part 1

• "jejudo," changmin says, not looking up from the screen of his laptop. "looking into flight times," says junsu from across the room. "what do we do about changmin's wings?" yoochun and yunho, holding hands over the map as they scribble pathways in red ink over the landscape of south korea, hum.
• "we'll go by boat," yunho decides. "no passport ( Read more... )

on television and in front of crowded stadiums, stages and studios, eunhyuk's the angel, smiling and dancing and spewing out lyrics like machine-manufactured soul. behind the curtain, behind the rolling cameras he's still the angel, unsmiling but open and vulnerable. you know; you know enough about the seedy underbelly of idolicism to know what ( Read more... )

"(hyung, i'm scared.)"

• shit shit shit shit shit, jaejoong is saying, except he says it all in one breath so it sounds like he's hushing someone when the only one that should shut up is himself. "what happened (it'll be okay, right?)," changmin says, exactly when jaejoong gathers enough breath to ask the same question.
• "the nerve of that kid (he's ( Read more... )

it's a little late. you're on your way back home after a lesson at the academy (english, ironically; the last class of it you'll take) that your oldest sister had paid for with the money she earned at a part-time job at the ice-cream shop. there's no one around, because you had decided to take the shortcut in order to return home a little faster to ( Read more... )

the only thing you'll ever need is
this. this is everything, this is your all.

singing was never your forte. you can sing, hold notes for the compulsory chord, but you never had the patience for it. you're young, still edgy and brilliant and bursting (at the seams, nerves crackling like faultlines and cells working overtime) with things you want to ( Read more... )

 {what's meant to be:}
yunho isn't arrogant enough to brag about the women he's bedded, but he carries them around like shameful trinkets anyway, averting his gaze from yours in the mornings after.

in the chill of the night he passes you on the stairwells of unfamiliar hotels; leaves you alone as you shiver and watch the retreating curve of his ( Read more... )

the start of something new:
birth. take a bow, open your eyes, open your mouth and cry. this is the world, sharp and stark and bled into colors around you. this is your reality for the next forty-four years (you'll die young, vibrant with muted promises and potential at its peak). this is not the series of voices, of thoughts, that will shape you ( Read more... )

while they're singing you're in the way, the wannabe recipient of wayward smiles that stands poised, clutching the microphone that dangles uselessly at your side.

• 
  during songs you're often caught between jaejoong and junsu, the background to the intense stares they share while harmonizing perfectly. you love it, the backlash of melody, of eyes made ( Read more... )

(you know it'll never be a love story)
it hurts, but it's not unfamiliar; you wait it out, and like the rain that follows the mist the first sparks of pleasure catch. when the fire holds you are already in position, long fingers burning white spots onto his shoulder, splotchy and uneven.

you will
"oh babe," he groans, "oh baby oh baby oh baby," and ( Read more... )

your voice, unfettered by harshness, is the skeleton in my closet

• junsu knows music, feels it in his bones; he expects only the right notes and gets nothing but beauty when he opens his mouth. jaejoong praises him, goes to sleep with junsu's voice soothing a melody in his ears. when whispers of "kim jaejoong, oh, he's the best singer, the best one ( Read more... )