A Lovely Progression

(a beginning)

At first, JiYong was SeungRi’s fellow trainee, albeit one who was (in SeungRi’s eyes) far superior and infinitely more talented.

JiYong remembers the nights when he would leave practice the minute it ended, packing up his bag and cracking a joke to YoungBae, and see SeungRi making no move to pack up. JiYong had seen if often enough that he knew SeungRi would be here all night, practicing and re-practicing the same dance steps and singing the same songs until his muscles would ache and his voice would be sore.

And then, later that night, when JiYong was in his shared room with SeungRi slumped over his desk furiously writing out another verse, he would hear SeungRi return to the dorm, closing the front door quietly behind him so as not to wake up their fellow trainees.

JiYong would listen to SeungRi start up a shower, could hear what SeungRi thought running water would cover, SeungRi’s tears that he kept hidden to everyone but himself. JiYong would plug in his earphones when SeungRi finally entered their bedroom, pretending to be so absorbed in the music that he hadn’t noticed SeungRi. But JiYong always did, every time, since his earphones were in, but no music was playing.

SeungRi would curl up on his side, facing the wall, and wouldn’t make a sound, as though he might somehow disappear into the wall if he held still enough.

JiYong would always feel vaguely sorry for the boy, the kid who’d come too late and wholly underprepared. Then he’d be angry at himself for feeling this way. JiYong had his own career to worry about, after all.

Though really, JiYong was just lying to himself. He’d always known he’d make it. He wasn’t so sure about SeungRi, however.

(a connection)

A year and one documentary later, JiYong became SeungRi’s fellow band mate, and also became SeungRi’s one-and-only leader.

JiYong remembers the days where he’d spend whole hours shouting himself hoarse, pointing out mistake after mistake in every single dance, merciless with his words. Although everyone was subject to the Kwon Leader’s vicious verbal assaults, it came as no surprise to anyone that a certain Lee SeungHyun bore the brunt of it. JiYong could see it in the maknae’s eyes, the disappointment he saw in himself mirroring that of JiYong’s. JiYong could see it, but said nothing about it. After all, they’d all worked hard to get to where they were, and if they were to get anywhere else they had to be perfect 100% of the time.

Of course, that didn’t make JiYong feel any less guilty, though he knew he had nothing to feel guilty about. But still, it was there, hanging over JiYong’s head and heart. JiYong tried to compensate for it in other ways, always hiding his caring actions toward SeungRi. He’d tell the coordi noonas to pay extra attention to SeungRi’s makeup, secretly slip him an outfit meant for JiYong himself, cook a little bit too much food and insist that SeungRi help him finish it (‘You shouldn’t waste food, SeungRi.’ ‘But you’re the one who cooked it.’). These little things that made the guilt a little easier to bear, yet all the while keeping SeungRi completely ignorant of it.

JiYong didn’t know why he didn’t just outright show it to SeungRi, that he cared, that he was sorry. Perhaps it was pride. Perhaps embarrassment. Perhaps because of that one time JiYong said sorry and had had to look away when SeungRi’s eyes had filled with tears.

(a bittersweet change)

After a few months had passed, JiYong became SeungRi’s not-quite-friend, not-quite-enemy.

JiYong wasn’t quite SeungRi’s friend because, well, friendship entailed a certain amount of respect that JiYong was adamant SeungRi still had not earned. It meant experience and reputation and a fair amount of trust. JiYong wasn’t quite sure he trusted the maknae yet, not with important matters. Like giving SeungRi that line that was slightly higher and that DaeSung could easily handle. Like giving SeungRi that dance solo that required precise, sharp movements that YoungBae would perform flawlessly. Like allowing SeungRi that screen time he so desperately wanted.

