yo ☁️ thank you for letting me take up space (again/3). i'm 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 and this is my third muse, 𝒁𝑶𝑬 𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑲, sharp edges wrapped in perfume, a burst of talent with layers that are equal parts delicate and dangerous. a true aries 𓃵 through and through y'all: stubborn, ambitious, magnetic. her passion speaks louder than her smile, but not everyone can handle the heat (and zoe doesn't care if u can). she's the kind of girl who doesn't just enter a room she will take over it. this season, zoe isn't just chasing dreams; she's breaking rules, glass ceilings, then re-modeling with her own rules, and glass celings. read more about her down below & like this post ᥫ᭡!
® extra pages: dossier, pinterest, discord (mssg).
𝑷𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑶𝑵𝑨𝑳𝑰𝑻𝒀
"self-possession, steely control, tremendous power, and intense magnetism; that's our game, girls." her father used to repeat it like scripture every, a tad aggressive, as if his daughters were one of his boardroom audiences. zoe absorbed every syllable until it wasn't just advice but blood, bone, marrow.
zoe learned early that for her, everything would have to be clawed at, earned, and taken (by force if necessary). and she did take, lots of time.
people like to talk about her smile first, sweet, sunny, wide, approachable. a girl who laughs easily, who seems cute to the point of innocence. but zoe knows better than anyone that sunshine blinds. she uses it like a spotlight, warm until it burns.
beneath the smile is pure steel, venom, and calculation. her wit cuts clean. her opinions drop like bombs in rooms full of seniors who expect deference. she's the girl who can look you in the eye and tell you exactly what she thinks. and the part that hurts most is that she's right.
𝑩𝑨𝑪𝑲𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑹𝒀 & 𝑭𝑨𝑪𝑻𝑺
she grew up in brentwood, lost angeles with money, influence, and a mother who paraded her like an accessory. private schools, tutors, extracurriculars so long they looked like résumés instead of childhoods. her older sister was the natural, the golden one, the girl who seemed to win simply by existing.
by middle school, the claws were already out. major disclaimer: bullying and sexual harrassment from a classmate, not zoe. eighth grade. a classmate's nudes were leaked. the boys jeered, one girl mocked. zoe beat her bloody. hospital visit. suspension, "bullying incident." her parents' lawyers scrubbed the record. expunged. her parents told her to let it go. zoe didn't. she still says the girl deserved it, with a smirk sharp enough to draw blood.
justice, vengeance, a warning shot, whatever you want to call it, she'll never apologized.
high school turned her into an art form. she understood social ecosystems like chess boards, moving pawns, sacrificing knights, keeping her queen untouchable. compliments that were really insults. favors that came with invisible strings. secrets traded like currency. she could end someone with a smile, revive them with a laugh, and people still begged for her approval. it wasn't popularity, not really. it was pure control.
zoeanna park (she made her parents change it to zoe; the old name felt like a chain) built her résumé like an empire. chess team. debate. class president two years in a row. volleyball captain. cheerleading captain. poms captain & dance drill captain. church choir soloist. thespian society. photoshoots in france by sixteen. everything was stacked, everything was sharpened. the pressure was suffocating, but zoe wore it like a crown.
the family's big move to seoul only refined the mask. harvard and yale said yes, but she chose yonsei, playing perfect daughter to the hilt: beautiful, brilliant, obedient. numb. never reckless, never rebellious. until hydra auditions cracked the façade. finally, a stage that was hers alone.
training life? brutal. she thrived on the competition, but her hypersensitivity left her raw. when she was on, she was incandescent; when she faltered, the cracks spread fast.
she compensated by staying late, working longer, never calling home. no one knew how badly she missed them. because she never let them. instead, she smiled wider. the mask became muscle memory.
now, her grin is a weapon, her warmth is bait, her kindness is a power play. she's not here to be liked. she's here to be remembered. and when people talk about her, they always do.
𝑷𝑳𝑶𝑻 𝑰𝑫𝑬𝑨𝑺
the best friend who's also her partner in crime. two halves of the same sharp-edged coin
shopping-as-therapy duo: designer bags, cruel gossip, martinis at noon
the one who thinks they can "fix" her (spoiler: you can't)
athletic rival or partner: tennis, pilates, or late-night gym sessions that feel like competition
poor soul who tries to teach her public transportation and regrets it immediately
someone who sees her mask slip during a moody streak and survives the fallout (barely)
"postcodes?" selene let a small, dry laugh escape that didn't reach her eyes. "i don't collect them, darling. i haunt them. there's a difference." she leaned back, feeling the afterimage of a dozen different skylines behind her ribs. this lass is all sharp corners and borrowed confidence, thinking a change of scenery made her a revolution.
