⠀⠇ bar

@kim minjeong it had been a tiring day, but a good day. he had worked out, done some strength and conditioning workouts, then had been out on the golf course for another 8 hours. his numbers on the greens had improved slightly, which was another small, mundane bonus to make this day worth celebrating alone. he was at his favorite bar in town, enjoying his usual drink—an old fashioned. he loved the place because it was quiet and recluse. a hidden gem, as it's aged, rustic exteriors usually deceived most people. eunwoo always sat by the bar, enjoying to watch the bartender from a distance. he loved the art of mixology, fascinated in the quick, precision and perfection of how the bartenders would make and pour out sometimes 6 or 7 drinks at a time, when it was busy.

still in the early hours of the evening, the place was starting to get filled, but it wasn't at a level that eunwoo needed to get away from. however, as soon as it would start become bustling, that was his cue to pay his bill and leave. he disliked crowded places, even more so now, as his name began to leak more into the media and entertainment industry. sponsorships, filming cfs, and being on tv definitely had it perks, but if eunwoo could prefer not to do them, he wouldn't need to think twice. he valued his privacy.

finishing the rest of his drink, he looked at his applewatch. it was quarter to 9 pm, a bit early, but still a reasonable time to go home, rather than to not. soon enough, customers and patrons would start filing in—something he wanted to avoid. placing his credit card down on the countertop, eunwoo waited until the bartender saw that he was ready to pay. once the bartender did, eunwoo paid his tab, gave the bartender a wave, before getting up from the bar stool. pushing the bar stool back in under the countertop, like the way it had been before he had arrived, eunwoo took his card back and put it into his wallet. pocketing his wallet, he started to head to the doors of the establishment, when he passed by a table—a girl, and an obviously older aged man. he could care less of their affairs, but only stopped in his tracks when he heard the girl's voice.

he knew her voice. eunwoo spun around, looking right in the location where he had heard her speak. it was actually her—minjeong. eunwoo's eyebrows furrowed disapprovingly, taking in the scene and the sights of his ex-girlfriend sitting next to a dirty pig of a man. on instinct, eunwoo became livid, stepping right into the precarious situation.

"take this, and off. she's mine." pulling out a wad of bills, he threw it at the man's face. he then grabbed minjeong by the wrist, pulling her up to a stand. careless to any consequences in the moment, eunwoo then took minjeong by the hand, leaving with her right behind him.

outside, he dropped her hand, before facing her once more, his eyes gazing right into hers. enraged, he held his stare, waiting for an explanation from her. "are you out of your mind." eunwoo started.

@cho miyeon In the dim lighting of the bar, the atmosphere weighed heavy with the warmth of friendship and emotional vulnerability. The murmur of conversations around them seemed to blur into the background, leaving only the words exchanged between the two friends.

"Hearing you say that means the world to me too, Mimi," Soobin said. Her eyes met Miyeon's in a gaze that bypassed all superficial layers, tapping directly into their shared experiences and hardships. "You have no idea how proud I am of you. Balancing a job and your music isn't just challenging; it's Herculean. And yet you make it look so effortless."

As the strains of a melancholy blues tune floated through the air, adding depth to the emotional undercurrents of their conversation, Soobin couldn't help but think how they had both been each other's anchors in different ways. "Haku and Mata are indeed little angels," Soobin continued, smiling as she thought of her companions, even though they were most likely sleeping away in their apartment late into the night. "They bring joy to so many people, just like you and your music. You have this incredible ability to light up a room, to bring comfort and joy to people through your art.”

She could feel her own heart swell with a mixture of pride and humility. Here was a friendship that wasn't just enduring but nourishing, providing both women the strength to tackle life's complexities head-on.
"I'm always here for you, you know," she added softly, her voice barely rising above the music but clearly reaching her roommate’s ears. "I might be your rock, but you're my lighthouse, guiding me through the fog when things get confusing. We're a team, Miyeon. We brave the storms together."

