fmdmoonjin

[fmdmoonjin]

It's with a very heavy heart that I write this as I really tried to make it work, but between health issues and a whole bunch of personal matters, I decided it's best to leave famed instead of hogging a spot someone else could fill much better. It's already been a couple of months since I joined in December, so I just wanted to take a short moment to thank everyone for making my stay here such a memorable one. I love each and all the characters I got to interact with (and those I didn't; those I simply watched on the dash), and the whole universe admin Beth created and everyone breathed life into. Not only did I have a lot of fun plotting and writing with all of you, I also feel like I developed my writing a bit, which I'm also thankful for – and, of course, the lovely people who took the time to talk to me ooc too!

I love you and wish you all the best for the future.

Thank you, famed! ♡

[fmdmoonjin]

Interviews. What used to be the bane of his existence as a public figure has turned into mere routine over the years, and this one isn't even live – it shouldn't be a problem, Moonjin thinks, but still doesn't like it as he takes his place admidst multiple cameras that will capture his expressions from multiple angles, so the producers can later use whatever looks most dramatic, one way or another. The squeaky white surface of the chair looks almost new, like no one had sat on it before him – an impression he knows to be an illusion; fittingly, as that is sure to be a recurring theme throughout Idolized's runtime. Illusions.

If his key value is honesty, what does it say about him that he's chosen an occupation that leaves no room for that? Moonjin refuses to ponder that question as he straightens his shoulders and plasters on a little smile, just enough to lighten up his usually too dark expression, then nods at the manager seated across from him – although no obstacles are blocking his view, he feels the line of cameras dividing them. In front of the camera, where artificial light smooths over his imperfections, he slips into a world of illusions with alarming readiness. (Is he becoming immune to the prick of lies like needles piercing his skin? Who knows – it's not his choice to make anymore.)

What is life as an idol like?  “Life as an idol,” he begins, then pauses shortly to run his tongue along his bottom lip. It isn't dry – he just needs a little time to think, as truthful thoughts drown out those he prepared beforehand, anticipating similar questions, “Is hard to explain in its entirety to people who haven't experienced it, which is, I think, where this show comes in.” A nod to underline his words conveys mild satisfaction – isn't that something the higher-ups would love to hear? Words of support he only partially stands behind, but he hasn't lied so far. “There are a lot of misconceptions about idols. It starts with this: that there seems to be a need for a general definition of 'idol life'. I'd like to place emphasis on the fact that we're all different, and thus our lives are too.” Too negative, Moonjin quickly reprimands himself – too critical. If there is one thing the public dislikes, it's usually being wrong and someone calling attention to that. “Of course some things are similar for all of us. There's the thrill of standing on stage, singing and dancing for people who wholeheartedly cheer us on – there's nothing even remotely comparable to the sound of a hundred people singing along to music you put together in the walls of a studio, unsure of whether or not anyone would even want to listen once it's done. There are strict rules for most of us, as you can find them at many workplaces – it's true that there isn't such a clear line between work and home in our job, but on the other hand, we have other liberties that certain professions may not offer. In the end, I think it's important to keep in mind that it's just that: a job. It doesn't define who I am as a person, but how I do my job just might.”

What are the hardships? Not usually much of a talker unless the situation calls for it, like when conflict arises in the dorm or anything of the sort, Moonjin finds himself exhausted of being the only one to speak after barely having answered one question, and adjusts his legs until they are in a 90 degree angle to the floor – an attempt to ground himself, perhaps, though it's mostly an excuse to move his muscles that are quickly getting stiff. “It's not always easy.” Typical – he avoids admitting that it's hard under any circumstances, in front of everyone, at all times. “Sometimes, things don't go as planned. Personally, I struggle most when I get sick or injured, which, luckily, isn't all that often – I don't want to miss schedules I was graciously invited to, and I don't ever want to let the members down. As a leader, I strive to be a support system they can fall back on whenever they need it, so when I can't do that, it's hard. It's the same for the fans too – as they're all precious to me, I'm always hoping I won't disappoint them with what I do, but sometimes, things are out of my hands. I wish they wouldn't blame themselves when we don't win first place on a music show, for example. It's not their fault for not voting enough, streaming enough, or anything – wouldn't I have to work harder instead, to put out better music next time?” A lot of things are left unmentioned: nights spent at practice rooms, dancing until his legs give out beneath him; in studios, jotting down notes until there are dents in his fingers and the shadows under his eyes are as dark as the ink on the pages. He doesn't mention the distance between him and all things not compatible with his lifestyle: former friends, his family, the vague possibility of romance, like he's forgotten those were once a part of him at all. He leaves out how odd it is to look in the mirror and not know oneself: who is he changing into, and is he still okay with it? Will he still be able to look at himself in five years, in ten? They don't know who he once was – they don't have to know.

What is rewarding?  His smile turns more genuine with that question, the thought alone enough to return a gleam of excitement to his eyes – his passion for the job prevails through all hardships they face, unbreakable, unchanged. “As I briefly touched upon earlier, the most rewarding moments are always interactions with fans. Of course I love making music, even if no one else listens to it in the end. There are a lot of songs I've written that I doubt I'll ever release, but I'm just as passionate about them as any others. It's rewarding in itself to have that final result – when a rough idea turns into a song.” Purposely looking at the camera for a brief moment, almost as if his gaze flickered over the person watching, even though no one is, yet (except for the camera crew), Moonjin pauses before elaborating. “It's always touching to meet our fans, whether it's at concerts or anywhere else – I couldn't have imagined what it feels like when they prepare events for you, if you had asked me years ago. They're usually at the end of a concert, but I end up feeling more revitalized than I could after weeks of vacation.” Only the partial truth, granted, but he is content with not having told a blatant lie so far – these are the little things he clings to, bases his integrity on. “Fan letters, too. Having our fans allow us a glance into their world and realizing that we might have impacted it in some way with what we do is still overwhelming, no matter how many I receive. A personal goal of mine, in the end, is to be someone our fans can rely on – I may not always be able to answer posts in the fancafe or anything of the sort, but I hope they know I make songs with them in mind. That I really see them when they cheer for us, and feel connected to them as people when they talk to us, whether that's through comments or in person.”

How would you feel if your future child wanted to be an idol?  Although it's not a question that surprises him, Moonjin hasn't given it much thought before, for the very simple reason that having children of his own still seems so far off, he deems it impractical to hypothesize about it. Maybe he'll never have any – then all the time spent thinking about that possible future would have been for naught. However, it's not up to him to decide this time around, so he blinks once, twice, his features impassive in their rigid politeness – untelling. “If my child ever told me they wanted to be an idol too, I think that first of all, as a father, I'd be proud to have done good enough of a job to have them wish to pursue the same career.” A light chuckle tumbles from his lips, too perfectly timed to be completely sincere, but it isn't all fake either. It's only that he has a hard time not being all too businesslike as soon as he's on his own, yet with a thousand eyes on him. “I'd want to sit them down and tell them, in detail, what being an idol entails – it's an important choice for their future, after all, so I'd want them to be a hundred percent sure about it. As a child, we often dream of paths to take that look cool in the moment, but as you grow older and think about it in greater depth, it doesn't fit your interests as much anymore. Therefore, I'd definitely want to make sure my child knows what being an idol is all about – that it's hard work too, unlike going to a karaoke room with friends once a week, if they only enjoy singing, for example. First, maybe we could reach a compromise – they could take vocal or dance lessons and start there, and if at any point they get sick of it, they can stop and do something else instead. But if they truly wish to pursue that dream in the end, knowing all about it and having gained those experiences, I'd support them wholeheartedly and proudly.” The smile that spreads across his cheeks at that is distant, his eyes slightly glazed over, as he ends up imagining the impractical anyway, despite his prior reluctance.

Do you think the words “artist” and “idol” mean the same thing? A sigh threatens to spill from his lips at that question, for he's witnessed it being discussed over and over again, and every single time anew, someone got riled up over it eventually. To Moonjin, it is but gum that has lost its taste he is told to keep chewing anyway – and chew he does, obediently, with a drawn out hum to mask his disinterest as pensiveness. “I think 'artist' and 'idol' mean very different things, honestly, but it really depends on one's definition of 'artist'. Being an idol could be seen as an art in itself, which would then make every idol an artist, but not every artist an idol.” A shrug entirely too nonchalant for so engaging a topic is habitual, yet the moment Moonjin notices his mistake, he tries to make up for it with a good-natured grin. “An idol, I think, is someone who performs on stage like we do – singing and dancing; the whole package of visual and auditory concepts, the results of weeks or months of practice. An artist, in the typical sense, is someone who writes their own music and doesn't rely on anything but their music, I suppose?” His tone of voice is questioning now, uncertain. Freedom, he wants to say – freedom's the difference between the two, but his manager's gaze is watchful and more than one pair of eyes is trained on him, so he swallows it back.

