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sayoiko · 11 days ago

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CHAPTER FOUR: CURRENT DAY . . . HAVE YOU EVER BEEN LED ASTRAY?

STARRING ... JUNG YOONAH & CHLOE LEE & SON JINHWA. WORD COUNT ... 3.4K SUMMARY ... Everything can change in ten minutes. &&. WARNINGS INCLUDE … italics is a flashback. power imbalance, emotionally manipulative relationship, toxic dynamic, coercion, trauma response, mental distress, dissociation, unhealthy dependency. rbs, comments, and asks are always appreciated ♡

Yoonah didn’t think it would be this way.

Chloe rubs her full and glossy lips together, staring at the bathroom counter as her long manicured nail tap, tap, taps against the counter. Two pieces of plastic with the power to change her life lay atop the cold marble as the timer on Yoonah’s phone rapidly ticks down from five minutes.

“Who do you think the father is?” Chloe asks, cold as usual. Yoonah hasn’t looked up at the ground since she stepped in to take the test. Yoonah leans against the counter with Chloe, shaking her head with a small shrug. Chloe doesn’t buy it. She rolls her doe-like eyes.

“Be serious, Yoonah. It can only be two people unless you added a new man to your rotation.”

“Who do you think the second one is?” Yoonah asks. She knows who the first one is. Everyone knows.

Chloe scoffs like it’s obvious, cocky as her arms cross over her chest.

“Not Cash,” Chloe deadpans, making Yoonah turn her head away in what can only be described as shame. Just his name makes her skin burn. She hates how her palms begin to scratch at the mention of Cash. Having his name go from a harmony to a blaring alarm that makes her scratch and scratch until her skin is raw or bleeding.

“But Cash moved out and Reid moved in, what, a week later?”

It was five days, but Yooanh doesn’t say that, just looks up at the corner as Chloe taps the counter in front of her.

“So, if you are pregnant, it’s either Reid’s or…” Chloe stares at Yoonah knowingly who simply blinks back at her. For once, Chloe doesn’t say the quiet part out loud because it feels too real, too weird, she’s never been able to talk about Yoonah and Jinhwa as freely as Bliss once did. There’s a weight in chest when she tries to bring it up and the look in Yoonah’s sad brown eyes whenever he’s mentioned negatively is enough for even Chloe to go quiet.

Chloe forces a smile, putting her hand on Yoonah’s arm to offer a small silver of support. Yoonah doesn’t even look at her, but at the wall in front of her, taking a deep breath through her nose.

“Jinhwa is the last one I had sex with,” Yoonah says so emotionlessly she sounds like a robot. Chloe’s jaw tightens, looking at the wall Yoonah is still staring at before silently resting her head on her shoulder and wrapping her arm loosely around Yoonah’s constantly shrinking waist. Yoonah puts her hand over Chloe’s, running her tongue over the roof of her mouth to feel every ridge in hope to ground herself, but her heart is lurching out her chest in attempts to pound against the wall she can’t make herself look away from.

Yoonah has so much to say but her full lips stay shut and all she can do is swallow the word vomit that wants to spill out on the bathroom floor that has seen more droplets of her blood than usual lately.

Now isn’t the time for a child, Yoonah thinks, feeling her thighs begin to burn. God’s timing is always right, she tries to tell herself, but it doesn’t feel right. Her life is crumbling around her constantly. She’s navigating through a massive cloud of dust, hoping she doesn’t step on a landmine that ends with her locked in the bathroom for hours. It’s the mid of summer and all Yoonah can wear are long sleeves and jeans. The state of her appearance speaks volumes, Jinhwa told her that the last time she spent the night with him.

“You stopped brushing your hair,” Jinhwa said as he took his watch off and placed it on his dresser. Yoonah looked up at him as she sat on the side of the bed. She watched him walk over to her, tipping her head up by her chin with a quiet coo as he shook her face playfully.

“You’re feeling down. Is it the album?” Jinhwa knew it wasn’t the album. Yoonah knew that he knew that, but she also knew she was still required to answer and play his game. She shook her head. She reached up and held onto his arm, she let her eyelids get heavier and looked at the man in front of her like she could eat him if he let her, but he wasn’t swayed. Jinhwa was never swayed by games that worked on men her age. Jinhwa hummed and put his hand on her cheek. His touch demanded all her attention, every thought, every look, every breath had to be for him.

“Ah, it was that boy wasn’t it? The one you lived with?” Yoonah’s eyes opened again, blinking up at him as her posture straightened. She turned her head away from Jinhwa, but he tsks his tongue and she turned back into his palm that didn’t move an inch. It waited for her because it knew she would be back. Jinhwa gave her a pout full of faux sympathy that only made Yoonah feel stupid.

“I told you that wouldn’t work out–”

“I remember.” Her tone was curt. It made Jinhwa raise his brows, amused.