"i wasn't born here, no. I was born in the 'before times,' in a terrace house with damp on the walls and a view of the grey. i've done the continents, though. i've done the high-wire act without a safety net. but I only remember the places that tried to break me and failed." she looked at zoe past the bravado and the clever little eyebrow. she wanted to be a problem? the world was full of problems. having selene as one is not ideal.
"you're a long way from home, zoe. this is a bit 'nouveau-trouble' no?" she tilted her head, expression as cool as a london rain. the coffee between them was getting cold, and the air was getting tight. "but, cheers to being a problem," her voice drops an octave. "just try not to be a boring one. that's the only sin i don't forgive."
zoe literally had to stifle a yawn, which would have been redundant, and zoe was never redundant, she was efficient, though. she watched selene over the rim of her morning coffee, wondering if the other girl practiced that "haunted" stare in a cracked mirror or if the look just came naturally with a diet of cigarettes and self-importance. or so she's heard... it was all so mid-2000s indie sleaze.
"that's almost clever. did you find that phrase in a vintage shop next to your personality?" is what she wanted to say but zoe kept her smile in place, symmetrical, and entirely devoid of warmth. she didn't do 'grey' dialogue. she was the sun; if you got burnt, that was your fault for not wearing spf.
"i can already see the difference between us is that you remember the places that tried to break you. i only remember the places that bought me things," zoe remarked, smooth as the ribbon in her hair. zoe tapped a manicured nail against the ceramic of her cup. click. click. click. it was the sound of a countdown. "as for being boring…" she leaned in, a sugary whisper that felt like a paper cut. "you've been talking for three minutes and i’ve already mentally redecorated my entire dorm room... kidding~!"
"postcodes?" selene let a small, dry laugh escape that didn't reach her eyes. "i don't collect them, darling. i haunt them. there's a difference." she leaned back, feeling the afterimage of a dozen different skylines behind her ribs. this lass is all sharp corners and borrowed confidence, thinking a change of scenery made her a revolution.
"i wasn't born here, no. I was born in the 'before times,' in a terrace house with damp on the walls and a view of the grey. i've done the continents, though. i've done the high-wire act without a safety net. but I only remember the places that tried to break me and failed." she looked at zoe past the bravado and the clever little eyebrow. she wanted to be a problem? the world was full of problems. having selene as one is not ideal.
"you're a long way from home, zoe. this is a bit 'nouveau-trouble' no?" she tilted her head, expression as cool as a london rain. the coffee between them was getting cold, and the air was getting tight. "but, cheers to being a problem," her voice drops an octave. "just try not to be a boring one. that's the only sin i don't forgive."
zoe's mouth curves cat-like. the word darling irks her soul but she files it under interesting choices for people who want to keep their kneecaps. selene's voice drops, the café tightens, the air gets expensive - and zoe, in her thrifted leather jacket that fits like it was stolen fresh off the mannequin, cropped white tank, loose black trousers slung low on her hips, silver chain at her throat like punctuation, just lets it happen. she's dressed like a girl who doesn't need backup. messy bun, sunglasses still on indoors, rings on every finger like she's collecting debts instead of jewelry.
"nouveau-trouble? wow. that's cute. are we gatekeeping menace now?" one hip cocked, casual in the only way people get when they're very aware of their balance. "and boring is subjective. some people think silence is boring. some people think explosions are." her eyes flick briefly to selene's cup. still untouched. then back up. steady. "personally, i think the real sin is thinking you're the final boss in a room you just walked into." her smile this time is softer, but sharper too, like a blade with good PR.
"also, i'm not that far from home," she adds. "home follows me. bad habit. worse reputation." she lifts her cup in a lazy toast. "but don't worry. if i'm a problem, i'll at least be a stylish one. i'd hate to disappoint your selective aesthetic."
selene registers that prickle in the air right before something interesting happens. she keeps the sunglasses on out of principle. indoors or outdoors, she doesn't discriminate. vision is power. you must ration it.
the near-miss is too clean. selene notes the steadiness of the girl's cup, the unbothered reflexes. that's rare currency. american earnestness gives her hives. "the universe is a menace..." she says pointedly, london accent clipped and unhelpful. she lowers her sunglasses just enough, economical grace, appraising the girl before. zoe meets it without blinking. no scramble for approval. no reverence. selene feels a traitorous flicker of excitement and buries it under composure like a good girl raised on restraint and better schools.
isn't she clever, selene decides. or at least observant.