Are there sides to you your fans don’t see? “I think there are a lot of sides I didn't get the chance to show my fans yet, as I have to admit that I have a hard time focusing on anything but performing and giving them a good show when I'm on stage.” Another half-truth, at best – there are always a hundred thoughts whirling around his head at once; he simply chooses to push them aside and concentrate on what's truly important, one thing at a time, and usually, being professional is at the top of his list during public events. “Of course there are fansigns and we've been on shows before, but none quite like this, right?” Honestly, that's a mandatory comment for every show – praise it as novel, something no one had seen before, to lure in people who might not be die-hard fan enough to watch everything they're on. “Wouldn't this be the perfect chance to get to know the person 'Ahn Moonjin'? Without the spotlight and all.” Wouldn't it indeed? It's not a question he needs to answer – it won't, not really; of course it won't.

What do you hope viewers will see through the airing of this show? “Above all, I hope viewers won't see me as boring while watching this show.” Albeit he makes sure to chuckle after that sentence, it comes a second too late to hide the fact that there's genuine worry behind it – he is boring, so what is there to show? Ahn Moonjin, not moving as he sits in front of a computer in a studio for hours on end. Truly suspenseful entertainment right there. “I'd like it if they saw that I'm just human too – not just Impulse's leader, but also a fan of other artists, a friend, a family member. Those things. I believe I haven't done much of a good job of showing any of that so far.” And he never wanted to – still doesn't, quite frankly, but he doesn't know what else to name. Hope is beyond him at this point; it's going to be part of his work, this show, and one he has already accepted he won't enjoy very much, that's all there is to it. Even someone who values honesty as much as him knows he can't say that, though, so he simply nods it off and moves on.

What do you hope you’ll get out of the experience of the show? Are there any other groups or idols you hope to get the chance to meet more through the show? That one is different; mostly because he hasn't prepared himself for it and thus doesn't have an answer ready. Typical – Moonjin has always liked thinking things through before speaking, and though he's learned that that simply isn't possible at times, he takes the liberty to bide his time now, while he still can. Later, they can edit out this part and pretend it never happened. “Ideally, I'd like to think it will help me get closer to my fans by sharing my day to day life with them. Because I never remember to be as active as others on social media, I think this show is a great chance for that.” A lie, the first one he can't deny, and he feels it settling like a weight pushing down on his chest – regret is immediate and inevitable. Good. He hasn't gotten used to it yet. “There are quite a few other idols I'd be happy to meet through this show. Some of you may not know, but MARS' Rise and I are actually quite close, so wouldn't it be nice if our two groups got together at some point?” It wouldn't, not really, not with all the unknown variables a lot of the other members are, but the mention of Minseok causes Moonjin's expression to brighten yet again despite himself. “Of course I'd be honored to work with much respected seniors like Decipher, especially as I'm on good terms with both Duri and Haejun.” Whereas their friendships had initially been a farce, both of them, he supposes 'on good terms' is still fairly accurate (and vague enough). “As for groups I haven't had the chance to interact with much so far,” he begins, then trails off as his brow furrows – which group would be okay to name? No girls, no groups with a bad reputation, and none Impulse is already tied to one way or another – that doesn't leave very many options. “Dimensions Entertainment's newest addition, Jin's debut really caught my attention, so I'd be happy if I got a chance to meet him in person through the show.”

How do you feel about the upcoming Hallyu Triple Fantasy Concert in Jeju City? “I'm excited about the upcoming Hallyu Triple Fantasy Concert in Jeju City, of course.” That one, he doesn't have to think about very hard, and neither is there a need to lie. The realist in him knows that he'll be half dead after that, as he's already been working himself to the bone lately and giving him further reason to surely wasn't going to do him any good, but his survival instincts have always lost to his passion, and would continue to do so for years to come, he's sure. “It's such a big event, and I'm always humbled to get the chance to perform at such a venue alongside these amazing artists. We're diligently preparing, so please look forward to that as much as we do!” For the enthusiasm, he does have to make an effort, for that has never come naturally to him – he simply isn't very expressive; not unless one knows to pay attention to the subtleties, but most cameras fail to even catch those.

Do you have any worries about being followed by cameras for the show? “I'm not particularly worried about being followed by cameras throughout the filming period,” Moonjin says with characteristic quiet firmness, meant to leave no room for doubt where plenty of it is due. “I don't have anything to hide, so what's there to be worried about?” His eyes crease with another broader smile, though by now he himself is no longer sure if he means it. “As I mentioned earlier, I'm more worried about not having anything to show, rather than something I don't want to show.” The sad part is that that much is true – he has his secrets, but none that would be hard to keep, even with cameras following in his shadows.

The end of the interview leaves him with a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach – when an illusion is lifted, it's sobering, but not always in a good way. The lines between the person he is and the role he's playing are blurring gradually, and he doubts the show is going to help with that. With a deep breath, he reminds himself of how great of an opportunity it is for Impulse to gain a little more support, solely by being themselves – hard-working and authentic –, then finally gets up and bows to all members of the staff. “You've worked hard.”

[fmdmoonjin]

Making a playlist for strangers – and the whole world of them, at that – proved a more difficult task than Moonjin had assumed at first, setting aside a thirty minute time slot to pick out songs and get it over with. (It takes him 200, in the end.)

Rather than simply listing music he can be found listening to most often, he focuses on what he wants people out there, his fans or not, to hear, and goes from there. He's telling a story – his and theirs and everyone's, to a certain extent, but exclusively on a surface level; nothing too personal, and most definitely nothing to spark rumors. It does reflect his music taste anyway, though; calm and soothing songs outweighing all others, as his preference of what isn't loud and flashy in his private life is already well-known as it is.

01. GLAM – In Front Of The Mirror It's an older song, one he first heard when his sister sent it to him (going through puberty, his now older self knows), but he believes it's one everyone can identify with to a certain extent, or at least in those moments of insecurity that he thinks no one is quite immune to. Personally, it reminds him of 2012, the time after his little world had come crashing down – not necessarily fond memories that resurface, but an important part of him nonetheless.

02. Origin – Hold Me Tight Frankly, the main reason he decides to add an Origin song is that he's sick and tired of the talk surrounding them, labeling them as eternal rivals, painting a picture of archenemies he sees as nothing but ridiculous and somewhat bothersome – hence this little attempt to show support and that he really doesn't harbor a grudge against them.

03. Lyra – Knees Prone to bouts of insomnia himself, the lyrics resonate with him especially on late nights – sleepless, restless. Lyra has accomplished a fine feat, he thinks, making it possible for everyone to find themselves in these gentle notes and get comforted by the simple fact that they aren't ever alone with their worries. Another, lesser reason for including it in his playlist is the fact that Gold Star has been pushing for the two to become friends (at least to the public) recently, and him showing his appreciation in this way is playing right into their hands.

04. Lee Haeri – Paper Star's Dream Personal though it may seem at first, Moonjin doesn't (can't) directly relate the song to himself – not that he particularly yearns to either. However, he's fond of the message it conveys, of the hopefulness in its buildup, and includes it in hopes of it touching at least one person's heart. It's part of the story he's telling – of falling down and rising up.

05. Duri – The Dreamer (I Am A Dreamer) A personal favorite, this song does resonate with him, but for the most part, it's an important addition to the journey he's taking with this playlist. Even for someone as pragmatic and rational as Moonjin, the importance of dreams and dreamers has always been plain to see, and he hopes to encourage everyone who may listen to these songs to follow theirs. Here, he thinks of late 2012 and the second home he found in Gold Star.

06. Gal.actic – Glow  Unsurprisingly the only Dimensions artist in his playlist, Moonjin chooses Gal.actic as the one group he doesn't hold any particular dislike for. While he considered a MARS song too, since he monitored their releases because his affection for Minseok was stronger than his negative feelings towards certain other members, he eventually decided against it. Gal.actic are equipped with undeniable talent, so he settles on a song he believes showcases that that fits the theme he's going for in general (and firmly ignores the twinge of regret Daeun's voice still brings).