“And you still didn’t listen.” Jinhwa’s smile only grew as if he was enjoying Yoonah losing what she believed to be a part of her soul. He always seemed to get a kick out of getting proved right, even at Yoonah’s expense.

“And you never learn,” Jinhwa continued, his tone sounding so light as if they were talking about their weekend plans, not Yoonah’s entire world shifting. “I always know what’s best for you, don’t I? Have I ever led you wrong before, Yoonah? My beautiful, sweet…so sweet, Yoonah.” He had her face in both his hands, squishing her cheeks together like fans used to ask her to do at fan signings. The way he called her sweet, she knew he wanted to call her dumb. Her eyes stared at his sock covered feet, blinking back the tears she felt could drip out of her face any moment.

The silence lasted a beat too long. Jinhwa squeezed her cheeks and gave her head a small shake.

“Answer, Baebi.” He grunted as her head moved like a worn out baby dolls’ in his palms. She looked tired as her eyes drifted off to the side. Yoonah sighed.

“No, you haven't."

“Stop mumbling.”

“You haven’t,” Yoonah snapped, looking up at Jinhwa to lock eyes with him with a look that felt like splintered glass. Jinhwa only grinned, holding her face as if it was a prize he’d won in a raffle. He released her and sat on the bed next to her, the mattress dipping under his weight so she tipped into him a little. He didn’t look at her as he spoke.

“You’re so dramatic when you’re grieving a replaceable boy,” he said. There was a note of familiarity in it, like he’d seen her go through this a hundred times before, and he was always watching. “Do you want a drink? Something to eat?” He said it like an afterthought, as if to imply she didn’t really want or need anything.

“I don’t want anything,” Yoonah said. Her voice sounded unfamiliar to her. She ran her fingers through her hair, wincing when her hand caught a knot at the nape of her neck. She pulled at it hard, not caring that he was watching. Jinhwa only raised a brow.

“Are you ever going to let someone help you, or is it always going to be like this?” He tapped the side of his head with one finger, a little ‘crazy’ gesture she’d seen him use on TV once, on some variety show where he’d joked about managing ‘difficult’ girls. “You spiral too easily, Baebi.”

There was a part of Yoonah that wanted to bite him, the way a dog bites the hand that pets it too hard. She snapped, “I spiral too easily? You-You are so annoying! Oh my god, you talk to me like a teenager.” She glared at the wall, anywhere but his face. Her knuckles dug into her thigh. Jinhwa shrugged.

“You act like a teenager.”

“And you still fuck me so what does that make you?” The question cuts through the air before Yoonah can give it a second thought. Jinhwa scoffed, looking away from her and rubbing at his jaw as his lips curled in.

“You want me to be the bad guy so bad, but I’m not.” Jinhwa turned his head, almost smiling, as if she’d offered a compliment. When he crossed his arms, Yoonah could see the ridges of old scars on his inner wrist, pale against his skin. It made her angrier. She didn’t want to feel sorry for him.

She stood abruptly, the bedsheets tangling around her legs. “You’re not the bad guy? Are you serious? Do you even see how people look at you? How they talk about you? They speak of you like you’re a demon. The devil even.” She spat out the next words, letting them tumble out before she could regret them: “You’re a fucking creep and everyone knows it.”

Jinhwa didn’t react. His calmness infuriated her so much she actually slapped him.

The sound was loud and soft at the same time, like a hand hitting wet clay. Yoonah’s palm stung from the impact, but her heart thudded harder. Jinhwa’s cheek bloomed red, but he only blinked, registering the contact the way men in movies registered a slap: with silence, with gravity, with a sense that it was always going to happen eventually. He didn’t even lift a hand to touch the mark.

“You're a fucking monster,” Yoonah hissed. It was a stupid insult, she’d used it on him in high school, she remembered, when he’d made her run up and down the gym stairs for an hour after missing a single beat in dance practice. Her throat hurt from the effort of all the words she’d caged for years.

“Have you ever thought about it? How fucking weird this is? For you to be with me like this? To want me like you do? When did it start? How old was I?” she went on, “Was it when I was ten? Thirteen? When did you look at me and decided you wanted to fuck me, Jinhwa? Was it when Naomi died? What did I do? What made you look at me different? Was it my outfit? My hair? Did I smile at you too long? What was it? Come on, Jinhwa. Tell me, why’d you want me when I’m your son’s age?” Her hands shook. She dug her nails so hard into her palm she thought maybe she’d break skin. “You act like you care, but it’s just–” She searched for the word, some last bullet in her chamber. “--perversion. You’re sick, you know that?”

He listened. He always did, even when she didn’t want him there. Letting her gnaw through the wire fence of his patience. Sometimes she wondered if he was proud of her, for managing to touch a nerve, for not letting herself get smoothed down by the machinery of his approval.

