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He had often caught glimpses of her backstage at festivals, and around the green rooms after award shows, and sometimes when coming and leaving the nearby cafes during breaks between rehearsals. She wasn’t an idol, he figured, after he saw her doing the make up art for some JYP idols a little while ago. But that didn’t stop him from considering her to be quite possibly more beautiful than any female idol he had ever seen. Maybe the public wouldn’t necessarily agree with him, but that meant nothing much to him. Not very much at all. Every time there was a concert where both JYP and KQ made an appearance, he made sure to keep watch out for her. And he always saw her at least once, even if it was just her long ponytail disappearing around the corner, listening to her footsteps dim into the static of the bustling hallways, or one moment, a quick smile directed at no one in particular, disappearing in a quick turn of the head the next, leaving him always chasing after small bits and pieces, like a puzzle falling into place, but always missing too many pieces to see the picture. Never enough to really explain her to him, why even little bits and pieces was enough to keep him alert and on the edge of his seat, with the hair standing up on the back of his neck when he caught and clinged to a new fragment. Like catching falling stars or grasping at smoke, it was an elusive, frustrating, and inexplicably addictive work.
Yeosang sat vaguely wondering about the mysterious lady as he watched the clouds pass by the airplane’s window. He cringed thinking and rethinking the fact that he had never met her, or even caught her name. He wasn’t brave enough to even begin to approach her. How could he even stand to waste so much time speculating and pondering the remnants of his small crumbs of memories of her when all he had was the most meager of morsels? Only scraps that beautiful entity of a lady had discarded in the dust for any beast to scavenge- that is what left Yeosang pathetically perplexed and wholly transfixed. He scolded himself again and again for never having the courage to speak to her, and for letting untamed fantasies seep through and creep from his unconscious when he let his mental walls slacken. But despite the effort, he found himself constantly slipping back into a quiet contemplation, slipping farther and farther into the deluge slowly flooding his mind and that space in his chest, managing to drown himself in nothing but bits and pieces-
“-Cuh. Get up bro, we’re literally landing”. Wooyoung interrupted Yeosang’s meditation from the seat next over. Sure enough, the plane rocked gently as it turned and started its spiral descent.
Yeosang snapped himself out of the sleepy fog and started gathering his things. They had just landed in the Toussus le Noble Airport near Versailles. A very rich and influential French politician had a young daughter who adored Kpop, and for her 16th birthday, decided to put together a music festival, inviting all the top companies to attend, and invited the idols and their staff to a private masked ball in the Palace of Versailles itself as a token of thanks. Naturally, his head spun a bit with anticipation whenever he thought about the ball. He and Wooyoung and San were going to go shopping tomorrow after their morning rehearsal for some masks and maybe more baroque-inspired attire to go with their suits. Yeosang already had a white dress shirt with gold trimmings he was planning to wear- he was hoping to find a gold mask to match. It would be fun to go out with Wooyoung and San. Maybe they could… give him advice? Except that he knew he didn’t have the courage to even put his…. Curiosity… into words. Especially not in front of Wooyoung and San. They tended to be a bit… loud. And blunt. And… maybe not the best people to ask for advice from. Shopping date aside, Yeosang was also excited for the party because if both KQ and JYP got invited, then he might could maybe possibly run into…. Nevermind. He pushed the thought out of his mind once again, and reinstated the psychological wall he found to be frustratingly unreliable.
The team arrived on their floor. And they truly mean a floor. They essentially have to rent out a whole floor to house the staff and body guards and managers and also to contain the mischievous Hongjoong, malicious Seonghwa, disobedient Mingi, devious Yunho, troublesome Jongho, gremlin Wooyoung, suspicious San, and last but not least, the savage Yeosang. Yunho and Mingi were already setting up to play video games all night, and San and Wooyoung managed to leave a sizable mess for Seonghwa to pick up in their hotel room in the first 10 minutes after their arrival. Seonghwa also was already ordering food for him and Hongjoong, hoping he would get a moment of rest from babysitting to enjoy his food with fellow 98’ liner bestie (possibly more than bestie??? Idk idk it's very unclear these days???) Hongjoong was on his laptop, headphones on, already working on editing their b-sides for their next album, completely oblivious that it was dinner time and that he was jet lagged and hungry. He pushed through and continued editing until Seonghwa shook his shoulders after calling his name repeatedly with no response. Hongjoong looked up, and Seonghwa handed him a box of takeout fried rice. Hongjoong smiled at his hyung bestie and devoured the food before getting sucked back into editing for pretty much the rest of the night. Until he fell asleep with his computer still open. An exasperated Seonghwa had to help him wake up and brush his teeth and whatnot and tuck him back into bed and then clean up Hongjoong’s stuff for him like the mommy Hwa he is.