And, of course, there was the fact that SeungRi seemed to simply want no part in any sort of friendship, anyway. JiYong tried, of course, in his own special way. He gave SeungRi the harmonizing part during the chorus that was absolutely essential but rarely ever heard. He let SeungRi choreograph the dances that weren’t too simple that they’d be boring and not too difficult that SeungHyun could not keep up. And as for screen time, well, JiYong shared much of his own screen time with the maknae. It wasn’t JiYong’s fault, after all, that SeungRi seemed to care not for the kisses and hugs and hand-holding that JiYong was prone to giving when the camera’s little red light was trained on them, nor for the funny little anecdotes and silly secrets he’d let slip on air, nor the lingering looks that fans captured on film for the world to see, the looks that JiYong hadn’t realized he was giving, the looks that SeungRi wasn’t enthusiastic about seeing.

But JiYong wasn’t quite SeungRi’s enemy, either, because when the cameras had turned off and the crew had gone home, JiYong would spend his nights sitting on the living room floor, playing Scrabble with SeungRi, and then later a game of Monopoly, just because. And there were the nights where SeungRi would shiver underneath the covers and JiYong would slide so easily in beside him, reaching out to hold the maknae to his chest and share their body heat. There were the times where SeungRi would wake up, wide-eyed and breathing hard, shuddering out of a dream that left him terrified and half-hysterical, where JiYong would SeungRi’s back and make hushing noises, telling him that everything’s gonna be alright, it was just a dream, and I'm here.

(a foreign experience)

A few years, one album and three mini-albums later, JiYong was dead certain he was SeungRi’s best friend… ever.

Japan was JiYong and SeungRi sharing an apartment, all to themselves, living together for months on end. Things were different here; there weren’t weekly music shows and ridiculous variety shows. Japan was sleeping in and spending afternoons in the recording studio, working with Japanese producers and Japanese writers. It was also the land of many explorations, where twice a week the duo would hit the town, seeing the sights and absorbing the country’s culture, getting a stomachache from too much raw fish and drinking far too much sake that was strictly recommended. It was a little taste of freedom far away from home, where everything was foreign and exciting, where they could go out without disguises and lingering managers.

Japan was also nights spent at home, where SeungRi would be reading and studying and JiYong would be staring (glaring) at the TV, trying his hardest to master a language he just could not grasp. Of course SeungRi would take to it like a bird in flight, laughing and flirting with the locals in their mother tongue, and JiYong would hover in the background, smiling and nodding in polite cluelessness.

However, Japan was also a country of many foreign delights, including, for JiYong, a certain female model with the most captivating eyes and beautiful voice. JiYong had been very excited when he’d come home that night, bragging and boasting about his date with Kiko, whoever that was. JiYong had been quite pleased and SeungRi seemed to share JiYong’s enthusiasm as well. But sometimes, on very rare occasions, JiYong would catch SeungRi’s eye and be utterly taken aback at the pain and sorrow reflecting in the maknae’s eyes. He’d always wanted to ask, but the look had always disappeared within a second, and besides, JiYong was much too busy with his newfound love to really be bothered too much.

(an unconventional growth)

Weeks, months, it took only a very short amount of time for JiYong to be, unexpectedly, the one dependent on the younger SeungRi. No longer could he stand tall, especially not taller than SeungRi himself.

Perhaps he should have been warned, or perhaps not, but sometimes artistic freedom just wasn’t meant to be shared with the public. Certainly not to the mob-like, unforgiving, and judgmental public that made up South Korea’s population. Not a day passed where JiYong did not receive another thousand death threats and insults, watching as his precious album that he’d poured his soul into (why did they not see that?) be ripped to shreds with the claws of the bloodthirsty so-called fans.

And it wasn’t the end there, either. It seemed JiYong could do no right and nothing but wrong. Accusations of plagiarism, outraged concert-goers, controversial lyrics; the list seemed to go on and on. Slowly and surely, JiYong found himself being buried and suffocated under the weight of other people’s judgment, despite his best efforts otherwise. There was only so much criticism and hate a person’s psyche and sanity could take before it crumbled under the pressure.

Eventually, even his precious relationship with Kiko was exposed, and JiYong lost even that. Losing and never gaining, anyone could see JiYong floundering helplessly, yet it seemed no one cared enough to do anything.