"and zoe, right?," selene studies her, precise, slotting all details into a ledger. she doesn't answer the girl's sly remark. her gaze flicks once, quick and unapologetic, taking stock. the eye roll, the caffeinated ennui. privileged boredom is more than interesting than intentional detachment, she thinks, approving despite herself. "be honest," selene adds, "how long do you think you'll last here, before you get homesick and toddle back?"
zoe raises one eyebrow. alert, the look you reserve for people who confuse access with permission. "homesick?" she repeats. "no. bored-sick. totally different thing."
she takes a sip of her coffee, still looking at selene, because power isn't about staring people down. it's about not being the first to look away. the accent stands out, but what stands out more is that selene isn't performing for anyone. she doesn’t have to. "i moved cities at thirteen. continents at sixteen," zoe says. "turns out i only miss places that underestimate me. what about you?" she asks. "born here, raised here? or do you collect postcodes the way i do?"
this time, zoe smiles. small. her bite is sweeter. she can usually make someone lose a little ground. "either way," she says, lifting her cup, "i'm staying long enough to be a problem... for you, especially."
zoe is mid-iced americano, mid-eye roll at her phone, and mid-deciding if she hates everyone today when the café shifts. not loudly. not obviously. just enough that conversations thin, like someone turned the volume down out of respect. zoe doesn't look up right away. she's learned the difference between attention-seeking noise and presence.
when she does glance over, it clicks. selene stands near the counter like the space was reserved for her. sunglasses still on indoors - not apologetic about it. there's a subtle choreography happening around her, people hesitating, recalibrating, pretending not to stare. zoe clocks the details automatically: the posture, the polish, the way money sits differently on someone who’s never had to explain it.
interesting.
their paths cross when the barista calls a name too softly. zoe steps forward at the same time, shoulders nearly brushing. she adjusts without flinching, cup steady in her hand. "oh—" she says, then stops herself, lips pull back into a polite sneer. "sorry. i think the universe wanted us to almost collide." she finally looks at selene, gaze open, curious, but not impressed. there's a moment where she considers saying nothing at all. instead— "you're selene, right?" not a question that begs. they both already know the answer.
"i'm zoe." she adds, as if names are equal currency. "figured if i stayed here long enough, this would happen." her eyes flick to the sunglasses, then back, amused. "public places do that. force introductions."
it's ridiculous how quickly she reduces him to who he used to be. not in a bad way, in a oh right, someone actually sees me way. he drops his face into his hands for half a second when she calls him sweet, naïve hanbin, like he's a wounded bird, but his laugh spills through his fingers.
"don't—" he lifts his head again, eyes narrowed like he's ready to fight but he's really fighting back another laugh, "—don't talk about my inner gremlin. he doesn't pay rent, he shows up maybe twice a year. three times if i'm heartbroken. and one time was because of that-boy-who-will-not-be-named who looked like he escaped from a perfume ad, so honestly, i was set up!"
he gestures vaguely in the air, as if waving away the memory… or the embarrassment. he chokes on his own pride a little. "fineeeee," he grumbles, "maybe I do… attach quickly. but that's because i see the best in people. it's not my fault everyone in this industry is stupidly pretty but emotionally unavailable." he tries to give her a deadpan look. it melts into a soft bunny. "honestly? thank god. the streets were getting dangerous without my handler. i've been eating things like," he lowers his voice like this part is scandalous, "plain rice triangles. with nothing inside. nothing, zoe."
zoe watches him crumble into laughter like they're sixteen again, and she has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep her own smile from getting out of hand. when he reemerges from his hands looking like an offended bunny, she gives up and laughs outright. "sweetheart," she says, flicking his forehead with one perfect nail, "if your gremlin shows up three times a year, that's not a guest. that's a roommate."
but then he mentions the plain rice triangles (nothing inside) and zoe actually gasps. "you were out here eating… empty carbs? like a stray dog?" her eyes go wide. now she's the one personally offended. "no filling at all? that's a cry for help." she picks up her chopsticks, as if officially reclaiming jurisdiction.
"okay, that's it. i'm reinstating myself." she points at him, decisive. "i'm screening your boy toys and your food from now on. congratulations. your handler's back!"
"how do you always know..." that's his first thought (loud, dramatic, borderline accusatory) the moment zoe flicks her nail against the glass like she's calling court into session. hanbin swears he feels eighteen again, sitting across from her in their old trainee cafeteria, pretending he's not hanging onto every word she says. his dimples flash before he even sits. they never left her, really. he just walks back in like a seasonal weather pattern.
"you..." he points at her, then drops his hand uselessly because even pointing feels too on-the-nose, "are actually insane. you clocked me in, like, two breaths." and she did. he sees it in the way she watches him talk, really watches him, and suddenly he's the one looking down at his broth, hiding a smile. also, can he gush over the fact that she ordered for him? "no, don't do that," he waves his hands, laughing helplessly, “don't make departments, zoe. i can't handle departments. i barely survived company hierarchy the first time. the talent consultants told me it'd be different here."
he leans in, lowering his voice like this is some state-level classified stuff. "but listen, if anyone is going to destroy my credit score, it's going to be me. i'm responsible. i do that myself." then, quieter, playful: "and you. when you drag me into stores I can't afford."
zoe is delighted by his whole dramatic spill. the pointing, the hand drop, way he says you're actually insane bit. she's been managing him since they were teenagers, since the first time he walked into a room like he was apologizing for taking up space and demanding it at the same time. she knows his entrances, his moods, his many, many tells.
