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chapter six: oh shit

the 'huh.' series

summary: some eliminations and a time jump to the final. and an end to the dream academy phase of this book. not the most accurate (wrote it how i wanted it to go.)

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@ hannah.c.baas_official posted to their story

@ hannah.c.baas_official hi

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@ manonbannerman 👅 @ meganskiendiel my bsf @ danielaavanzini baddie @ lararaj you're so hot

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hannah's pov

the morning after eliminations felt like one long exhale. no music, no chatter, no makeup, no cameras. just the dull sound of zippers and suitcase wheels and people trying not to cry again.

everyone moved slow — like the air itself was heavy.

lexie looked completely spaced out, sitting on her suitcase in the hallway with her hood up, scrolling through her phone but clearly not seeing anything. sophie hovered near her, trying to say something, then giving up and just sitting beside her, knees bumping. they didn’t talk. they didn’t have to.

the bus ride to the airport was dead quiet too. megan had her head against the window. lara had her hood pulled down over her eyes. dani sat next to me, one hand in her lap, the other resting somewhere near my arm — not quite touching but close enough that it still counted.

i was so tired i couldn’t tell if i felt sad or just numb. both, maybe. the kind of tired that sinks into your bones.

brooklyn, karlee, iliya, and mei were already gone — flown home last night. it didn’t feel real yet. half the dorm was empty now.

when the bus stopped at the terminal, nobody said “let’s go” or “we’re here.” we just… got up. quietly.

inside the airport, cameras followed us but no one really played up for them this time. even emily, who could find energy in a blackout, just leaned against a wall, eyes closed.

dani brushed against me as we went through security. it wasn’t on purpose — i think she just wanted the contact. i didn’t mind. i don’t think either of us did anymore.

on the plane, she sat by the window, me in the middle, megan on the aisle. it wasn’t even a discussion — we just ended up that way. lara and emily were in front of us, lexie and sophie behind.

before takeoff, i looked back and saw sophie reach over and squeeze lexie’s hand. lexie squeezed back but didn’t say anything, her eyes half-shut like she hadn’t really woken up since last night.

i turned back around, sighing. dani leaned her head on my shoulder, like she was doing it absentmindedly, and closed her eyes.

“you okay?” i whispered.

“yeah,” she mumbled, voice scratchy. “just… tired.”

i didn’t say anything else. i just let her stay there. her hair smelled like her vanilla shampoo. i watched the lights of the runway blur by until the plane finally lifted.

half an hour in, megan leaned over from the aisle, whispering, “you two are literally attached at the hip now.”

i rolled my eyes. “shut up.”

“no, seriously,” she whispered, smirking. “if she stops touching you for more than ten minutes, she might actually combust.”

lara snorted from the seat ahead. “leave them alone. it’s cute. trauma bonding or whatever.”

“it’s not—” i started, but dani made a small sound against my shoulder, already half-asleep. i shut up.

the rest of the flight blurred together — dim lights, soft breathing, the occasional clink of a cart going by. lexie got up once and stood near the bathroom for a while, staring at the window, and sophie followed a few minutes later. they didn’t talk much, but when they came back, lexie looked a little more like herself.

megan fell asleep leaning on lara. i stared at the seat in front of me, then out the window, then back at dani’s hand resting near mine.

we’d made it through mission 2. but barely. and something in me — something i couldn’t really name — was terrified of how close we’d gotten.

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training days all started to blur together after we got back to L.A.

same hallways. same black mirrors. same long rehearsals that made your feet ache in places you didn’t even know existed. we were deep in prep for mission 3 — the make-or-break one. no one said it out loud, but you could feel it.

by week two, the air in the studio was tense. too many whispered conversations, too many tired faces. but the biggest difference?

lexie hadn’t shown up. not once.

at first everyone assumed she was sick, or injured, or taking a break — but sophie looked wrecked the whole week. she went through rehearsals like a ghost, just kind of… moving, not really there. ezrela too. they kept glancing at the door like maybe she’d suddenly walk in.

she didn’t.

until today.

we were stretching when missy walked in, heels clicking, and the room went dead quiet. everyone straightened up. and behind her — there was lexie.

she looked different. hair pulled back, no makeup, her bag slung over one shoulder like she hadn’t unpacked it since she left.

