

But, he does as they ask, and when he finally leaves the office after signing his full trainee contract, he calls them first. 

“So? How did it go?” His father asks, and Saem can picture his parents sitting at the kitchen table, the phone between them on speakerphone. 

“They offered me the full contract.” He doesn’t beat around the bush, or try and drag it out, he simply tells them. He isn’t expecting the heavy sigh of relief from his father, and high pitched ‘Oh, well done!’ from his mother. Their expressive joy at the news catches him off-guard, and yet it seems to unlock those emotions in him, too. He finds himself, finally, breaking into a bright smile. He hadn’t realised just how much he wanted this until right now, hearing them so happy for him. Knowing, even if he can’t understand it, that they support him. 

“We knew you could do it, son.” He father says, and Saem bites his lip for a moment to try and contain all the emotions he’s feeling. He’s not one for showing his emotions, especially tearful ones, publicly—those are confined to his bedroom or the shower only. “Your brother said well done, too. He thinks you’ve ‘got the right look for it’.” 

“Thank you. I can’t talk long, it’s getting late and I’ve still got training early tomorrow, but I’ll come over on Sunday.” 

“Alright, I’ll cook your favourite! Gaeul will bring Minji as well.” 

“Oh, it’ll be nice to see her again.” He’d not seen his brothers fiance in months, and he’d always liked her—she was the only one in their family who seemed to understand Saem. He could tell, even when she was just looking at him, she could see more of him than his parents and brother ever could. 

They say their goodbyes, and then Saem stands in the silent corridor and once again, finds himself stunned at how wrong he had been about his parents. It was as though, with every positive emotion they showed about his career progression, the more Saem felt able to be happy for himself. He wonders if he’d been wrong about everything, if his parents wanted nothing but his happiness, no matter where that came from...

No, surely not. There are limits, and that is surely theirs.

[besaem]

[ a romantic gesture ] 

𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐀𝐄​:

eunae’s only a tad bit surprised when she finds out that saem too likes to sing and play piano. it makes sense now why her parents arranged this; they have something in common. she pauses for a moment, reflecting on his question. “like to play or like to listen to?” she asks, quirking her brow. “honestly, i’ll give anything a chance as long as it doesn’t make my ears bleed,” she chuckles, answering her own question. “i suppose it’s a lot to ask for these days, though,” the pianist remarks grimly, knowing that there’s been a genre shift in popular music to favor more noisy music.  “right now i’m focused more on performance, but with the program i’m in i get to do a bit of both.” 

she opts for a water, not being a big drinker herself. she watches as the waiter departs, wondering how long it’ll take for them to be back with their glasses. eunae realizes she’s a bit hungry and hasn’t even really taken a good look at the menu yet. however, saem’s surprising confession snaps her out of her stupor. 

“a funeral home?” she asks, curiously. she’s never met anyone who works such a grim, dark occupation. “that’s interesting,” eunae says, leaning a bit forward in her seat. death doesn’t bother her much, she’s not squeamish. “i assume since it’s a family business your parents want you to take it over eventually, right?” she questions the other, already guessing at the answer saem will give. she too feels the burden of parents who want their child to follow in their footsteps. 

“Both.” Saem replies. He’d always been an avid fan of classical music, thanks to growing up with parents how liked it, and how often he had to play or dance to it. He’d come to find it comforting, in a way—a reminder of the things he loved. As Eunae speaks, he wonders what his life would have been like were he have been able to pursue music the way she is. Perhaps he could have become a concert pianist, or a ballet dancer; both his teachers had told him he’d have been good enough to do either. Yet he’d been loyal to his family and stuck to their plan of him going to work for them. In some way, it was a relief to know he had a job lined up after he graduated high school, but he did sometimes think it would’ve been nice to stay with people his own age as they went through university and found themselves for themselves. 

“I would have liked to do that, I think. I really enjoyed learning to play when I was younger, that and ballet-” He cuts himself off as he realises he perhaps shouldn’t have shared that. He’d found, in the past, that some people weren’t too pleased with boys who did ballet. They didn’t think it manly enough. If this be the straw that breaks the camels back, so to say, then it’d be somewhat harder to confess to his parents, than were it something they understood. They’d never really understood why ballet meant so much to Saem, nor why he wanted to do it so much, but they’d accepted it, for which he was forever grateful. It had been one thing that got him through his youth with more light than the dark which surrounded him now. 

