#balsa trotting

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Balsa Trotting

La pesca al colpo in passata con i Balsa. Realizzazione del galleggiante, montature ed azione di pesca.

La Balsa propriamente detta è un albero ed il suo legno, leggerissimo, è ampiamente utilizzato per la costruzione di numerose tipologie di galleggiante. Per questo motivo parlare genericamente di balsa in sé dice poco e niente se non identificare un materiale e quindi delle caratteristiche costruttive con annesse proprietà. Ma al di là di ciò i galleggianti differiscono tra loro per tanti altri aspetti che li rendono, ciascuno nella sua categoria, unici. Quando ci si riferisce al balsa come galleggiante (the Balsa) e non come legno (da cui ovviamente prende comunque il nome) si va ad indicare un tipico galleggiante inglese, parente prossimo degli stick floats e che con questi si trova in una sorta di rapporto di continuità. Un galleggiante da passata in correnti abbastanza importanti ed acque medio-profonde, generalmente di una certa portata e di forma affusolata.

Realizzare un Balsa

Il Balsa non è un galleggiante comune e al pari degli stick floats, già più conosciuti, risulta di difficile reperibilità a meno di non ordinarne qualche modello su negozi d’oltremanica. Noi lo abbiamo realizzato, seguendone le caratteristiche principali, a partire da un galleggiante in balsa nostrano di forma e portata simile. Si tratta sostanzialmente di un adattamento che prevede la rimozione dell’anellino per il filo passante e la modifica della sommità con realizzazione di una cupola. Seguono poi le colorazioni.

Si ottiene alla fine un Balsa vero e proprio che si fissa in lenza con i classici anelli/tubicini di silicone che lo rendono intercambiabile. Il modello classico ha una portata di 3-4 grammi ma se ne possono produrre di più grandi o più piccoli a seconda delle esigenze.

La lenza per il Balsa

La piombatura in genere non è tra le più delicate. Salvo casi particolari (trotting con Balsa di piccole dimensioni in corrente lenta) il peso è concentrato in una serie di bulk e ha la funzione di far calare rapidamente l’esca e tenerla in prossimità del fondo per tutta la passata. Dimentichiamoci dunque, almeno per ora, le lunghe spallinate cui siamo in genere abituati e l’esca che cala lentamente. Quella con il Balsa è una pesca che non va proprio per il sottile e mira alla cattura di pesci che mangiano a contatto con con il fondo e in condizioni di flusso importante. Qui in Arno Pisano si tratta di carpe e channel di una certa taglia quindi anche la lenza non sarà di certo capillare.

Una caratteristica invariabile della lenza è la presenza di un pallino stabilizzatore (e con funzione di marker) subito al di sotto della deriva del galleggiante. A seconda della portata e delle condizioni il pallino può variare in peso ma in genere è del tipo BB (0.4 gr) oppure AAA (0.8 gr) potendo però salire fino a SSG (1.6 gr) quando la situazione lo richiede. Questo peso rende il comportamento del Balsa simile a quello di uno stick float (che anch'esso peraltro prevede l’uso di un marker anche se possiede già uno stelo più pesante del corpo) e ne stabilizza la passata in presenza di flussi non troppo uniformi, facilitando inoltre un certo grado di trattenuta (seppure lieve) dato che l’assenza di spalle tende a far scivolare il galleggiante facilmente fuori dal pelo dell’acqua. Per quanto concerne la distribuzione del peso la mia lenza di partenza è la seguente.

