When Kyuu had first started training with TwentyTwenty, before they were known as such, he had almost pitied Lane. The skills he possessed were practically nonexistent, aside from the deepness of his voice, and the cuteness of his features. Early on he’d known that the other would have to work hard to gain his respect, having already joined the company with vocal and dance background. Surely enough, months passed and he watched his team mates skills improve gradually over time. Kyuu wouldn’t go as far to say he was impressed, but he was definitely pleased. As long as you were willing to work hard to prove yourself, he can overlook those few steps you took incorrectly. Provided you don’t do it again.
It was an early morning when he found himself in the practice room. Some joked he should have a bed in there seeing as he was usually the first to show up, and the last to leave. It was for good reason, wanting every movement he took on stage to be perfect. The particular concept that was going to be shown later in the month was something a little different to what they’d done before, utilising props in their outfits on stage. Because of this, he wanted to get it right. If you asked him why he practised so diligently, he would say it’s so he can watch and observe to find other member’s flaws. Deep down, that’s really his way of helping.
“You’re late,” Kyuu voice to the slightly older male as he entered the practice room, still in the middle of putting down his own things. He wasn’t late, at all, they’d never really set a time for this practice session. Kyuu simply liked to pull other’s strings.
Lane’s feet dragged on the floor, almost walking to the end of the corridor when he heard a familiar voice. His eyes dragged up from the ground to see someone walk into one of the practice rooms. Lane’s eyelids dropped over his eyes, was there a practice that day? Had he forgotten? No, that couldn’t have happened. He had basically snuck out of the dorm to come back to the practice room; he didn’t even have an extra shirt for the end of the practice. A small sigh escaped his lips as he found himself walking to the door of the practice room. His eyes watched the figure of his bandmate for a second before nodding at the other. “You’re early, more like.” Lane scrunched up his nose at how deep his voice sounded, it was as if his vocal cords complained at getting no rest at all.
He stepped inside the practice room, pointedly not looking at his own reflection as he pulled off his headphones from his ears. Not many people knew that the headphones that were almost always around Lane’s ears or on his neck were just a defense mechanism. In a world filled with music, he found that he needed silence. If someone asked him if he regretted being a musician, he couldn’t say yes or no with a straight face; and that’s why he hated music sometimes. Millions of faces watched him every second of his life, people expected him to thrive, to shine. He had grown as a singer, a dancer, yes; but at what cost? His eyes met his own through the mirror and he noticed how hard he was frowning. He shook his head lightly and placed his headphones on one of the tables. “The others are still sleeping.” He said to no one in particular, but even to himself, it sounded as if he was making an excuse for ‘being late’ even though he wasn’t.
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