But then he stood up, and the movement alone made her stumble backward, almost trip over the edge of the mattress. Jinhwa didn’t lunge or shout. Instead, he let the inertia of her rant hang in the room like the smell of something scorched. He considered her for a moment, she could feel his eyes crawl over her, cataloguing her new edges and old weaknesses, the way a bored doctor might survey a corpse, and then pointed at the mattress.

“Sit back down.”

He didn’t have to raise his voice. Yoonah’s knees buckled on reflex, her ass hitting the edge of the bed hard enough to make the frame creak. She hated how quickly she obeyed, how she couldn’t stop herself even when she’d spent all morning convincing herself she wouldn’t let him win anymore. She hated it even more that he knew this about her. She looked away but her body remained precisely where he put it, a small animal who only wanted to be told what to do.

Jinhwa exhaled through his nose, a sound that could have been amusement or disgust or both. He took his time before speaking, like he was letting her stew in her own shame. “That’s better.”

The silence glared.

Jinhwa’s voice, when it finally came, was gentle in a way that made Yoonah’s skin crawl. “You want to know why I’m so good at fixing you, Baebi?” He put a hand on her shoulder, soft and warm and heavy, the touch that always made her feel like she was being pressed through layers of gauze until her bones ached. “It’s because I know you. Because I see you, the way you really are, not the way you want to pretend to be.”

Yoonah tried to jerk away, but his grip stayed. He didn’t squeeze, just let her twitch under his palm like a bug on a pin.

“You act like you’re mad at me, but you’re really just mad at yourself.” He spoke right into her ear, breath hot and close, a little bit of mouthwash bitterness. “You hate that I’m right, that you need me. You always have. You think any of those people in your life would stick around if they saw what I see? You think that boy would have lasted? He would have left the first time he saw you lose your shit, same as the last one, and the one before that, and the one before that. They all leave, Yoonah. Only I stay.”

She wanted to tell him to fuck off. Her mouth didn’t work. Her lips trembled, so she pressed them together until they hurt. He let his hand slide up her neck, thumb stroking the line of her jaw. “No one else is going to love you like this. No one else is ever going to bother learning what you need, much less giving it to you.” He said it soft, almost sweet, like a lullaby she’d been left to unspool in her own head. His hand never left her throat, just rested there, ambient and inescapable.

Yoonah tried to come up with a rebuttal, a sharp retort, something smart and mean and hers, but her brain moved like syrup. The more she tried to clutch at herself, to hide the ugly bits, the more Jinhwa pressed in, filling the room with certainty until everything else shrank to the size of a pinhole. She felt herself breathing faster, cheek tight and throbbing, and she hated that it was his words that did this to her, not the slap, not the humiliation, just this: the way he made her feel like she was five again, like she couldn’t be trusted with her own wants.

He could see it, the way her shoulders curled, the soft crack in her voice. He leaned forward and nuzzled his nose to hers, a gesture that might have been tender if it weren’t so completely devouring. “There she is,” he murmured, “my Baebi.”

“I’m not–” Yoonah managed, but didn’t finish it. Her voice didn’t make it out. She was crying now, stupid, embarrassing, silent tears. She wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand, snotty and undignified, and Jinhwa leaned in and kissed her. It surprised her, not that he did it, but how soft he made himself. He kissed her the way you’d touch a bruise, and she realized, through the blur of her own tears, that she hated him more for being gentle than she’d ever hated him for being cruel.

Yoonah let herself fall forward. Her mouth opened under his, hungry and bitter, already stinging from the salt on her face. She kissed him hard, not caring if her nose got squished against his cheek. He tasted like mint and coffee. He didn’t pull away, didn’t push her off, didn’t even flinch when she bit the inside of his lip. He only hummed, low, the sound vibrating into her jaw.

She gripped his shirt in both fists, and when she slid her hands under it, his skin was warm and completely ordinary. She pressed her mouth to his throat, to the pulse that ran just under the surface, and for a second she wondered if she could hurt him with just her teeth, if she could draw blood, if it would matter.

But Jinhwa’s hands were on her hips, on her ass, lifting her with that same easy muscle memory he’d used to correct her form in the practice room. He didn’t force anything, only let her climb him, let her set the pace, let her drag her body over his like she was trying to erase herself in the heat of him. There was a moment where her body almost forgot how to be angry, and she nearly laughed at the absurdity of it. But then Jinhwa’s hands closed around her jaw, pulling her off his neck so he could look at her, study her. He wiped her cheek with his thumb, then sucked the salt off his finger with the same lazy care that used to get them in trouble backstage.

“I hate that it's you,” Yoonah whispered. She sounded small and brittle, the word “you” a glass splinter sticking out of her throat. “I hate that you always—” She stopped. The room was too close, and she was so tired of her own voice echoing back at her.

Jinhwa pressed his mouth to her temple, more breath than kiss. “So don’t come back,” he said, like it was easy, like he was being generous. He slid his hand up, threading his fingers into her tangles, the ones she didn't bother to brush that morning. “But you will.” His lips touched her ear.