“Yes, they do. Well, they’d like my brother and I to co-own, I think. I’m a lot better at dealing with the families than he is. He doesn’t have the required... sensitivity.” He doesn’t like to speak ill of his brother—even though they aren’t close, and he barely knows more than the surface level facts about him, he’s still his brother. “It wasn’t necessarily my dream, as you can imagine, but my parents have been generous enough to give me a future right out of school, and I aim to repay them for all they’ve done for me.”

[besaem]

[ tunnel vision ]

𝐘𝐔𝐉𝐈​:

yuji files away the owed favor in the back of her mind. she’ll come collect, eventually; when she feels the need to, or when she’s tired of holding it over saem’s head, in a way. she won’t deny the rush of power it gives her, and she smiles– pleased, with a nod. “should i not be on your side? you haven’t really given me a reason to be.” other than be mildly annoying while drunk, but yuji can’t fault him for that. “who knows, it could change.” she says vaguely, shoulders shaking slightly with mirth. “just kidding.” maybe. she doesn’t know saem well enough to know if he’ll 100% be in the clear, but she’ll give him the benefit of the doubt for now. 

yuji blinks at him quickly, momentarily thrown off. hums as her head tilts to the side, studying him quietly. “do you only listen to classical?” she asks, curious, though mildly surprise. it’s not weird to hear, per se– just, surprising. everyone has their preferences though. “i could give you a few? i listen to a lot of stuff…” music is so vast, especially amidst the industry. even with saem’s preference for classical, there’s surely something that might be similar. 

was it different in lime? not really. yuji purses her lips. “a change of scenery, i guess.” she goes with. “plus at the end of my probationary, sr media offered me a contract to come to them instead of lime. and i have friends there.” she doesn’t think about daeun, who had been a lifeline in lime only to leave. yuji doesn’t blame her, but it certainly made suffering in lime a lot more difficult than it needed to be. “i don’t really…think it’s much different? we spend a lot more effort on acting and making sure performance wise we look good, though. that wasn’t really pushed at lime.” her arms cross, shifting her weight from one side to another. “though lime didn’t do…much with me there, either. not sure if that was because i was on probationary or not, but sr media is a lot more harder on me than lime was.” she’s not sure what she prefers, lime’s passiveness or sr media’s need for perfection it seems. both have it’s pros and cons. 

yuji feels a bit peeved at saem’s confession, eyes narrowing slightly as she stares at him. he got an audition at studio delta and nailed it? enough for them to offer him a contract? a part of her feels ugly with jealousy that it’s him and not her, but yuji pushes it aside, instead gives a long hum and exhales through her nose. “you’ve really never thought about? which company you’d like more?” yuji asks, disbelieving. “not that that’s…wrong. just a little…” she shrugs a shoulder. “weird.”

Saem knows he’s not exactly what people expect of an idol trainee, and especially not a Studio Delta one—he’s driven, hard-working, a perfectionist in many ways, but he’s not cool, nor is he very well kept up to date with current music. He feels it’s currently one of his greatest flaws. How can he expect to ‘get good’ when he doesn’t know who he should be looking up to, or what if expected of him in the industry right now. When he was younger, he’d had more of an eye on the groups of the time, since that part of him that kept dreaming was still very much alive, despite him trying to strangle the life out of it. He’d had his favourites, and the people he wanted to be like, but these days, those artists aren’t as visible, or as active, and new groups have taken their place in the limelight and he needs to know who they are, what they sound like, and how to be as successful as them. To do that, he needs to know where to look, and yet he’s not sure who to ask. 

He hadn’t, that is, until Yuji popped back up and though he already owes her for helping him once, he wonders if she’d be willing again, since she doesn’t seem too disapproving of him even after having to save him from possible legal reprimand. “I just expected you might not be too pleased at me for having let myself get so... woefully disorganised, to the point I lost count of how many pockets I had and failed to check them all.” There’s a lighthearted smile tugging on the corner of his lips. The situation, now so long ago, seems somewhat humours, now that he thinks about it. It had been entirely not funny at the time, when he’d been inebriated and panicking. 