07. Crucial Star feat. Babylon – You Can Rest In Moonjin's case, the lyrics are directed at both his family (his mother, mostly) and his friends, who he knows have invested more in him than he, perhaps, deserved, especially those he made during his trainee days at Gold Star. It's bigger than that, though, bigger than his personal shortcomings he's looking back on – it's a general issue, one all too many people have, the inequality of give and take in a relationship of any kind, and that's what he's really trying to address.

08. Taeyong – Contrail  Yet another song Moonjin felt the whole world could be able to relate to, if only they stopped to listen, really listen, and think – undisturbed by the many, many impressions the outside world bombards them with almost every second of their lives. They've all been young once, he as much as anyone, and they're all still in a process of growing and growing up – everyone, no matter their age. So he adds it and hopes to make someone listen and think. Just once.

09. DIARY (Doe solo) – Be Calm Musically his style with lyrics he finds himself relating to before he knows it, this is a song he's become attached to from the first time he listened to it and thus wanted to share. His motive isn't as deep as wanting to be understood and hoping to achieve that through songs, but he does view it as a means of communication, and he does want this list to represent him in one way or another, after all.

10. Krr – South  Another personal favorite, and another song that says a little too much about him if one pays enough attention, but Moonjin doubts that people will – not that they'd know how to interpret it, anyway. The song makes him think of all he's left behind, of friends he's lost for his own selfish reasons, specifically those he left behind at Dimensions, and shows, perhaps, what little hope he has left of starting over at some point. Not through this show, he believes – how would such a thing truly be possible on camera? –, but if any fans were to come to that conclusion (or conspiracy theory, really, for his strict cut with his former trainee friends wasn't public knowledge), he wouldn't mind either. It would make for good publicity, and though he hates lying and playing roles, Impulse are in need of some.

11. Element – Trust Me Though how proud he is of Mina and Benjy certainly played a role in the selection of this song, it's not it's sole reason of being on the list. Personally, it's a song that makes him think of Impulse above all, the family that's most present in his life, but for this one too, he believes everyone has that one group of people or person in particular they can relate it to, or at least a time in their lives that they could. It's soft, mellow, but not hopeless – a perfect fit.

12. Kassy – Listen To This Song There's little need to explain this song, he thinks, as the lyrics do a fine job of that on their own. On this playlist, it's dedicated to his fans, of course, but also anyone else who might be in need of a little comforting – and really, who isn't?

13. Song Jieun – It's Alright Whereas the previous song was directed more at fans and viewers of the show, this one he includes while thinking of all his fellow artists, for it's one thing he deems important to keep in mind as they all walk down the same rocky road as him – it's alright; you've worked hard.

14. Kim Jinho – People Yet another personal favorite, Moonjin originally thought this song would be a nice way to round off this little story of his, until he remembered the nature of the show and added a few more, but it does serve as a sort of summary anyway. That, and the subtle emphasis on the fact that they, as idols, aren't very different from any other person in any other profession out there – people just the same behind all the glitz and glamour.

15. Akdong Musician – Will Last Forever When he thought hard about what could make him interesting on the show, he came to the conclusion that it would most likely be interactions with people he once trained alongside and shared his dreams with but lost – everyone at Dimensions, most certainly, but maybe also Origin members. Really, this song works for all lost friendships and he thinks it should be easy to empathize with as any listener, but he also hopes it will make people curious about interactions they might see between him and other artists they know he must have known at some point.

16. Lipstick – Light Up The Sky While looking for a song to end his playlist on a positive note with, he came across this one and found it quite fitting in the way it easily ties into the previous one and possibly conveys a hopefulness he isn't really feeling but wishes to portray these following weeks anyway, if only to give people something to talk about, the production company something to show.

[fmdmoonjin]

fmdtokki:

summer holidays in busan rattled ilwoo as he pulled out a folded sheet of cloth from a kitchen drawer and started to dry the dishes moonjin set aside on the rack. he remembered dodging chores by rushing out of the house before his family finished dinner. excuses lined up: “i have baseball practice! i’m going to study at the library. mina’s halmeoni needs help with something!” any chance for escape, for freedom, ilwoo blindly grasped at it. that wasn’t the case with moonjin. chores remained troublesome, but he wasn’t going to bail on his best-friend. moonjin needed him to dry dishes, so he’d wipe away each speck of water with a cheery smile on his face. nothing was ever too much of a nuisance if moonjin asked for help. ilwoo would drop all on his platter and react without hesitation.

“we’ll do it together if you remember, hyung.” unsaid, i won’t leave you hanging. even it meant scrubbing the toilet. best-friends did what they could for one another. what ilwoo had with moonjin was beyond simple camaraderie something more, something greater. otherworldly, celestial. ilwoo couldn’t put his finger on it, but he was certain their friendship was unconditional and everlasting.

opportune breaks from bustling idol life was treasured time. although, neither did anything grand, ilwoo was thankful for the leisurely pace. nothing forced or unnatural. a stroll in the park, cherry blossom petals dancing and scattered at their feet. a steady walk, no one in a hurry—to end.

in moonjin, ilwoo found serenity. with moonjin, ilwoo slowed down and appreciated the small things. from the tiniest ladybug resting on a daisy to a caterpillar nibbling away on an askew leaf. if anyone were to ask how ilwoo spent his time off, he would proudly declare, ‘doing housework with moonjin hyung!’ the most ideal of ways.

“but maybe we should have washed the dishes after eating.” chuckles spilled while ilwoo dried a stubby glass. squeaking sounds chorused. “we do have leftover kimchi jjigae, right?” a hearty meal after a productive morning was what they both needed to unwind and maybe truly catch up.

Peace was hard to find in the life they lived, the life they had chosen for themselves – separately and at different times, traveling down roads that started and ended at the same place but didn't intersect a single time along the way (it felt like something more than luck, yet Moonjin didn't know what else to call it, as he refused to believe in a notion as unjust, as unsatisfying as fate). When schedules kept them busy day and night until he forgot what it felt like to have his skin kissed by the sun's soothing light while artificial brightness illuminated practice rooms, studios, and stages, could there really be such a thing?

Peace was precisely this: pink rubber gloves that would never quite fit him, even if they were the perfect size, over his fingers as he focused on so mundane a task, it required very little concentration while still providing a sufficient reason not to occupy himself with anything else. It was the sound of the vacuum cleaner and creases disappearing under his touch as he made beds that weren't his. It was early mornings as much as it was late nights, for it could be anything – anything at all. Peace was Ilwoo, and Moonjin had long since stopped questioning the effects he had on him.

Instead, he revered in the moment with his best friend beside him (he always was, in one way or another, but not like this), a natural smile a constant on his features, like he wasn't weighed down by the burdens he put on his own shoulders most days. A chuckle came easily as he shook his head and tilted the last plate to check if he had overlooked anything before holding it out towards the other. “Right. But cleaning up after only us two shouldn't take long, so we can see this as our chores ending for the day this way?”, he offered, a gleam of contentment almost uncharacteristic to his usually so stern demeanor in the sideway glance he threw Ilwoo before opting to start setting the table. (Even in situations like this, Moonjin couldn't easily bring himself to stand idle while there were things to do.)

“Now we can concentrate on the good part instead – which is leftover kimchi jjigae.” Amusement swam in his voice and Moonjin made no effort to hide it – there were to masks to wear around Ilwoo, not now or ever. “Unless you'd like something else. I'm sure I could whip something up. Somehow.” The emphasis on that last word was almost comical, delivered with slightly raised brows and a pointed look at the fridge – even the best cook would have had a hard time putting together a decent menu with what little they had. (No one had had the time to go grocery shopping in a while. It was understandable. That didn't mean Moonjin wouldn't make anything possible if it was for Ilwoo.)

[fmdmoonjin]

fmdsilver:

hope had always been an easy concept for daeun to grasp. no matter how much bad was going on in her life, it had always been easy for daeun to hold onto hope that things would turn around. so when moonjin first brushed her off, she told herself he just needed time. a lot was happening and he needed time to adjust. and she was willing to give him that time. but as time went on, she eventually gave up on the hope that she would get him back. they would forever be stuck in silence, avoiding each other’s gaze, shying away from an interactions. 

who knew if this conversation would even lead anywhere? while she wanted  to regain that sense of hope, part of daeun was tired of being disappointed and was assuming the worst. what if he hadn’t asked to talk to her to apologize? what if his explanation led to nothing more than resentment?

she knew no one would miss her as she slipped away into an unoccupied room with moonjin. people were used to her getting distracted and wandering off, almost like a puppy. daeun looked expectedly up at him as he began talking, hoping her expression remained neutral. she wanted to forgive him instantly, because that’s the type of person daeun was. but over the years, she learned that second, third, fourth chances had a habit of leading to heart break. she wasn’t sure how much of that she could take anymore.

