bitter; hanbin
1.3k, hanbin-centric
pretty angsty, first time writing for ikon so hopefully this isn't too badly characterized
His first taste of bitter defeat comes with battle one. They’re all ecstatic that they beat their hyungs, they finally think ‘maybe we can actually win this’. But then the viewer votes come out.
“I don’t understand,” he hears Junhwe mumble.
Jiwon shakes his head and smiles, because he has to smile for all of them when the others can’t seem to, “Team A is more handsome than us. We know that.” He slaps Donghyuk’s shoulder silently telling him to cheer up.
Hanbin isn’t smiling, he can’t even put on a face for his members who need him to lead them. A bitter taste fills his mouth like he’s bit into a lemon rind and suddenly he wants to vomit.
“We just have to work harder for the next one,” he states sternly before storming off to the composing room where he knows he’ll probably live in the next four days straight.
They lose. Disbelief fills their house for the next few days. They’ve lost. They don’t even give themselves days off and naturally find themselves inside the practice rooms even though they have nothing to prepare for. The members look at Hanbin expectantly, waiting for him to lead them. Hell, they’d wish he’d yell at them or something. Anything was better than this silence. Hanbin knows this, but he can’t get any words out of his throat. So he writes for them instead. Writes until his pencils break and he runs out of pages. He starts writing on napkins and even the back of their favorite take out menus. He’d start writing on the walls if he wouldn’t get yelled at. He makes the others sing for him because he can’t even get a single note out.
He records his lines for “Wait for me” in the middle of the night long after the others have gone to sleep. He pours his heart out into that microphone stand in that soundproof booth. Tears seem to be the only thing that release the hands on his vocal chords. He plays back the recording, satisfied that no one can hear his crying but just his voice. He wonders if he’ll ever be able to perform this live for everyone to see how the bitterness chokes his throat.
The bitterness doesn’t leave even months after the show is over. Some days it’s not as bad as others. He actually finds himself smiling at Yunhyung and Jinhwan attempting to dance battle. In the darkness on a moonless night, the six of them pile onto the couch and their warmth soothes him. He falls asleep without every mistake playing over in his head. He falls asleep remembering why he does this and what he loves. Some days it’s so bad he doesn’t even think he can breathe. It feels as if someone’s made him swallow used coffee grinds. It’s really the worst when people say “no wonder they’re called team b.” The name he was once so proud of he’d wear it on a snapback now epitomizes their loss. Every weakness, shortcoming, and blemish stated in that one letter. He contemplates changing his stage name in the wee hours of the morning. Kim Hanbin is surely less of a burden. He drags “Winnin.mp3” to the recycle bin.
He’s never considered himself liar but he says, “We’re all winners. It’s okay. We have no regrets.” So he must be one. They all laugh together lying on the floor in their living room after a hard day of practice but Hanbin can’t help but think that this shouldn’t be their reality. Uncertain of their future while they watch their friends, no brothers, live out their dream for them. He doesn’t share these thoughts with the others.
Nothing washes away this taste. Not juice, energy drink, milk or water. He even tries some alcohol searching for anything to take this away. It doesn’t work and Jiwon sneaks him back into the dorm. He yells at his members’ every mistake to get rid of this lump in his throat. He spits out lyrics until the sun rises but all he gets is a raw throat and tired eyes. He dances until he can’t breathe hoping to get rid of the acrid air in his lungs. Nothing works.
This bitterness follows him everywhere, even to Show Me the Money and it chokes his throat. He can pretend he’s the best but he, and everyone else, knows he is not. He can barely get any of his lyrics out and he feels like he’s suffocating. Why won’t this ever go away?
Hanbin is so proud of Jiwon. He can’t think of anyone else who deserves it more. In the middle of the crowd, he’s sure he’s screaming louder than all the fangirls. But even that’s not enough to wash this taste out of his mouth.
His red hair is fading, slowly revealing his bleached hair. He buys black dye from some nearby store and forces Jiwon and Jinhwan to dye it for him in their dorm bathroom. Dyed hair is for idols, and he is not an idol. He is reminded of that every day he wakes up-- his flashy hair in the mirror begging for attention he is not worthy of. Hanbin is not satisfied until his hair is returned to average black. His hair must match his skill.
