SO FADED.
there’s a certain moment in the late evening that feels impossible. a liminal space between one state and another. there is a certain mood, too, that can be exacerbated by a bus ride with few passengers and rain on the windowpane, falling softly. this is where yewon now resides. a space in between - between one time and the next, between one space and another, left to reflect on the inexorable march of time towards that far flung goal: the concert.
there are few opportunities of this caliber for trainees and yewon fears what will happen, what all of this will mean for her, if she is to blow it now. how horrible would that be, to fail on her first real attempt? she’s not begging for a miracle. she doesn’t pray for the soaring notes or the center most killing parts. she likes to believe (likes to hope, likes to dream) that she can draw eyes on her own, can make whatever is given her into something incredible. that’s the real test of a star in the making, after all, isn’t it? anyone can shine if you do them up right and put them in the middle, with the catchiest bits. she knows, believes, dares to dream that she could shine even without that. force the world to see what burns inside her, set aflame in her eyes.
maybe she’s hoping for too much. she just wants to be on that stage. she just wants a chance for the recognition she’s dreamed of, a step closer towards her goal. she’s invested almost five years of her life, of her youth, in this company with little return. to be pushed back down now would be a cosmic cruelty. not that she relies on the cosmos- no, she’ll take matters into her own hands.
which is why, with practices formally over and the training rooms largely emptied, she hops on the bus. watches rain slide down the window as it rumbles towards the distant studio at which her brother works, choreographing and teaching. she doesn’t expect the familiar face that moves to sit in the back row with her, flickering wide bambi eyes over to the figure with a slow spreading, tentative grin. “ hey, long day?” she offers out, plunges a hand into her oversized denim jacket’s pocket, expansive as it is it has hidden away two (bitter) vitamin and ginseng drinks. she feels like a grandma offering them out, but the trainees chug them like miracle cures, these days. “you want?” she adds, offering one of the two little bottles. @lgcseojin