Ne esistono tante e ne ho provate tante. Le lenze sono un po’ come i vestiti, devono svolgere la loro funzione ma devono anche corrispondere allo stile del pescatore e alle sue preferenze. Non c’è niente di immutabile e i gusti cambiano nel tempo quindi prendetela come spunto, non di più. Questa vuole ricalcare una lenza classica da Balsa ma vuole sapersi anche adattare alle condizioni mutevoli di un fiume come l’Arno Pisano la cui corrente cambia di continuo in funzione della marea. La giusta taratura del galleggiante (noterete che mancano 0,3 grammi) la si lascia al marker shot (eventualmente si aggiunge un pallino più piccolo o se ne applica uno singolo un po’ più grande). Questa lenza è per correnti abbastanza importanti ed uniformi, tipicamente nella fase di scialo (marea calante). Il triplo bulk (3BB, 4n. 4, 2n. 6) consente di aprirla se le condizioni lo richiedono ed avere una presentazione leggermente più morbida come la seguente.

Ovviamente è solo una delle tante variazioni possibili. Consiglio di utilizzare del piombo morbido, non tossico e le pinze Cresta (che avete trovato recensite in rivista). Modificare la lenza sarà così più rapido e indolore per il filo.

Azione di pesca

Tipicamente il Balsa è un galleggiante da passata in acque con una certa corrente e di una certa profondità che “interviene” dopo che gli stick floats hanno esaurito la loro funzione. La pasturazione in queste condizioni richiede l’uso di bocce ed incollati e storicamente si sono utilizzate quasi sempre esche voluminose. In Arno su linee di pesca che non superano i tre metri di profondità ed ammettendo passate abbastanza lunghe è ancora possibile una pesca con il bigattino e addirittura il pellet da risultati interessanti. Quando il flusso rallenta e si può aprire la lenza ha senso anche una pasturazione manuale a larve sfuse. Sondare è fondamentale, anche se in corrente ha le sue difficoltà.

Non staremo qui a soffermarci su questo aspetto ma comunque operiate è importante che l’esca passi vicino al fondo. L’Arno Pisano è “maledetto” per il suo fondale così, conoscendolo, io mi limito a sondare piuttosto vicino a riva e poi aumento l’altezza finché durante una passata non noto che l’amo struscia sul fondo dopodiché alzo di qualche centimetro fino a trovare la giusta misura. C’è il rischio di lasciarci il terminale ma è l’unico sistema. Sulla linea di pesca più corta le prede prevalenti sono le carpe.

Questi ciprinidi fanno quasi sempre lo stesso percorso in cerca di cibo e anche quando di una certa taglia (parliamo di pesci che superano i quattro chili di peso) amano stare piuttosto a ridosso della sponda. L’azione di pesca quasi marginale è più semplice di quella a maggior distanza per vari fattori tra cui, indubbiamente, una minor profondità ed una corrente più lenta, il che favorisce la pasturazione e la presentazione dell’esca. Su una linea di pesca più distante (una quindicina di metri circa), specie se è possibile una presentazione più aperta, è facile intercettare i cavedani.

Sono pesci che molti di voi conoscono bene ma che qui in Arno non richiedono lenze capillari per via del fatto che l’acqua è sempre scura. L’importante è l’equilibrio tra presentazione e pasturazione e che, pescando con il Balsa, non mangino in calata ma sul fondo perché la lenza, per quanto la si possa aprire, tende comunque ad affondare abbastanza rapidamente, almeno rispetto alle classiche spallinate utilizzate per questa specie di ciprinidi. Altre prede classiche sono poi gli channel (gatti americani), in particolare nella bella stagione e praticamente su ogni linea di pesca.

Si va da esemplari di piccole dimensioni fino a veri e propri colossi di svariati chili. Per questo motivo (carpe comprese) in Arno Pisano le lenze non possono mai essere troppo sottili, altrimenti non si riesce a reggerli.

Attrezzatura

Il Balsa, come da tradizione inglese, è un galleggiante top and bottom che si abbina alle match rod e che richiede il classico lancio laterale (sideways cast) in modo analogo alla pesca con gli stick floats.. La distanza di pesca non sarà mai eccessiva attestandosi al massimo ad una lunghezza pari a circa tre volte quella della canna e la cui misura è da mettere in relazione alla spot (altezza della riva, profondità di pesca) e alla linea che si vuole seguire. 