“girls,” missy started, her voice soft for once, “lexie has something she’d like to tell you all.”

lexie stepped forward, hands twisting together. “hey.” her voice cracked a little, and she laughed under her breath. “um… i just wanted to say that… i’ve decided to leave the program.”

no one moved.

“it’s not because of anyone here,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “i just… i don’t like how things have been handled lately. it doesn’t feel like the program i joined anymore.”

sophie made this tiny sound, barely audible, but enough that everyone looked at her. she was already crying — not loud, just quietly.

lexie tried to smile, but her voice wavered. “i love you guys. seriously. i just need to do what’s right for me.”

missy nodded, gave her shoulder a light squeeze, and told us to take ten minutes. maybe more.

sophie and ezrela didn’t even wait for permission. they were already following lexie out of the room before missy finished talking.

i stayed where i was, cross-legged on the floor, staring through the glass wall that separated the practice studio from the hallway.

outside, the three of them stood close together — lexie with her arms around both of them, sophie’s head buried in her shoulder. ezrela’s usually perfect composure was gone; she was crying openly, no cameras, no pretending.

lexie whispered something, kissed sophie’s cheek, and then pulled away. ezrela covered her face. sophie grabbed her hand.

the door shut behind lexie, and the sound of it — that soft click — felt louder than the music we’d just been rehearsing to.

the choreographer sighed, told us to take the rest of the afternoon off. no one argued.

i sat there for a long time, watching sophie and ezrela walk down the hallway together, their reflections fading in the glass.

and for the first time since mission one, the studio didn’t feel like a place people came to chase dreams. it felt like somewhere people came to break a little bit at a time.

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(time skip)

the room was way too bright. that kind of studio light that makes everything look fake — like the cameras are catching every pore, every nervous twitch. the producers always said it was “for clarity,” but it just made everyone feel exposed.

we were lined up in our stupid perfect rows again. same setup, different mission. only this time, the stakes felt heavier. everyone knew it.

mission 3 was brutal. new choreography every two days, live vocals, cameras in your face while you’re gasping for breath. half of us hadn’t slept in forever.

missy walked out with that folder — the one we all hated.

you could hear the air shift.

“today,” she said, “three girls will be leaving the program.”

that sentence hit like a punch.

she started calling names.

“lara.” safe. she let out this shaky breath and squeezed yoonchae’s hand.

“megan.” safe. she mouthed holy shit and clapped her hands over her face.

“yoonchae.” safe. she grinned — like full sunshine grin.

“dani.” my chest unclenched for half a second when she jumped up and hugged me tight. i could feel her heart pounding against mine.

then— “sophia.” safe.

“ezrela.” safe. she didn’t even smile — just stared down, like she couldn’t believe it.

“hannah.” safe.

i didn’t even hear the rest of the names right away — just the sound of dani screaming and pulling me into her. “you made it, bitch!” she laughed, half crying, half shaking. i buried my face in her shoulder. we both smelled like hairspray and nerves.

“emily.” safe.

“samara.” safe.

“marquise.” safe.

then the silence hit again.

there were only three names left.

sophie, nayoung, celeste.

missy looked up, voice calm like she wasn’t about to shatter someone’s entire world. “for the rest of you… your journey ends here.”

the room just broke.

sophie nodded before anyone could say anything — like she’d already decided. she gave a little half-smile, her eyes glassy. “yeah. that’s… that’s okay,” she said, voice cracking. “i think i’m ready.”

nayoung covered her face. celeste just stood there frozen, shaking her head.

megan started crying first. then lara. even dani, who never cried for herself, had tears running down her cheeks.

i hugged sophie so hard she almost fell forward. “you were so good,” i whispered. she laughed wetly. “thanks, hannah. go win this shit, yeah?”

when the cameras cut, it got even messier. everyone was crying, hugging, trying to say the right thing. no one knew what to do with their hands.

sophie looked lighter somehow. sad, but calm. “i think i just need to go home,” she said, more to herself than anyone else.

by the time she walked off set, the air felt weirdly empty — like the whole room exhaled and forgot how to breathe again.

missy told us we had ten minutes before filming the reactions. dani grabbed my hand and didn’t let go.

we both laughed through tears, sitting on the floor. “holy fuck,” she said, wiping her eyes. “we’re still here.”