Yeosang and Jongho were roommates this time. Luckily, Jongho was the most chill roommate to have. They ate a healthy dinner and went to bed at a reasonable time, though Yeosang found it very difficult to sleep. He would slip into a day-dreamy world, and the ghost of the girl would make fleeting, ethereal appearances before slipping away again. It reminded him of watching small pieces of seashells glistening under a thin film of sea water only for the swell of a wave to spill over it, and watch as the small fragments inexplicably disappear in the dark current. His mind would want to chase that delicate apparition, only to reel and pull himself out of the fog once again, scolding himself for imagining such ridiculous phantoms yet again, and keeping himself up all night with only frustration to fuel his insomnia.
And it was like that the whole night. When the cold daylight found him the next morning, it shone a revealing light over his half open eyes and the discouraged crease between his brows of discombobulation that defiled his normally flawless skin. He and Jongho made a tired but steady preparation for the day. At least the insomniac Yeosang was better off this morning than the towering chaos twins, Yunho and Mingi. They had stuck to their plot to pull an all-nighter playing video games, and they slept in almost until it was time to leave for the rehearsal. They made remarkable time, however, and were ready to go in 5 minutes. They crashed on each other's shoulders during the 15 minute car ride.
Yeosang was experiencing the insomniac side effects of light headed, anxious soupiness in his brain and also slight breathlessness as he tried to breathe away the butterflies frolicing in his stomach. He leaned his head on the side of the car and tried to smile and take deep breaths. Whatever he can do to calm himself down and help him get in the right mindset for the rehearsal. They came backstage, and began their exploration of the halls. Yeosang’s stomach tightened as he kept an eye out for her. He didn’t know if the JYP ensemble had arrived yet, but of course that didn’t stop him from secretly hoping. Maybe even vainly wishing.
He was disappointed and ashamed as he made his way to the stage without once catching sight of her.
The rehearsal went smoothly. They went through the motions. He barely paid attention to what he was doing as he played his part. His mind couldn’t focus between the headache forming and the slight wobble in his knees (a result of desperately needing sleep) and the slowly developing pain of the collapsing hollow in his rip cage (a result of… probably also needing sleep). Luckily he had the choreo down to a physical memory, more of a reflex than anything else. He was an unstoppable dancing king, after all.
Then it was time to exit the stage. They made a slow procession off.
But then he saw it. A train of cars pulling up to the back of the building. The JYP logo adorned the vehicles. But there were so many cars. So many people. He didn’t know why his ignorant heart still insisted on doing small fluttering circles in his groaning chest when there was still very little hope of getting what it wanted.
Yeosang tried to turn away in dismay and self loathing, but he was stopped, halted mid-motion, and held captive. Almost unconsciously, he turned to face her. She stood a good ways off, on the outskirts of the crowd, managing her bag of stylist tools. The aching, for just a moment, lighted off his shoulders, and he breathed the first deep, refreshing breath he had had all day.
Then sickening craving hit like a tsunami. The mental fog intensified. He was afraid he would collapse right there on the sidewalk.
How pathetic was this. He didn't even know her name for crying out loud! He couldn't even make himself go and talk to her! Yet this enigma, this specter that lived in the back corners of his mind at all hours of the day, had managed to keep him up all night. She held him captive in his own brain. She had him slipping into delusional trances. Bewildered by his own mental turbulence. Bewitched by those startling eyes.
Across and down the street, so far she probably didn’t even realize at first, they met. Her eyes and his slowly found each other. She blinked in slightly surprised realization. Then she smiled. And waved.
Yeosang held his breath, and did his best to act natural, giving his best casual wave and smile. And he strained and tugged and struggled to pull his eyes away only he couldn’t. That adorable smile, and those magnetic eyes that had him locked in place- he wondered if he would ever be able to sleep ever again.
She turned away to gather more of her things and start heading inside to set up. After what seemed the longest moment of his life, Yeosang managed to pull himself away. He caught up with Wooyoung and San. He sat mostly silent in the car, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest, and an untamed smile forming on his still-in-disbelief face. He was high on the adrenaline- hopefully it would last long enough to keep him awake during this shopping trip.