she knows him.
so when hanbin starts flailing his hands like a man being personally attacked by organizational structure, she presses her lips together to hide a smirk. it doesn't work. her smile slips out anyway, "oh sweet, naive hanbin," she says, tilting her head and letting her earrings swing, "sweetie, you absolutely can't survive without departments. you need labels on people like i need labels on skincare. otherwise you start letting your inner gremlin into your life and calling boys you meet 'destiny.'"
she lifts her chopsticks, poised above the pho like she’s conducting an orchestra. "but of course i ordered for you. you come back after months and expect me to trust your palate? puh-lease. i've seen how you eat when i'm not supervising."
hanbin pushes open the fogged-up glass door, the bell chiming overhead like it remembers him. same way the broth smell hits him like a big hug. star anise, basil, beef. it's been only months, but it still feels like their place. he spots her immediately. not because she's waving, not because she's calling his name, no, because her louis vuitton tote is propped up on the chair like it got here early and booked the seat for her. classic zoe. he snorts under his breath, grinning as he slips into the seat across from her, his own designer bag hitting the chair beside him with the same familiar thud.
"wow" he says, dimples out and bright as ever. "two seconds back together and it already looks like we're filming a luxury brand ad in a pho shop." their chopsticks aren't even unwrapped hanbin starts yapping away. hydra, new opportunities, new trainers, new expectations, the stuff they're supposed to be excited about. and hanbin is. mostly. "some things never change, he murmurs, stirring his broth while sneaking a look at her. "like us complaining before we eat."
he's teasing, but there's softness there, the kind that only comes from surviving the same trenches. he missed this. missed her. she's his closest girl friend. "so!" hanbin leans forward, like he's about to drop state secrets. "give me the tea. i'm here now, but i've been out of the loop. who's thriving? who's not? who's delusional? and what boys to avoid unless i want my sanity destroyed?"
of course hanbin walks back into her life like he never left, dimples first, dramatics second. she sits up straighter, flicking one perfectly manicured nail against the rim of her water glass like she's announcing her presence. not that she needs to. the lv tote beside her is practically a beacon for all those stylish and burdened by normies around them. she watches him talk. no, really talk; in that excited, slightly breathless way he only does when he's hiding his actual emotions. it softens her, just a touch. enough that she has to look down at her broth before he can catch her looking fond. she just wishes mae was with them...
the moment he says give me the tea, she exhales through a laugh, shaking her head like he's absolutely impossible. "first of all," she says, like, she's about to offer him runway commentary instead of intel. "welcome back to civilization. clearly you've been depriving yourself of quality gossip." she reaches for her chopsticks but doesn't unwrap them. zoe would never waste a dramatic moment on practicality.
"before i answer, question: are we talking boys who will ruin your sanity," she starts and skips right over to the juicy section, "or boys who will ruin your credit score? because those are two different departments and i staff both." knowing hanbin though, there's definitely something more specific he wants zoe to pre-screen.
the impact rings hard through his jaw, a shockwave of chalk and breath and laughter. for a moment, the world goes white; her shoulder, her scent, the wolf's heat clashing against his own ghostfire. then the blue flares back. his tails snap open behind him like banners in a storm, scattering sparks that sizzle across the floor. foxfire blooms where his boots slide back, tracing sigils into the tile. the whole room smells like ozone and old paper burning.
"noted..." he croons through the sting in his jaw, wiping his lip with the back of his hand. blood gleams against his grin, red catching blue.
he moves again. not with grounded weight but with that impossible foxlight speed. every step a flicker, every twist a mirage. he strikes once, but the next isn't real, it's a phantom; until it is. his hand lands flat against her collarbone, foxfire roaring up her sleeve, harmless heat licking skin.
for a breath they're close (too close). his eyes reflect hers back like twin moons caught in still water. he lets the fire burst between them, not to hurt, just to blind. a flare of cobalt light swallowing the room whole, the chalk lines igniting into constellations. when it fades, he's already behind her, tails flicking, heartbeat steady, his claws at her throat. "point four," he says, quiet enough that only she can hear in the training hall, "you blinked again."
the flare hits and she laughs, not the polite kind, not the human kind either. it's a mini howl, all teeth, like a lunatic, absolutely feral type of flirting. the foxfire burns off her skin, but it heals as quick as it's inflicted, harmless, but she tilts her head like a house cat considering practical murder. she's a werewolf but less canine, more feline. "mmm, look at you," zoe purrs, voice all sing-song, her accent thick as ever. "so fast, so fancy."
then she snaps. just the crack of movement: her hand shoots up, claws hooking his wrist before he can press that pretty edge any deeper. the next second, she's spinning into him, laughter spilling wild as she slams her heel down between his feet. his balance breaks and the foxlight stutters.
