( ▶ PLAY : ) ( / seokwoo smiles as he glances from the phone in his hands to the lens filming him, holding up a heart. ) “send me hearts like this if you’re watching the mgas. you’ll take care of my precious dongsaengs, won’t you? watch them a lot, every week.” ( / he leans in, bringing the kiss to his lips and then kissing it towards the camera. ) “i love you~”
( CAPTION : )
#4005, longguo, smirky dongsaeng. he looks really, really, really cool. but i have pictures of him dressed up in a cute christmas outfit~~ ㅋㅋ if you support him a lot, i’ll even upload the video of him in the community play. he was cute with the kids~ don’t let his chic looks fool you, okay? ㅋㅋ
#4010, nyeonie, kitten appa dongsaeng~ ㅋㅋ he likes cats as much as i do! we have a special kitty together, we’re both his appa. if i can’t feed him, nyeonie does it and if nyeonie can’t do it, i do~ he is a playful dongsaeng ㅋㅋ but you have to be gentle with him, because he is soft like kittens ears~
#4014, donghyunie~ he is three pointer dongsaeng! we play basketball together on weekends and sing in the car together. his voice is really, really, really pretty. when you hear, you will be ‘wah~ so pretty’. so you should be ready! prepare yourself! ㅋㅋㅋㅋ
#4019, minhyuk, the pretty dongsaeng. i didn’t even know he was going on the mgas! he’s a sneaky one, but like.. a cute kitten. you want to cuddle him when you see him. but we should keep him away from.... ( drama ost plays ㅋㅋ)
#4020, daehwi! puppy dongsaeng. both of us are scared of dogs ㅠㅠ but he is brave and he loves his brother so much he would risk his life for him! if i had a younger brother, i’d want one who is like daehwi~ i’d pinch his cheeks ㅋㅋ
#4028, minhyung, but i call him mark. the cool dongsaeng~ his english is so good. i’m jealous of it. he’s better at rapping than even his hyung. he has really, really cute bow ties as well. we should tell him to wear some~ ㅋㅋ
#4032, binnie, choco-boyfriend dongsaeng. if you followed insterstellar, you should know him! he’s done some modelling for me. he is reliable and sweet dongsaeng. he even won that competition! he sung that couple song and won that chocolate back in february! you should recognise his voice! go listen to it~
( i have a lot of dongsaengs ㅠㅠ please remember and love them all, they are precious to me and i want to help them achieve their dreams! you will help me too, right? ㅋㅋ )
WELCOME TO THE MGAS // episode three . . #4011 - 김진희.* KIM JINHEE.
━━━━━━ . . . FICTION, ChAOS LEADER OF TEAM DYNAMIQ
when the week began, she wanted to quit.
the thought of working in a group full of boys really turned her off, especially a group of them where she knew no one. it would be a little different if there was someone in the group that she knew, but no matter how random the ceos claimed their selection was, at the moment she heard, jei really wanted to have no part in it.
but the reality is, even if jei wanted to quit on the spot, she’s someone who was taught the meaning of responsibility - and even if she didn’t know these boys that she was supposed to be working with, there was still something she owed to them. jei was put into their group regardless of her feelings on the situation, and she would have to get through it even if she hated relinquishing that control. even if she didn’t care one way or the other whether or not she passed this round, the likelihood that at least one of them did is high. most people wouldn’t just try out for a show like this on a whim, or just through loyalty to a friend like she did.
the people on this show who made it through more than likely really wanted to be here. despite her dislike of the situation, it’s still her duty to make sure that she does her best to help them get there.
on the FIRST DAY, jei thinks she’s right to have the desire to quit because all they encounter are problems.
not in the way that they interact, really - as much as jei dislikes the idea of being thrust into a group of boys she doesn’t know, they’re really not all that bad. but it’s more in the way that the group is made up. they don’t have a rapper, and literally no one but her can dance. it’s a team of vocals in a world that requires more than that, and she knows better than to assume that they’ll just slide by because someone can hit a high note. for now though, those problems seem to be pushed aside in lieu of deciding a group name, and icebreakers for “ team spirit” or something of the like.