They walked around. Wooyoung, being the diva he is, bought many things, mostly clothes, some jewelry, some food, etc. San bought himself a new dark burgundy shirt with gold trimmings for the party and a matching mask. After some searching, Yeosang found a white and gold mask he quite appreciated and bought it. Wooyoung and San were constantly chattering and bickering. Yeosang thought this is what angry squirrels would sound like if they could talk. Or maybe two squabbling alley cats…..There was suddenly an image of cute black and lavender kittens fighting each other to the death that came to Yeosang’s mind. The very confused Yeosang quickly pushed it out again. Where’d that even come from????
Needless to say, by the time they got back to the hotel, Yeosang was EXHAUSTED. He collapsed on the bed face down on the pillows. He barely even was able to pull himself under the covers before the image of those captivating irises pulled him out of reality and down into a deep slumber, the wisp of a smile still lingering on his lips.
The day of the concert. They got up slightly better rested than yesterday. Yeosang poured cereal. Then milk. Then regret. Why did he have to dream about her when he finally got to sleep? They loaded up their vans and got in the cars and headed to the stadium. The afternoon sun glistened overhead through the skylights, casting lights and shadows over the slowly filling stadium. Yeosang drove himself half crazy, resisting the urge to just…stand there in the hallway and wait for… no one. He didn’t see her anywhere this morning. He snapped himself out of it again and again. In the green room, he stared at the wall while the KQ stylists did their work that he swore the wall was staring back. It was time to get in the performance mindset, not stare dumbly at a wall! His conscience practically rolled its eyes at himself. Instead he turned to the mirror. He really liked the outfit the stylists had put together this time. Normally he didn’t spend so much time thinking about clothes (not the way Wooyoung likes his clothes), but today the outfits had a sense of subtle flair that he really appreciated. He could tell a real artist put thought and effort into it. The stylist finished. He stood to fully see himself in the mirror.
Something really seemed different about the style today. A really good different. A simple, sleek, mostly black fit that showed his remarkable shoulders and arms, but with its own kind of imposing drama to it despite the uncomplicated-ness. It was effortless. Effortlessly staggering. He looked up and saw his face. His silvery hair had been meticulously styled back and his eye makeup had been intricately applied to draw attention to his striking eyes- all together the ensemble conveyed a formidable presence- while also accomplishing a clean minimalism, with a touch of grunge-y-ness.
He went to leave the room to join his team backstage.
He was stopped quickly.
Like literally. He literally ran into HER in the doorway.
They tripped over each other a little bit but managed to keep their feet- but only because Yeosang grabbed her hand to keep her from falling.
“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry- Are you okay??” Yeosang practically blurted.
“Oh- yah! Yes. I’m okay!-” She stumbled just a little over her words, partly from shaking off the surprise and partly from catching sight of those petrifying eyes of his mid-scentence. Yeosang thought that just for a heart beat he could feel her tense up and mentally buffer as she attempted to casually pull her hand away. He knew that feeling. She adjusted herself and smiled. “Yah. I’m fine”, She reassured.
“Umm-Hi (?)” Yeosang started. “Could I maybe ask-um- what’s your name?”
“My name? Oh-uh- It’s YN. I’m a stylist for JYP….and you’re Yeosang, right? From ATEEZ?”
He smiled and nodded. She smelled faintly like lavender and the clean, cucumber-water smell of the various makeup and skin products she worked with.
“Well- it was nice to meet you- I have to go get set up for Stray Kids, sorry…See you later?” YN’s inquiring eyes sparkled like little stars. She was a light fluff of dandeleon, practically floating, maybe even insubstantial- it didn’t seem like someone like this was allowed to even be real.
“Um-yah. See you later” he smiled back.
And just like that, she was gone in an instant.
Yeosang let out a sigh under his breath as she evaporated from his vision yet again.
…
ATEEZ gave an incredible performance. Of course. They never deliver anything less. So did the other bands. Backstage the different idols met and greeted each other and celebrated as the next band went on. Wooyoung and Changbin had unfortunately found each other and started a saga of shenanigans. They started by finding water bottles and pouring it down the back of Hongjoong’s shirt. Then they made the mistake of trying to do the same to Bang Chan.
As the chaos unfolded and more shenaniganisms followed, Yeosang stood in the back, mentally shaking his head. Then, across the room, YN walked in and stopped to behold the scene before her. And even across the vast space, their eyes still met.
She eyed the Lord of the Flies type outburst unraveling between them, silently laughing at Wooyoung cowering behind Changbin as Bang Chan and Hongjoong joined forces to scold their unruly disaster twins. Yeosang smiled and dramatically rolled his eyes in affirmation. They laughed together, sharing a sweet moment despite the ocean separating them.
Then a JYP manager came up behind her, and tapped her on the shoulder. She froze up for a moment. She tried to give a last assuring, apologetic look to Yeosang, and turned to follow her.