Come tutti gli approcci che prevedono l’uso dei top and bottom non è previsto di affondare il filo che rimane dunque in superficie. La pesca con il Balsa teme quindi il vento che, se presente, deve provenire o da dietro o lateralmente in verso contrario alla corrente. In bobina un nylon classico è tutto ciò che serve, senza dunque che sia né di tipo sinking né a bassa elasticità. La pesca è a passata con piccole e brevi trattenute, quindi a canna in mano. Ciò nonostante un supporto dotato di rod e butt rest è fondamentale per poter svolgere in tranquillità le tante operazioni che richiedono l’uso delle mani libere, come ad esempio operare aggiustamenti sulla lenza, ecc.

Approfondimenti

Esistono Balsa più piccoli per un’azione di pesca leggera e molto altro ancora rimane da dire sui galleggianti standard. L’appuntamento come sempre è in rivista, nel prossimo numero unico. Vi ricordo la nostra pagina Facebook ed il canale Telegram dove quotidianamente vengono pubblicati aggiornamenti, notizie e ci confrontiamo su svariate tematiche. Molto di quello che viene poi scritto sul blog e successivamente elaborato in rivista passa prima da questi spazi di discussione. Se siete interessati sono a vostra disposizione.

Testo e Foto: Franco Checchi

[smolfangirl]

Nothing else matters

So, the rumours surrounding Matteo’s accident last week got me thinking and the girls forced gently asked me to write this, and btw @queenzenere IF YOU READ THIS AT WORK DON’T BLAME ME I SWEAR TO WONDER WOMAN DON’T YOU DARE

Word count: 2.8k

“Matteo, say something, please!”

Luna cowers over him, over his moveless body. She squeezes his hand. Shakes his shoulder. Calls his name. Cries. Begs him to answer. Calls his name again.

But whatever Luna tries, he doesn’t wake up.

The ambulance drives away without her. Loud sirens and blue lights announce to the world that someone is in desperate need of help, that someone needs saving, a little miracle.

That Matteo needs a little miracle.

As she watches the car getting smaller and smaller, time freezes. Speeds up for her. Freezes, speeds up. It’s a conflict she can’t solve because she is frozen, while everything around her moves on too quickly. Her parents stand next to her, their voices passing right through her and in their hug, Luna feels every single part of her heart shattering into pieces.

There’s pain.

There’s air in her lungs, cold and sharp and ripping her open from inside.

There are thoughts, too many of them, breaking and crushing and stomping on her heart.

There are pictures in her mind, playing over and over in a slideshow designed for misery, and she can’t breathe. She doesn’t want to.

Luna doesn’t want to breathe in a world where Matteo might not.

Words rain down on her. She hears none of them, can’t get a hold on them, on their meaning as this fear, this one terrible fear, takes over and leaves no space in her world for anything else.

The last thing she sees is her dad, is Matteo’s phone in his hand, is her own shaking hand reaching out and taking it.

Luna stares at it, feels her heart clenching in her chest.

Then, she runs.

She runs, her body takes control, she runs, and she doesn’t know what her mom yells after her or how she manages to not get hit by a car. She doesn’t know, she just runs.

Even the closest hospital is too far away. Out of breath before she made it halfway, she slows down with an anxious sickness in her stomach pit. She doesn’t want to be too late, she can’t be too late. She wants to run, because it’s the only way to get to him.

She can’t run anymore. Only walk, which gives Luna an awful lot of time to think, about nothing, about everything.

She thinks that she should give up on Matteo, should’ve done so ages ago. Sure, he awoke feelings she never experienced before, showed her new stars and entire galaxies in his smiles, in his kisses, in his love.

But too many times did he made her cry, too many times did he throw her into an ocean of despair and sadness and anger, too many times did he teach her the devastating pain of a broken heart.

She should give up on him. In the rapid beat of her heart and the hurried movements of her feet, though, she discovers a truth.

The truth.

She loves him.