jei committed to this, so she involves herself in their games but in the meantime, she’s thinking of everything that needs to be done. choosing chaos’ fiction as a song was as good of a choice as they could get, but there’s more work to do than not and she’s still not sure how they’ll get by with only a single dancer on the team. they’re already cutting out all of the rapping because none of them can rap to save their lives only to add in a dance break with an instrumental recorded by sungwoon, junhoe, and minhyuk. which also means it’s up to her to make a choreography that’s better suited to the group, which means it’s up to her to deal with more than half of the creativity.
it’s the first time she’s put together a stage at all, let alone on her own. but the group is counting on her, even if it’s only in her mind.
wrapped in her thoughts like this, she almost misses the way that they slide into trying to decide a group name for themselves until she hears ... the bobs. her voice is deadly serious when she says, “ there is no way that i’m going to be a bob. pick something else.” it distracts her for a moment from thinking of the stage itself, becoming more active in the group activity. she knows that their name has to be impactful, and one to be remembered. the bobs, the jacks - jei and the boyz - these just won’t cut it.
“ you have to think about what you want to show.” she says finally, pulling her knees to her chest and staring around at all of them. donghyun pipes up quietly when he says something dynamic, and being the youngest of their group, she can almost understand why he’s so quiet. but it’s a good idea, and generally everyone agrees on dynamic - with a q, just to sound cool, in sungwoon’s words.
she relents, and goes back to thinking. compromise is an important part of team building. jei learned that a long time ago.
by the THIRD DAY, it’s time for a group meeting. she’s been coming to the practice room late at night and spending most of the daylight hours in kt with the four boys, and although at first she thinks that it probably would have been better for her to quit, maybe they’re not so bad. junhoe has gotten stressed, she’s seen it in his face and the way he looks at her when she makes him run through the choreography again, and again until he gets it right. but even if she’s asked him to talk about it, he told her it’s just getting to him, that it’ll be fine. since then, there’s been less and less problems as time goes on. all the boys have expressed struggle with the fact that they have to dance but - .. they’ve still been doing their best, and that’s all that jei can ask of them at this point.
but they still have some things to decide on - the leader, the introduction. little things that jei doesn’t think matters much when there’s still so much work to do to make things perfect, but still need to be hammered down regardless.
she only feels responsibility on her shoulders when the other boys suggest that she should be the leader, considering all the work she’s been putting into the choreography to help them along and make them shine regardless of their ability. it takes a moment for her to respond to it, staring at them - because now the feelings of making sure that they’ll succeed has only ever multiplied now that she’s been named their leader. now that she’s someone for them to follow, it’ll be on her if something goes wrong and one of them is eliminated.
so she’ll just have to make sure that this doesn’t happen. we’ll just have to show a performance worthy of number one. this is her thought process.
which begins with introductions. jei’s never really been one for the cutesy introductions that everyone on this show makes, with sungwoon’s tiny giant comment whizzing around somewhere like a fly that makes her crinkle her nose or any number of the other attention grabbing tactics from different contestants she’s seen through the second episode. all to her that matters is that the audience knows who she is, who they are - what’s so wrong about just saying your name?
apparently, she’s wrong on that. apparently, she needs to quote unquote, “ work on her brand.” jei scoffs and says that her face is her brand, but it still unsettles her just a little to know that she has to cater every part of herself to people who don’t really matter to her in the long run. this show is just a show to her, it’s not something to win when there are more people than her who want it. taking the advice is a hard pill to swallow, but she puts it aside for now in lieu of deciding a group introduction instead.
it’s something simple enough, a little triangle made with their hands held in front of their chests while they each bark their team name in unison. “ do we really want to show off a sign of the illuminati?” she mumbles, eyes sweeping the boys after donghyun mentions that they could be if that’s what their symbol is. they all seem amused enough, though, and jei takes it that she’s been out voted on this too. it’s not so much a problem as a worry of her own - after all, she has money. no one here seems to know that, though, and it’s not something she’ll announce on air like that daughter of the innisfree ceo. but as leader, it’s jei’s responsibility to explain their choice in team name before she introduces herself - of which she still has to decide a way to catch the audience’s attention.
she still doesn’t know why it matters much. after all, the team comes before her. they always have.