It wasn’t very convincing. Yeosang hoped YN wasn’t in trouble or anything- she had an….anxious look as she disappeared once again. He hurt, just a little, to see her go- he shuddered thinking that she had no idea that seeing her anxious ripped open a raging wound in the now-cavity in his heart. He had no clue what was happening. He was most likely overreacting, he knew that. But still he wanted at least just a little to go rescue YN from the JYP people. What from? He didn’t know. Why they just seemed……evil to him? He had no clue. But also he couldn’t mess with JYP. He was a KQ employee- he couldn’t cause any issues between the companies or he would get in a lot of trouble- and- yah he was very much overthinking the situation he needed to stop before he did something dumb.
Their performance was quite exceptional, apparently, because some managers of other companies came to complement them and ask questions afterward. There were an odd amount of questions about their outfits, but then again, it wasn’t that odd taking into consideration that they were talking to Wooyoung. He blabbed on and on and on and on some more for as long as they would listen, telling them pretty much all he knew about the clothes he was wearing at that moment. (Which wasn’t very much, just that he likes them almost as much as he enjoys seeing San….without them…). Typical Wooyoung.
Finally, the team made it back to the hotel. He contemplated the mess of thoughts that tormented him as they returned, and ate dinner, and made their way to bed. He felt so incredibly stupid. His emotions had gone from ignorant fluttering butterflies to even more disoriented, paranoid, tense agitations that kept him uneasy all that night. He had only ever even spoken to her one time!
But of course it was way too much to hope for sleep.
He tried to shut off his brain again.
Shut off his screaming heart.
Shut up heart. Stop it!
Please stop it.
Please…
….It hurts……….
(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥)
*the author was in fact screaming on the inside as they wrote that last bit and they apologize deeply for any permanent emotional damage it may have caused*
Anyway.
He ended up having to inhale melatonin to get a couple hours of sleep early that morning. He dreamed of her eyes, and her smile, and her voice. He dreamed about what it would be like to talk to her- not just an awkward introduction- but to actually talk to her. And he dreamed of taking her to the nearby cafe. And out to dinner a different time, and what it would be like. He dreamed of learning who she was finally;....finally, after all this time….
He awoke late the next morning, not wanting at all to actually get up. Like if a zombie apocalypse started he would just give up and join them. Unfortunately, though Jongho was ‘mostly chill’, there was still that 1%-and oh boy that 1%- anyway there was now an impromptu videogame/ breakfast bar/ Saturday-morning-with-the-bros party going on in their room. Mingi and Yunho brought Mario Kart and Seonghwa was making real food at the stove- thank goodness- (the smell of scrambled eggs resurrected the half-dead Yeosang)- San and Wooyoung brought a whole variety of cereals, with the intention of setting up a cereal bar- but then everyone started just mixing them all together to make what Mingi called a ‘cereal salad’. Then he started eating handfuls of it, dry, with his bare hands. Hongjoong had had a late night again (he had collapsed while editing again….into Seonghwa’s side. Seonghwa tucked him in and let him spend what few hours of sleep he got there next to him). Anyway the zombie finally arose from his netherworld and emigrated to Jongho and Yeosang’s room to silently pour milk first and then cereal second just to ruin everyone’s day.
“Hyung, that’s even more disgusting than the time you ate an orange whole”, Yunho complained.
“Like me eating is any more disgusting than you showing off your hands for the whole world to see”, he muttered, still groggy and a bit grouchy.
“For the last time it’s not my fault my fans th-”
“Yes it is Yunho!!! You literally feed them hand pics!!!” San cut in.
Wooyoung got up and started to do the dance to “Slide To Me” but with extra….flare….when it came to the hands. San quickly grabbed his arms and restrained him.
It was too late. Jongho and Mingi got up and started singing the song, making up random hand- solo dance breaks of their own on the spot.
Yeosang and Seonghwa sat on his bed together and silently judged them.
“Are they all high sleep deprivation? Is the milk expired? Or did someone spike it?” Seonghwa joked.
Yeosang looked him dead in the eye and said, “Dreams don’t expire, but milk does. So drink responsibly”.
Seonghwa gave an unbeatable, meme-able expression of disgusted confusion that made Yeosang giggle. And his cute giggle had a tendency to make the other members giggle at his cute giggle. The room was just a soup of uwu giggling now.
Wooyoung begged Yeosang to come join them at Boomerang FU. He was happy to join until he realized he was on a team with Mingi and Hongjoong (who notoriously sucked at this game).
He turned to Seonghwa. “Hyung, if I die- tell my skateboard I loved it” he monologued dramatically.