“You always come back.”

She could have shoved him. She didn’t. She wanted to say something ugly or clever, but nothing felt right, so she just said the only thing left, which was so much smaller than hate: “I need you.” No drama, not even a whine. It was the truth, and the truth was pathetic.

Chloe’s alarm jolts Yoonah back into reality. She blinks twice at the floor then at the counter where the pregnancy tests lay. With a sudden burst of urgency, Yoonah jerks her hand out grabbing a piece of plastic in a tight fist. Chloe, for a moment, is caught off guard but quickly grabs the other one, biting her bottom lip as she watches Yoonah closely. The hand not clutching the test, jolts out to hold Yoonah’s. Yoonah takes a second to wrap her fingers around Chloe, but when she does she feels her bottom lip shake.

“Chlo,” Yoonah whispers like they aren’t the only two in the bathroom. Chloe shuffles closer, their shoulders bumping with how close she moves in. Yoonah keeps her head down, but moves forward, her forehead nearly touching Chloe’s, whose eyes couldn’t leave Yoonah even if she was tired. She looks so scared. Chloe has never seen Yoonah like this before, damn near petrified into quiet. Yoonah is loud, explosive, but now there’s barely a sound leaving her.

“I don’t want to have his baby.” A confession that has Chloe feeling as if she swallowed glue. She stares at Yoonah with knitted brows, expression reading of something angry. Chloe is always angry, but now it was on the behalf of the girl she spent most of her time mad at. Chloe takes a deep breath through her nose, giving Yoonah’s hand a squeeze. She can’t find any words that feel right, so she says nothing.

Chloe flips over the test in her hand without a word. Two red lines. Her brows shoot up, blinking in disbelief. A quiet sob leaves Yoonah’s throat. She has to lean on the counter to keep herself standing up. Chloe swallows thickly, tossing the test aside with a clatter to wrap an arm around Yoonah’s waist. She rips the test from her hand, flipping it over like it’s the winning card in a blackjack deck, but instead of a two of hearts, she’s hit with a king.

Two red lines stare back at the girls. Yoonah’s knees buckle, and Chloe grunts at the weight, but lifts Yoonah up the best she can before slowly sinking to her knees with her. Limply, her arms wrap around Yoonah’s shoulders as the elder curls into Chloe’s hold, burying her face into her shoulder with a sob that makes her whole body shake.

Chloe doesn’t say anything. She only feels Yoonah’s sobs rattle her bones.

#the switch from him calling her yoonah to baebi .... im itching #the backstage comment makes me sick and soooo angry bc so many people know they know and no one's helping her 😞#there's sm i want to say but idk how to even vocalize it #the flashback where she digs at him and he just stands there i wonder if any of it even stung him a little #or if he really does see it as a 'kid' just acting out especially since she's done it before when she was younger #there's layers to that noah mention </3 #seeing bee's ocs mentioned in pieces always feels like a celebrity appearance like first anais now cash LAJDSKDH #the jeans the long shirts the blood he makes her sick she's losing sm of herself 😞#dearest moots.

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sayoiko · 13 days ago

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“One day, I am gonna grow wings, A chemical reaction, Hysterical and useless.” ― Radiohead, Let Down.

IN WHICH ... A choice is made.

FEATURING ... DeepDive Esemble. Son Jinhwa. Kang Jihan.

WORD COUNT … 3K

NOTES AND WARNINGS ...Grief, death (overdose), addiction, emotional trauma, group conflict, verbal and physical abuse, implied grooming, idol industry exploitation, depression, dissociation, toxic leadership. rbs, comments, and asks are always appreciated ♡

The room is crowded. The room is stuffy. The room is silent.

Eight men are crammed into Jinhwa’s office.

Jinhwa is sitting behind his desk, and Jihan stands in the corner behind Jinhwa. In front of them, the members of DeepDive are spread out. Noah and Kiwoo sat in the oak chairs in front of the desk that separates them from their superiors, Jisung standing near the couch with his arms crossed, Aiden and Woobin sat on the couch, Aiden with his hands in his lap and Woobin biting one of his fingernails, and Reid stood against the bookshelf on the opposite end, near Noah’s chair but not close enough to touch. There’s someone physically missing but the weight of it is obvious. It has been for days now.

“You all have suffered a terrible loss,” Jinhwa starts and Jisung bites the inside of his cheek, looking away from his boss. His lips twitch. He wants a cigarette.

“We all have. Finn was…so important to Mydol. We’re going to work hard to ensure he’s not forgotten and to give you all the time you need.”

Silence.

Reid looks at Jisung, who locks eyes with him for a moment, nodding at him in their own secret language. Aiden hasn’t looked up from his lap since they got here, but Reid looks at him as if for approval. Aiden doesn’t notice.

“What if we need a lot of time?” Reid inquires. Jinhwa looks at him with something Reid swears he’s never seen on the man’s face before: Compassion.