THE NIGHT BEFORE the performance, jei makes sure to treat the boys to a good dinner. maybe their little games of team spirit have gotten to her though she won’t admit to growing soft for them, but she still thinks it’s a good idea to boost morale. as a leader. after all, everyone has had a tiring week - learning so much, about music and dance and each other. to think that it will come to a close tomorrow seems both far away and too close at the same time.
as they eat, jei deflects the more personal questions, like if she can afford this or how she’s feeling right now. in truth, she still doesn’t really know how she feels, but there’s still the desire in her to make sure that they succeed - she is always full of cryptic answers when she simply says, “ i have enough money.” she doesn’t feel the need to put her family business on air, especially when the cameras are probably swallowing everything they’re doing right now. “ and i’ll be able to tell you better how i feel if we come in first.”
there’s a pause and jei looks around at the four of them. “ i don’t think there will be a group like us.” she finally says, a rare but thin smile gracing her lips.
it’s just a moment of peace. a calm before the storm.
when THE FILMING BEGINS, jei still isn’t sure how she feels besides the confidence that her team will show a performance that will surprise everyone in the audience - and hopefully the ceos, too. it would be good if their hard work for this week is recognized, and if it isn’t, she’d rather be the one sent home. after all, she’s the one who put together most of it - it wouldn’t be the fault of the boys for listening to her.
the truth is, jei doesn’t believe that they’ve worked much harder than anyone else sitting here and watching these stages, but she does believe they’ve managed to produce something a little more different in comparison. though she says nothing amidst the chatter of her group when others go before them, jei’s still watching. she’s still keeping an eye out - after all, these groups are all of their competition.
she doesn’t admit to herself that even within the group, they’re all competing against each other, too. with the way that the week has gone, it really doesn’t feel that way at all.
they go through the teams one by one, but they’re the second to last to perform. this doesn’t bother her much, but she’s sure that it would leave anxiety dancing in the stomachs of those without much confidence, who watch all the bright contestants shining in their element before them. but she knows that they’re not in a place of worry, because they’ve prepared. they’ve come ready to dominate the stage, in their own ways.
when team h is finally called for standby, jei mumbles a few words of praise and encouragement that she won’t allow the cameras to hear as much as they likely tried. after all, there are no secrets on a show like the mgas, but with enough practice, there are a few quiet moments. it’s a blessing in disguise considering the show is just so loud.
and then, it’s their time to shine. jei leads the boys, throwing her eyes over the audience though she can’t quite make out any of their faces since it’s bright onstage, but dark amongst the seats. their introduction is the simple triangle, still - she wonders just how many comments about the illuminati she’s going to end up reading after this episode airs. when she’s allowed to speak, she does - “ as a team, we chose our name because we wanted to show a sound and a stage that always changes so it will catch your eye. i’m team dynamiq’s leader, #4011 kim jinhee - and i need no introduction, because my dance is my brand.”
saying those words aloud feels just a little silly, but at least it’s something. her eyes trail to the team as they each introduce themselves and then it’s time for it - the actual stage. the performance. what they’ve spent this entire week preparing for.
without any rappers, they’ve had to be a little more creative with the song itself; cutting and rearranging and adding little bits here and there. somewhere along the line, it was suggested that they add an instrumental at the beginning to make up for the lack of a rapper and the idea that some of the boys would be the ones recording the instrumental was set in place. they decided on tchaikovsky’s romeo and juliet fantasy overture, for its bleak, yet hopeful sound. here is where jei makes her grand entrance - the boys are off to the side sitting or standing around a table, while she has a small dance break.