“Are you taking your skateboard to the ball tonight?” Hongjoong teased.
“You mean it was a ‘+1’ type of event? Darn, if I had known I would have brought some chicken wings! San are you going with Shiber????” Yeosang smirked in San’s direction.
“Hey you still have some time, hyung! -to get a real date. Not chicken wings”, San answered.
“...but we can still go get chicken wings anyway, right???” Mingi inquired.
“Later, Minky-Princess”, Yunho assured him. “But yes, Yeosang, you definitely do still have time to ask….a certain stylist you ran into in the doorway today????” Yunho asked with a curious eyebrow raise.
“OoooooooOOOOoo-Why didn’t I hear about this yet??” Wooyoung complained.
Yeosang could feel his face getting warm.
“Aww, Yeosangie! Don’t be shy! We all saw it!...Except Wooyoung. You were busy trying to set up your body guard with one of Changbin’s managers”, Yunho explained to Wooyoung. “So Yeo, when are you going to ask her, huh? Do you know how you're going to do it?”
“Hyung, I barely even learned her name today. I’ve never really spoken to her. Not really”.
“Aww our Maltese is so shy”, Seonghwa gushed. “He’s too much of a gentleman to go around hitting on random staff members” He gave Wooyoung and San a very intentional side-eye.
“She’s not even KQ staff. She works for JYP. I never even really see her”.
“Wooahhh. JYP? Really??? -That’s practically treason!” Jongho taunted.
“Two lovers from two rival companies! It's like straight out of Romeo and Juliet!” Seonghwa gushed.
“Or West Side story?” Mingi added.
“West Side Story is based on Romeo and Juliet, 바보!” Hongjoong told him.
“I think I’ll just go solo- wasn’t that the plan anyways?” Yeosang asked.
“Well it WAS the plan. Until just now!” Wooyoung grinned demonically. This is why Yeosang was a little scared to tell him things.
“But I won’t even have a chance to see her again until the party!” Yeosang complained, trying to think of ANYTHING to get him out of this before he let Wooyoung make a fool of him.
“Then just ask her at the party- duhhhh” Wooyoung gave a picture perfect ‘gossip girl’ look. That meant he meant business. Yeosang was very scared now.
“What if she already has a date?” He asked. “I know almost nothing about her! What if she likes someone else and would rather go with them?” Yeosang tried to casually voice the disquieting concern that had been eroding his sanity for the past few agonizing days. Saying it out loud was practically a bullet wound to his moribund heart. It felt a bit like he was losing blood quickly and would soon drown in his own fluids but he tried to keep it cool and sound casual to avoid summoning party girl Wooyoung.
But he was pretty sure Wooyoung could smell fear.
“Then convince her to join you for just 1 dance! That’s when you show your stuff and win her over- Easy peasy! Don’t worry, hyung, we’ll make sure she ends up in your arms one way or another! -Whatever it takes!!!” Wooyoung tried his best to hype him up, but the malicious look in his eyes made Yeosang a little uncomfortable.
Yeosang wanted to burrow under his blankets and never come out. Might as well just set up his headstone here on the bed frame. Here lies Kang Yeosang, Rest In Peace. Cause of Death: Wooyoung overexposure. ✖𐃷✖
໒꒰ྀི × ˕ ×｡꒱ྀི১
Anyway he collapsed and buried his face in his blankets to try to signal that he didn’t want to hear what devious plot Wooyoung had in mind. Seonghwa sat next to him with his *concerned mommy* expression and rubbed his back protectively.
“It’s okay, Yeosangie, don’t listen to him”, Seonghwa said softly. He gave a devious judgmental glare directed at Wooyoung that very clearly said ‘shut up’.
Wooyoung shut up.
Then Yunho tried to open a bag of cereal and ended up spilling it everywhere. Everyone stopped what they were doing to help clean real quick.
San started humming to himself while cleaning, and soon the whole room was singing along and harmonizing (*cough cough* Jongho *cough*) while cleaning and they forgot about the conversation.
The day wore on. The dance came closer. Yeosang could swear his heart felt just a bit heavier with every tick of the minute hand. That his hand tremors became more unmanageable the longer the day wore on. He thought his knees might be developing a tremor too. Just before a dance too-Very inconvenient timing, he sulked. His brain was modulating between feeling light headed and a little woozy and all his thoughts were just floating away into the void, and feeling chained by gravity, feeling, just a little too overly conscious of how heavy his distracting- ….no, shocking thoughts about her plagued heftily on his unraveling cerebrum. His own feelings astounded him, sometimes….it scared him.