Except, that is, a particular maknae with soft, forgiving eyes and ears ready to listen. As JiYong was pushed further and further to the edge, it did not escape his notice that SeungRi was trying his damn hardest to pull JiYong away from that edge. JiYong’s maknae had matured, had seen the consequences of fame and fortune in the weariness of JiYong’s face and weakness in his bones, and in turn had lost the last of his innocence. Now, when JiYong looked into SeungRi’s eyes, he did not see the same young, guileless boy who’d come to him at the tender age of sixteen. Instead, JiYong saw a man wise beyond his years, a man strong enough to carry the weight of others on his back.

JiYong did not find this new SeungRi repelling or distancing, if anything he was drawn even tighter into the world that was Lee SeungHyun (Victory). What worried JiYong the most, however, was that it seemed to have the opposite effect on SeungRi.

(an unwelcome distancing)

The five year mark rolled around and, unbelievably, JiYong found himself becoming SeungRi’s acquaintance.

JiYong could see it in each and every one of their faces, the weariness and exhaustion and frustration that had slowly crept in over the years and had suddenly made itself apparent in face of a thick sheaf of paper and a line needing a signature.

He could see it even in his own face, when he looked into the mirror after showering, the hollowness in his cheeks, his sunken eyes, the lips set permanently in a frown. He could feel it, too, in the empty sheets of music and the sharpened pencil that never got dull with use, in the anger and arguments and general unproductiveness of the group. Five years was a long time, and none of them were the same people they had been when they’d first joined, young and eager and dreaming big dreams.

JiYong could see it in SeungRi as well, perhaps the most clearly. It was in the quiet nights by himself in his room, a book in his hands, a pen in his mouth, and wandering eyes that clearly were not studying. It was in the tense silences unrelieved by SeungRi’s meaningless blathering. It was in the enormous phone bills that JiYong found addressed to SeungRi, all coming from a familiar phone number back in a little town called Gwangju.  

It was also in the nonexistent interaction that happened the two of them, how SeungRi had insisted JiYong move out, how SeungRi refused to be alone in the same room as him, how SeungRi said little more than hello and goodbye (of course, they were the same word anyway). Gone were the days of late-night secrets and early-morning breakfasts.

But still, JiYong could not bear to give everything up, this little he had left with SeungRi. Perhaps out of nothing more than sheer desperation and irrationality, JiYong signed the contract binding him to five more years of this hell, knowing full well the other members would follow suit.

It didn’t escape JiYong’s notice that SeungRi signed the contract last.

(a series of unfortunate events)

Time seemed to drag on, yet still race by, and sadly it came to no surprise to JiYong that by now he and SeungRi had become little more than business partners.

Promotions were successful, despite the complete lack of effort and enthusiasm. The fans still screamed when JiYong’s lips turned up in a smile, money still poured in from sales and royalties, it seemed as though JiYong had actually managed to form a perfect, golden group.

But JiYong was hesitant, and perhaps even apprehensive, to believe it, believe in any sort of luck when he was balls deep in the entertainment industry known for breaking pretty little girls and boys and robbing the public with absolutely no shame at all. But it still came as a shock when he was woken one morning by SeungRi’s frantic hands and even more frantic words.

He’d known something was wrong the instant he’d recognized SeungRi’s hands, because he knew that SeungRi would not willingly touch him if not for an extremely grave reason. And so when he’d opened his eyes and stared into the red-rimmed eyes of SeungRi’s, he found himself past hoping and already moving on to dread and grief.

A car accident. Except this time it was one of JiYong’s own who was the culprit, the same one who’d already had his experiences with car accidents. DaeSung, the heart of gold, sitting in a police investigation room. JiYong could hardly even imagine the pain and confusion that DaeSung must have been facing, but he’d gotten to know DaeSung well enough in five years that it would change the boy, change him in ways that perhaps even precious music could not fix.