she pivots, boot catching the floor, and the silver dust leaps in a halo around her like she's dancing through stars. her grin flashes sharp as moonlight, her voice dropping to a growl just for him: "hey, don't feel bad. i bite better." and she lunges, howling with laughter as the air around them crackles like it can't tell if this is training or foreplay or the start of a war.
the air in the training hall smells of silver dust and charred salt, the kind the instructors scatter before class to keep things 'civil.' kentaro can feel it sting, a prickling reminder that he's wearing a boy's skin and mind again. zoe stands across from him, all muscle and moonlight. he likes that. he likes her teeth, the way her eyes flash gold when she's bored. "don't hold back," he says, tails flicking once, twice; only visible if you look between blinks. his voice carries that lazy, mocking rhythm, as if every word's a secret. "i don't bruise easy. i just bite better."
he circles her, the soles of his shoes whispering against the chalk line that divides them. he smirks, sharp and crooked, heat curling from the corner of his lips like an unspoken spell. "so, show me, little wolf. what do you do when the monster smiles first?" he moves before the last word lands, a flash of blue fire tracing the air where he'd stood. like lighting, too fast to an untrained eye. when it clears, he's behind her, close enough for his breath to stir the hairs on her neck.
"point one," he whispers, low so only she can hear. "you blinked." slides behind her, claws retracting mid-swing. the blow could land inches from her ribs and the fire curling around his hand like a living thing, could cast her right down to hell...
the ghost of blue fire brushes too close to her ribs but zoe laughs and exhales through her teeth. the change hums under her skin, restrained but begging. her knuckles crack once, twice, like gunfire. "point one," she mocks him, a low rasp, "you talk too much." then she moves. not a blur (she's too grounded for that, more like a blur, feral. the world narrows to breath and sound: her boots scraping the floor, the whisper of his tails in motion. she catches the edge of his jacket mid-turn, spins with him, shoulder slamming into his chest hard enough to make the chalk scatter like dusted snow.
her grin is all teeth. his kind of grin. "you forget, fox," she says, eyes glinting molten gold now, full and unhidden. "wolves don't wait for permission to bite."
the next hit comes from nowhere. a pivot, a upper-cut kick, the air splitting with a sound like thunder. not meant to break him. just to remind him she could. and when the light fades, she's there again, calm, hair wild around her face, pulse steady. "point two," she says, stepping past him, tone cool, almost bored before landing a punch upside his jaw. "you talk too fucking much."
🕯️ SECTION I — Identity
Name & Age: zoe park or park molan, 20
Species: werewolf (newly turned, the baby of her pack)
House Affiliation: 🐺 ironfang
Role: student / gossip columnist for the midnight mirror (HYDE academy's very own enchanted campus newspaper, where the photos snicker back)
Pack: the park syndicate, a multigenerational entertainment giants and criminal empire that masks its centuries-old lupine bloodline behind fame, money, and thievery.
🕸️ SECTION II — Aura & Style
Aesthetic / Monster Fit: we're going for pink varsity jacket with claw marks on the sleeves, glitter jewels on her fangs, and fur that only shows under moonlight. her tail is always wagging and she smells faintly like cherry lip gloss and ozone before a storm. her dorm desk is littered with enchanted polaroids, nail files, and half-written exposés about who's secretly dating a demon overlord-prince.
Powers & Weakness:
Heightened Perception: she can literally smell a lie (or drama) from down the hall.
Transmutation: she always sports wolf ears, long nails, a tail (embarrassingly), she can also shift into a large four-legged wolf under a full moon.
Enhanced Physiology: fast healing and enhanced reflexes, but loses control under half moons or when she's overwhelmed emotionally.
Silver: jewelry? deadly. silver tongue? even deadlier, she tends to get herself in trouble gossiping before she thinks.
Personality Shift: this zoe's softer, dumber, and somehow cuter, all giggles and hair flips until she accidentally crushes a metal can in her hand. she's very clingy to the few people she trusts but plays it off with tsundere denial ("ew, i didn't miss you, i just...whatever!"). she's desperate to seem normal, but her wolf side makes her restless, protective, and prone to snapping when cornered.
Motivation: she just wants to survive without embarrassing herself or biting anyone on camera. secretly though? she wants to prove she's more than the sheltered crime princess her family hid away, that her instincts don't have to make her a monster... and she wants the hottest scoop on campus before anyone else does.
🕷️ SECTION III — The Blackout Effect
Do they remember the original HYDE? Or believe they’ve always lived here? she remembers pieces in dreams, never reality. dance practices that smell like hairspray, her idol trainee dorm room, the sound of girls bickering. but when she tries to focus, it blurs. everyone insists she's always been a werewolf, the baby sister of a long bloodline, and she believes it. sometimes she doesn't want to.