the dress flows and brushes along the skin of her calves as she moves along in time with the music - thirty seconds isn’t very long, but it can feel like a lifetime as a solo dancer. all eyes are watching her on stage as she lays the scene - a lonely girl, dependent on the magic within her to bring her statues to life.
another reason they chose to start with an instrumental is to allow for shock value. when no one knows what song they’ll really be performing, it’ll surprise the audience as they hear the first notes of their beloved classic start to play. hopefully it’s the reaction that they’re hoping for as fiction starts to sound out through the speakers. somehow, she was the one that landed with the first lines of the song as well, which helped to play out more of her dance solo.
i still can’t forget you
i still can’t trust everything
even today i can’t send you away like this.
the song itself is one that speaks to her in a number of ways, but none that she’d ever speak aloud. the stage is made up of cold lighting and gentle fog, until the actual story begins. her job as the main character of this stage is to give the boys life as they each go through their parts. first it’s donghyun, then it’s sungwoon and on down the line until they’re all standing a little ways away from the table so none of the less inclined dancers have the chance at bumping into it.
each of the boys were meant to simulate shedding their statuesque statures through jerky movements - easy enough, when none of the group has much experience in dancing and still showing the story through the dance. when the final chorus comes around, substituting the final rap, there’s a beat or two of silence before junhoe starts to sing. they couldn’t completely cut out the original choreography, and here is where they all dance together, as one - the iconic dance for fiction, with jei at front center.
but it’s all in vain, as the next line she sings expresses hopelessness.
right now i’m writing
such a happy story
but it is all just a wish still
this tells the audience there won’t be a happy ending. as each of the boys sing their final lines, they freeze, turning back to the stone that they once were. jei’s face expresses confusion, concern - her body turning with her back to the audience to see each of the boys frozen in their positions. she backs up a few steps and falls to the ground despairingly as she sings her final line -
there is no end
the boys have the last say, reminding her that all of this is fiction, they’re only alive in her mind - and the light fades from the stage.
shinhs97 i am going to keep up with the mgas since a few familiar faces are on there! i want numbers 4011, 4019, 4037, 4044, and 4046 to know i’m rooting for you!!
introducing you to my mga dongsaeng, #4019, lee minhyuk, the pretty dongsaeng! ㅋㅋ he’s a model, can you tell? we met modelling together~ he’s prettier in person. not one blemish! he even sparkles like he’s from a cartoon too ㅠㅠ if you want to look at his face more you should check out his ig: (@minthyuk) he’s amazing at photography too, he’s studying at snu! that’s amazing, isn’t it?~ only the best of the best get in there. 110%, the whole package. ( and he works in a bakery ㅋㅋ you all know how much i love bread ㅋㅋㅋㅋ ) if you watch him closely, you will see how cute he is too. his smile is really, really, really dazzling and cute -- he could make anyone’s heart stop if he looked at them. trust me ㅋㅋㅋㅋ
ah, he should have told me that he was going on there. he must have been nervous. doesn’t that make him cuter? minhyukkie is the prettiest flower in the garden. pick him, pick him, pick him up! ㅋㅋㅋ
Sicheng and Mark had watched the first airing of the show huddled together on their sofa, both jerking upright and looking at one another in surprise the first time he’d popped up on screen. Mark had been ecstatic, and so had Sicheng, his heart jumping a few paces.
It was a surreal thing. To see and hear himself on television, so surreal that he couldn’t quite reach out and grip at the reality of it; it kept a piscean slipperiness, escaping comprehension no matter how many times Mark rewinded the shot of him sipping his lemon water with an impish giggle, even as a few texts from friends who’d caught the show began to arrive.
The younger boy maintained an enthusiasm that Sicheng had oft admired, gleefully leaping up almost immediately when the credits began to roll, babbling about his plans over the blare of the Hyundai advertisement that was rolling during the MGA’s credits.
