#been writing in single-spaced 10 pt font and 800 words is 1.5 pages... kind of crazy

[fcble]

AFTERMATH. October 2023. Featuring Yoon Mingeun, Lee Jaeseop. 0.8k.

“Was it worth it?” Jaeseop asks. He sits on Mingeun’s couch, sipping beer from a coffee mug, while the end of the Shooting Stars finale plays on the TV. A Hite Extra Cold can sits on the floor next to him.

Mingeun stands in the doorway between the living room and the small hall that leads to his room. He didn’t watch it. He’s lived through it once and lost, and that’s much more than enough for him. “You don’t live here,” he says bluntly.

Jaeseop gives him a once over with his gaze, probably taking in his bed head and his Among Us t-shirt and his basketball shorts. “Haksu let me borrow the spare key.”

Mingeun is going to kill him.

On second thought, he’s going to kill both of them. The ferocity of the thought surprises him with its violence. He takes an involuntary step back towards the safety of his bedroom, flexing his fingers and hiding his hands behind his back before he acts on impulse. He has to stop skipping his therapy appointments.

Jaeseop takes his actions as something else. “I won’t bite. You know that,” he says, holding his mug in two hands and taking another small sip. “I will say I told you so.”

If it was Andrew telling him that or Haksu telling him that, Mingeun doesn’t think he’d be so upset. That’s what he expects from them. He pushes them and they push him back. But Jaeseop is supposed to be his friend, his ally. And sure, he was against Mingeun’s participation from the beginning. Mingeun had been so certain he would come around. He wonders if he could have done something different—he could have won—and maybe Jaeseop wouldn’t be acting like this.

“It’s for the better,” Jaeseop continues, seemingly oblivious to Mingeun plotting his death in the corner. “Do you hate us to the point where you’d rather be in a group called Starzie?”

Mingeun can hear echoes of Andrew in that question: it’s patronizing and almost rhetorical. He fucking hates it. “I don’t hate you.”

He means it. He’s had his disgreements with everyone else, but he’s never hated Jaeseop. He owes him his career—if not his life.

Jaeseop clearly expects more from him, so he adds, “I like Fable.” Also not a lie. Two for two. Mingeun’s proud of himself. If Jaeseop watched the whole show, he would know that too. Mingeun took every opportunity he had to promote the group. It was very much a part of the image he wanted to show, but he rarely had to exaggerate it.

His words are a poor showing by any metric, but Jaeseop doesn’t comment on it. He poses another question instead. “Then why did you go?”

“I wanted to,” Mingeun sullenly, though the words are inadequate in explaining his true feelings. He did want to go. He’s just incapable of explaining how much. He felt like if he didn’t leap at the opportunity, he’d never come across anything like it ever again. He felt like if he let it pass him by, he’d regret it for the rest of his life.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says. “I’ve already done it. It was good for me. When was the last time you saw an article demanding I leave the group to save face?”

“Three years ago.”  Clearly, he doesn’t keep up with the news, because Mingeun’s seen that sentiment plastered all over the Internet a few months ago, when Shooting Stars first began to air.

“Try April.”

Jaeseop’s lips are pressed into a thin line, an expression he wears when he knows he’s losing an argument. He changes the topic abruptly. “It’s good that it’s over. You need to start thinking about what’s next.”

He pauses, briefly, swirling his cup in circles. Mingeun stands, rooted to the spot, unsure of what he’s going to say.

“My uncle is going to speak to you about extending your contract soon,” Jaeseop says. “If there’s anything that will satiate you for another year and a half, you should ask for it then.”

Mingeun nods mutely. He’s been so busy he hasn’t had the time to think about how their contracts are nearly up. He also has to admit that he’s forgotten that contracts pause during military service, because it’s not something that affects him.

A soda ad blares on TV in the background as he stands there silently. He’ll have to think about it. He always has wants. It’s a matter of whether or not Taein can fulfill them.

Jaeseop drains the rest of his drink and picks the can up off the floor. “Think about it. Don’t squander the opportunity.”

His words make Mingeun think he isn't nearly as disapproving as he seems to be. Mingeun gives another silent nod.

He expects Jaeseop to leave, but all he does is settle further into the couch to watch whatever drama is airing next. Mingeun leaves him to it, retreating back to the sanctuary of his bedroom to think about what he wants from Taein.