“My parents mainly listened to classical, and trot, and since trot never really appealed to me, I clung to classical much more. I did ballet and learnt the piano, so classical music really was mostly what I engaged with, so it’s certainly a comfort to me, in some ways. But I did have more of an interest in popular music when I was a teen, until I gave up on my dream, that is.” Engaging in something that reminded him of what he could never have hurt too much, at the time, he recalls. “I’d really appreciate it. I’m not sure where to start. I hear people listening to things... but I’ve not gotten up the courage to ask any of them what they’re listening to, yet.” 

“I’ve not been around long enough to really know what Studio Delta’s like. I know there’s a lot of emphasis on production and the backend of the music pipeline, which, since I’ve not gotten a look at before, is very interesting.” Her question makes Saem pause and think about back when he’d indulged a little more in his dream. “I wanted to be an idol when I was younger, but my family always expected me to work for the family business, so I never really seriously considered it enough to think about what company I’d want to aim for. When I was scouted at the beginning of the year, I’d completely put the desire to be an idol out of my mind, and I didn’t think I’d pass, so I just thought I might as well do it just to see what happened. It sort of ignited that old flame in me though, and now... well I’m clinging to this like a lifeline.”

[besaem]

𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐔𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ! 𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝟸 𝚂𝙾𝙻𝙾

𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 // 𝙾𝙽𝙴-𝙾𝙽-𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝚁𝙴𝚅𝙸𝙴𝚆 Saem talks about his month of boxing with a coach … 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 921 words

Saem had never considered himself a particularly weak person, neither emotionally nor physically. He’d moved through everyday life with as little concern for his strength as he had for whether he was truly happy or not. There were just some things that rarely, if ever, crossed his mind. So, when he’d found himself in his first boxing class, proving himself far weaker than he’d thought he was, he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. He’d never had any real desire to be muscular, never really thought about his physique past being healthy and keeping in relatively good shape, but now, as he attempts to navigate learning to box, he realises his arms are just a tad skinny.

However, a month in, and after diligently practising and improving, Saem shrugs on a jacket of his that previously fit him perfectly and finds it’s a little tight in the shoulders and biceps. At first, he’s irritated—he’ll have to get it tailored to fit properly, if it’s even possible; taking something in is far easier than letting it out. But it gets him thinking about the visible effects of his hard work. He spends a while staring at his arms in the mirror that night, wondering if they look bigger than they did a month ago. It’s hard to tell, when he so rarely focuses on that part of his appearance—usually his attention is focused solely on his face. He’d ask Sarang, but he doesn’t want to sound like he’s fishing for compliments; if he’s lacking in something, it certainly isn’t compliments. So, he resigns himself to simply thinking that perhaps he’d gotten stronger. 

The proof lies in how well he does in the gym, and how something that had, at first, been irritatingly difficult, had become, in a way, pleasurable. He finds his time in the gym, working out with the instructor with the hook and jab pads, the speed ball, and the punchbag, to be strangely relaxing. He’s able to open his mind and think about nothing other than where the next swing of the pad will come from, when he’ll have to change his footing or use more force. While he’s not entirely sure that he’s a boxing kind of person, working out turns out to be a lot more enjoyable than he’d anticipated. So much so that Saem considers what he’ll do after the month is over and he can, if he wants, stop the boxing lessons. Perhaps he’ll pick up something else, or begin working out regularly on the workout equipment. It can’t hurt to put on a little more muscle, he thinks. 

The end of the month had begun to signify something, rather than nothing, in Saem’s life. Each month’s end was a time to reflect on how he’d improved himself that month, whether in skills, body, or mind. As he sits with the coach who’d been overseeing his progress, he recalls his last evaluation and how the feedback had left him feeling, for the most part, positive. He’s not sure how he’d meant to measure his progress this time, however, as he’d never boxed before that month began. He’d not measured his biceps before the month, so he can’t very well compare measurements and see how much muscle he’d grown, and base his progress off of that. Changing in any way is, largely, a foreign concept to Saem. He’d always been the same, always overachieving, always striving to be the best and make his parents proud of him in anything he did, even the little things. Yet, now, he’s walking a path that he’s not sure they wholly approve of—they surely don’t understand it, and every day he struggles with the thought that they might be disappointed in him and his choices. 

“So, Saem, how was this month for you?” His coach asks. It’s a simple enough question, and yet Saem feels entirely at a loss as to what answer is expected of him. Perhaps he should walk the coach through his thought process; begin at the beginning. 