“i’ve never been mad at you for closing up or turning away,” she admitted. maybe she didn’t completely understand what was happening in his mind, but she understood that distance helped when dealing with something. “i just didn’t think it would be forever. or at least as long as it was. it just hurt to know that i was that disposable.” she had to pause to swallow the lump in her throat and stop the tears that were threatening to fall. “i didn’t think there would be a time in your life where you decided that things would be better if i wasn’t around.”

despite her words, she reached out and placed a hand on moonjin’s arm. “i really missed you.”

Out of all the things Moonjin had done and gone through over the years, this moment was, surprisingly, among the worst – or perhaps that wasn't surprising at all, for the abundance of love he carried within himself had always been both his biggest strength and eternal downfall. With Daeun, it was almost like he was reverting back to the person he had been back then, back before he had willed, had forced, himself to change to adapt to their environment. Even more than he could ever be or had been, she had always been kind and soft, and he couldn't possibly hate himself more for harming instead of protecting that inherent goodness she possessed. (It was admirable how little she appeared to have let the world change her – a sign of strength he wished he'd had.)

A sigh slipped past his lips – not exasperated or annoyed, more like he was trying to breathe away pain, though he'd long since learned that that didn't work for emotional wounds – and he was quick to shake his head. “Please don't think that,” he said, voice now lower as though he was sharing a secret, whereas in truth, it was the only way not to sound too emotional when he had no right to be. “You were never disposable.”

His teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he paused to gather himself, to find words that would be able to make sense of what had been going on in his head throughout the time they hadn't spoken, but that was the point – it made no sense; not in retrospect, at least, not anymore. “I cut everyone out, all at once. No exceptions. No matter how wrong it felt, I thought it was necessary. That I couldn't get hurt if no one was around.” Nonsense was the only word that kept floating around in his head – it was nonsense, like a child refusing to sleep ever again because they worried there could be a monster under their bed. “But that didn't work. It just left me with a void I couldn't fill, no matter how hard I tried.”

There – that was it. A truth he had withheld for years, from everyone, one among many that had stacked up over time, yet it came easily now, no hesitation. Perhaps it was because it was Daeun, because he remembered all too vividly a time he hadn't kept any secrets from her, or maybe it was because this was the least he could offer – if nothing else, he owed her this. With her hand on his arm, he almost reached out to hug her, but stopped short for fear of overwhelming, of pushing her, and instead simply placed a hand on her shoulder. (An odd picture they must have made, no doubt, but he was far too focused to notice.)

“I don't think there was a single moment I didn't miss you.” Habitual honesty, as if he'd never learned to hide his weaknesses – Daeun was a memory of a time he'd had no fear, and he was slipping back into it all too easily. (Still soft. Still weak.)

╾ divided

[fmdmoonjin]

fmdxnana:

Time slowed down, she always thought that she would be prepared to see him again. She wasn’t, her mind was off somewhere else while she kept seldom smile on her face. Not as bright as the other guests and MCs. To viewers, she was the same old ice princess minhee. Just one good thing about being known as such, doesn’t have to act so cheerful all the time. Helps her with her brooding about the past.  All the good times they had, their first kiss, raw deep moments, then it came to a stop. He just - became distant. Slowly they saw each other less and less, later ending their relationship.

If it wasn’t for her youngest member letting her know that a break was announced, she would still be sitting there, dazed out. Clinging on to the other’s arm, being guided through the halls as she was also like many others were exhausted. Coffee wasn’t really an option, as she already had a large cup and was sure that if she consumed anymore she’ll be travelling through time.

Mumbling a goodbye as the other female left to get coffee. She was alone with her thoughts. A part of her wanted to find Moonjin. To at least speak to him, the first man she ever truly loved with all her heart. But what exactly could they talk about? 

Texting back a friend whom texted her while her phone was off. Hearing the dressing room door open, she didn’t look up, figuring it was her member coming back. Eyebrows furrowed when a familiar old voice greeted her. Just like that, the past began to replay. So many memories, the heartbreak, the wounds now slowly beginning to bleed. Should she talk to him? If she does perhaps it’ll finally give her ‘closure’ on as to why they ended. “I-…yes, we can talk.”

The smile that mercifully graced his features to mask the uncertainty beneath was weak at best, for whereas he had vowed to make changes that year and confronting his past had been among them, it was always easier said than done. Memories were a deceitful thing, tricking him into believing things could be different between them right now, if only he had fought a little harder, if only he had been a little stronger – if only. But the truth remained, hard and bitter, that the boy she'd loved was no more and would never be again.

For a moment, he actually had to remind himself what he had initiated the conversation for, because the look she gave him and the words she offered struck a chord within him that threw him off momentarily, his thoughts a tangled mess. An explanation – that was what he had come to give her, yet he didn't even know where to start. “It's good to see you,” slipped from his lips instead, and he almost flinched at how wrong that sounded to his ears, despite it being the truth.

“I realized I wasn't fair to you,” he was quick to continue therefore, before he got even more lost in himself, “Back then.” His gaze was uncharacteristically soft as it rested on her – an old habit, perhaps –, and he didn't hesitate to be open with her. If anyone was to be trusted, wasn't it Minhee, who had held his heart and kept it safe for years, who had had a million opportunities to hurt him and never did? (In the end, it had been him.)

“About the things that made me pull back – about why I changed.” So he told her now, started where he had left off back then – back when he had almost become a member of Alien. His tone of voice was calm as he told her about the phone call he had received, alerting him of the accident his best friend had supposedly been in, about how he had completely forgotten the final evaluation in his worry and panic and had instead ran to the hospital on foot – about how it had all been a lie to get him to miss the decisive moment at the company, and all his trainee friends had been in on it. There, he paused for a second, as if contemplating whether he should go on, but he did, eventually. After having come this far, it was only right to go all the way – so he also told her about how it had changed him and his view of the world, how bitter and distrustful it had made him, and, finally, how it had led him to believe it would be best to distance himself from everyone – absolutely everyone. (Even her.)

“I should have told you sooner, I know. I'm sorry.”

╾ black and white

[fmdmoonjin]

“You know what’s cool? We made it through our first dates and we’re still best friends.”

(requested) remake of this

[fmdmoonjin]

I am overflowing with words I do not have.

Adam Falkner, “When It Matters” (via wordsnquotes)

[fmdmoonjin]

fmdhyunmi:

she pictured this interaction quite differently than how it was currently playing out. in her vivid and mildly outrageous imagination, hyunmi saw the confrontation as an altercation: moonjin telling her she was a nuisance, to scram. none of the sort happened. he was eerily tranquil—or robotic, and she was pleasantly dismayed by it. blinking, lips shaped to a faint purse, she studied moonjin’s façade, the veneer he wore of dark circles and minimal shifts in facial expressions; by no means was she judging him nor scrutinizing his present appearance with a checklist on a clipboard. a calming shadow swarmed him in gentle breezes, brisk but not cold—not nipping at cheeks. a comfortable kind of wind of blue and lavender. serene, silent, a pond reflecting hues of a docile autumn sunset. she could see why mina and hana gravitated towards him; there was more than met the eye.

had hyunmi trained longer at gold star—had she been around since she was fourteen maybe they’d be on friendly terms. however, she burst in too late and spent little months honing the skills she had acquired from bce to familiarize herself with moonjin, his group and many others. despite that, hyunmi had hana, mina, hyemin and skye, a comfortable clutch of friends that hyunmi found no clause to extend connections. (and possessed lesser reasons to befriend boys.) in whatever angle hyunmi peered, it was a shame; impulse was her favourite male group, yet they were strangers in her eyes and acted upon whims she heard about in shapes of rumours and gossip. “i am not good at cleaning. i might be in more trouble afterwards than before.” chills pricked, and she shuddered, shoulders settling unevenly—tch, posture.

his invitation was startling, but hyunmi kept her mask from fluctuating. moonjin had to be nice. regardless of his all-too-serious demeanour, he must be kind. why else would he offer his sanctuary to her? why should he feel the need to protect her from scoldings she rightfully deserved? “ah, it wouldn’t be polite of me to decline, hm” murmured to herself, hyunmi stood and glanced at the fork in the road: stay and be in direct fire of any passing instructors for being un-idol like or follow moonjin blindly, beckoned by the trust her friends poured on him than anything else? “thanks, sunbaenim, but don’t you think i’ll just bother you?” a step closer to him, and hyunmi’s choice was made. “i mean i’ll keep it down, of course. i heard impulse was working on a comeback, and i don’t want to bother you.” or break your last straw.