Soobin reached across the table to gently squeeze Miyeon's hand. As their fingers intertwined, it was as if they were sealing a pact, a silent promise to always be each other's strength and solace, no matter what challenges life had in store. "We got this, Miyeon. We always do," Soobin concluded, raising her glass in a toast to friendship, resilience, and the never-ending journey of life.

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@chae soobin Miyeon felt a warmth spreading through her chest as she listened to Soobin's words. Her friend had always been there, a steady presence in her life, and their bond had grown stronger through shared dreams and challenges through the past years. As Soobin's words flowed, Miyeon couldn't help but smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

A small, genuine smile curved on Miyeon's lips as she responded, "I'm really glad to hear that business is thriving, Binnie. It's a testament to your hard work and dedication. I'm not surprised that Haku and Mata are so loved! Knowing how much they brighten your world, I'm sure they do the same for your customers as well!" She acknowledged the charms of Haku and Mata, who also squeezed into her heart daily and gave her the affection she didn't know she even craved.

As Soobin's voice took on a hint of vulnerability, Miyeon's gaze locked onto her roommate's with understanding and empathy. She appreciated Soobin's willingness to open up and offer support, and it meant the world to her. "Binnie, you have no idea how much your support means to me. I've been through some tough moments lately," Miyeon admitted, her eyes reflecting her honesty. "Balancing my job and music has been challenging, and there are times when it feels overwhelming." She sighed, a weight lifting off her shoulders as she shared her concerns with her closest friend. "But knowing that I can talk to you about anything makes it all a little less daunting. You're not just my roommate; you're my rock. You've always been my rock and I'm so lucky to have you as my friend and roommate."

Their connection was a precious treasure, a bond that had weathered the highs and lows of life. Miyeon knew that with Soobin's support, she could face any challenge that came her way. Soobin's promise was not taken lightly, and Miyeon knew that she could confide in her friend about anything, just as Soobin had confided in her. She felt relieved to know that in this ever-changing world, having a friend like Soobin was a treasure beyond measure. As they continued their conversation, Miyeon couldn't help but feel a deep sense of gratitude for the friendship that had blossomed on their shared journey through life's uncertainties. Her attention turned to music, finding comfort in the familiar melody of jazz music that provided the perfect backdrop for their conversation. Even in this time of uncertainty, Miyeon was reminded of the power of friendship and the strength it can give to face anything.

@choi hansol Of course he knew what she needed. Hansol always seemed to know. He knew everything there was to know about her, in fact, the recesses of her mind no longer private to the ostensibly omniscient figure standing beside her like a statue—emotionless, unwavering, and if she extended her curious finger to touch his flesh, cold like marble.

He could not try harder to present himself a human, at that moment. He certainly looked that part, but like him, Yunjin knew everything she needed to know about Choi Hansol. That what lurked beneath mortal flesh was a blackened soul, a spirit hailing from the pits of hell where evil ran rampant. He was the devil disguised as an angel, declaring that he had descended from the heavens to rescue her from whatever belligerent storm she had exiled herself to this time, wherein she had no desire to escape—ever the pathetic, self-destructive imbecile who thought herself as nothing but a waste of space whenever her life did not go the way she had promised to herself, quixotic idealism taking control of her like a master conducting the strings of its puppet.

Hansol’s delusions evidently compelled that twisted mind of his to believe that he could become her puppeteer, too, by offering a lifeline he incorrectly believed she would readily take. But why would she, when she knew that that lifeline was not for her, but for him. He *needed* her like an incubus needed to feed to survive. Yunjin could tell he hadn’t been satiated for a while. She had deprived him of that pleasure of preying on someone. And while she knew full well that someone as deceitfully beautiful and charming as Choi Hansol could fool anyone he wanted, she also knew that there was nothing quite like what they had. She was painfully reminded of it when that name left his lips like bleeding sin.

Jinnie.

A spoken omen, a warning that sent a cold chill down her spine at the speed of lightning. As if a prophecy had been cast unto her—a curse that kept her where she was seated. Unmoving, unable to flee.

Jinnie.