Sicheng wasn’t usually what one would call enthusiastic, but rather had a quiet focus about him, so as Mark loudly coerced Johnny Suh over the phone to help him with his song choice, Sicheng sat and meditated on what his next course of action should really be; he was a foreplanner, he liked to have these things measured out, marked on a calendar in pen to be neatly checked off, but he’d been struck by a strange indecisiveness this go-round.
He’d watched a dozen or so YouTube clips, past performances from the previous season of the show, and it’d struck him how many different skills people managed to pull out of their asses. It left him feeling a little useless, truth be told. He was a good dancer. A great dancer, if he were were able to drop his pathological need to self-deprecate and downplay his own skills for a few seconds, but would that be enough? Not just good enough for the judges, or the South Korean viewing public, or the audience of peers, but for the team of producers who would be editing it together, for all of those things combined into a terrifying amalgam of leering, critical eyes?
After the initial panic had faded, he’d decided that he’d dance again.
A risk? Perhaps.
But it was what he did the absolute best, and he reasoned that it was only the second episode of the show, surely too early for the public to be tired of his shtick, but also the first time the CEOs of the companies everyone involved in this big thing were vying to be part of would be seeing him. Why go forth with some obvious gimmick when you could put your best foot forward? It was still early enough in the game for contestants to be parsed by raw skill; he tried to think of all the survival talent shows he’d seen over the course of his life. Skill is what gets you into the running, and all the other trappings, the marketable personalities and sob stories, are what keep you there after that. That was his logic, and he hope it proved itself sound.
For his audition, he’d done a routine based strongly in traditional dance. Classical forms and steps rearranged and weaved together with a few choice pieces of hip-hop dance, and so he’d decided, in an attempt to keep it fresh, that he’d invert that this time; he’d form the basis of this second routine around a more modern, pop-friendly dance style, and slide in a nod towards Chinese dance in the beginning. Perhaps make the audience think that was all that he was gonna do, and twist it around for a surprise.
He wastes no time getting to work, using the studio him and his dance friends had rented time at to choreograph and practice, practice, practice, pound the new routine into his head, although it doesn’t take him long; he’d been doing this since he was a child. He was convinced that the wiring of his brain had probably been impacting by dance, forming itself in such a way that choreography retention was one of its most important functions.
Dance comes at a cost, though, he thinks one night, only a couple days before the second recording, perched on the edge of a tub of hot water. He lets his feet soak in an Epsom bath, and stalks a few of his new Instagram followers, looking at their photos, wondering who they are, seeing his name and call-number hashtagged in a few of their posts. It’s so bizarre, how they’re somewhere out there in their own lives, own bodies, cheering him on because they saw him do a pretty dance on the television, how that’s all it takes, how they go through and like each of his posts, using each picture as a window with which to view his life, probably doing as he does with each of his friends, clicking on them where they’re tagged, using them as a proxy by which to piece together who Sicheng is.
His Instagram is clean, pictures of scenery, cool architecture, him and his friends and some visually-appealing food, only because, according to his sister, his mother knows his username. He wonders what it’d be like for someone who was really showing more of their humanity, maybe something a little more controversial or real. He’d seen idol scandals mentioned in the news, careers rise and fall. His new followers are all his fans, and he wonders for a moment what that means for his life now, even if he’s eliminated after this next performance.
He thinks about it a little too long, and a looming doom raises in his chest for a moment before he quashes it, pulling his now-numbed feet out of the bathtub to massage balm into them, the ugly dancer’s feet that they are, nailbeds short and impacted, before shoving them into socks. They’re not as sore now, but even if they were, it’s just part of his life cycle, podiatric abuse. And it has been as far back as he can recall.