Like he said, the heart always wins in the end. Luna loves him, and she knows it just like she knows she did her best to avoid that feeling, tried so hard. She tried to avoid Matteo himself, too. Convinced Simón not to interfere, no matter what he thought about Matteo’s behavior or reasons or anything else that might’ve changed her mind. Told herself she had changed her mind about him one too many times, told herself there was no way she’d forgive him.

She loves him, and she’d forgive him everything if only it meant he was alive and well.

Luna is running again. It feels like hours have passed, or two seconds, and the hospital is still so far away. Why is she moving so slow? She needs to be there, now, she needs to make sure he’s…

Her head plays the scene over in her head, makes her choke for air that is already running short in her exhausted lungs. How he won’t stop begging her to see this stupid video, how he speaks to her in this stupid soft voice reserved only for her that she wants to hate. How he climbs up, filled with this stupid confidence and desperation. How he falls and lands and – Luna pauses, certain she’s about to throw up on the street.

His head on the ground. Eyes closed. The paramedics taking care of him, quickly moving him into the ambulance. The same paramedics pressing his chest in a frantic rhythm as she catches one last glimpse at his pale, pale self before they drive away and leave her there, with her whole world turned upside down.

Her sight is blurred with tears when Luna reaches the emergency room. Her chest lights up in flames, her legs burn from the cramps. For a moment, she stands in front of the entry, out of breath, wet cheeks, head empty and confused.

After one glimpse into the halls stretching out in front of her, her knees begin to tremble. It’s such a big place – here, people are born and die, are saved and lost. It’s such a big place in which she feels too small, too lost while nothing she can think or feel gives her comfort.

Hesitation poisons her thoughts, slows her footsteps but not her tears. What if she’s already too late? What if she’s walking right into a monsoon of misery and pain and loss? What if she turns around now and pretends nothing happened? Will reality find her if she hides from it soon enough?

The pictures in her head come back.

Matteo comes back. Luna catches one look at him right before she reaches the counter, and it shatters whatever hope she still had. He lays on the same stretcher, still unconscious, still too pale. Too many people surround him, yelling words she fails to understand, pushing him into another room out of her sight.

Doctors and nurses rush into the same room seconds later. Or maybe she sees everything twice in her dizzy view.

Tears, again. Unsteady breaths. And this pain, this unbearable pain right where her heart is. Was.

“Can I help you, Miss?”

The lady behind the counter musters her, so cool and unemotional that Luna has to fight the urge to grab her by the shoulders and shake her, to demand to know what happened with Matteo and if he’s alive, if he’s hurt and if she could please, please, see him before she loses the one thing she was never ready to let go of.

“Matteo Balsa – Accident – I need to,” there’s no air in her, there’s no strength in her voice, nothing but gasps and broken pieces and fragments of the whirling storm in her mind. “Is he…”

“Miss, please, calm down. What can I do for you?”

In the end, the nurse tells her to calm down and sit down in the waiting room.

Luna trots away with what feels like two bricks on each of her shoulders. She can sit down, she can even pretend to wait patiently for news. But she can’t calm down, she can’t pretend it’s not tearing her apart, she can’t stop crying, she can’t calm down.

She never was one to cry easily, or to cry a lot. Sure, Luna tears up at times. She certainly did after their breakup, and after seeing this picture. Still, she rarely cries.

Now, it seems like she’s made of nothing but tears.

A woman next to her leans closer to ask if she needs a tissue. When Luna nods, she hands her a whole pack, mouths, “Keep it.”

Half the pack is empty after what feels like two sniffs.

Her phone buzzes in her purse. With shaking hands, she fishes it out. “Hello?”

“Luna! Where are you? Are you okay, sweetheart?”

“Hey, dad. I’m in the hospital. I’m… they won’t let me see him, so I’m waiting.” She closes her eyes for a second, hushing away the demons who tell her it’s pointless anyway, she lost him and it’s her fault too. “I just hope he’s okay.”