A siren song that drew her in, that coaxed her to turn her body to face his as she stared at him, wide-eyed. Like she was a young girl, pathetically innocent and curious despite the warnings raised in front of her—ignorant as children come. For the first time in months, she entertained the idea of returning to him. Of finding solace in his arms where she remembered she felt warm and safe as he uttered that name and kissed her.

But that was nothing more than a memory. Wisps of a time that had passed, that had since been carried away from the wind. Out of reach, never to return.

Hansol was safe for her, before. He had been everything to her. Not a minute had gone by when she did not think or yearn for him, no matter how many times he took that warmth away from her, left her alone and cold and desperate for him to return. Until one day she no longer wanted him and had abhorred the idea of staying. She could no longer love his embrace, nor those brown eyes that were only warm in color and nothing more.

Yunjin loved him, once.

But she discovered that Choi Hansol was no longer safe. Not for her. Not for anyone.

Since then, she wished for nothing more than to forget him. To save herself because he was a parasite that fed on the innocent. He was not good for her.

But it was impossible to forget when he was here, with her. And Yunjin, despite having had forgotten about him in the months she lived without him, was broken and beaten by the prospect that no one could ever care for her, and thus had no strength to refuse him any longer.

Because despite the darkness that tainted his soul black, despite every effort she made to shove him away whenever he came close, she missed him. She missed what they had, how she felt when things were good. She wondered if he had changed. If he missed her, too.

“You hurt me, the last time,” she breathed, her words nearly drowned out by the boisterous discord of voices, music, and clinking glasses. She averted her gaze and drew in a deep breath, and with it, a bit of strength to get her through this night. Closing her eyes, lashes fluttering against her cheeks, she breathed out through . Her shoulders deflated when she gathered enough courage to look into those heartbreakingly passionless eyes once again. She repeated her words. Not for the purpose of making it abundantly clear that she did not want him, no. Instead, it was her who needed to hear herself say it, so that she did not catch herself making a mistake by the end of the night.

“You /hurt/ me, Hansol.”

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@huh yunjin When finally Hansol steps closer, he can just see the shadows brushing across the gradient of her cheek; they almost look hallowed. Benevolent, and bereft of the solid outlines shaping them to be, dancing under the geometry of lights. Her hair keeps hidden a part of her features, but he knows — believes just how much she is in need of release.

He isn’t quite sure if it’s the shadows playing with his mind, pulling tricks, and intangibly stringing along a cord to close the distance between him and her like points A to B. But when the crowd had parted, Hansol immediately knew where to look. And there she had been, sitting alone, partial in her relaxed posture and a spatter of familiarity across his limbs, hanging by him like a smudge he just can’t wash off.

“I know what you need, Yunjin,” he says, his voice a whisper above a whisper and deceptively calm, the synthetic staccato of music and crushing bodies receding behind him.

He has to gain momentum, gain her trust first before he even wishes to attack and take her from this place void of warmth. In its wake, a disfigured dampness, caricatures of artificial intimacy; this is why he likes it here best.

Hansol likes to play with his victims before launching and pulling them in for the first bite, toy around with them a little more. In between, a smoke from the drag of somebody’s cigarette uncoils, the faint smell of cinder is rampant in the sudden silence that hangs above them.

“What do you say,” he continues, his eyes never leaving hers, not faltering even for a heartbeat, “you and me, leaving this place? We’ve already done it before, Jinnie. Think about how good it would feel.”

And there it is, he’s done it. Hansol knows he’s in too deep to back down without a fight. Jinnie, a nickname that spans across time, a name that is far too intimate and familiar. He knows that Yunjin /knows/ it, knows he’s struck a nerve. Jinnie, a name that has accompanied Yunjin even on her worst nights, a glimmering reminder of the waking world in her dreamless sleeps, uttered with the most sincere of symphonies of love he’s too dense to see, too prideful to admit.

Jinnie, he’s said it multiple times to her, too many times to count. It clings to her and has sullied the rooms they’d ed in, places they’d made a mess of each other.

Jinnie, uttered with love, uttered with hate. Jinnie of both sides of the same coin.