Jinhwa nods.

“You can have it.”

“Years,” Reid counters. He hears Kiwoo sigh softly, scratching the back of his neck. “What if we need years?” It’s a backdoor question. They won’t need years because they’ll never really get used to the new life they’ve been dealt. Jinhwa nods again while Jihan stares daggers into the back of his head, looking up at Reid. Woobin shifts in his seat, and Jihan’s gaze snaps to him, causing the other to still. Aiden notices, glancing out the corner of his eye at Woobi,n then up at Jihan, but dropping his gaze before their eyes can meet.

Jinhwa clears his throat.

“Then, we can discuss the avenues we want to go down as a team–”

“As a team?” Jisung interrupts, stepping forward a step as he scoffs. “Look at us. The team is falling apart. You think we can carry on like this?” He’s angry, but that’s all Jisung seems to be these days. Angry or gone. Jisung motions at Noah, who’s staring at his father’s desk like he’s trying to memorize the swirls in the wood and define their shapes.

“He hasn’t spoken since the funeral, and you’re talking about what avenues we’re going to take. Enough of the faux-sympathy bullshit, Jinhwa–”

“Jisung, please,” Kiwoo whispers, a feeble attempt to keep the peace. He hasn’t felt like playing peacemaker these days. Even now, he rests his forehead on his palm like he has a headache with his round eyes shut. Jisung is relentless. He always is. Always fighting until he’s out of breath or the other person has finally decided to give up. Jinhwa seemed never to give up. It makes Aiden’s shoulders tense, looking at Reid to share a silent word, but Reid is only watching Jisung.

“No. No. This is bullshit. Finn hasn’t been in the ground for a week and he wants to ask when we’re ready for a fucking comeback.”

“That’s not what I’m–”

“Then what is this? A sudden mental health check? Because the timing isn’t suspicious at all. Are you going to check our noses next?”

“Jisung!” Kiwoo snaps, looking over his shoulder at the man with a disgusted look. Jisung raises his brows, putting a hand on his chest in bewilderment. Jinhwa sighs, leaning back in his chair as he taps his desk.

“What? Like I’m wrong? He didn’t give a fuck about our wellbeing before one of us overdosed–No, no, sorry, until he died, because he overdosed twice and he didn’t do anything about it. Remember that?” Every word is an accusation with fire and venom behind it. Woobin sucks air through his teeth.

“We all knew what Finn was doing,” Woobin speaks, causing heads to turn towards him, most stunned he’s speaking since he’s been the most nonchalant about this whole thing since it happened. “And we all did nothing to help him so–”

“That’s not true–” Reid tries, but Woobin scoffs, cutting him off.

“It is. It is true. We stopped giving a fuck that Finn was sniffing up half his body weight in coke after, like, what? 2021? 2022? Just because you made a half-assed attempt to get him to rehab doesn’t mean you cared more, Reid.” Then the room is silent with Reid turning his head away, upper lip curled in, while Blue almost looks smug because he knows he’s right. Blue, despite his glaring flaws, is usually always right. He always says the truth in the most indigestible fashion to watch others choke on what he already knows.

“Should you really have much of a say on this?” Jisung chimes in, baritone voice hard. Blue turns his head towards the elder dramatic, tilting it with a condescending hum. Jisung sucks air through his perfect teeth, locking eyes with Blue. “You liked Finn unconscious more than you did awake.”

Blue scoffs, rolling his head as if to get a crick out of his neck.

“Everybody liked Finn unconscious.”

Just as Aiden opens his mouth to tell Blue to shut up, Jihan steps out from his corner, smacking Blue in the mouth with the back of his hand. The impact stuns him, sending him snapping back and colliding with the back of the couch before his hands jerk up to cover his now bleeding lower lip. Aiden shuts his mouth, his eyes wide as mothballs as they stare forward.

Kiwoo drops his head in his hands while Jisung bites back a laugh, wearing the same smug expression Blue once wore.

“Stop talking.” Is all Jihan tells his son, stepping back behind Jinhwa’s desk, arms crossed and eyes glaring daggers into Blue. Blue stares ahead of him, keeping his mouth covered with one hand as he adjusts his posture, as if it makes much of a difference.

Jinhwa rubs his lips together, uncomfortable yet bored. When he shakes his head slowly, some of his dark brown hair falls into his face. He drums his slender fingers on his desk, hoping maybe to get Noah’s attention, but Noah still stares ahead, wordless.

“We could bring up the possibility of…” Jinhwa hesitates, sighing with a shrug. “Disbandment, if that’s what you boys would like to discuss.”

The only boy in the room is dead, but even Finn was nearing 26. He was no boy. These are men all nearing thirty or just touching it, all living through more than they should’ve at their ages. Reid is the eldest, turning thirty just three months ago. He’s spent a third of his life in DeepDive, even longer under Jinhwa’s cold and hard direction, and he wants to imagine what life would be like as something simpler than this. He’s thought of being a painter before, but he’s useless with a paintbrush. Sometimes, Reid wishes to be a simple taxi driver and remain anonymous. He knows life wouldn’t be easier if he were one, but he also believes it would be much simpler.