“Don’t you want to come home? They might let you sit there for hours, and we want to have you here for dinner.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Luna.”

The tears stain her voice. “I can’t leave him here, dad”, she weeps. It’s barely a whisper, but she needs them to understand how staying here is the only option, how she’d rather sit here for hours than to go home and eat dinner with her family like nothing happened, how nothing but Matteo matters to her now.

Perhaps it’s the crack in her voice that convinces him. Anyway, he makes her promise to at least text when there’s anything new, and to call if she changes her mind if she wants to be picked up.

Luna agrees, already knowing she’ll stay here as long as it takes.

Waiting is awful.

Her breaths have returned back to somewhat normal, her feet have stopped hurting, yet her mind races on, never stopping, never truly believing in the encouragements she whispers to herself.

The tears have slowed down as well, and time along with it. It drips out of her hands like water from a broken tap. She’s alone, the adrenaline leaves her body but the fear of having lost him stays, and waiting is awful.

Her phone buzzes.

Luna closes her eyes. Whoever it is, she’s not in the mood for talking. The only person she wants to talk to is currently in some room close but not close enough to her, and who knows if he’d hear her even if she sat right next to him, saying all the things she wants to get off her chest now.

Matteo, I know I said being with you always leaves me crying but I never thought not being with you would make me cry more, so please, wake up.

Wake up, and be okay, and tell me it’ll be Luna and fresa, always, because I don’t know what else I should look for in the sky.

Her phone buzzes again.

Wiping her eyes, Luna reaches for it in her pocket. Three missed calls, one text message, all from Simón. She wishes he was here, next to her, so he could pull her into a hug and she wouldn’t have to say a single word to make him understand what she feels. What she thinks, what she fears. But he’s not, and she doubts he’ll be here in time – she hopes, because it would mean she’d hear from Matteo soon – so, she opens the message.

Have you seen the video?

The video. In the hectic of the accident, she forgot about the reason altogether, but now it forces itself into her thoughts. With her pulse skyrocketing, she takes out Matteo’s phone. Surprisingly, it survived the fall, and it unlocks with the same pin he used all those months ago.

Luna presses play not sure if she’s ready to see this.

(She’s not.)

Stop, stop, what are you doing! Why did you kiss me?

You already know I don’t feel the same! I thought I made that clear.

Whatever happens, I will always love Luna. Luna is the only one for me! I liked her since the day I first saw her, and I will always love her!

Luna crumbles into herself.

Hides her face in her lap. Wraps her arms around herself as she crumbles into a ball, as tears shake her core, as she pants for air, for some relief, for a little less pain.

It takes all her strength to not weep loud enough to startle the whole building.

Matteo loves her. He didn’t kiss Emilia. He loves her, and she didn’t listen to him. She was wrong, he loves her, and she should have listened to him. Should have let him explain, should have been less stubborn. She should have trusted his feelings, should have had a little faith in him and in the actions in which his love shimmered through so clearly, over and over again.

She should have, but she didn’t. She was wrong and too stubborn and now it’s too late.

And although she swore earlier her heart broke, it’s doing quite a good job at hurting again and again and again.

Luna gets up, walks to the counter, unable to wait just another second. They send her back into the waiting room, not even giving her the tiniest hint at the state he’s in, not even granting her the tiniest anchor of hope.

It’s been two hours.

Two hours in which her phone ran out of battery. The magazines spread out on old tables remain her last distraction. If Luna wasn’t so busy keeping more tears (and depressive thoughts) away, she’d shake her head at the stupidity of those articles – who cares about some European royals she never heard of before? Who cares which old retired singer broke up with his wife, who cares about people with names so unfamiliar they might as well be made up?

Who cares when no one lets her see Matteo?

Luna tosses the magazine away. Sighs. Wipes her face in her shirt, since she long ran out of tissues. Her legs ache, they demand to be stretched, to be moved.