Any glitch-visions / lingering memories? mirror flashes of herself under studio lights, not moonlight. a reflection that moves a half-second too slow. her phone camera occasionally records someone else's face instead of hers, one with human eyes, no wolf ears or tail, teary eyed, whispering "wake up." she deletes it every time.
A rumor whispered about them in the dorms: "they say the park girl's family runs the underworld; literally," an ex-roommate says. "the old-world kind, with claws and blood pacts. she's the only one they sent to hyde 'cause she's too soft to kill." or, her personal favorite, "she writes everyone's business, but no one's ever caught her reflection in a photo. freaky, right?"
End of File: ZOE PARK
Status: active werewolf (first generation)
Behavioral Summary: outwardly docile. inwardly volatile. displays exaggerated aegyo and "idol-coded" behaviors as deflection mechanism. gossip fixation may serve as primitive hunting instinct (information predation).
Faculty Note: monitor closely. deceptively bright. will chew through gloves if cornered. may require moonstone restraints during finals week. or don't. sometimes the cubs need to see their own reflection before they learn how sharp their teeth are.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ she wonders if her and zoe will ever be able to be friends. they just seem so different. or at least very different in the way that they get where they want to be. the other always seems so cool, calculated, put together. everything for her adds up to being the best. and astrid is just there, it feels like. is she really even worthy of being in this company when this is what she has to compete about? when she doesn't have any formal singing and dancing experience? she feels so far below zoe.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"you don't?" its a statement that confuses astrid a bit. because why would you want to be an idol if not for being able to make a difference in people's lives as well? to get through to so many people and make them happier just by being your best. and the way she says it only adds another layer that makes it more complex and confusing all at the same time. but in all honesty she's too afraid to ask about it. fearing an eyeroll and a snippy reply. so she moves on from it just as quickly. "I'll take it! I've always been told my spirit is the best thing about me anyways."
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ she lets out a soft chuckle when zoe says she had seen her. she hopes that it comes off very cool, instead of telling on her. that she was in fact watching in awe and amazement. maybe even admiring the fact that the other was leagues ahead of her at a younger age. "listen, I was *not* starstruck. I was just spacing out." she knows that her tone will only giver her away, no matter how badly she wants to sounds cold and calculated too. luckily enough for astrid, she doesn't even pick up on the fact that the other is lowkey insulting her.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ she bounces on her tiptoes, clapping her hands together, when the younger says that she'll actually help her. she knows exactly how much this means. how she *did* in fact get very lucky. and she's not going to take that for granted at all. "ahhh! thank you, thank you, thank you zoe!" she places her hands in front of her, bowing down like she's bowing to a queen rather than a fellow trainee. "I owe you my life." not that she'd want it.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ she walks over to where zoe has her phone hooked up to the speakers and scrubs through the playback bar. she knows the exact second of the part she keeps messing up. after so many times of trying it on her own and having to scrub back to that exact timestamp will do that to you. "okay you know this part right here?" the bridge of the song starts to play, and she waits a few seconds before it gets to the correct part. "right here! where we have to move our feet like this and our arms like this..." and she's giving a little bit of a visual example, even though she knows that the other would know eactly how it goes. "I can't get my arms to cooperate in the slightest."
zoe watches her the whole tim. not in that obvious way, but in the way people do when they already know they're the one being admired. she's sitting on the floor now, one knee up, hair scraped into a loose ponytail that somehow still looks editorial, picking at the label on her water bottle while astrid talks. she doesn't interrupt, she just lets the words spill out, one by one, until the room feels full of astrid. honestly, zoe is thinking about what's for lunch.
"hm. we could definitely be friends. best friends," she says, shrugging one bare shoulder, "but i don't really do the 'bestie bracelets' thing. you know? not anymore. i just… vibe with people who get it." when astrid insists she wasn't starstruck, zoe just laughs. a breathy thing that somehow still carries the confidence of someone who owns every mirror she's ever stood in front of. "yeah, okay..." she teases, "whatever helps you sleep at night, honey." that little pulse of control is hard for zoe to let go of.
she takes a sip from her bottle, still watching astrid curiously, "and you're cute, you know that? people will eat you up. you've got the kind of energy they wish they could bottle. just…" she snaps her fingers, "learn how to weaponize it."
zoe pushes herself up, padding toward the speaker with lazy grace. she takes the phone from astrid's hand without asking, scrolling back through the track until it hits the bridge she mentioned again. she wanted a second listen. "this part?" she hums, glancing up. "yeah, it's so tricky. you're thinking too much. just let the rhythm pull you. stop trying to do the move. feel it. oh, i put myself in your contact list." she then demonstrates with the small twist of her hips, remembering every count instinctively. she stops, looks back at astrid, and grins, all charm and edge. "see? now try it full out for me."
(the camera fades in on a spotless studio. zoe sits crossed-legged on the chair, posture perfect, shiny lips curved into a knowing smile.)