“I’d never considered that I might not be strong before this month. I certainly wasn’t weak—I had to carry a lot of coffins, and those aren’t light by any means. But, I did lack power in my dancing, and I suppose part of the blame of that can be put on just how... used to dancing gently I am, from my years doing ballet. I’ve got to unlearn a lot of things I thought I knew about dancing, to relearn them a different way, and one of those is, I suppose, putting more power into it. I’m too used to trying to look like a swan, rather than lion.” Saem’s temperament doesn’t exactly suit a lion, either—he’s not confrontational, or argumentative, or hard-headed. He’s a mediator, a negotiator, a calm, cool and collected man of persuasion and charm. He’s got no bark or bite, just a gentle purr. 

“This month showed me that I was lacking in strength. Perhaps in more ways than one. It takes a lot of courage to admit to flaws, yet I can admit I was lacking. I do, however, think I’ve improved; if the fit of my favourite jacket is anything to go by, I’ve gotten a little stronger.” He chuckles, despite the bittersweetness of that fact. “I also found it... relaxing in a way, and I think I’m going to keep working out, whether it be boxing, or something else, I’d like to maintain this newfound strength, and perhaps get even stronger.”

[besaem]

𝐘𝐔𝐉𝐈​:

yuji hums, smiling amusedly at his gesture. she gets it whole-heartedly, and she’s glad he’s at least owning up to it. alcohol gets the best of us. she just hopes he doesn’t do that again– he might actually lose his wallet next time, or something else. humming, she waves a hand around in dismissal– her smile curving a bit sharper. “oh, we’ll figure something out. we’ve got plenty of time.” she’d be fine with a drink or food otherwise, but she’s also okay to holding onto a favor until she needs it. who knows when you’ll need an extra body to help you out in a crunch?

a lot of people have gotten signed lately. she wonders if there was some sort of audition she didn’t hear about– sure, next gen is gearing up for broadcast, but she didn’t remember anything else being announced. “it’s good to have at least someone on your side.” it makes the training a lot more bearable. to have people in a similar position and understanding when you vent out in frustration. “i’m sure you’re cool enough. this is just a competitive industry– they might just be feeling you out.” yuji would do the same thing– has done the same thing before.  “you’ll make a friend, i’m sure. you’re very polite. i don’t see how that wouldn’t appeal to someone.”

yuji hums in thought. “not terribly long. but since…ah…around september?” it was the beginning of the month. “feels like it’s been forever, but it’s really only about half a year.” she snorts, shaking her head. “though i was at lime before sr media. i’ve only been here for half that time.”

Since their unfortunate meeting, Saem had been a little more careful about his alcohol consumption. Partially because he did not want a repeat of that situation, but also because going out clubbing had taken a bit of a backseat in his life over the past few months. What with his injury, that he’s still not entirely emotionally recovered from, and then finding himself, somehow, thrust into a ‘situationship’ with someone. Well, he’d just not thought about heading out into the night to drink away the day and find someone to spend the night with. He already had someone to spend the night with, as dubious as the situation may be. 

“Consider me in you debt for the time being, then.” He should really be apprehensive of this situation—for all he knew Yuji could end up asking something of him that put him in an entirely undesirable situation. He’d just have to wait with baited breath, and put it from his mind until that time comes. “On my side? After how we met? I’m surprised.” He says with a soft chuckle, his smile relaxed as he looks down at Yuji. “I don’t know a lot of the popular music currently. I think that may be getting in my way. If you’ve got any recommendations, please let me know. I’m taking a crash course on new releases. I think my affinity for classical music makes me seem... unappealing, to put it lightly.” Saem simply isn’t like the other trainees—he feels about ten years older than them. Perhaps having already had some sort of a career going, earning a salary and living an entirely adult life, apart from students who are still feeling life out, keeps him apart from them. 

“Any particular reason for changing? Was it much different in Lime?” He’s curious about the other companies, and unsure about voicing his somewhat confusion with being picked by Studio Delta. “What’s SR Media like? Before becoming a trainee I... didn’t think about which company would suit me. I was merely told to audition, so I did. Didn’t think anything would come of it.” Whilst he’d dreamt of this future for himself when he was younger, he’d shoved it aside in favour of what his parents wanted long ago. He barely remembers those daydreamed scenarios he’d clung onto in his younger years, when the future seemed so much brighter.