And what was equally as heartbreaking, seeing Daesung return to the dorm ashen-faced and shaking, seeing the other members let go of the awkwardness they’d felt between them, seeing the group come together to share DaeSung’s pain. JiYong couldn’t help but wonder, had this tragedy not have occurred, if the group would still be as close as they were now, sitting together on the living room floor, hands held tightly together in one collective embrace.

But it seemed as though this closeness would be questioned yet again, mere months after the last test, except this time it was centered on JiYong and it was certainly no accident. Scandals and accusations, it was all so reminiscent of that last time, the time where his relationship with SeungRi had begun to fracture. JiYong found himself terrified, wondering if their broken relationship would cease to exist altogether.

(an unexpected house-call)

No time had passed at all, and although JiYong had waited with bated breath and apprehensive wonderings, JiYong came to realize himself as SeungRi’s equal.

It had happened suddenly, unexpectedly, completely out-of-the-blue. JiYong had since given up all pretenses in regards to SeungRi, and even in regards to the rest of the members as well. He spent his period of self-reflection in mourning, rather than introspection. This boy and JiYong’s adopted family all seemed lost to JiYong, as though they’d left willingly rather than been ripped away from him. Pain and loneliness oft accompanied one another when JiYong was in these moods, the moods where he found himself staring at empty bottles of bitter booze and bitterer alcohol, his mind hazy and slurred in the telltale symptom of drunkenness.

Regret became almost a meaningless word to JiYong, for he used the word so often to no apparent use. Regret over a cigarette, regret over a signed contract, regret over one particular performance, and regret over one particular girl. All of it seemed to lead JiYong nowhere, nowhere but the local seedy bar and squandered money.

However, it was not on one of these days that it happened. No, it had happened on one of JiYong’s rare sane days, days where his fingers itched for his guitar rather than another glass, days where he would look around his apartment and miss not pine for. It was on one of these days, where JiYong was watching the television (they had already moved on to newer scandals), that JiYong heard the knocking on his door, stuttered and weak.

JiYong opened his door with slight trepidation and his eyes widened at the sight before him. It was SeungRi, except not really, because this SeungRi had messy hair and slurred words and fumbling hands (and perhaps streaks on his cheeks). This SeungRi stumbled into JiYong’s apartment, stumbled into JiYong’s arms, stumbled and fell, so that JiYong was holding SeungRi as he hadn’t in so long. And then SeungRi was crying, crying for so many reasons, reasons that made JiYong’s heart break. Crying in disappointment, crying because JiYong was not JiYong anymore, the JiYong who had been a far superior and infinitely more talented trainee, wasn’t just a band mate and one-and-only leader, wasn’t exactly a not-quite-friend, not-quite enemy, not the same best friend ever, not a dependent man, neither acquaintances nor business partners. SeungRi wasn’t SeungRi, and JiYong wasn’t JiYong anymore.

And then SeungRi was saying things like I’ve missed you and Please don’t leave me again. JiYong whispered things like I miss you, too and I never left. JiYong realizes that as much as he might depend on SeungRi, SeungRi depended on him just as much. Equals, they were equals, two young boys in a scary world where they’ve really only had each other from the beginning. JiYong finds himself ready for more.

(a new beginning)

Hard work pays off and they’ve weathered the year-long storm. JiYong likes to think they’ve become brothers, he and SeungRi.

Nights and weeks, the band has spent all this time cooped up in a tiny studio together, singing and talking and listening. Singing with renewed fervor, their thirst for a second chance and the thirst to prove themselves driving them forwards. There’s an emotion in their songs that hasn’t been there since their first beginning, a dedication that had been renewed. The heart and energy they put into their music, they think it’s enough for their pain and struggles to transcend the lyrics. They feel alive.

JiYong looks at SeungRi, trying his best to sing the notes correctly, and smiles to himself. It’s a secret smile that tells of a bond that can’t be broken and one night of not-quite regrets. SeungRi catches JiYong’s glance and has his own secret smile in return.