ZOE: (smiling, with a little wave) hi! i'm zoe park, 18 years old, born and raised in brentwood, los angeles, united states, and currently trying not to trip over my own nerves right now.
[CUT TO CONFESSIONAL CLOSE-UP SHOT]
(she laughs lightly, hand brushing her hair back.)
ZOE: when i walk into a room, people usually assume i'm either going to boss them around or charm them into doing what i want, which, honestly, isn't wrong to do. back home i was the cheer captain, homecoming queen, and the girl who always turned deadlines into headlines. i like the spotlight, but i also know what it costs to stand in it.
Q: how much do you actually know about k-pop behind the glitz?ZOE: (tilts her head, pouting) oh, i know it's not just sparkle and fan chants, honey. i've seen the clips, trainees running on three hours of sleep, doing the same choreo until their knees give out. but that's not scary to me. that's structure. (she pauses, her voice softening) i didn't come to seoul for easy. i came here for excellence. if it means crying in the practice room at 2 a.m., then hand me a tissue and press record.
Q: what are you leaving behind to chase this one-year dream in seoul?ZOE: (laughs) uh, everything comfortable? she grins. i left my cheer squad, my mom and sister's sunday brunches, my pilates coach, all the good stuff. but i wanted to see who i'd be without the cushion of home. in LA, i was "that girl." here, i'm just another trainee with blisters on her feet and something to prove. i think that's kinda' amazing.
Q: what special skills and talents do you bring to the table?ZOE: (mocking modesty) well… besides being the obvious visual? (she laughs). i've got years of stage training, pep rallies, halftime shows, state championships. did join another company for a wink. i know how to perform under pressure, and i know how to sell a moment. when i dance, i don't just hit beats, i hit feelings. plus, i can handle a mic and a camera without flinching. i'm not just here to survive, i'm here to be a star.
Q: what do you hope to achieve out of this year?ZOE: (leans forward, voice softer) i want to grow into someone who doesn't need validation to shine. i've been the golden girl my whole life, people expected me to win. now, i want to earn it. fame's fun, sure, but i want to build something lasting. maybe not just a debut, maybe a legacy. (she pauses, then giggles). but hey, if fame wants to follow me, i won't complain.
Q: give one fun surprise fact that sets you apart.ZOE: (laughs, remembering) oh god, okay, once at nationals, my left heel snapped clean in half mid-routine. like, total freaking disaster. but i didn't stop. i finished the number, nailed the pose, and we still took home first. that's me in a nutshell, even when things break, i make it look easy.
kentaro sits there. the booth's swallowing him whole, hoodie collar biting at his jaw, fingers tangled up in his own hair like he can tug the right words out if he pulls hard enough. his grin's gone crooked and brittle, nothing to hide behind anymore. "okay i was a dick," he starts, flat, like an admission scratched onto concrete. “i left you blindsided. didn't think about how it'd land, fuck, didn't think about you at all, and that's the worst part. i told myself walking away would keep things clean, but it was coward shit. i left a mess anyway, just made sure you were the one standing in it."
he laughs once, ugly, then quiets. "truth is, you're my best friend. didn't see that coming. didn't think i could even have that, least of all with a girl. whole life, people told me girls were trouble, complicated, all knives wrapped in pretty eyes and smile... so i built up walls, kept it fratboy casual, acted like nothing stuck. and then you-" he gestures at her like the rest is obvious, "-you just bulldozed through all that crap. called me out, screamed at me, didn't let me get away with my own bullshit. and i hated it, but i needed it. still do."
he drops his forehead into his palm, breath fogging against his wrist, words spilling out like he's afraid he won’t ever say this much again. "so yeah, whenever garbage sneaks in my head, you're right there to crush it. that's my penance. i shut up, i listen, i learn. maybe i'll never shake being messy, half-asleep at the wheel, maybe i will. but i don't wanna be the guy who hurts you. not anymore. not for some performance, not for some villain role i think makes me interesting. i just want to be better. for me, yeah. but mostly for you, too." his voice dips lower, almost a whisper, raw. "you're the only thing i didn't think i'd deserve, and i'm done treating you like you're disposable. i don't want to lose my best friend again."
zoe stares at him. like actually stares. no eye roll, no lip gloss smile, no cutting remark cocked and ready. just wide, startled eyes that don't know where to land. this is not what she came dressed for. she came for war, for the dramatic sigh and the walk-out and maybe a drink she would throw at kentaro. she didn't come for him sitting there, hoodie strangling him, words spilling out like a confession she didn't order.
