[Completed] Underrated and Human (NCT Member)

These Fit... Babies, Right?

How many months have they made NCTzens wait for them to come back? Has it been far too long? How many had let go of their interest after the time that has passed? These questions spoke about the fear artists had. Creativity, originality, skill, and talent were things that an artist could control. They may have control through their minds, their perseverance, their discipline, and many more. But recognition and support were ones that required other people, namely fans. People who adored them, and appreciated them. Those who saw the strain in their legs as sharp positions were asked. Those who didn't get tired of hearing their voices. Those who they never want to limit with affections they can show, most of all through how their fans fell in love with them. All the content in the music they can give. Yet, they all were confined to limitations because of business. Capitalism is one that could not be denied, and most definitely one that has rooted into the way of life. And this is one of the reasons why they couldn't give back as often as they want.

But an idol is no ordinary person. In the mechanisms behind the machinery and robotic approach to perfection that the ignorant claim about Kpop, there were no gears that shifted in a pattern. Instead, there were people who pushed things to work. And idols find themselves pushing more at times. They were the cogs behind, the practice and the determination to push through a process of one performance. But at the same time, they were also the finished products.

NCT 127 was no different. Each member has his own schedule, and whatever it may be and how much it differs, it is made and accomplished to contribute. There were two who promoted with another unit, all-knowing how there would be no rest in between once they had finished that promotion. Another built his resume on being a singer, taking part in musical theater, that was a feat but one he could climb over. The rest had their own duties as well. Even if it wasn't as broadcasted as the others. And one of the 'rest' is Ash.

The young boy ran around, from one practice room to another, thinking of different ways to interpret a piece. One day, his members would see him going to the right, working with one group. Then another, he'd take a different turn to conceptualize with another set of artists. And when the nearing days came, when it was the preparation, they'd find him with them. Yet, all throughout this time, there were no lull moments. He was always on his feet and doing a task. So it was a surprise to also see him just sit at a corner and take his time. But here's the thing, Ash is a reader. Anytime he had in his hands, his love for words would challenge his love for dance. But right now, he was on his laptop, doing something peculiar for him.

"You're online shopping?"

"Johnny hyung, these fit... babies, right?"

Ash's eyes skimmed over endless clothes. Was this really all for toddlers? In his first time dabbling in online shopping, he didn't expect everything to be this complex. His eyes loved going against pale pages that were not illuminated by lights behind. They were not well acquainted with led lights displaying paragraphs, even if it was one most loved to focus on. "Why are you shopping for babies?" Because he had one to shop for. Not his own, of course.

The boy had stopped his fingers from moving arrows, taking a pause as the story replayed in his mind again. Receiving one call from his brother that he had a family, and wanted Ash to be the godfather. Then the next was a fight for his life that he lost in a nation so far away from where the younger one stood. Until a surprise was given to all at the wake, for his brother had a family of his own. One that lost him. As the godfather of his nephew, he thought about him a lot. He didn't want the young boy to feel neglected, or asking questions about paternal love. His heart may not comprehend it all fully because he had no one to look up to on experience. But, to give love even if it isn't the typical way, is one he'd try. Even if it means continuing other habits and patterns from people, like his brother. "Blake, he loved buying clothes for his son, Jun because the boy loves colors and patterns. And I know, I'm not him but I didn't want the little thing his father did to be forgotten too soon."

Memories were a fickle thing because only the witness can ever truly know its full events. Storytelling is one that could be done for its justice, but could never tell the full truth of the intensity of the events. But sometimes, one did not need to know everything. The missing words to what was shared did not need to be sought, to feel what was behind it or after it all. That was how Johnny embraced the boy's words. He only told of one little tradition. One he wanted to continue. His words didn't stutter but there were spaces longer for a second. The way his eyes looked at the screen and screamed at himself to understand. Johnny did not know what was behind the story. He did not know what Ash told his therapist. But, he wanted to help in ways he can. Even if it is one as small as this. 

"Well then, move aside, let the master help you in choosing baby clothes."