Slowly, she stands up. The nurse behind the counter throws her a glare, almost warning her, so Luna searches for the toilet instead.

The neon light makes her look like a zombie. Eyes swollen and red. Pale skin. Hair tousled, messy. Dry lips.

Hoping to at least feel a little bit better, she splashes cold water in her face. One look in the mirror confirms it at least helped to take the redness out of her eyes. Then, she shakes her head at herself. How can she worry about how she looks, about feeling better, when she still has no clue how Matteo is?

He’s alive, she knows that much. He simply has to be. He said he’ll always be by her side, he said he’ll always be there to save her. He always saved her in those one and a half years they know each other. He promised.

He has to be fine.

She prays he is fine.

“Miss Valente?”

Luna is about to sit down once again when the nurse calls for her. Her heart hammers loudly against her ribcage as she walks over, and she has to force herself to breathe calmly. Her hands clench around the edge of the desk when she reaches the nurse.

“Yes?”

“There’s someone who asked for you. If you’d follow me, please.”

“Sure.”

The nurse leads her away from the waiting room, into the seemingly endless halls. Excitement and fear battle inside her. Her sight turns blurry, shapes and lines around her soften, the edges shake. She struggles to recognize anything around her while little dots appear, but Luna keeps walking.

She forces herself to keep walking – if she fainted now, she wouldn’t see him and there’s not a chance she’ll let that happen, no way.

The nurse stops in front of her. The door to their left is opened and there, on a bed, Luna sees Matteo. Alive and breathing and smiling at her hesitantly and alive.

Like that, she’s crying again. Stopping is impossible, although her body should’ve long run out of tears. She’s crying, and she’s running towards him, throwing herself in his arms, and she only allows herself to breathe again when he wraps his arms around her.

“It’s okay,” he mumbles into her ear, his hand stroking her hair, “It’s just a little concussion, chica delivery.”

“Really? That’s all?” A sigh of relief slips out of her mouth, the weight on her shoulders and chest lifts, finally.

“Well…”

Promptly, she lifts herself up to meet his eyes. Matteo seems flustered, and on second glance, he’s still a bit pale. Oh no.

“I might have also bruised half my back and am not allow to skate for three weeks… but then nothing can stop me, I swear!”

Perhaps his shyness renders from the shock of the fall or because he’s not sure yet that she’ll stick around now that she knows he’s fine. Either way, it makes her melt for him even more until she can only think about how nice it is to not be mad at him anymore.

“Seems like you’re finally the best in everything, even in falling down,” she chuckles and lets her thumb run over his hand. Then, her tone turns more serious, and it must’ve shown in her expression because Matteo gulps nervously. “Don’t ever do that again, okay? I was so, so worried.”

He caresses her cheek, sits up, leans closer. “I won’t.”

A smile breaks free on her lips. Wide and beyond her control and so strong it almost hurts. “I love you,” she blurts out. She means it, without regrets.

“I love you too.” And it looks like Matteo does, too.

[sae-you-sae-me]

Hi, I've seen RFA reacting to mc listening to kpop. So how about MC finding RFA+Saeran+V listening to kpop? I know since theyre Korean, it's regular music. But it's funny to see which groups they listen to:3 thank you so much for everything. ahaha sae-yoongi-buns x'D

LOL, that’s so true…hope you enjoy these hcs! Sorry it took forever~

Zen:

You were out doing a quick grocery run

But ended up coming home earlier than you thought

When you open the door, Zen was cleaning and vacuuming

Me Gustas Tu by Gfriend was blasting on his speakers

He was doing the dance moves and everything

So you just watch and purposely accidentally takes a video

When Zen spins around and sees you, he’s tripping over everything trying to turn it off

“It’s for a show,” he tries to explain.

“Uh-Huh, Sure.”

For the next week, you use the video for blackmail

“Aww, babe, I don’t wanna take out the garbage again!”