"wow...," she says finally, it's air, thin and shaky, waiting for words she's to see if it fits. "you're actually… apologizing." her laugh cracks on the way out, soft and disbelieving, like a sound she hasn't made since she was a kid. "this is so not your brand, kentaro." she drags a hand through her hair, stalling, eyes darting over his face like she's trying to catch the trick. but there isn't one. there's just him, raw and messy and (god, annoying) real. something in her chest pulls tight. "i was ready to torch you," she admits. great, now he's pulling confessions out of her. "i rehearsed lines on the way here. all of them perfect, all of them lethal." she tilts her head, a wry little smile flickering at the corner of her lips. "but now you're sitting here saying all this, and i don't even know if i wanna throw them anymore."
zoe leans back, fingers sliding off her glass, posture still queenly but softer now. "don't think this gets you a free pass," she says, voice steadier but not cruel. "i'm still mad. i'm still hurt. but…" she lets the 'but' hang there, like a cigarette waiting for a light.
"but you showing up like this-" her shoulders lift in a small, helpless shrug. "it's a start." her eyes stay locked on his, a little glossy now, but she doesn't look away. "don't make me regret not burning you down. so prove it, kentaro. be better. not for me, for you. and maybe, if you keep at it…" her lips twitch into the faintest, most dangerous smile. "…maybe i'll let you keep your best friend."
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀she's surprised that she hadn't even heard hed roommate leave the dorm this morning. she's such a light sleeper. or at least she used to be. it seems that in the last couple of weeks, right around the time she's started training, she sleeps like the dead. it's something that she very much has to get used to, still. because when she had woken up to an empty room, no sign of the other woman, she was a little freaked out. what if someone broke in? would she be able to sleep through that? it's the kinds of thoughts that travel through her head. until she realizes that there are more important things to be worried about right now. like the fact that she is most likely late to practice. she gasps out loud as she looks at the clock hanging up in the shared living space. and thankfully, it says she still has another 30 minutes before she had to be there. it seems that zoe was just an overachiever. sigh. how is astrid supposed to compete?
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ she arrives at the massive company building just in time. she's has to get better at being on time. because she's pretty sure that one of the teachers told her"you're on time only if you're early." it's not that she doesn't care, this is just a huge adjustment for her. a lot of the people she was training with had wanted to do this their whole lives. everything they'd done had led to this very moment. and astrid? well she had done this on a whim. and it actually felt right. like this was what she was supposed to do this whole time. so she knows that she needs to kick it in to gear and get even more serious.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀somehow she manages to find zoe in the first practice room that she checks. she thinks about just bursting in. but something inside of her stops her. she stops to admire every move that the other woman makes. she seems so in to it. seems to have rhythm and musical knowhow and everything. she crosses her arms as she stands there with her mouth hanging open. is she ever going to be at that level? they had started at the same time but the other trainee seemed leagues ahead of her. but she knows who she is. she can do this. she just has to give it her all.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀she catches the glance from across the room. and she doesn't know if she should say something now. because zoe still seems rather focused on what she's doing. so astrid begins to space off herself. and when the other speaks to her directly, it makes her jump. "zoe fighting!" she does a little cheerleader motion with her hands, insinuating that she's gonna stand there like a fan. but then she takes a few steps into the room as well, to show she was actually coming in to practice as well. "I didn't want to interrupt! you were so into your routine!" she moves to lean against the wall, letting her arms lay down freely now. "are you going over the trainee routine? for our evaluations? because there's one part I'm stuck on and I could use some help."
attention, hers especially, is currency. she lets astrid sit in that silence for a moment too long and it's really testing her patience, but she does want to make sure like astrid, and all other girls, really want this. so, she does turn after awhile, slow, eyes flicking over her roommate. astrid. her new accessory she's considering adding to her collection. and that's not rude, not dismissive, just calculated thoughts zoe has.
"cheering me on?" zoe's lips quirks, she drops her gaze back to the mirror, smoothing her hair like she's on camera. "sweet. but really unnecessary. i mean, i don't need fans." the way she says it, casual and matter-of-fact, makes it sound less like arrogance and more like reality. it's not bragging if it's true. still, she throws astrid a look through the glass, "but i'll allow it. ten out of ten for spirit?"
she steps back from her mark, tugging at her shirt like it's couture instead of sweat-damp cotton, the choreography still vibrating in her veins. it's obvious she loves the feeling of being watched, thrives on it, even. "don't think i didn't see you standing there, by the way. all starstruck." the tease is gentle enough to pass as playful, but sharp enough to remind astrid of the difference between her level and zoe's. and to walk accordingly
and then, magnanimous as a queen granting an audience, zoe softens. turns her full attention to astrid like she’s just decided she’s worthy. "but you are lucky i'm in a generous mood," she says, padding toward her, "show me the part you can't get. i'll fix it. and, like, don't stress. not everyone picks things up as fast. doesn't mean you won't catch up. eventually." her smile blooms like a cherub, so sweet to eat, "but just so you know," zoe adds, tilting her chin up, eyes glinting, "once i teach you, it's gonna look like my choreography on your body. which… you're welcome, by the way. that's an upgrade." she's offering because in zoe's mind, being taught by her is both a privilege and a promise.