Jisung is next, being twenty-eight but swearing he feels forty-eight. A part of Jisung knows he’s never been a boy. Before he became a trainee, he helped his mom make rent by selling fruit on the side of the road or tricking people into giving him their spare change. He started training later than the rest of the boys, joining at sixteen and managing to debut at eighteen because of his charm and vocals. He’s always been praised for his maturity, but now he feels it's wearing on him or showing in his skin. He smokes two packs of cigarettes on a normal day, three if he’s stressed, but recently he’s been nearing four. He feels ancient.

Noah feels as if he’s aged backwards. When he was fifteen, he felt twenty-five, but now, at twenty-six, he feels fifteen. He swears he’s felt fifteen for lifetimes now. He can’t escape those numbers. At fifteen, Noah was the tallest trainee, told by the head trainee evaluator he was too handsome to be fifteen, and he needed to embrace that more. He had no idea what that meant, but by the time he was sixteen, they were officially dating. She was thirty-two. He only began to feel like a boy when they broke up once Noah turned twenty-five. Ever since then, he’s been going backwards, and this loss only seemed to make it worse.

Woobin has always been a man. Ever since his mom left in the middle of the night, he had been treated as a grown man, not a five-year-old boy. With every cruel word from his father’s tongue, every bruise from his balled up fist, and every exit from a step-mother that promised to stay, Woobin aged. He feels older than his father, who looms in the corner like a shadowy ghost waiting to spook whoever dares to pass him. Woobin has never been a boy. At this point, he finds being a boy pointless, wishing he were a man straight from the womb.

Kiwoo didn’t care to be a man, but that’s what he’s been since his sister died. He marks that as the loss of his innocence if he had any left at that point. The sadness in him often clawed at what made him a child, seeping in and souring every good memory he had. Since he was seven, he’s been sad. He’s always been miserable. There are just days when he’s less sad than others. Now, his days consist of rotting in his bed until his husband is begging him to get up to eat something. Oddly, Kiwoo hasn’t felt this childish since he was a child. He relies on others to take care of him. Drew even brushed his hair this morning before this meeting. It’s dreadful to be a child in a man’s body, Kiwoo thinks, but it's always been this way.

And Aiden. Aiden seemed to be the only one in the room who wasn’t forced to accept manhood at an early age. Some say his mother coddled him too much. He still believed in Santa when he was thirteen and refused to do basic tasks without her supervision. It’s never been known whether this is how Aiden is or how his mother is, but either way, he stayed a boy the longest out of all of them. Time and men have changed that. Aiden doesn’t think he became a man the night he can’t remember, but he still feels in his spirit. He thinks something was taken from him, and nothing was gained. He assumes he’s a man now, but he doesn’t care about that. He never has and probably never will.

“I don’t want to do this without Finn,” Noah finally speaks, low and hushed. Jinhwa nods slowly. He reaches for his son’s hand, but Noah doesn’t move, keeping his dark brown eyes ahead, fingers lying limply on his thighs. “We won’t even sound the same.” That sentence sounds forced out as if Noah doesn’t want to say it because it means nothing in the grand scheme of things.

Kiwoo keenly eyes Jinhwa’s hand slowly retracting, glancing at Noah, then back at the ground as a silence settles. The only thing he can hear is Aiden’s teeth clipping against his nails. Kiwoo reaches over, shoving them from the elder’s mouth with a hard blink. Aiden balls his fists up by his sides instead, nodding.

“I don’t want to either,” Aiden concludes. Reid looks up when his best friend speaks, inhaling through his nose.

“Me either.” If Aiden goes, Reid goes. It’s always been that way. It will always be that way. They both know that and accepted that long ago.

“There’s no reason to keep going without Finn,” Blue chimes in, “I’m out.”

Jisung gives the man a glare that could cut glass, knowing this was a business decision for him. He opens his mouth to say that, but he catches Kiwoo’s tired eyes, and the air gets caught in his throat. He shuts his mouth, lips forming a line, then he nods, crossing his arms.

“It’s all of us or none of us,” Jisung finally says, voice gruff, but it carries a sadness that has Noah glancing up the slightest bit.

Slowly, eyes drift over to Kiwoo, waiting for his conclusion. The silence is waiting to be filled, Kiwoo staring at the ground, unaware of the eyes on him, waiting for the usual voice to fill the room. He’s met with silence. It oddly hits him that he’ll never hear the seventh voice that would boisterously fill the room with laughter or a stupid comment ever again. Kiwoo’s brow knitted, and his bottom lip shook, his small hand lifting to cover his eyes that filled with tears quicker than he could comprehend. A sob he tries to repress shakes out of his throat, making him drop his head down.