And then finally, it was time. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever been so anxious in his life. It was completely unreasonable! He didn’t even know if she would be there! This was completely unfair, stomach- stop hurting! He wanted to reprimand his organs outloud, or punch himself a little, but he retained enough dignity still to stop himself.
And the 8 of them exited their vehicle, and were escorted through the grand main entrance, the infamous gardens walling them in on either side as they were engulfed by the rich white and gold baroque architecture of the palace itself. Caged overhead by dazzling antique chandeliers and classical painted ceilings, and bared in on the sides by intricate pillars and ornate arches.
A live orchestra played various waltzes and dances. People dressed in elegant gowns and refined suits and obscured by decorous masks mingled and danced and lazily twirled in the suffocating haze of the melodies.
It was a flood of people and noises that blended into a single, homogeneous form. The evening began to rust into golden red light, filtering in through the hallways and outer windows. It’s funny how sometimes you feel the most lonely when you’re drowning in the most people. Yeosang turned around, and around again, and walked alone through the crowd. He lost the other members in the cloud after a while. Time compressed and expanded and lost meaning.
He didn’t see her.
He sat and watched, pretend-smiling, watching Wooyoung and San and Mingi dance with different girls and each other. He also tried his hardest to ignore Matz slow dancing in the corner when they played slow songs. Then Xikers showed up a bit late, and Wooyoung and his babies invaded the dance floor.
It was getting later, with the sun now beginning to fade over the horizon of rose buses, and the gauzy haze of twilight swept over the sky. Inside the ball room, the vast hall began to feel as if engulfed in mist as it became dimmer, turning the crowd into a blur and the strain of strings and refrains of winds into a day dream, …long musical phrases of exquisite beauty, almost as long and beautiful as YN’s hair, and soft and sweet intonations of flutes almost as lovely as her eyes, and deceptively powerful, resonant declarations of French horns almost almost as vivid and melodious as her voice….
…And then, as if by magic, the day dream surfaced and rippled into reality. He spotted her, YN, on the other side of the hall….she would have been like an angel from heaven, or an apparition from his wildest day dreams, a radiant vision,...if she didn’t look so…upset. She had a soft wrinkle in her forehead, and her lips puckered ever so slightly, like she was fighting back a pout.
And her eyes. It seemed as if the sparkle had evaporated like delicate dew drops in the blaze of the afternoon. They looked down, avoiding, -fearing- catching the light of anyone else’s eyes. The heart-wrenching tune of a Shostikovitch waltz tugged at Yeosang’s heartbeat. It was painful- she looked…vulerable. That thought hurt to conceive. And he felt….just a little too much like a predator….stalking prey….it hurt so much….and the enchanting tune of aching and longing overwhelmed his senses as he watched her steer through the cloud, no longer comprised of individuals in a crowd, but were one deformed shape; an insignificant backdrop…he thought he might throw up, he felt sick….and now she was the only person he could see through the blur that had come over his field of view….he felt his mouth water. What the flip. Yeosang had heard people use the term ‘mouthwatering’ in what he thought was a gross metaphorical term for these types of situations, but he didn’t realize it could also be-literally-...physically-...and now he was legitimately salivating oh my actual-freak ahhhggg-he thought he would just choke here and now what was wrong with him. He suppressed a small scream-why didn’t he just curl up and die already??????? And the dark waltz continued, and the dancing couples twirled, and his mind spun haphazardly, faster and faster in the gauze, tangling itself, and choking, and spinning, tighter and tighter-
And floating in the swirling folds of her gorgeous gown, he watched as she walked away, vaporizing from his vision with a silent footstep resounding in his own languishing heartbeat, as she left and abstracted the dream from the hall and smuggled it into the gardens.
Yeosang was stuck in a sleepy stupor, unsure whether to leave it alone and try to lock away these awful, revolting feelings forever, or…or…take the riskier route, and try to talk to her. By his own will. He swallowed, feeling his mouth suddenly go despicably dry.
But she seemed disturbed. He didn’t know what was wrong, or why, but he felt that someone should see if she was okay. He took deep breaths, burying his thoughts.
He decided just to walk around outside- perhaps she had already left, and if that was the case, what left was there for him to do?
But if she was there…..
He wasn’t quite sure what he would do. But despite the appalling longings of his heart, he felt he was…obligated??-...he wasn’t sure, all these emotions were so confusing….to check on her.
As difficult as it was to navigate his desire, there was still this overarching comprehension in his soul that if YN ever was hurt, Yeosang might just throw himself over the nearest cliff. Or just lay down and die.