“Come home with me,” he almost pleads but stops.

@cho miyeon As the conversation shifted towards Miyeon, Soobin's attention became an unwavering spotlight, focused solely on her roommate. Her eyes became a canvas that absorbed every nuance of Miyeon's expression—the fleeting flicker of emotions and the weight of her unspoken words. Her roommate’s smile, gentle and reassuring, was a soothing melody that resonated within Soobin's heart.

"Business is good," her voice held a hint of satisfaction, the thriving success of Hakuna Matata, a testament to her dedication. "Haku and Mata continue to steal the spotlight as the stars of the show," she continued with a chuckle, the thought of her furry companions bringing a warmth to her words.

A pause followed—a moment of contemplation that mirrored the ebb and flow of their conversation. "But," Soobin's voice was tinged with a hint of vulnerability, her gaze unwavering as it met Miyeon's. "Tonight brought something unexpected." The words held a quiet gravity, a reflection of the complexities that had unfolded during the course of the evening. Soobin's fingers traced the rim of her glass, a gesture that conveyed her unease. Her eyes, locked onto Miyeon's, mirrored a mixture of uncertainty and concern. "I just want you to know that you can talk to me about anything—especially about your struggles with your job, your music... anything," she emphasized, her voice carrying a genuine sincerity.

"As your friend and roommate, I'm here to support you, to listen, and to offer whatever guidance I can." Soobin's gaze held a promise, an silent vow to be there through everything, a reflection of the profound friendship that had been their constant in a world of uncertainties.

@cha eunwoo minjeong navigated the world of being a rent-a-girl with a blend of poise and pragmatism. she found herself in this unique profession out of necessity. the financial demands of college and the desire for a lavish lifestyle had led her down this unconventional path. whenever she was out of the classroom, she was often preoccupied with dates, conversations, and sometimes even genuine connections, but tonight was different.

as she walked into the dimly lit bar, her confidence was a shield against the swirling unease that threatened to surface. she was there to meet a new client, a man named jongsoo, who requested her companionship for the evening. the bar's soft ambiance did little to mask the sound of raucous laughter and clinking glasses. the scent of alcohol mingled with the music, creating an atmosphere that was simultaneously inviting and intimidating.

she then spotted jongsoo at the corner of the bar, a middle-aged man whose receding hairline stood out along with his flashy attire. his smiled seemed to be a little too rehearsed while his eyes gleamed with intent. she reminded herself that appearances could be deceiving and that every client came with their own stories and reasons for seeking out her companionship. still, she always came with a sense of caution.

jongsoo gestured for her to sit beside him, his movements grandiose as if he were orchestrating an extravagant production. as she settled into the seat, his compliments flowed freely, each one a little too sugared to be genuine. his jokes were followed with a laugh that felt rehearsed, an attempt to fill the air with a sense of camaraderie that wasn’t quite there.

as the evening progressed, and with every passing moment shared between the pair, jongsoo’s demeanor grew more unsettling. his conversation shifted from talk about himself to suggestive innuendos, his words dripping with an arrogance that set minjeong on edge. she realized that beneath the charm (that was non-existent), he was treating their time together as if it was part of a transaction rather than a genuine connection.

her initial resolve to remain composed had wavered. she was a professional in this field, well-versed in handling a variety of personalities, but jongsoo’s behavior was pushing the boundaries of her patience. his comments became increasingly disrespectful, veering into territory that she was unwilling to tolerate. she had enough when his hand settled on her bare thigh, being way too close for comfort beneath the hem of her dress.

gathering her inner strength, she firmly addressed his behavior. "jongsoo," she began, her tone measured but assertive, "i'm here to provide companionship and a pleasant experience. i expect to be treated with the same respect that you would offer to anyone else.”

the exchange should’ve marked a turning point but it only made that gleam grow. he took on an entitled tone the moment he attempted to persuade her into crossing her boundaries, talks of tripling her pay going through one ear and out the other. there was nothing more to jongsoo than the layers of bravado and cheap air he exuded.