He has lunch the next day with a few friends, and they reassure him. One of them has seen his routine, and tells him that he’s done well, and Sicheng can only pickily pluck slices of Spam from the budaejjigae and hope his friends aren’t being overly complimentary. He enjoys critique, in a way, constructive criticism, when it’s genuinely constructive and doesn’t come with insults the way his mother’s critiques did; he’s learned so much about dance, and about improvement, about how improvement can come in a healthy manner, since he’s been here. Self-loathing was not a prerequisite to personal growth.
He tries to figure out how to spend time not spent practicing keeping calm; he’s nervous a bit, he admits, unusually so. This is territory untread by him, and although he is likely a lot cooler, more collected than some out there in his same position, he’s more nervous than he’s ever been, but also more ready to give it his all. His situation is strange. He’s about to graduate, which means that he’ll need to move on to university to keep his student visa, unless he’s training under a company; he’d apply for a different sort of visa in that case. But there are doubts as to whether his parents will see the continued use in this little adventure of his, a full year with no real gains, enough to shell out the money for more schooling away from home. And he wants to stay. He needs to. He needs to prove that this all has a point.
The night before filming, after supper, when Mark is asleep, it’s the worst. He climbs out of bed, eaten up by worries of his potential performance. There’s a couple loose ends he needs to tie up before he has any chance at a reasonably restful sleep.
He decides he can’t sit around and sponsor those concerns; at the moment, he’s much more preoccupied with what he’s going to wear. He wants something blousey, he decides, a little oversized, perhaps, something that will catch the air when he dances, moving and billowing in a manner that pleases the eye.
He has one button-up shirt, a plain white one that he wore literally one time, somewhere in the depths of his closet, but as he searches for it, he comes across another, less familiar shirt. It’s a buttondown shirt made from a thin, crepey material, a stark blue-white with navy pinstriping and a rose embroidered on the left breast. It isn’t until shakes it open and sees the size that he realises whose it is.
Lucas had left it there a couple of weeks ago, having taken it off because it was too hot (although he had complained of the summer heat even afterwards, in his t-shirt).
It was strange and also very amusing to Sicheng, what a pussy Lucas was. How had he survived in Hong Kong if the summer heat in Seoul was too much for him? He’d begun to develop a budding hypothesis that the other boy had spent so much time in ice skating rinks over the course of his life that his body had acclimated itself to them.
He sniffs the shirt, to be sure that it’s clean, and it smells...nice; Lucas always smelled a lot prettier than one might expect him to. Taking a second, guiltier whiff for good measure, he tries it on. Lucas isn’t bigger than him by that much, a dozen pounds of muscles and a few inches, but the shirt still does the trick, Sicheng thinks, so he takes it off and tosses it on his bed, where it’s soon joined by a plain white tee and a pair of light-wash jeans.
The morning of, he puts the outfit on, hiking the jeans up high, belting them, tucking the t-shirt into them, putting on Lucas’s shirt and buttoning only the top button, spinning round a bit before a mirror, watching the fabric inflate and move. He does some stretches to ensure that the trousers, a denim blend, have enough give and stretch. He spends an hour cleaning a pair of well-worn taupe sneakers until they’re again a crisp white, so that they’re presentable enough to grace his feet on a television screen; he wants a pair of shoes that have been broken in, that are easy to move in.
He’s too anxious to eat much, but he’s still sure to have something, although later in the day he has to think really hard to even recall what it was; something about these days is so strange, and Sicheng wonders when they’re en route if this is how each of them will be. It’s as though there’s some kind of temporal disturbance of time surrounding the MGAs that makes the hours the day of each filming pass like minutes. That is until they’ve actually arrived at the venue, of course, at which point the time warp reverses itself so that each second falls heavy as lead, slinking by sluggishly, amplifying each nervous heartbeat into a grand echo.
He meets a few people. A friendly, and very cute boy called Hyunjin who approaches him in the lobby is the most memorable; the stranger is so complimentary towards Sicheng’s previous performance that he finds himself blushing red and bashful, and also weirdly energised. It’s encouraging, to know that people saw what he could do and were impressed, that he had impact on someone, even if it was only one.