When Mix & Match gets announced he should feel relieved. Finally, they’re getting their chance again and he should have nothing to worry about. How could the group leader not make it into the final lineup? Impossible. Hanbin would’ve told you once upon a time that them losing as Team B was impossible too. He doesn’t trust in YG, he doesn’t trust in the fans, and he certainly doesn’t trust in himself. His teammates blindly follow him, trusting him like an army general but if only they knew he cries sometimes in the shower for failing them.
The original three get announced as confirmed members and he can’t even be happy. The bitterness transforms into a burden on behalf of those left on the other side. He will leave none of them behind. He’ll drag them through the mud, on his back if he has to. Because unless they all make it, he has failed and he’d rather die in the trenches, all of them together.
Together they pile up on Hanbin when the members are let back into the dorm once the official members are announced. “Donghyuk, get your elbow out of my neck!” he hears Jiwon complain and he can hear Junhwe and Yunhyung’s hyena laughing. He’s pretty sure Jinhwan’s foot is in his armpit and Chanwoo is probably sitting calmly on top of them all. Somehow their laughter and hysteria turns into tears. It’s a chain reaction for their team, it only takes one of them to start before the floodgates open. Hanbin will refuse, even years later on tv when interviewers ask him, that he was the first. They’ve all got snot running, red eyes and tear streaked faces. They cry for all the suffering they’ve endured (it’s not over-- there’s a whole new world of suffering out there for them. Fangirls that will lift them up, but reporters that can tear them down with one click. It’s hell, but at least they have each other.), they cry for their new friends that got left behind, and they cry for their dreams that still have hope. Hanbin had tucked away his dreams many months ago, in an old unlabeled box, up on his highest closet shelf. He’s finally ready to take it down, dust it off and bring them out.
They drink apple juice from the convenience store out of little paper cups, toasting for their hopes of success. “Tonight we celebrate, tomorrow we practice.” Their leader is not the best at toasts and Jiwon protests, but they all pretend to clink their floral printed cups anyway. Hanbin swigs down the juice, not even noticing how pure the sweet taste is.
pretty angsty, first time writing for ikon so hopefully this isn't too badly characterized
His first taste of bitter defeat comes with battle one. They’re all ecstatic that they beat their hyungs, they finally think ‘maybe we can actually win this’. But then the viewer votes come out.
“I don’t understand,” he hears Junhwe mumble.
Jiwon shakes his head and smiles, because he has to smile for all of them when the others can’t seem to, “Team A is more handsome than us. We know that.” He slaps Donghyuk’s shoulder silently telling him to cheer up.
Hanbin isn’t smiling, he can’t even put on a face for his members who need him to lead them. A bitter taste fills his mouth like he’s bit into a lemon rind and suddenly he wants to vomit.
“We just have to work harder for the next one,” he states sternly before storming off to the composing room where he knows he’ll probably live in the next four days straight.
They lose. Disbelief fills their house for the next few days. They’ve lost. They don’t even give themselves days off and naturally find themselves inside the practice rooms even though they have nothing to prepare for. The members look at Hanbin expectantly, waiting for him to lead them. Hell, they’d wish he’d yell at them or something. Anything was better than this silence. Hanbin knows this, but he can’t get any words out of his throat. So he writes for them instead. Writes until his pencils break and he runs out of pages. He starts writing on napkins and even the back of their favorite take out menus. He’d start writing on the walls if he wouldn’t get yelled at. He makes the others sing for him because he can’t even get a single note out.
He records his lines for “Wait for me” in the middle of the night long after the others have gone to sleep. He pours his heart out into that microphone stand in that soundproof booth. Tears seem to be the only thing that release the hands on his vocal chords. He plays back the recording, satisfied that no one can hear his crying but just his voice. He wonders if he’ll ever be able to perform this live for everyone to see how the bitterness chokes his throat.