@choi hansol He was a shadow—hovering a few feet away, a couple of steps behind, always lingering from a distance. Always waiting. He was a hunter in an open field, the people scattered upon it at his mercy. For this was his playground, he the apex predator among unaware, blissfully inebriated bodies that were subject to suffer under the snap of his impulse, if he would let it. But he cannot feast on them all. There were too many and only one of him no matter how much better he thought he was compared to the rest. How much stronger.

They were easy targets, anyway. He did not like it easy. So when he plucked one out of the crowd, he had picked the biggest challenge. He could have anyone, really. He could pick any one and he could sate that growing hunger gnawing at the walls of his stomach. Yet, he picked her. The one that had been on the run from him from the very start.

He liked to play games, you see, his innate need for satisfaction deriving from a desire to conquer, to prove that he was, indeed, above her. That he could catch her, eventually.

She would not let him catch her. She had zero interest in letting him come close and so she pranced away, engaging herself in a gazelle’s dangerous dance with a hungry cheetah. Every little thing he did, every advancement that brought him just a step closer, every time she felt him breathe behind her neck, she had managed to put distance between them, scared of what he would do if he got even so much as a little nibble.

She would not give him that satisfaction. She would not let him have a taste.

At least, that was what Yunjin let herself believe. But even the most resolute of animals can get tired. Especially, that was, if the field she was running on was cluttered with obstacles that tested her resilience, making her exertion that much greater, her task that much harder. She could not keep running any longer. It would be impossible to.

He was a shadow behind her. A dark figure, a reminder of the darkest parts of her past that she thought she had left behind when she flew to a different country. But he was here, too. She had the misfortune of having the entirely opposite problem that Peter Pan had. But perhaps, like Peter Pan, she wanted to hold onto that shadow. Everything in this new place felt too new. Too much. She needed some semblance of familiarity.

Choi Hansol: a grotesque reminder that she was weak and always fell back into terrible habits.

Just like the little glass she held between delicate fingers, filled with a sort of pain relieving, mind-numbing potion. It was the fourth pour she had; she had quickly downed the previous shots just a few minutes prior. Before that, she had a margarita. Terrible, terrible habits, indeed. She was beginning to think Hansol was the least of her worries when it came to figuring out which part of her she needed to “fix” first.

He certainly looked far better than she did. So she thought. Or was it the soju? She couldn’t tell.

She also couldn’t tell when he had managed to bridge the distance between them. No matter; she could not run now. She had given up completely.

“How do you think I’m doing?” she giggled, her beautiful, lightly made-up face plastered with a bright grin, although he hadn’t said anything amusing in the slightest. Perhaps she was entertained by her own pathetic resolve. “I’m amazing, of course. But you would know that, you’ve been watching me this whole time, haven’t you? No, seriously. Tell me, Hansol. How /am/ I?"

@huh yunjin There is something inherently wrong with you, his mother had once told him, interjected after an hour-long therapy session through which Hansol merely lifted his shoulders at a poor attempt to respond to rapidly flung out questions. Inherently wrong with you, his mother would echo. Words that he had been used to hearing, carved from the place of I love you’s and exchanged for the proverbial sigh that would ring hollow afterwards.

It punctuated the silence that followed, and the next, and the next. And the next. Until all that had been left was silence and what had filled them up were fragmentary, threadbare conversations that hinged on his continued therapy. ‘Make sure you see your therapist this coming Sunday, all right?’ the message said.

He’d grown accustomed to ignoring them, to ignore the nagging feeling of guilt. If guilt is all it ever was, an underlying current teeming just beneath the surface — the voices, the scratchy intonation rumbling like a flame catching on tinder, nagging him and pushing him forward to kill, kill, Ķ̵̟̣̝͋̽̀̅̏İ̶̺̠͉̩Ľ̷̨̗͕̳̣̺̺͕̈́L̸̨̹̿!


And so, it is during the dead of night that Hansol rises, only during this time that he feels permissible enough to let the voices take over, tapping into him, seeking access. Featherlight at the base of his skull. It tingles, something like the feeling of gravel, sandpaper stubbing the back of his throat, dumbing it down.