After they’ve arrived, Mark clings to him as they politely greet a few familiar faces, and then they’re all rounded up, and the production team begins the process of seating the large mob of youngsters.
Sicheng...is impressed by the set. It’s still so strange, seeing this sort of place in person, seeing the glint of camera lenses perched in strategic locations, filming them all even as they enter, his eyes following the lines of the tall ceiling, flitting around at the well-dressed, pretty people, all there to putt on a performance. It’s a lot to process. Somehow, seeing the seams of the place, the cameramen and boom mic operators, the nuts and bolts that are never aired on the television, makes it all the more surreal.
He’s sat across from Mark, waving a little sadly at the other boy as they part, and ends up sitting beside Jeno, who whether out of genuine conversational interest or out of anxiety, proceeds to absolutely talk Sicheng to near-death. He doesn’t really mind. It’s a nice distraction from the anxiety of sitting around and waiting for him, as well.
Eventually, it’s announced that filming has officially begun, although Sicheng’s certain he’s seen little red lights on most of the cameras the entire time. The judges, each one managing to carry an even more impressive aura in person, even from the moderate distance at which he is sat, are brought in. They exchange some banter that Sicheng can’t help but think is scripted, and then, it begins. The first contestant is called to the stage.
He watches the boy, a young thing, perform, and he’s impressed; to be that young and have to go first? It must be pressure.
And then there’s a cascade of talent.
Sicheng’s always been one to appreciate focus, to appreciate skill, so he smiles through each performance, admiring each contestant’s drive. He blushes a bit, when Minhyuk performs, surprised to even see him there. He’s happy he’s got foundation on, lest the red of his cheeks show on camera. His eyes light up when Mark performs, and it occurs to him how bold of a choice it is to perform Tiger JK’s song in front of the man himself. He can’t help but find the heartbroken lyrics the young boy has written cute; perhaps he shouldn’t, as the feelings are real to Mark, but Sicheng can’t help it.
He doesn’t fully realise that he’s to perform after Mark until his name and number are called and his eyes widen in surprise. Jeno laughs and pats him on the back, and he hops up, gliding towards the stage.
He jumps a bit, surprised by Marko shouting at him in Mandarin, and bows and smiles in his direction, appreciating the affirmations of love with a laugh.
Once he’s on stage he does a deep, ninety-degree boy, and introduces himself.
“H-hello...” he says, much more meekly than he’d like, with a smile that is less self-assured, and more bashful, and he kicks himself internally, clearing his throat a bit and trying to project more as he continues, “My name is Dong Sicheng! I’m eighteen, and I graduate high school soon. Thank you for this opportunity. P-please...enjoy the dance I’ve prepared.”
He chuckles a little breathlessly, and does another deep bow, wondering if it’s not a little excessive, but something about the group of eyes trained on him, their presence, the way the lights are trained on them, perched above the rest of the crowd, makes them feel so important.
He may be nervous about the talking bit, but the minute he’s in position, he takes a deep breath, and breathes himself out; the fear and anxiety ceases, and he paints on an intense expression, and then he’s alerted that the music is about to begin, and then it does.
The first thirty-five seconds of the track is down-tempo, nothing more than filtered string samples in a glittery composition, and for that portion of the routine, he performs a very straightforward traditional dance, timed carefully with each strum, his movements soft, poised, and elegant. And then the beat drops, and he moves directly from a pirouette into an entirely different form of movement. He’d had a bit of help from a friend with the choreography of this segment, in the way of pointers, although he’d done much of it himself. It was a challenge to him, and he’d decided instead of setting it to a more pure hip-hop song, to embrace that his movements always had a sense of fluidity to them and go for a fusion.
The track was strange, the beat becoming a little jagged in the middle, which allowed him to work in some smaller, more detailed arm movements and footwork. He does a flip, timed along to a lull in the music and a second beat drop, and moves directly into more dance moves.