No one moves, no one says a word.

Noah lifts his arm, placing a hand on Kiwoo’s shoulder and rubbing it in an attempt to comfort him. Noah moves his hand from his shoulder to the back of his neck, rubbing there and down his spine robotically, mimicking how he remembers his mother would comfort him when he cried as a child. He’s silent, but he’s there.

Jinhwa nods, taking that as an answer enough, pushing the box of tissues towards Kiwoo, who doesn’t move to take them. He sits behind his desk like a judge delivering the final verdict, his posture perfect and a cold look on his face, as he tries to mask it with sincerity.

No one knows if Son Jinhwa really cared that Finn Lee died, or if he was just sad his prized pig finally went to the slaughter.

“We can discuss this more after the funeral.” The thought of the funeral is absolutely dreadful to all of them. Jisung feels his throat tighten, looking down at the ground as his arms tighten around his chest.

“I respect–”

“Can we leave?” Jisung interjects, looking up to stare squarely at Jinhwa, who stares holes into the other man’s skull. Both of their stares are relentless, waiting for the other to back down, but neither of them does. Jisung raises his thick brows, urging Jinhwa to say something or dismiss him. They only stop looking at each other when Noah stands from his chair, helping Kiwoo up with an arm around his shoulders.

They leave without a word, Kiwoo holding onto Noah’s shirt at his waist with his head down, light brown hair covering his face in a curly curtain.

Reid lingers as the first wave leaves, watching Noah guide Kiwoo out of the room. If not for the ripple in the carpet, Reid might believe the entire encounter is a bad TV drama. He lets his hands rest at his sides, short nails digging into the seams of his trousers, and stares at the curve of the office chair at Woobin’s unmoving blue-black silhouette on the couch.

Aiden is still beside him, holding his breath in that way he does when he wants to say something but doesn’t trust himself not to cry. Reid nudges him hard with an elbow, and Aiden startles, blinking.

“Come on,” Reid says. The sound of his voice feels like sand in his mouth. “Let’s get some air.”

Aiden nods and stands. He looks back at Woobin, who presses his tongue to his raw lip and offers a half-shrug. Reid thinks if he looks closer, he’ll see the beginnings of a bruise where Jihan struck him, a bruised purple blooming under the skin, but Woobin’s expression is so flat, so bored, almost, that it’s easier to look away.

Jisung is already at the door, jiggling the handle too hard, like maybe he can wrench his way out of this room and everything it stands for. He doesn’t wait for anyone, just tears into the hall, two steps ahead of his own shadow. Reid follows, and when he passes Jinhwa, he catches the man’s profile: the pinched mouth, the wide pupils.

Out in the hallway, the air is a few degrees cooler, and it feels like a slap. Jisung is already half a corridor away, shoulders hunched and strides long enough to make it clear he doesn’t want company. Reid doubts even a bear trap could stop him now. He doesn’t blame him.

Woobin is the last to leave. He wipes his mouth with the cuff of his sleeve, eyes Aiden for a second, then trails after the rest of them. Aiden watches him go, then follows, keeping three paces behind like he’s afraid the air might snap if he gets too close.

Nobody speaks in the elevator. It creaks and groans, and smells like something smokey. Jisung keeps his eyes locked on the red numbers as they tick down, and Woobin stares at his own reflection in the metal wall, as if he’s waiting for it to talk back. Aiden tucks himself into the corner and presses his fists to his thighs. Reid closes his eyes and counts the seconds.

At the ground floor, Jisung bolts before the doors finish opening, disappearing into the parking lot. Woobin goes next, hands in his pockets, head down, the solid thump of his boots leaving a trail. Reid hears him spit on the cement as he passes the curb. Aiden lingers, waiting for Reid to move.

Everyone goes in their own direction.

#finn is really gone ... he's gone he's gone he's gone ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️#it's so it's just so crazy n upsetting n SAD that jinhwa can just think about business when finns dead !!!!!!! EVEN JIHAN DOESNT SEEM TO GAF #FINN IS DEAD HES DEAD #FUCK BLUE😭😭😭😭😭#my heart is so heavy #everything moved so slowly in this like being underwater 😞#dearest moots.

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sayoiko · 13 days ago

Text

Seoul, South Korea || August 6th, 2025

The world is in mourning following the sudden and tragic death of singer-songwriter and producer Finn Lee, who was found dead in his Seoul studio Monday morning. He was 25.

Authorities have not released a cause of death and have stated that investigations are ongoing. According to emergency personnel, Finn was discovered unresponsive in the early hours by two DeepDive members who have not been named. He was pronounced dead at the scene.

Finn Lee, best known as a member of the internationally acclaimed boy group DEEPDIVE, was one of the most celebrated musical figures of his generation.