“yeah,” i breathed, trying to smile. “we’re still fucking here.”

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daniela's pov -> the final voting (BIGGGG time skip)

the lights were blinding. the kind that make you squint even when you’re smiling. cameras everywhere. makeup already cracking from the hours under heat and nerves.

we were lined up again — eleven of us left. the final night. months of training, tears, bruises, and fights all crashing down into this single stage.

the MC's voice echoed through the speakers. “thank you, girls, for your hard work, your spirit, your passion.” i could barely hear her over the pounding in my ears.

i reached for hannah’s hand and she grabbed mine immediately, her fingers cold. she didn’t say anything — just stared straight ahead.

then, the big screen behind us lit up. the final lineup of KATSEYE.

my stomach dropped.

“the first member of KATSEYE…” pause. the music swelled. “SOPHIA!”

the crowd went wild. sophia covered her mouth, tears spilling instantly as she walked forward. the rest of us clapped, hugged her, tried to smile.

“the second member…” “LARA!”

lara gasped, shaking, her hands flying to her face. yoonchae hugged her so hard she almost toppled over.

“the third member…” “YOONCHAE!”

of course. she was born for this. confident, glowing, the kind of presence that just fit.

i kept squeezing hannah’s hand tighter each time a name was called.

“the fourth member…” “MEGAN!”

megan screamed — full-body scream — and ran forward, jumping in place. i could barely breathe.

“the fifth member…” “DANIELA!”

i froze. my name echoed. it didn’t even feel real. for half a second i couldn’t move, and then hannah shoved me, laughing breathlessly. “go!” she said, eyes shining even though hers were tearing up.

i stumbled forward, hugging megan, lara, sophia, yoonchae. my legs felt like jelly.

and then—

“the sixth and final member…”

everything went silent. i turned around slowly, looking at hannah. she wasn’t breathing.

the MC's voice came again. “MANON!”

cheering. clapping. flashes. confetti.

but it all sounded muted.

hannah stood there, still smiling — that polite, practiced smile — but i saw it. the flicker in her eyes. she bit her lip and nodded, trying so hard to keep it together.

i wanted to go to her. right there. just grab her hand and pull her up with us. it felt wrong. incomplete.

and then the MC spoke again. “the judges… have made one more decision.”

everyone froze.

she looked down at her card, paused. “we will be adding one more member to KATSEYE.”

megan’s jaw dropped. my heart started slamming again.

the MC smiled. “HANNAH.”

the room exploded.

hannah’s eyes went wide — she gasped, hands flying to her mouth. for a second she didn’t even move, like her brain hadn’t caught up. then she started crying — like really crying, shoulders shaking as she hugged emily, ezrela, marquise, samara — all the girls who didn’t make it. they were all smiling through tears, pulling her in.

and then she ran — right to us.

i didn’t even wait — i met her halfway and crushed her in a hug, arms wrapped around her neck. she buried her face in my shoulder, still shaking.

“you fucking did it,” i whispered.

she laughed through her tears. “we fucking did it.”

the lights hit, the confetti fell, and the announcer yelled the name one last time:

“KATSEYE!”

and just like that, it was real. the seven of us standing there, crying, laughing, holding onto each other like we’d never let go.

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hannah's pov

backstage was chaos. but like… the soft kind. the kind where everyone’s crying, laughing, hugging, the lights still flickering somewhere behind the curtains. confetti was stuck in my hair and down my hoodie, and my makeup was probably a wreck, but i didn’t care.

i still couldn’t believe it. seven. they said seven.

me.

i was in.

it didn’t feel real until i saw matthew, my brother. he was standing just past the edge of the curtain, his face already red from crying — which, obviously, made me start crying all over again.