The bitterness doesn’t leave even months after the show is over. Some days it’s not as bad as others. He actually finds himself smiling at Yunhyung and Jinhwan attempting to dance battle. In the darkness on a moonless night, the six of them pile onto the couch and their warmth soothes him. He falls asleep without every mistake playing over in his head. He falls asleep remembering why he does this and what he loves. Some days it’s so bad he doesn’t even think he can breathe. It feels as if someone’s made him swallow used coffee grinds. It’s really the worst when people say “no wonder they’re called team b.” The name he was once so proud of he’d wear it on a snapback now epitomizes their loss. Every weakness, shortcoming, and blemish stated in that one letter. He contemplates changing his stage name in the wee hours of the morning. Kim Hanbin is surely less of a burden. He drags “Winnin.mp3” to the recycle bin.
He’s never considered himself liar but he says, “We’re all winners. It’s okay. We have no regrets.” So he must be one. They all laugh together lying on the floor in their living room after a hard day of practice but Hanbin can’t help but think that this shouldn’t be their reality. Uncertain of their future while they watch their friends, no brothers, live out their dream for them. He doesn’t share these thoughts with the others.
Nothing washes away this taste. Not juice, energy drink, milk or water. He even tries some alcohol searching for anything to take this away. It doesn’t work and Jiwon sneaks him back into the dorm. He yells at his members’ every mistake to get rid of this lump in his throat. He spits out lyrics until the sun rises but all he gets is a raw throat and tired eyes. He dances until he can’t breathe hoping to get rid of the acrid air in his lungs. Nothing works.
This bitterness follows him everywhere, even to Show Me the Money and it chokes his throat. He can pretend he’s the best but he, and everyone else, knows he is not. He can barely get any of his lyrics out and he feels like he’s suffocating. Why won’t this ever go away?
Hanbin is so proud of Jiwon. He can’t think of anyone else who deserves it more. In the middle of the crowd, he’s sure he’s screaming louder than all the fangirls. But even that’s not enough to wash this taste out of his mouth.
His red hair is fading, slowly revealing his bleached hair. He buys black dye from some nearby store and forces Jiwon and Jinhwan to dye it for him in their dorm bathroom. Dyed hair is for idols, and he is not an idol. He is reminded of that every day he wakes up-- his flashy hair in the mirror begging for attention he is not worthy of. Hanbin is not satisfied until his hair is returned to average black. His hair must match his skill.
When Mix & Match gets announced he should feel relieved. Finally, they’re getting their chance again and he should have nothing to worry about. How could the group leader not make it into the final lineup? Impossible. Hanbin would’ve told you once upon a time that them losing as Team B was impossible too. He doesn’t trust in YG, he doesn’t trust in the fans, and he certainly doesn’t trust in himself. His teammates blindly follow him, trusting him like an army general but if only they knew he cries sometimes in the shower for failing them.
The original three get announced as confirmed members and he can’t even be happy. The bitterness transforms into a burden on behalf of those left on the other side. He will leave none of them behind. He’ll drag them through the mud, on his back if he has to. Because unless they all make it, he has failed and he’d rather die in the trenches, all of them together.
Together they pile up on Hanbin when the members are let back into the dorm once the official members are announced. “Donghyuk, get your elbow out of my neck!” he hears Jiwon complain and he can hear Junhwe and Yunhyung’s hyena laughing. He’s pretty sure Jinhwan’s foot is in his armpit and Chanwoo is probably sitting calmly on top of them all. Somehow their laughter and hysteria turns into tears. It’s a chain reaction for their team, it only takes one of them to start before the floodgates open. Hanbin will refuse, even years later on tv when interviewers ask him, that he was the first. They’ve all got snot running, red eyes and tear streaked faces. They cry for all the suffering they’ve endured (it’s not over-- there’s a whole new world of suffering out there for them. Fangirls that will lift them up, but reporters that can tear them down with one click. It’s hell, but at least they have each other.), they cry for their new friends that got left behind, and they cry for their dreams that still have hope. Hanbin had tucked away his dreams many months ago, in an old unlabeled box, up on his highest closet shelf. He’s finally ready to take it down, dust it off and bring them out.
They drink apple juice from the convenience store out of little paper cups, toasting for their hopes of success. “Tonight we celebrate, tomorrow we practice.” Their leader is not the best at toasts and Jiwon protests, but they all pretend to clink their floral printed cups anyway. Hanbin swigs down the juice, not even noticing how pure the sweet taste is.