He might as well slit his own throat and let himself choke in his blood if anything ever happened to her.
How frightfully attached he was to her, to feel this way, to have barely only met her the day before.
Full of apprehension but still feeling dazed, Yeosang slipped out and tried to reacquisition his bearings. The sun and the deep gold light had faded, and the chill of evening shadows and the scent of the flower gardens poured over him. He half-stumbled, stalking (at least mentally) around the perimeter. The suffocation of the human cloud was replaced by asphyxiation by mysterious echoes of chords and heavy perfumes of roses. He wandered. And the echoes were joined by another, softer noise, the sound of soft sobbing, coming from the other side of the garden hedges.
Concerned more than anything now, for YN and also his own sanity, he wandered through the dizzying hedges, spinning in disorienting circles as the waltz played, pushing him around and around until at last- he turned a corner around the hedge and beheld her.
Sitting alone on a cold stone bench, crumpled into her gown, mask discarded to her side, YN cried into her hands, not even noticing Yeosang as he approached.
He took stabilizing breaths, and tried to speak. “YN-” he half whispered. “YN”.
She lifted her tear stricken face from her wet palms. “-Yeosang?”
Yeosang nodded. “YN, I-erm….are…are you okay?” He looked at soft pink puffiness ringing her eyes and the streaks of dark makeup that echoed the streams of tears that had welled up in her trembling hands. What a stupid question. He slapped himself mentally.
“....um…..” She hesitated for a second. “Uh…no ... .not really," she concluded. She turned away slightly.
An awkward pause followed.
“I uh-I’m sorry I don’t really know how to comfort people”, Yeosang hung his head a bit in shame. “But…would it help at all if I just…sat with you?”
She wiped her tears with the back of her hand, and looking up to meet his eyes, she nodded, sniffling a little. He sat next to her on the ice cold bench. And they sat in comfortable silence, just like that for a while. YN reigned in her tears. Then she broke the silence. “Ack-I’m sorry I’m so quiet”. She cringed a little.
“Why? There’s no need, if you don’t want to”, he assured her.
“But- I feel like I should tell you why I’m upset- I really am sorry; I’m shy. I don’t really know how to talk…”
“Don’t worry at all about it, YN…I like quiet people. They feel…calm”, Yeosang replied softly.
YN smiled just a bit. Then the frown returned as she said, ”Uhg- but I think it’s time I finally told you, since the problem concerns you too”.
“A problem? What problem?” He asked.
“Please… promise you won’t… just… -please don’t hate me, okay?”
“...okay”, he replied. Yeosang and YN’s eyes met as she began to speak.
“I’m a stylist for JYP, but my managers often overlook my new design drafts. They don’t even bother to glance at them- they just toss them aside. One day I was working on a design on my laptop in the backstage of a festival, and a KQ staff member found me. They ended up being one of your managers. But they really liked my designs, and asked to buy them so he could repurpose them for you guys. This was the first time anyone had given me any kind of recognition for my work, so of course I sold it to them. I even went back and did the revisions myself, adding subtle details that I thought fit you- er- you all- individually”. She took a second to recompose. “But then… I went to work the next day. One of the JYP managers found my physical sketches. They stole my notebook, and presented the ideas to the head stylists, saying they were hers. They liked them, and took them, and trademarked them. But then you guys showed up to the festival wearing my designs, and they thought that someone had illegally given KQ their trademarked idea….they had to quickly get a change of costume- luckily, they went after you and had time to change- but…Then they started an investigation…that’s why they were asking Wooyoung so many questions about his clothes. That's why the manager pulled me away when we were backstage that one time…they were questioning all the stylists. I- I-paniced. I lied- and-” She stopped, burying her face in her hands again.
“It’s okay YN-” Yeosang started.
“-And just now, they found me standing outside the ballroom door, being too scared to go in. They had found my laptop with the designs… I just got fired”. She finished. She sobbed again, her shoulders shaking.
Yeosang could feel the tears welling up in his own eyes. This was excruciating. YN wasn’t allowed to be in so much pain. It just wasn’t fair. They sat quietly as she cried. He wasn’t sure what to do, exactly. The chill of the darkening night set in. He watched her paling shoulders begin to shiver as stars appeared overhead. He decided it was his turn to break the silence. “YN…if you're cold, should I hold your hand?”
It was said so simply, it caught her off guard. But tentatively, she looked up into his eyes, and let his warm hand slide over hers.
Her hand was so cold, just as cold as the stone bench. He lifted her lithe fingers so he could curl his other hand over it and try to warm it. He brought them carefully to his lips so he could breathe warm air on them.