“oh my god—” i barely got it out before i ran straight into him.

he caught me mid-sprint, lifting me off the ground and spinning me around. “i told you,” he said into my hair, his voice cracking. “i fucking told you, hannah.”

i started laughing, crying, both. “yeah, well, i didn’t believe you.”

then i heard her. “there’s my girl!”

aunt jill pushed through the people behind him, waving her phone around like she was filming everything for facebook. she looked exactly the same — messy bun, mom jeans, huge grin.

i hugged her next, burying my face in her shoulder. she smelled like her same old vanilla lotion and cheap perfume. “jij hebt het gedaan jongen,” she said quietly. “you actually did it.”

and then i just stood there for a second — my whole body buzzing, my eyes stinging. matthew threw an arm around both of us and said, “okay, so we’re gonna brag about this forever, right?”

“blijkbaar,” i said, smiling through my tears.

i turned and saw dani across the room, surrounded by her family. i hadn’t even realized i was walking toward her until i was halfway there.

she turned at the same time, her face lighting up. “hannah!”

she ran to me, pulling me into another hug — tighter than before, both of us laughing like idiots.

“we actually fucking did it,” she said against my shoulder.

“yeah,” i said. “we actually did.”

and then a voice called out from behind her — deeper, familiar from her stories. “dani!”

i looked up just in time to see her break into this full, radiant smile. “alex!” she said, and before i could even react, she was running — like full sprint — into his arms.

he picked her up easily, spinning her around. people clapped. it was stupidly cinematic.

and me? i just… stood there. smiling, because what else was i supposed to do?

she turned after a second, still glowing. “oh! hannah, come here.”

i walked over, trying to play it cool even though i felt like my stomach was doing backflips. “this is alex,” she said, grinning. “alex, this is hannah — my best friend, and the one i told you about.”

he looked at me — this short little glance up and down, polite smile. “hey,” he said. “you’re the dancer, right?”

“uh, yeah,” i said. “one of them, i guess.”

he nodded. “dani talks about you a lot.”

i laughed a little. “good things, i hope.”

he didn’t answer right away. “yeah,” he said finally, still smiling, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

i looked over at dani — she didn’t notice, still beaming.

and for a second, i felt this weird shift in my chest. that quiet little ache that shows up when you know you’re supposed to be happy for someone, and you are, but something about it stings anyway.

later, dani pulled me over to meet her parents.

“this is my mom and dad,” she said, tugging on my arm.

her mom immediately grabbed my hands, eyes wide. “oh my goodness, you’re hannah! we’ve heard so much about you!”

her dad laughed. “finally meeting the famous roommate.”

“famous?” i said, smiling awkwardly.

“in this household? yes,” her mom said. “daniela won’t shut up about you.”

i glanced over at dani, who groaned and rolled her eyes. “mom.”

they both laughed. her dad clapped me on the shoulder — a little too hard but in that sweet, proud-parent way. “you’re family now,” he said.

and that made something in me go still. because they meant it. they meant it.

i smiled, softer this time. “thank you. seriously.”

the rest of the night blurred together — group photos, tears, interviews. at one point, dani and i ended up sitting on the floor backstage, backs against a wall, shoes off, heads tilted back, just breathing.

the lights outside were dimming. someone was sweeping up confetti. i could still taste the adrenaline, the hairspray, the disbelief.

dani looked over at me, tired smile tugging at her lips. “so,” she said, voice low, “are we ready for this?”

i turned my head to look at her. her hair was a mess, mascara smudged under her eyes, still glowing somehow. “no,” i said honestly.

she laughed, the kind that shakes her shoulders. “same.”

and for a moment, it was quiet. the show, the noise, the people — it all faded.

just us.