Hansol grips his phone ever more tightly, remaining silent in his hand. The glow of its screen prints into the base of his irises, inert. No messages are filtering through, at least none from her.

It takes everything in Hansol to keep himself from tearing the place down. Her silhouette is a relic of time, tinted with the different tassels of colors unfurling like a grotesque puppet show across from him, from where he’s lying in the shadows, taking his time, aiming for the most vulnerable time to hit.

She’d be intoxicated soon enough.

But not soon enough! the voices echo, urging him. Do it, Hansol. Do it, Hansol. Do it, Hansol. Do it, Hansol. DO IT NOW!

Somehow, the music maintains itself a mediator, absorbent in its energy, dampening the sound of his footsteps coming nearer and nearer. The lights above are blinding, flickering as he takes a step farther, whirlpools of amber flashing in his eyes, a momentary glint of murder but falters.

And barely above a whisper, “Yunjin, how are you?”

@chae soobin Her glass was empty now and she set it on the bar counter with ease. Miyeon wasn't big on drinking even though it came with her job as a jazz singer at the club. There were nights when she had to entertain VIP clients and that came with keeping up with their drinking volume as well. Even so, she was always careful not to overindulge. She knew how to handle her alcohol and was careful not to make a fool of herself. Miyeon wasn't one to be taken advantage of, no matter the situation.

Tonight, she was concerned about her best friend who was going through a tough time, so she decided to drink responsibly. She knew it was important to maintain her composure and be there for her in her hour of need. She was determined to stay focused and clear-headed, no matter what temptations came her way.

When the conversation turned to her, Miyeon let out an audible breath. There was so much she could rant about: especially how much she loves her job and equally hates it as well. She loved how much it allowed her to express herself musically, but she also felt like she was a tool for entertainment. She had to constantly deal with the judgement of patrons and clients, as well as the expectations of her bosses. It was a double-edged sword, and often times the stress of it all was overwhelming.

She sighed, "I guess I'm alright," she said, trying to push away the thoughts of the struggles she faced as a jazz singer. She knew that she had to be strong, especially for her friend, and she was determined to stay focused and remain in control. Somedays she dreamed of leaving the bar scene and focusing solely on her music. She wanted to be able to express herself without judgement and without the expectations of her bosses. She wanted to be completely in control of her music and her destiny.

Miyeon turned to Soobin, leaning against the leather swivel chair. She gave Soobin a reassuring smile, "I'm alright, don't worry about me, Binnie. What about you? How's business going?" she asked, her voice gentle and reassuring.

@cho miyeon Soobin’s fingers absently traced the condensation on her cocktail glass, a subtle reminder of the drink that had accompanied her thoughts moments ago. With a graceful gesture, she caught the bartender's attention, an artful lift of her index finger and a silent request for another drink. The bartender, a seasoned professional, met her gaze with a knowing smile, his hands moving with practiced ease as he prepared her order. As her new cocktail took shape, her attention returned to her roommate.

Soobin's voice held a blend of vulnerability and trust as she navigated the labyrinth of her emotions, a labyrinth that she had walked through with Miyeon time and time again. The conversation flowed with a seamless ease, the words a lifeline that connected them amidst the sea of patrons. Miyeon's presence was a reminder that she wasn't alone, that her feelings were valid, and that her decisions were her own to make. The corner of her lips curved into a fond smile at Miyeon's response, the familiar reassurance a balm to her heart. "You're right, Mimi. As always," her tone held a note of affection, a testament to the trust they shared. "And you always know what to say, that's why you're the best roommate I could ever have."

As the bartender placed her new drink before her, Soobin's gaze momentarily shifted to acknowledge the exchange. It was a silent nod of understanding—a drink for her thoughts, a pause in the dance of conversation. The glass was cool against her fingertips as she took a deliberate sip, the taste of the cocktail a symphony of flavors that mirrored the complexity of her emotions. Her attention returned to Miyeon, her voice carrying the weight of contemplation as she acknowledged her father's looming presence in her life. "I do think that I would have to talk to him at some point," Soobin's words were measured, her gaze focused on the swirling liquid in her glass. "But I can worry about that later, I guess."