Finally, finally, a smile reached his lips, undeniably but a small change of expression, yet significant in the way it instantly softened his features some – light always did appear brighter if surrounded by darkness, and Moonjin had just lit a candle in a pitch-black room. Despite the circumstances, Hyunmi was not unpleasant company, he realized, though he was quick to brush the thought aside again – those were not things he wasted his brain capacity on. (Maybe it was because part of him, however tiny and suppressed, sometimes yearned for company on these long days and nights he spent with nothing but his own thoughts to fill the void; maybe there were times he wished for an inmate in this cell he had built for himself, but every time without fail, he was quick to remind himself that albeit pleasant, people were a distraction, and he had things to do before he could allow himself the luxury of comfort.)

“You can't be good at everything,” Moonjin replied with a shrug of his shoulders, like he didn't hold himself to an unrealistic standard of perfection all too often, though a hint of amusement swayed in his voice, for thus far, he hadn't thought it possible to not be good at cleaning, “I don't think that's something that should get you in trouble.” Should, he said, not would, because he knew full-well that the decisions those in power made didn't need to be logical – who was there to question them (and get away with it)?

Although he couldn't quite catch her words, Hyunmi's hesitation was obvious and perhaps that would have been puzzling to most, but not him – not when there were so many people who would rather keep their distance from him, and especially not when he would have done the same. His smile widened when eventually she did accept, though, and he wasted no time in stepping back towards the door to hold it open for her, like the good sunbae he was when he remembered to be. “Not unless you make an active effort to, no,” he answered, honesty in place of empty promises – he didn't doubt her ability to be a bother, but it was hard to accidentally test his patience (the perks of having lived in dorms full of lively boys since he had come to Seoul). “Maybe you could even help. A second opinion never hurts.” An unusual offer, coming from someone who rarely shared bits and pieces of songs while they were still diamonds in the rough, and only ever with select people, yet the words had already left his lips and he wasn't about to take them back. Perhaps the fatigue was compromising his ability to think straight. Most likely. “Have you ever written a song?” (Yet another line overstepped.)

╾ ghost

[fmdmoonjin]

sooahfmd:

    ─ it was interesting, how the brain reacted when the body was t h r e a t e n e d; it brought her back to the days spent beneath the pastor’s roof by the sea, forced to keep her back straight and legs pressed together, sweat sticking her thighs to the wooden seat as another lecture was given. ( what had it been? the accidental slip of a sleeve down to expose her shoulder or the flash of leg she had given the boy sitting behind her as she rose from the church pew, cheeks pink in girlish t e a s e ? ) it was all one in the same, returning back to the base of her inferiority as a woman; but she was bundled up now, covered from head to toe and still she was pursued. 

    ( do not invite the devil into the minds of others, her father had said. but she hadn’t and yet… and y e t. )

    pretending came rather naturally after a while and it was achingly sad, how slipping into a role offered more comfort than truly expressing the fears that plagued her mind and gave reason for hands to tremble. her savior ( moonjin of impulse; a p p r e c i a t i v e gaze had studied his features during a television broadcast but she had not given much thought to him otherwise ) had assigned a part and she could play it well enough, until safety was within sight.

    ( where was safety? the cubicle of her work space in bc or the studio where she spent most of her time in? or was it beneath the roof of a pastor, the smell of the busan s e a tickling her sinuses every morning? )

    “of course, please.” it was interesting, how easily it was to push aside the crippling anxiety. her whole body was cold yet her mind was clear of thought, simply following orders; anything, anything, a n y t h i n g to survive. a mindset she had adapted that came into play now. ( she does notice how he places himself between the assailant and her hunched over figure in a subtle maneuver. ) she isn’t quite sure where he means to take her, hasn’t stopped walking since a few forgotten turns ago, doesn’t exactly know how far she is from her apartment complex but his suggestion has her thinking of julien; a friend? of s o r t s, after forced arrangement.

    another small nod. “yes, once or twice before.” not this late, she wants to tell him but it was difficult enough to form words. she cannot think of saving her image in front of him, of reassuring him that she was still the innocent little thing that the nation fell in love with. “the security guard knows me well enough, anyway.” an attempt at a smile, lips t r e m b l i n g from the effort. everyone knew her well enough once a name was spoken. ears strain; persistent follower, who has slowed his steps, still trails from a distance yet she dared not turn to look, focusing on her feet and her companion.

The life of an idol was vastly different for males and females, Moonjin knew – had always known, of course, but it was one of those truths no higher-up was comfortable with and he had thus been told to ignore, or at least never mention aloud, even less in front of a camera. It was more than periods – he could vividly remember the picture of his sister in bed that time of month, buried under blankets with a heating pad on her stomach, yet idols were on stage as if it was nothing – and high heels – blisters he would never have marring their feet; dancing in them, and their choreographies weren't as easy as some fans liked to make it seem either (he knew from experience, from covers Impulse had done). On top of all that, it was this – unlike the sasaengs he knew, was perhaps more used to than he should be; a threat on a different level with hungry gaze and violent hands, and only because some patriarchal part of their brains thought they could, that they were in power.

It was wrong, yet he knew that nothing would change; not anytime soon – and most certainly not simply because he wished for it to. In truth, he himself barely even had a voice. Rare were the instances his actions and words weren't under the company's or a manager's scrutiny, and it was a mere fortunate coincidence that he had strayed from his path tonight. (Management would not approve of this interaction; not unless they could make a story of his heroism, like it wasn't something any decent human-being would have done.)

Attentive gaze focused on her as she spoke up again, Moonjin offered a smile of his own, pretending not to see the tremble of her lips, even as it sucked the air from his lungs – he'd always felt too strongly for others, and telling himself strangers were not to be trusted hadn't been able to change that either. The only thing that had changed was that he refused to let it show now, refused to act on it. (Or at least he told himself that while his body reacted on its own, features softening as if to make sure he looked the least scary he possibly could, kindness smoothing sharp edges he'd been born with.)

“Good,” he replied, though he was referring to more than just her reply – you're doing well. “It's really warm and cozy inside, even this time of the year.” Safe. It's my safe haven and it can be yours, too. Spoken words had never been his strong suit, not with how easy they were to be misunderstood, their meaning variable depending on intonation, on volume – they were inefficient, but they were all he had at the moment, and he felt like he should at least give her that much. If he couldn't chase away the uninvited company, he could at least try to be a distraction.

“After we take a left here, it shouldn't be much longer,” he said with a certainty that didn't match the role he was playing – he'd asked for the way mere minutes ago, after all –, but he was sure their unwelcome shadow had bigger worries than that. If he didn't catch up now, they'd be well out of his reach. What Moonjin couldn't voice, he tried to convey through gazes alone, and his held nothing but a firm gentleness – solid, unshaking. You've almost made it. You're fine.

╾ face

[fmdmoonjin]

╾ strain

@fmdjoohyuk

Weeks had passed since – since the day he didn't wish to acknowledge more than any other but always did anyway, for how could he possibly ignore the emptiness inside pressing down on his heart with every breath he took? –, since. Betrayal wasn't anything new or unexpected, an everyday occurrence in the industry he had entered years ago, and the fault of not seeing it coming, of not anticipating the knife to his back, was his entirely. Maybe that was what hurt most – that he'd grown weak, susceptible to manipulation masked with warmth and knowing little smiles, which led him to the conclusion that he'd learned absolutely nothing from past experiences. (It wasn't.)

Doubts persistently crept up on him whenever he remained idle for more than a few seconds, like cold winds threatening to freeze him solid if he didn't stay moving at all times, so he did just that – kept busy, whether it was with song-writing, practicing, going for a run, or this; working out. His body was already tired from a severe lack of sleep and all the things he bore on his shoulders but ignored anyway, yet there he was, at his usual gym to live up to the expectations the company and fans had for him. (That was all he had, wasn't it?)