An evening mist began to engulf them, chilling the pair even further. After a moment of hesitation, YN moved a little closer, and offered him her other hand. He took it in his, and breathed warmth onto both of them. And still the echoes of ponderous harmonies washed over them.
“YN….I have another idea to make you warm. Without going inside”. Obviously, she didn’t want to run into her JYP employers at the moment.
“And what’s that?”, she asked, with stars reflecting in her eyes again as she looked into his.
“Well, maybe… would you maybe like to dance?"
The question loomed in the air between them for a moment.
Then she smiled, genuinely, and got up and pulled him gently to his feet. Her hand ran down his arm, finding his shoulder. His hand came to a rest at her waist, and their remaining pair of hands clasped together, tighter. The music from the orchestra was soft and faded in and out with each swell and decrescendo, so Yeosang hummed his own soft, deep tune as they swayed gently back and forth, the heat between them mingling as they spun, their bodies spiraling, closer…
That smell of cucumber and lavender choked Yeosang once again, she was so close…her skirt brushed against his pant legs as he spun her. He inhaled the deep scent, and relished the silk under his hand. And stared unblinking into those eyes. He thought once that maybe eyes were the way you looked at someone’s soul, like meeting someone's eyes and keeping eye contact was like a way for your spirits to greet eachother- Now he was absolutely convinced it was true.
And then the music faded for a moment, and they had to stop from the dizziness. So they stood there, in each other's arms, looking into their eyes, letting their souls get to know one another.
YN moved in closer. He was holding his breath now, like breathing too hard would shatter the dream. Yeosang stood in a dreamy stupor as she wrapped her arms around him, and let her head rest on his chest. He put her arms around her as well, and let his chin sink, resting on her hair.
“Yeosang, thank you so much…I don’t know what you mean about not knowing how to comfort people ... I'm pretty sure you’re an angel”, YN whispered. “...please- don’t leave just quite yet…I still don’t know what to do…”
“It’s okay, YN. You don’t need to look elsewhere. I’m right here”, he whispered back.
He pulled her a bit tighter in his warm embrace.
She was still so cold… and the mist was thickening, constricting further…
And she lifted her head and looked into the darkness surrounding them, shivering still, even harder than before. He felt her trembling.
He put a hand to her delicate chin- he was pretty sure it was made of glass- and gently turned her head to look at him again. Into those fragile eyes.
:”Just look at me”. His deep voice barely made a sound. They were words for her and her alone.
And she did. Heavy lidded, their gaze reached out to one another. And they pulled each other even closer. He could feel her wispy breath on his face. And their heads gravitated in closer, and their lips brushed.
He kissed her, so gently, as not to break her.
And the touch was like fire. His skin burned. He felt his mouth salivating once more. And there it was again- he was stabbed- by that revolting starvation- As if working on their own, but not really, his hands slid up her spine, resting at her neck, his fingers pushing into her hair. And took a heavy, desperate breath, and choked a bit as he kissed her again, harder this time, turning his head slightly- and he stayed there, so long, too long- leaving him breathless- and again as if his own will was not his own, the long kiss slowly migrated down… and further down into her frangible neck… and the fog thickened, around them and in his mind, until there was nothing except his lips and her skin…….and he was shaking, choking for air, drowning in mist, the edges of his vision disappearing, eating away at his brain…and he was sliding downward, spiraling, drowning, in the folds of her skirt, until finally he blacked out completely…..
Yeosang awoke with a start. In his own bed. Back in Korea. He looked at the clock. 2 am.
It had all been a dream.
He took a deep breath, to quiet the lump in his throat. He turned over in his cold sheets, stifling a pathetic whimper that threatened to escape his lips, and buried his face in his frigid pillow and sobbed as his bursted dream dissipated into the quiet mist of the night.
-The End-
OK fine for all you losers who are mad you made it this far just to get a really depressing ending- Here’s a…slightly…. better alternative.
"( – ⤙ – )
As Yeosang wept into his pillow, somewhere far far away, YN awoke suddenly.
What a strange dream, she thought to herself. She sat befuddled on her own bed, wondering for just a moment what even just happened in her brain. She sat there a little uncomfortable, unable to sleep, until she gave up and got up to get ready. She got dressed and did her hair and ate breakfast and brushed her teeth and did her makeup and gathered her laptop and notes and headed off to her design school. She listened to “Inception” by ATEEZ as she drove, pondering the unforgettable, curious dream that had visited her in the night, wondering about the familiar face she couldn’t quite place that remained obscured by the haze of a memory of a dream….
-THE END-
-FOR REALZIEZ THIS TIME-