With a shift in her tone, Soobin turned the spotlight onto Miyeon. "Enough about me—what about you?" The words held a genuine curiosity, an invitation to share her thoughts, her current struggles, if any, and her joys.

@chae soobin It was difficult to comprehend the reasons as to why children would cut off their own parents. For a while Miyeon thought she was the strange one in this large world who was a cold and careless person who could bite the hand of the person who fed her. She had been struggling to make sense of her own situation until she met Soobin, who had gone through a similar experience and they could provide one another with support. Miyeon was grateful for the connection and the chance to talk to someone who could relate to her.

She took a large sip of her vodka cranberry, feeling the warmth of the liquor spread through her body. She exhaled, feeling the tension in her shoulders ease slightly. She looked around the bar, at the other people there around them. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, chatting away and laughing without a care in the world. Miyeon couldn't help but envy them for their ability to live in the moment and not worry about the past or future.

Miyeon's hand, which had been squeezing Soobin's tightly, relaxed as she felt a wave of relief wash over her friend. She was glad that Soobin was able to find some peace in the moment and forget the troubles they had been facing. Taking a deep breath, she smiled reassuringly at Soobin, hoping the gesture would help her friend feel more at ease. She knew that they both needed a break from the stress and sadness, and she was determined to make sure they were both able to find some respite in the moment.

She took her friend's hand again, determined, "Binnie, don't ever feel guilty about what you're doing for yourself." Miyeon understood this deeply. It took years of telling herself this as well. "Think about Haku and Mata. Aren't your babies completely adorable? Don't they just liven up your day?" Miyeon smiled, her eyes twinkling with joy and love. "Just take a minute to appreciate how much joy they bring to your life. That's why you need to take care of yourself and focus on what makes you happy."

@cho miyeon Amidst the canvas of hushed conversations that blurred into the soft hum of jazz music in the background, Soobin's voice drifted. The atmosphere hung with a sense of expectancy, and yet the audible gasp that parted from her roommate's lips wasn't unexpected. Her gaze remained steady, her own emotions a mirror to Miyeon's reaction. She had expected this response, for Miyeon was privy to the intricacies of her strained relationship with her father. A father who had been the architect of her past life, the one from which she had escaped, her birthright left behind as she embarked on a journey of self-discovery. But even as the threads of her past unraveled, the tug of longing for a different life remained—an undercurrent of regret and wonder, a silent question of what might have been.

The cocktail glass, cradled within Soobin's grasp, offered solace in its chilled embrace. She tipped it to her lips, allowing the liquid contents to cascade down , a bittersweet symphony of flavors that mirrored the complexities of her emotions. The sting of the alcohol was a welcomed sensation, a reminder that even in moments of vulnerability, she held a semblance of control.

She felt Miyeon's touch, warm and reassuring. A silent understanding flowed through that touch, a current of empathy and companionship. "I just don't even know what I could even say to him anymore…" Soobin's voice held the weight of frustration and resignation, a sigh afloat on the current of her words. Her gaze turned introspective, as if seeking answers within the amber depths of her cocktail. The ache of unspoken conversations, the chasm that had formed between father and daughter, lingered as a specter.

When Soobin's sentence found its end, the silence that followed seemed to hum with a shared acknowledgement—a space where words weren't necessary, for understanding flowed between them like a river. “Thank you for saying that, Mimi. I really do appreciate it. I'm glad that we have come so far after all that we have been through.” Her lips curved into a grateful smile, her heart brimming with appreciation for the connection they shared.

@chae soobin Strange enough to say, Miyeon never imagined she'd one day grow up feeling that the bar was like her second home. She'd grown so accustomed to the bar atmosphere that she felt a sense of comfort and familiarity. She had even formed strong bonds with some of the regulars, building a community within the bar. She ran into familiar faces no matter which place she visited, as the regulars of the bar had a habit of rotating between places. She was always sure to find a familiar face no matter where she went even when she wasn't on stage performing.