A polite dip of his head and a low “hello” were the characteristic greeting Moonjin offered his senior when he noticed his familiar presence – Joohyuk, another somewhat-regular at this place, albeit no doubt a more willing customer, at least from what he could tell, and, surprisingly, someone whose company he didn't mind all that much on most days. That was all he offered before begrudgingly going back to his weight training, however, pretending for both their sakes that all was as usual and he merely wanted to get things over with so he could do something more meaningful, more productive instead. (Only that he didn't. Not today.)

[fmdmoonjin]

╾ care

@sunefmd

Of course it didn't take long for word to reach Moonjin's ears that Femme Fatale were in the first stages of preparing for a comeback, even in his current state of mental and physical exhaustion and amidst own comeback preparations – Impulse's already in the final stages. Few were the things that would prompt him to leave his members in such a decisive phase, even if it was just for a couple of minutes, but everyone was sufficiently aware of the soft spot he had for these juniors of his by now, so it hadn't come as a surprise to anyone when he had stopped by the dorm to prepare a couple of snacks only to leave again shortly after. (His members did profit from intentional 'leftovers', after all.)

Balancing the lunch boxes on one arm, Moonjin's knuckles rapped against the door in two firm knocks before he lowered his hand again and waited for a reply of some kind, only now realizing that it might have been better to announce his plans beforehand as to make sure he wouldn't be intruding on anything. A disturbance was the last thing he wanted to be, but then again, he could always simply drop off what he had brought and leave again, then with a lighter heart, because he'd know the kids were, if nothing else, well-nutritioned.

[fmdmoonjin]

miaxfmd:

━━✫・*。the tone of his voice is enough for hyejung to let a smile break out on her face. it’s sheepish and still demure, but it’s there and enough to soothe her nerves just a bit. of course there was no real reason as to why she was tense beyond words; she’d faced far more sour people from what she could see. maybe she’s just developed an innate fear of the unknown or something like that. moonjin wasn’t rude (thus far) or scary looking- he actually kind of looked like a wartortle but that was besides the point- no, it was hyejung’s own damn nerves that was making her speak as if she were in a job interview. so to calm those damn nerves took some time- but hopefully, it would be soon.

“i-uh, i assume as much,” hyejung says with a tentative laugh before they’re continuing. she can relate with his words of not knowing anything about acting; hell, she had ran into her first classes like a headless chicken (but still scared, as she always was). it’s only after does she realize her words may have sounded like she expected him to not know anything rather than talking about the previous topic of icebreaking, albeit her grammar a bit off. “icebreakers! not-not knowing anything, i didn’t think anything about your lack or knowledge of the topic-” she blurts out with wide eyes, shaking her head soon after at her own antics before bowing slightly. “sorry,” another sheepish smile. “anyways- yes, let’s start.

her cheeks are still burning as he speaks, though it does coercer an understanding nod from her. “yes….well, that one can be tricky.” hyejung herself had more problems with throwing too much into a performance; it, apparently, wasn’t professional for her to start tearing up after every stage she did. go figure. but she’s sat through enough acting classes with fellow trainees to know the problem and how to dissect it. “yes, i understand that much- you see, it’s what we call, pardon my language, resting bitch face.” if she was going to teach him how to act the very least she could do was do it as well as she could- how would she do that if she was censoring every word she spoke?

another sheepish smile appears on her face for the nth time before she flips through the multi coloured notes. “alright, here,” she says as she flips to a page. her notes had always been a bit of an organized mess; diagrams and side notes written in the margins and underlined words on the actions she would most likely forget. “let’s start with say…a happy emotion. there’s a lot of things that go into acting happy. you want to make sure your smile is symmetrical, and it fades gradually. and when your laughing make sure your jaw drops open. extra points if you throw your body into a bit and start clapping or leaning forward or something.  being genuine makes a large part of it.” she demonstrates as she says this, though she’s sure she looks ridiculous hyejung honestly doesn’t know how else to do. at least she had gotten part of the message out there. 

Rare were the occasions that Moonjin happened across someone who operated on a similar level of social awkwardness, which both relaxed and agitated him further, for it meant there was no one to judge him for any of his own mishaps, but it also sparked leadership habits he had grown so accustomed to; the urge to do something to establish a comfortable working atmosphere to increase efficiency. (Unmentioned but not forgotten were the more human reasons, an innate softness of heart that prompted him alarmingly often to overstep his own boundaries for the sake of someone else, though he was far from ever admitting to anything of the sort.)

Relax, he wanted to say, it's okay, yet what came out instead was a plain “No,” which, he realized only a couple of seconds later, left a lot of room for interpretation and didn't get his thought process across at all. Practice what you preach, he mentally reprimanded himself therefore, then took a deep breath to focus. After the many speeches he had had to give in his role as Impulse's leader, how hard could it be to talk to a colleague for a couple of minutes? The lack of care he treated his body with couldn't have possibly cost him that many brain cells. “I mean, it's all good. I understand.” A small, controlled smile on his lips, he made sure to look straight at her, like showing his usual mannerisms would let him slip back into his typical mindset as well. (The only problem was that his typical mindset told him not to fight a losing battle, and wasn't acting just that?)

A low hum came in reply to her words – she was right; he'd heard the term 'resting bitch face' linked to his name on enough occasions to know it to be true, and if anything, he appreciated the straight-forwardness. Albeit it was always a controversial topic in the industry, he preferred things not to be sugarcoated – after all, shouldn't they all have skin thick enough not to be fazed by the truth, however it may be phrased? His attention quickly shifted to the notes she was presenting to him, trained eyes scanning through them to sift out what was important, what he could work with.

Her presentation was taken in without any reaction at all, expression serious – perhaps overly so, more like a scientist observing an experiment, afraid of missing even the tiniest detail. “Um,” he started as soon as she was finished, the ridiculousness of the situation lost on him, “The thing is...” A short pause, a blink of his eyes and a firm reminder to remain professional, no matter how reluctant he may be feeling (which was indeed very), “Being genuine and doing something like that don't go together for me.” The truth, plain and simple, his preferred means of communication, and yet it seemed far too much like a joke at the moment – his laughter was never loud or boisterous, his amusement shown through grins and subtleties, like the creases forming around his eyes, alight with a glimmer of it. “I'll give it a try, though,” he made sure to add soon after, for the last thing he wanted was to come across as uncooperative when she was offering him her precious time (wasting it on him, most likely). So he did – scrunched up his facial muscles until his lips parted and his eyes were but crescent moons, a necessity to hide the lack of life his irises held, and clapped like a seal, as he had witnessed others do on variety shows all too often. How hard could it be? (The answer was, again, very.)

╾ tips and tricks

[fmdmoonjin]

fmdhaejun:

Truth be told, he trusted his manager, he looked out for Decipher, he looked out for Haejun. The old man probably knew about Haejun more than his own father and that’s saying something. Seeing Moonjin in real life, he finally understood where his manager was going with it. It’ll certainly spark something. 

His browse history would surely be flooded with Ahn Moonjin’s name. Leader of Impulse, born in 93, Busan native (he had mentioned in passing about his fancy for the dialect, and he was sure that it didn’t escape the ever vigilant manager’s attention). They had shared similar positions in the group, only vice versa, and the passion for songwriting ; the vast difference of experience they had under their belt is what set them apart, and perhaps his manager had wanted to play in on this –– make a thing out of this, gouge something out for the media, for the clicks and make a thing to talk about in variety shows. And now, the accumulation of those information had been given a face to remember by in the form of the young man in front of him. 

Perfect smile, charming. Unlike with others, it’s hard to tell when Haejun’s faking it, because he faked it all the time, even in his personal life, even with his parents. There’s simply no realness in him, like trying to touch a smoke, it disappeared as soon as you made contact. “Ah yeah, as usual. I just can’t beat you, huh?” came what would normally be called a friendly banter but were they even friends to begin with.

“Thanks, I was actually quite nervous since it’s been a while. It’s silly isn’t it?” Laughter spilled from his lips like stars on his feet –– he was the golden boy, heaven shone down on him –– but everything was only a smokescreen, a veil to hide what’s under. “I’d be happy if it becomes the next hype –– remember when everyone was dancing brown eyed girls sunbaenim’s abracadabra or 2PM sunbaenim’s heartbeat?” Heart over his heart, he started to do do the signature move of the song, though the bright smile (bright smile, soul ever so dark). “Wishful thinking –– but what have you been up to?” Their last single –– wasn’t it in October last year? Though the question could also be taken as a personal one, after all, weren’t they supposed to be ‘friends’?

