— beach.

@ten chittaphon leechaiyakul. Minuscule crystals of glass sifted through the lad's slender digits as he languidly leaned back to rest on his arms, eyes veiled to focus on the susurrus sounds of cerulean waves across the shore. The weak whirls of wind deftly threaded its fingers through the idol's dyed locks of seashell pink, the ends now faded to a gossamer blonde. Taeyong cherished hours like these-- hours filled with periods of transient silence and bouts of hushed murmurs he couldn't care to decipher- all out of the spotlight, cameras docked, and directors of various sorts nowhere to be found, or better, heard. Drowned out, that's what everything was under the ever-winking lights littered about the obsidian canvas above. The night sky held a realm of magnificence Taeyong could only admire, never grasp. Nor did he want to. Some things in life were simply meant to be untampered with-- this night was one of them.

Ephemeral, yet bound to be broken, was the muffled facade of silence withering under a familiar octave, Ten. "Mm..." the pastel haired boy hummed, his onyx lashes languidly whisking up to reveal umber spheres of molten caramel. He tilted his face towards the other, momentarily letting his vision adjust to the dim light surrounding the pair. It didn't take him long to know what the younger was getting at. Though caught off guard by the abruptness of the inquiry, the leader's expression remained schooled as he shifted to lean his weight on one side, a ghost of a simper painting over his lips. He missed him, truth be told. The schedules, group activities, practices-- everything screamed /amiss/. It wasn't just Taeyong, no. The entire team noticed an overt change in the atmosphere when it lacked Ten's presence. Needless to say, the older still found himself searching at the end of performances for that very presence-- even whilst knowing he'd never find it. A habit.

A click resonated from the back of the idol's tongue, caramel orbs watching the swirls of gray weave into a lackadaisical dance before dissipating amongst the abundance of stars. "Incomplete," he answered simply, the blunt crescents of his nails leisurely sinking into the bed of sand resting underneath his palms. "Doesn't feel right."

+ "lacking quality" bo i if you don't- :''') It's perfect, hush. Please excuse any typos.

@lee taeyong. Night. He's sitting with his legs crossed in front of a fire in the middle of the sand, and in the middle of a small group of idol "friends" of his and Taeyong as they chatter on about this and that, or nothing at all. There's an array of stars in the sky twinkling and glimmering, and the moon is ever so brightly shining. A subtle and salty breeze delicately blows by, ever so slightly tousling the strands of sable locks atop his head as he sits there, almost completely still aside from the occasional movement to take a drag from a half-smoked cig. With a long and almost dissatisfied sigh of smoke through the nostrils, he lies back against the blanket beneath him. For the umpteenth time, tonight was one of those nights. One of those "I don't know what I'm doing with my life" kind of nights. And as frustrating as it was, he was more... numb to it, at this point. Ever since the injury he'd acquired, he's been more or less feeling this way. The fingers of his free hand come up to slide back his bang and thread through his hair, and he lets his eyelids slowly come to a close with the smallest shake of the head. Of all the comebacks there were for NCT, it had been, what, a year now since he last did something with the group? That's quite some time. Especially in the idol world. But even he was unsure of when the next time he'd be with the boys on stage again.

Sighing yet again, he opens his eyes and turns his face to his right to look up at Taeyong, staring first in wonder of how the other felt about his absence on stage, then in wonder of what could possibly be going on in the other's mind. He wondered if the other ever missed him on stage, or if he missed being in a group with him or actively promoting with him. And as much as he'd love to ask and figure it out, something prompts the sable-haired boy to sit up again, to clear his throat and ready his cigarette. "Taeyong," he calls, voice low and fairly hushed before he brings the cig to his lips again for another drag and huffs it out in a long breath. His eyes focus on the other another moment with a tiny haze of envy partially clouding his view, then, with no real context and still in that fairly hushed manner, he speaks again. "What's it like?"

+* it's lacking in quality, but i tried. just wanted to relay some of ten's thoughts a bit as i wrote, so you don't have to match me if you don't want to. i know it's not that long but like... yeah. and i'm sorry that this wasn't better. if you want me to write something better, i can try. *+