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the parking lot lights were that weird orange that makes everything feel too quiet, even when people are laughing.

we’d all just changed out of our show clothes — oversized hoodies, sweats, sneakers. my hair was down now, messy from all the confetti and sweat, and it felt good to breathe real air again.

megan was walking a little ahead of us, swinging her car keys. manon had a bag of chips already open even though we hadn’t even gotten to 7-eleven yet. sophia and lara were talking softly behind me about how surreal it all felt — how the show was actually over, how this wasn’t a dream.

megan turned around, walking backward. “okay, but we’re all getting slurpees, right? like, no excuses. we earned this.”

“obviously,” i said. “we’re stars now.”

she snorted. “barely. we’re broke stars.”

we laughed — that tired, loopy kind of laugh that comes after crying too much.

then i glanced toward the far end of the lot — just out of habit, maybe — and i saw her.

dani.

by a silver car.

her arms looped around alex’s neck, his hands on her waist. their heads tilted, shadows shifting under the flickering parking light — and then they kissed.

and for a second, the air left my lungs.

it wasn’t even dramatic. it wasn’t like in movies where the world stops spinning. it was quieter than that — like everything in me just folded in.

she looked happy. so happy.

i stood there, frozen, trying not to make it obvious that I was staring.

megan must’ve followed my gaze because she slowed down beside me, and when she saw what i was looking at, she didn’t say anything. she just got it.

without a word, she slipped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me close, her voice low. “hey,” she said. “come on. slurpees.”

i swallowed hard, forcing a small smile. “yeah. slurpees.”

as we walked toward the street, i could still feel it — that dull, stupid ache that sits right behind your ribs. i hated how it lingered. i hated that it made me jealous when i knew i shouldn’t be.

megan kept her arm around me, and i was weirdly grateful for it — she didn’t ask, didn’t push, just knew.

7-eleven was lit up like las vegas against the dark street. the five of us stepped inside, instantly hit by the smell of sugar and coffee and cold air from the slurpee machines.

“i swear these lights are brighter than the stage ones,” manon said, shielding her eyes.

“you’re just tired,” sophia replied, yawning.

lara was already grabbing a basket full of snacks — chips, sour candy, two chocolate milks for some reason.

megan let go of me and grabbed a blue raspberry cup. “what are you getting?”

“uh… coke,” i said. “classic.”

“boring,” she teased. “you’re supposed to celebrate, not do your taxes.”

i laughed softly. “you sound like my cousin.”

megan looked up from the machine, eyebrow raised. “you have a cousin?”

“yeah,” i said, grinning a little. “her name’s mikey.”

“mikey?”

“short for michelle,” i said. “but she’d kill you if you called her that.”

megan chuckled. “i already like her.”

“you would love her,” i said, suddenly brighter. “she’s seventeen, total baddie. like, gorgeous and hilarious and kind of intimidating in that way where you’re like—should i be scared or in love? maybe both.”

megan grinned, handing me a straw. “sounds like my type.”

“yeah, i was literally just thinking that.”

she smirked. “set us up then. i need new friends who aren’t just crying in studios 24/7.”

“deal,” i said, nudging her. “but i’m warning you—she’s gonna roast you to death.”

“please,” megan said, mock-flipping her hair. “that's not possible.”

by the time we paid and walked back out, it had started to drizzle — light, soft, barely-there rain. the air smelled like wet pavement and gasoline.

we were quiet again, but it wasn’t sad this time. just… spent. the kind of silence that feels okay.

i looked back once, just out of habit. the silver car was gone.

megan caught me doing it and bumped my shoulder. “hey. you good?”

i nodded slowly. “yeah. i think so.”

she studied me for a second, then smiled. “good. ‘cause you just made it into a global girl group, bitch. no time for heartbreak.”

i laughed, shaking my head. “shut up.”

“nah,” she said, bumping me again. “you’re gonna be fine. trust me.”

and i did.

as we walked down the street under the 7-eleven lights, our slurpees in hand, i could still feel that tiny ache somewhere deep down — but it was quieter now. softer.

like it knew it wasn’t gonna win.

@ hannah.c.baas_official posted to their story