Were the circumstances any different, Moonjin would have dropped the smile the moment his greeting had been acknowledged, for that was all it was for – bending to a social norm as not to leave a bad first impression (or second, or hundredth, since some people never quite got used to what or who wasn't like them.) Right now, however, he was supposed to look like he was truly delighted by the company of this particular individual, this same-aged friend who had gotten much farther in life (arguably, at least from what was common knowledge and to be assumed by the public) in his young years – to anyone, not only those who knew how to read his subtle clues, the small gestures that meant it all for him.

So he did what he was asked and kept a joyous smile in place, even as he could feel the muscles in his face cramp from the strain they weren't typically exposed to. “Right. Gotta come in first in something, don't I?”, he asked in response, tone laced with jest, and as it faded out, a light-hearted chuckle filled the void it left – anything to avoid rousing suspicion, even as no one was listening in. Haejun himself was a stranger to him, and thus certainly not someone he would ever willingly offer glimpses of the bitterness he carried behind his ever-present nonchalance and distanced politeness.

When his senior laughed, Moonjin joined in – for manners' sake, once again, though it burned his throat like deceit would, because this wasn't him; playing roles, molding himself into what someone wanted to see of him instead of what he truly was, was precisely what he had wanted to avoid all this time. It was no use clinging to a mountain ledge after he had already been pushed off the cliff, though – time to take the fall. “Don't be so greedy,” he said therefore, reaching out a hand to give the other a teasing shove to the shoulder (another uncharacteristic move, but how was he to know the ins and outs of playful banter?), “You already have plenty of hits like that under your belt. Let us newbies have our turns too.” His voice sounded strange to his own ears, foreign in its light rise and fall – not bad, per se, but not him either, and that, he hated.

“I've been... working,” he offered with more hesitance after a short pause, eloquence far out of reach as his mind was focused on other things – too many at once, “As per usual.” There it was, the first trace of truth, and it was almost relieving to speak it, almost like it neutralized the lies his tongue had formed so far. Wasn't working all he ever did? Not much of an interesting revelation, no doubt. “There's talks of a comeback in the first quarter of the year, and a world tour after.” If they were friends, there would have been countless other things to share – worries, doubts, feelings looming just underneath the surface at all times that were growing harder and harder still to keep suppressed, but alas, those weren't things Haejun would be privy to. Ever.

[fmdmoonjin]

fmdxchaeyeon:

( ✉  → moon of my life ): i hate to break it to you, but i can’t spend the rest of my life with a man who doesn’t watch game of thrones.  ( ✉  → moon of my life ): are you sure? ( ✉  → moon of my life ): moonjin, my moon! don’t let her shoot you. please, you are dear to my heart. ( ✉  → moon of my life ): idk, it’s your call buddy. which option sounds less emotionally draining? i don’t want you to suffer.  ( ✉  → moon of my life ): i said fucking no!!! ( ✉  → moon of my life ): pls, stop! i don’t want to open it. i won’t open it!!! ( ✉  → moon of my life ): first of all, i never gasp ( ✉  → moon of my life ): second of all, why are you taking a deep breath?  ( ✉  → moon of my life ): wait! i don’t want to know! don’t send me the rest of the story!! don’t you dare!!

[ ✉ » Half Moon (Chaeyeon) ] Things sure aren't going well for me today. Even if I started now, wouldn't it take me forever to catch up with it? [ ✉ » Half Moon (Chaeyeon) ] Absolutely. Never believed love was any stronger than friendship, and then I met you. (Is what I’m supposed to say) [ ✉ » Half Moon (Chaeyeon) ] I'll survive! [ ✉ » Half Moon (Chaeyeon) ] Personally, I'd prefer to ask you again every day of the year, though that could kind of get on your nerves on the long run. Not a big fan of crying. [ ✉ » Half Moon (Chaeyeon) ] I have my ways of making you gasp. [ ✉ » Half Moon (Chaeyeon) ] Scratch that, that sounds much more suggestive than I'd meant for it to. [ ✉ » Half Moon (Chaeyeon) ] Why, to profess my undying love for you, of course. [ ✉ » Half Moon (Chaeyeon) ] But in all honesty, I think neither of us would have the patience for a long-winded confession like that. [ ✉ » Half Moon (Chaeyeon) ] Why do people insist on portraying me as this really sentimental, emotional kind of guy?

[fmdmoonjin]

fmdlyra:

For a few minutes now, she has not been able to stop smiling. It only goes to show how easily amused she is by literally everything and anything, especially at this hour when it just didn’t seem worth it to pretend or to lie about how she really feels about him, about this whole thing. It seemed like a waste. Maybe it was a combination of the undisturbed silence of the night and the tiredness of her body and mind slowly, finally, catching up to her again. She had been good at surpressing the emotion far too long (like she does all other emotions she feels), so it really is no wonder it would catch up to her in the end to bite her in the ass. What goes around comes around, no?

Maybe it was about time for her to finally let it go. Let it all go.

“Sure, why not?” It’s a rethorical question; she’s not really looking for an answer, not looking for approval. She doesn’t think he needs to ask her if it’s alright for him to call her by her given name but formality has been drilled into her head since she was a kid, so she thinks she can understand where he’s coming from. Where his question is coming from. She’s not big on formalities, especially not when she sees how easy it is to abuse the power that comes with the formalities – younger people having to respect older people just because. There are obviously more to it than just respecting your elders, something that is deeply rooted in their culture, but she had grown to despise how blindly people followed rules and traditions even when said rules and traditions opposed them.

It feels weird to hear him say her name so nonchalantly, causally, as if it was natural, as if he had been doing it all the time. But then again, it had been a long time since anyone, for that matter, had addressed her by her given name. She had gone by the name “Lyra” for so long; she sometimes forgets that Jihyun still exists underneath all the glitter and glam.

Ease seeping into her system the more she listens to him talk, that’s how comfortable she feels at the moment. He is surprisingly easy to talk to (but maybe it’s an illusion of the night) and seems easygoing. Then again she has never really given him a chance because the moment Gold Star told them to get along was the moment she pulled away from him as quick as the wind; putting in as much distance as possible between them and only ever interacted or breathed his name when absolutely necessary.

“’Anmu’ sounds really cute, though,” a confession laced with another fit of giggles and she wonders if she could call him that or if it was reserved for his close friends from Busan. There’s a change in the atmosphere and it doesn’t go unnoticed. It doesn’t last long, and she’s quick to pick up the diversion, “I thought we were going to have an honest conversation tonight, Moonjin. What happened with that?” There is no malice in her voice; she’s teasing him, snickering at his attempt to change the subject but she lets him win this time despite having so many questions she wants to ask him. Why do you say that? What do you think you’re lacking in? Tell me more. She wonders what else is on his mind.

“It’s alright,” she starts, because it really is. Alright. But it’s also more than that. For the longest time, she had envied idol groups. On one hand, the bigger the number of members meant less lines for each one, less time in the spotlight and constantly having to take into account and care for each other. Jihyun is too ambitious, greedy, to even consider sharing the spotlight with someone else. At the same time, the life of a solo artist could be lonely, incredibly so. She did everything alone; standing on stage, fansigns, guesting on shows, meetings – the whole shebang. There has been many times in which she wished she could share the experience, the pain, the joy and the happiness with someone who went through the same things as her. “I’ve gotten used to it now, so it doesn’t bother me all that much these days,” voice low and steady. There was a time when she had found it difficult to admit this but she’s grown a little since then. She doesn’t mind talking about it, at least she doesn’t mind,because it’s him. “But it does get lonely, and sometimes I think it would be fun to be in a group, you know, with other members. But then I also think that I’m too greedy for the spotlight. I wouldn’t work in a group. I think I would hate it,” she ends with a low chuckle because she can just imagine herself standing in the way of the other members had she been in a group.

It's common knowledge that Moonjin is not much of a talker, not unless he has to be – because his position demands it, or his conscience, or the red light of a camera as it's turned on him (a sign; a warning) –, though no one would suspect as much now, with how freely he's voicing his thoughts, despite the fact that there is no real need to. For a moment, he realizes it too, and it's an intriguing question to pose: why? What's different? Maybe it's the late hour – he doesn't usually talk to anyone at a time like this, and for good reason. (His thoughts are everywhere and nowhere still.) Maybe she's an exceptional listener – in the way he needs it, perfectly timed intervals of speech and silence, like she somehow knows his inherent rhythm. Maybe it's what happens when he makes the decision to open the sluice gates – words pouring out with a current he no longer has control over. It's an intriguing question, and it remains as such, for he can't settle on a definite answer. Maybe it's all of those things – maybe something else entirely.