The video begins to play and he’s out the door like lightning

After awhile, you find yourself humming along

It’s not long before you’re jamming together

Yoosung:

You had come to visit him since he had been locking himself up to study lately

He left his window open and you can hear Bad by Infinite coming through

You giggle and ring the doorbell

He thinks it’s just the mailman, so he leaves the music on

When he opens the door and sees you standing there, his eyes go wide

He didn’t expect you..and the music was still going

“O-oh! Haha…the music…it’s just on some weird shuffle. Must’ve added this by accident.”

You almost believe him until the next song comes on

The Eye by Infinite blasts from him room

He’s so embarrassed, he can’t look you in the eye for half an hour

You feel bad, so you just say, “I bet your bias is Sungjong.”

He looks very offended

“I’ll have you know…It’s Sunggyu.”

Jaehee:

She brought home some extra paperwork

So, you didn’t want to bother her

She put in her headphones and set to work

After a few hours, you brought her a cup of coffee

Your presence startled her and she jerked awkwardly, making her headphones unplug from her phone

Beautiful by Monsta X blasted into the open air

You two stare at each other for a few long moments

Jaehee just quietly says, “There’s a reason I have headphones on.”

Finally pulling yourself together, you manage, “Jaehee, what are you listening to?!”

She gathers her headphones off the ground

“Beautiful melodies….Stan Monsta X, MC. Stan talent.”

Jumin:

He asked you to help test out a new stereo system he bought for his place

He says to play something off his phone

You find a playlist named, “Jammin’ Han”

You don’t know what to think so you just click it

Eyes, Nose, and Lips by Taeyang starts blasting throughout his home

He was upstairs when it started, and you expected him to rush down to turn it off

Instead, he casually comes down and is humming it

He’s fixing a wire and smiles up at you, “I didn’t know you enjoyed this song as well.”

“Actually…I just played it off of one of your playlists…”

His eyes grow wide and he gets really flustered

You think it’s because his playlist actually has a lot more mainstream and trot songs than you would’ve expected him to listen to

But no…he’s mortified that you found out what he named his playlist

What a dork

Seven:

You guys wanted some snacks, so he says to hop on his car

Only, he forgot the bluetooth on his phone was still connected to that particular car

Ice Cream Cake by Red Velvet starts blasting

After you get over your initial heart attack and lower the volume, you just stare at him

He doesn’t say anything

He’s just looking out the window in utter shame and embarrassment

There’s just a long awkward silence before you start giggling

“Do you know the dance moves too?”

“Maybe…”

“Well, turn it up, fam!” you say as you jump out of the car and start doing the dance in the garage

Cue him blasting it and dancing with you

You both are horrible, but who cares

Saeran walks in to check what’s up with the noise

He sees you both and slowly backs away before he ends up being dragged into something stupid

Saeran:

You stop by his house unexpectedly one day

He was still in the shower, and unbeknownst to him, you can hear his speakers blasting

The faint echoes of Not Today by BTS comes from the bathroom

You almost want to scream when you hear him yell, “Chong! Jojun! Balsa!” in a high pitched voice

You’re nice enough not to record him

But you do sit close to the door and listen as he finishes the song

He trips over you on his way out

Thankfully he’s already dressed not seeing any of that…not today

You grin, “I didn’t know you had a hidden talent of rapping….NOT.”

He jumps up and starts running after you

You run from him so long, you two end up being wiped on the couch

He finally grabs your phone, thinking you had recorded him

When he finds no video, he just screams in a pillow

So much for that shower

V:

He’s editing his photos in the dining room one day

He usually listened to Mozart or classical jazz most of the time

So you were quite surprised when you heard a familiar tune coming through the speakers

You turn it up so you could hear it better, and you recognized it as Prism by Shinee

V said he started listening to them when you mentioned of their music

You remember only vaguely talking about them, and you didn’t think he would get so into them

You start scrolling through his playlist and see songs from EXO, f(x), Super Junior, amongst others

You realize you accidentally turned him into a kpop stan

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