And it’s over before he knows it, it flies by, the track petering out with the lilt of a flute. So quickly that he is almost confused when he finds himself in his ending pose, his chest expanding and shrinking with each breath at a notably quicker pace, although still steady.
He isn’t fully aware of it until it’s over, but as he comes to from his strange dance-fog, he can feel that he was slightly off. No more than a half-second even, so small that it wasn’t likely to be noticeable; he likely lost just a bit of time when doing some of the more detailed hand motions, but it’s enough that it sticks in him like a thorn, and irritates him.
The rest of the performances are a daze, another stream of genuine talent, which he watches with admiration, hoping all the while that he’s done enough to stay, to impress. That his best was good enough. That his performance’s unique angle was good enough.
He waits for your friend to walk away before approaching you. “Excuse me, miss. Hopefully I didn’t disturb your visit. You and your friend seemed to be having fun.” He sounds friendly enough, but you can never be too sure about things like these. “I’m a Samsung Group representative and have been paying attention to you.” After sliding a hand inside his suit, the man takes out a business card which is slowly handed to you. “If you’ve ever been interested in becoming an idol, please enter in contact with us. Have a good day.” He then quickly turned around, either going to look for his next target or for some chocolate to take home.
hyunjin leaves her side to go to the bathroom and chaewon already feels slightly worried. there’s a big mass of people moving around her, bumping into her shoulder as they pass and she grabs for her phone in case her tiny body ends up being swept away and lost in the crowd.
she’s about to turn and look for a quiet corner to find some refugee when a man approaches her and stops her in her tracks. he’s smiling and polite, but she can’t help but feel a bit reserved at first. that is, until he’s reaching inside his suit and pulling out a business card. her eyes are focused on the writing, hands reaching for it hesitantly as if it would shift and change into something different as soon as she touches it. truly enough, the very thing she had been trying to achieve through auditions was being offered to her. it took a second for things to register before she looked up at the man to mumble a soft ‘thank you’ and give him a polite bow.
as soon as he disappears from view, she reaches for her phone and dials her brother’s number with shaky fingers.
“oppa? you’ll never guess what just happened.”
{ sms: kitten 🐱 } -> HAPPY BIRTHDAY KITTEN WONNIE -> WHEN ARS YOU FREE FOR ME TO GIVE YOU YOUR PRESENT?!? -> AND PAMPER YOU WITH LOVE
⦑ ;; text ;; ⦒ ⇰ sly fox fiend 🦊 ⇢ meow 🐱 ⇢ my schedule ends at 11pm so any time afterwards ⇢ not sure about the love, though ⇢ what’s my present going to be? 👀
he lifts a hand and knocks a few times on the front door of hoseok’s place. in his hand he holds two slightly messily wrapped presents, the wrapping paper getting glitter all over him as he stands impatiently, waiting for the door to be opened. as soon as it is he holds the presents up in front of him. “merry christmas! … sorry it’s late.” inside one present is a pair of black, wooly fleece lined boots, in the other a white fleece rabbit hoodie.
The knock was unexpected since he didn’t know of any visitors that he’d be getting. He’d just been lounging around in his bedtime clothes, watching a movie on the television even though he could barely keep up with what was going on. As soon as he realized someone was waiting for him at the door, he quickly hopped up and made his way over. He didn’t hesitate in turning the knob and viewing who it was, then as soon as he saw Minhyuk, a wide smile formed on his face and he quietly laughed, returning a cheerful “Merry Christmas!” and shaking his head. “It’s okay, you’re not too late. I just... wasn’t expecting this, wow... thank you so much.”
He gently took the presents from the other boy’s hands and opened them in front of him, his smile only getting much wider. “You are certainly amazing at buying gifts, I can tell you that much. These are wonderful.” Holding the hoodie between his fingers and feeling the fabric, his smile turned softer and he looked to meet the other’s gaze. “I think I’m going to wear this every day. But... I feel bad, I don’t have you anything in return. I guess I’ll have to make it up to you, right? Want to come in? I can make you some cookies or something.”