A Grammy Award-winning producer, he became the first Korean idol to receive the honor for his work behind the scenes. Finn was widely revered not only for his vocals and charasmatic stage presence but for his deeply emotional songwriting and genre-defying soundscapes that helped shape the identity of modern K-pop.

In a statement released Tuesday morning, Mydol Entertainment, the agency behind DEEPDIVE, expressed their “profound sorrow” at the loss of a star who was “more than just an artist, he was family.”

“Finn was not just our artist. He was our colleague, our brother, our brightest star. Every melody he created was a gift to this world. Mydol Entertainment grieves alongside every fan who loved him, and we promise to honor his legacy with the care and respect he deserved.”

Outside Mydol’s headquarters, flowers, candles, and handwritten letters have begun to accumulate, left by grieving fans dressed in black. Across South Korea, fan vigils have sprung up in major cities as fans sing his songs under dim candlelight, holding hands, and releasing balloons in the idol's honor.

On social media, the hashtags #RestInPeaceFinn, #ThankYouFinn, and #ForeverWithFinn trended globally within hours. Tributes have poured in from artists across the world, many citing Finn as an inspiration, a friend, or a gentle soul who always uplifted those around him.

One of Finn’s older sisters, Lee Subin, offered a heartbreaking message through her personal account:

"You were soft in a world that punished softness. I’m so sorry. You deserved so much more than what you were given. I know you're with dad and finally at peace, but my heart is so heavy. I love you both so much. Finn wasn’t just an artist. He was my baby brother. And he was so tired. Please be kind. Please remember him with love."

According to the family’s wishes, a private funeral service will be held in the coming days, attended only by close friends and relatives. Mydol Entertainment has announced plans for a public memorial and fan ceremony to be held at a later date, once arrangements have been finalized.

Finn Lee had been an idol for over ten years, starting his career at thriteen on the survival show, The New Wave, where he would rank first and debut as DeepDive's center in 2016 at just fourteen years old. He produced and wrote well over hundreds of songs throughout his career, dabbling in every genre at least once.

Finn was the only son out of four sisters, three older sisters, and one younger sister. Born and raised in Florida, his family says that he's always had a passion for music even before he could walk.

He is survived by his mother, sisters Subin, Angela, Ginger, and Bridgette, his bandmates, and millions of fans who will carry his legacy forward.

We extend our deepest condolences to all who are mourning the loss of Finn Lee and ask that fans and media respect the family’s privacy during this time.

[ +2,018 | -112 ] He was only 25. A literal genius and the industry chewed him up and spat him out. I hope you're at peace now, Finn.

[ +1,886 | -89 ] ‘found in his studio’ so he overdosed. just devestating.

[ +1,740 | -65 ] Finn wasn't okay. You could see it. His eyes looked dead in the last Behind episode. He didn’t even smile when Blue joked with him.

[ +1,622 | -197 ] he literally called chloe his ‘sister from another timeline’ during the Grammy backstage interview. that bond was so pure.

[ +1,410 | -74 ] He carried K-pop on his back and the industry let him suffer in silence....

[ +1,398 | -28 ] watch mydol rebrand this into some tragic martyrdom storyline just to sell albums. disgusting.

[ +1,251 | -19 ] the way mydol posted that poetic ass statement like they didn’t let him rot in that studio every night alone. disgusting.

[ +1,145 | -58 ] the crashout live ruined everything. finn got torn to shreds online over songs he PRODUCED. y’all dragged him for doing his job.

[ +1,128 | -94 ] the fact that noah’s fans are already gearing up to frame this like ‘he’s grieving his brother’ when his actions directly led to the hate campaign against finn is insane.

[ +1,102 | -77 ] this is what happens when you debut a child and throw them into a machine. he was in rehab twice before he turned 23

[ +1,075 | -43 ] people acting shocked like it wasn’t a known fact that finn was clubbing in hongdae every other weekend. this didn’t come out of nowhere.

[ +1,062 | -21 ] Please protect Reid, Aiden, and Blue. They just lost their brother. And the fans aren’t making it easier.

[ +1,038 | -115 ] so we’re just NOT gonna talk about how mydol had him booked back-to-back post-grammy? the guy never got to rest.

[ +996 | -64 ] His sister’s post broke me...That family has lost so much. First their dad, now the only boy in the family. Praying they find some peace.

[ +905 | -39 ] if chloe posts something i will actually break down. you could always tell he was happiest when she was around.

[ +889 | -174 ] it was the worst kept secret. everyone knew he partied. everyone knew he was using. we just didn’t know it would end like this.

[ +874 | -28 ] i’m so scared for chloe. she was his best friend for like a decade. he called her his anchor during award season. i can’t imagine how she’s feeling.

[ +841 | -90 ] don’t forget it was baebi and finn who wrote ‘Seoul City’ together. she used to say he was the only person who understood her lyrics. this must be destroying her.

[ +792 | -41 ] #baebikarma

#my stomach just dropped 💔💔💔💔 OJ FINN 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭#dearest moots.

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