Tonight, she was with her roommate, the only person who has come to know her truly inside out. Miyeon felt a sense of security and comfort in her presence, which was a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of the bar. She was happy to have someone she could rely on who really understood and accepted her for who she was. Miyeon was grateful to have a companion she could trust, someone she could be her true self around. It was a feeling she treasured above all else.

When she heard her roommate's words, Miyeon couldn't help but let out an audible gasp. In the two years they've lived together, they've come to find out about each other's families. For both of them, it was a topic that often hit a sore spot in each other's hearts. It was a feeling of loss and longing for something they could never have, a feeling that was all too familiar to Miyeon. It was a feeling that left them with an aching heart, one that could never be soothed with a sip of alcohol.

Miyeon looked at her roommate, her eyes full of understanding. She reached out gently and squeezed the other's hand reassuringly. As Miyeon looked at her roommate, she said with compassion, "Don't pick up if you're not ready." She said softly, "You don't have to talk to him if you're not ready."

She felt a sense of pride swell in her chest. In the two years that she's known Soobin, she found a reliable companion who she could trust and confide in. Miyeon was grateful to have a friend who has come a long way and had achieved so much for herself. Miyeon smiled at her and said warmly, "Look at all you've done for yourself. You're living your own life, and you're doing great!"

@cho miyeon In the dimly lit ambiance of the bar, Soobin perched on a barstool, her gaze drawn to the crystal clear cocktail glass before her. Her fingers traced delicate patterns on the rim, an unconscious rhythm that mirrored the ebb and flow of her emotions. This wasn't her usual terrain—bars and drinks held an air of unfamiliarity, uncharted territories of solace that she ventured into rarely. But tonight was different. Tonight, the desire to bridge the expanse between words unspoken and the vulnerability of shared moments had propelled her here. Beside her, her roommate sat, a steadfast presence of shared secrets and boundless camaraderie. The bar hummed with muted conversations and a soft backdrop of jazz music, cocooning them in a space where their shared confessions could unfold without judgment.

Soobin sighed the nth sigh that night, a familiar exhalation that bridged the chasm between her inner turmoil and the fragile words she sought to release. The rim of her cocktail glass became the focal point of her emotions, her fingers dancing along its edges with a kind of restless energy. The glass itself held a glistening elixir, a concoction that glowed in the soft bar light, reminiscent of moonlight dancing upon still waters. And then, as if urged by the rhythm of her own heartbeat, she brought the glass to her lips, taking a measured sip. The liquid glided across her tongue, a fusion of flavors that momentarily diverted her thoughts, a fleeting respite from the turmoil that dwelled within her.

"My father tried to call me today," Soobin began, her voice a delicate ripple amidst the bar's ambiance. The words hung in the air, weighted by the history that accompanied them. Her tone was almost nonchalant, a façade that barely concealed the gravity of the situation. The furrow of her brows betrayed the tumultuous emotions that lay beneath the surface, emotions that had defined her journey. “I didn’t answer, of course.”

*looks at hanbin when he pushes me aside before letting out a soft chuckle*
oh alright
*isn't really prepared to interact with others but greets everyone anyway*

~pushes bobby aside~
Go have fun, I got this dude.

thanks! *grins at the compliment before taking others orders*

((nah nah, he's a stripper, he's asking if you need any))

kim doyoung11:33:30Reply
bobby kim [A] 44 seconds ago Reply
[] vincent walks up to the bar and just says 'y'

bobby kim [A] 44 seconds ago Reply
[] vincent walks up to the bar and just says 'y'

thanks my man, this is a great spot you got! *calls out to y with a grin, taking both drinks before heading back to tae. standing fairly close to him out of comfort, I wave towards the others before getting a sip of my beer*

[] AHAHAHHA

[] vincent walks up to the bar and just says 'y'

[] it's my fault i post chaotic so it kinda seemed ooc vibes issok

((plz))

() never gonna let you forget this moment

[] DEAD