So he continues as before, with acceptance and without questioning it – it feels right for now, so why not? Why not? (How long has it been since he's last made a decision like this, without contemplating all the ways things could go wrong, without calculating risks and weighing them against possible benefits? Just because.)

“You think?”, he replies with a bashfulness so painfully uncharacteristic, he flinches for the briefest of moments. Memories flood in from a time he was that person – Anmu, warm and positive, bashful and kind –, and he finds himself overwhelmed by the emotions they bring, and most of all by the fact that they're not all negative. A sense of longing blooms in his chest for the first time in forever, and for a second, he allows himself to wonder if there's anything left of that boy with light in his eyes and hope in his heart. (All the while, he fails to realize that he is him – right now, right this moment in which his shadows have merged with the darkness surrounding him and he no longer has to blend in or hide them.)

A chuckle falls from his lips at her next words, light and easy, lifting some of the weight of his previous thoughts off his chest as it reverberates within. “And we are,” he says then, with a nod too firm for someone no one's looking at, because it's for himself this time – resolve. No hiding, for once, not from her and not from himself either, though he isn't sure he remembers how that works. For years, all he's known is ignoring the issues that accumulate and cluster around his heart, pushing until he's aching and then numb, and vowing simply to better himself so no more will arise. It's only now that he realizes he's seldom solved any of them, merely pushed them away with a promise of 'it won't happen again' – an excuse not to face them at all. “I'll answer any questions you may have honestly; my word still stands.” There, he hesitates, switching the phone from one hand to the other as his gaze focuses on the turned off ceiling lamp – a distraction as not to concentrate too hard on his words, since that never ends well for him. “I'm just not... used to talking about myself much, I guess.”

Her words, on the other hand, he takes in with his usual attentiveness, upheld even in his state of fatigue by an amount of interest he didn't know he had for her until that night. (Whether he even had it before, he knows not.) The hum he gives in response is of understanding – he can imagine, even when he can't relate, for he's never seen himself as anything but a member of an idol group, with other people with complementary strengths and weaknesses. “Have you ever considered trying a project group? You know, promoting with a friend or a couple of friends when things get lonely?” It's an odd thought to have (and utterly stupid), and he blames it entirely on the circumstances, but he thinks it would be nice if she wouldn't have to feel lonely in the future – as with all things foolish, he refuses to acknowledge it, anyway.

╾ hello

[fmdmoonjin]

fmdjaewon:

jaewon had sore spots, more than he’d like to admit truthfully but well, dimensions sure as hell wasn’t one of them. he felt little connection to his company, the way one tended to feel distant after being held back for 8 damn years. directly after their debut his distaste had been significantly toned down by the rush of finally being on stage and the perks that came with still being high on dimensions priority list. but time went by and here they were, not even 2 years in and slowly overshadowed by alien’s new found success and plans for an upcomming girl group that was supposed to rival wish and whatever gold star was about to debut. release dates pushed back, questions unsawered, the signs of how completely and utterly incapabel dimensions was slowly piling up and nothing for jaewon left to do but frustratedly jump into the discussion with their manager and any high up that bothered to even look their way in the first place over and over again. yeah no, there were zero warm and fuzzy feelings towards dimensions.”don’t worry we are all working on our networking skills just fine,” something that proved itself to be incredibly difficult, especially for a group as young as unity. “the difference however is that we aren’t desperate for any and all help thrown our way. i can imagine that not being a familiar concept for you.” another calm smile, relaying moonjin’s words was almost like a game after all.

“you really think origin gives two flying fucks about what i think of them? they’re too busy rolling in cash and being international superstars for that. and neither does it matter what netizens think i said because if i don’t say anything to take out of context they’ll just make something up that suits their agenda. nice to see you blend right in on their level though.” he scoffed amusedly at the accusation before directly copying the other’s words. “you don’t have an ounce of logic in you, do you?” he repated sharply. “do you really think being an idol is based on skill alone? that only the most talented get scouted and make it to debut? that’s just childish naiviety on your behalf moonjin.” the patronizing tone in his voice couldn’t even been denied if either of them wanted it. “you were created as the mirror image of origin, sadly enough a more flawed mirror image. those comparisons aren’t made up by me, not even by the entire nation that applies them to you, that’s something your company themselves came up with in the first place. i’m glad to e gold star is treating you much better though.”

the role of well-intentioned senior was one moonjin played annoyingly so and it was one of the tings currently vexing jaewon the most which of course meant he could show none of that frustration. that and that perhaps it had been enough for the day, there was a certain point where getting under the older’s skin became boring and repetitive. “hey come on don’t blame me now, it’s incredibly difficult to pick up anything useful from all the absolute nonsense coming from you.” jaewon clacked his tongue in disdain at the painfully overdone jab. “i’m not bringing you down moonjin, you’re doing that yourself. i’m just standing at the side lines and enjoying the show.” another fake smile, they became tiring to focr at this point. “friendly piece of advice for you, don’t try to hand out wisdom when you posess none. it makes you look like an even bigger joke than you already are.”

Once he had come to accept that Jaewon wasn't actually making much of a point – nor was he trying to, it seemed, more intent on unnerving him than actually taking the time to think of something more harmful, more to be taken serious – , Moonjin adopted a very obvious devil-may-care attitude, though his arms remained crossed over his chest, which was typically seen as a gesture employed by people who wanted to keep their distance. (Defensive, some would say, but not him. Not when none of these attacks were able to pierce his skin, anyway.) “Oh yeah? Doesn't seem like it, you know,” he replied with an innocent blink of his eyes – truthfully, he had a hard time imagining Jaewon doing much of a good job in the networking department, but the other members of Unity certainly had their abilities he didn't doubt for even a second, “There's no shame in accepting help offered to you, so really, I don't get your point. It's not like I'm abandoning my values for a notion of fame, if that's what you're suggesting.” A firm smile settled upon his features at that – reassurance, for this was one of the few areas he did indeed have confidence in; if something were to twist him into a different person, it would be because he chose to let it. It was his life, and however little control he had over it, his personality was his to shape, to hide and reveal, to change and adjust. “Though I imagine that not being a familiar concept for you,” he repeated the younger's previous words, “Values and all.”

A deep breath left Moonjin at Jaewon's extended explanation, exasperated, more than anything, at how much time he was wasting, going nowhere. Whatever relationship he had with this fellow leader of his, it meant nothing to him, to either of them, most likely – they were at a point where he doubted Jaewon would tell him he smelled smoke if his pants were on fire. It was so aggravating, this meaninglessness, not even worth the effort it took to speak. “And again, you just go ahead and understand whatever you want to. I'm not sure anyone ever taught you to listen to others,” he said with a shake of his head, no longer bothering to hide his utter indifference. Can we be done with this already? “I'm just saying, be careful with your words, Jaewon. The fact that netizens sometimes make up stories to make you look bad doesn't mean it's okay to actually give them reasons to bring you down. Let too many things stack up and you'll take a fall before you know it.” At that, he had to bite back a sigh, for wasn't he talking too much himself now? Exactly how long was he going to keep explaining himself before he'd accept that it was no use? “A mirror image? Are you really that uninformed or are you simply not thinking right now? The only thing our music has in common with Origin's is that both are hip-hop induced. Last I checked, so was yours. The reason we're being compared to them is that we were on the same show, are under the same company, and debuted in short consecution.” Gaze unwavering, the words tumbled from his lips at a slower pace than usual, only underlining their redundancy. I can't believe this needs to be explained, the shadows swimming in his eyes seemed to say, I can't believe I'm bothering to.

A lopsided grin turned into a permanent feature of Moonjin's as he, once again, let Jaewon speak without interruption, shoulders lax as he casually rested his weight on one leg. “Sure, whatever you say. At the end of the day, it will never be your opinion that matters,” he spoke with a calmness that was more a result of how tired he was of the younger's shenanigans than his own peace of mind, “They say that the wiser head gives in, and I do believe we've done enough catching up by now, haven't we?” Once more, he reached out a hand to pat the other's shoulder before pulling away, his eyes already searching the perimeter for a place to rest, either in more pleasant company or none. “Good luck for your future endeavors, Jaewon.” You'll need it. (That, he left unsaid – it was time to be the bigger person, and everything he did say could and would be used against him, anyway.)