@taewoovld
Geonwoo should probably be getting ready for bed now. The rapper had never boasted the best sleep schedule around-- Geonwoo tended to be one of the last leaving the practice rooms and studios each night-- but recording for their debut album started tomorrow, and Geonwoo needed his rest. He knew though that, even if he were to lay down in bed right now, all the lights off with RJ sleeping soundly next to him in silence, his brain would eat away at any chance of sleep.
Geonwoo wasn’t an anxious person by nature. He didn’t stress over minor things on a daily basis, and he never cared much about what people thought of him, either. But when it came to debuting, Geonwoo was more nervous than he’d been in his life. The preparations for their debut were in full swing, and Geonwoo had been practicing his raps day in and day out, but he couldn’t be satisfied. He was good enough, he knew that much, but good enough wasn’t remarkable. Good enough wouldn’t last in this industry, even with a name like KMG behind them. Geonwoo needed to be amazing, and every time he delivered the lyrics, he felt like he was missing the mark.
It took a lot for Geonwoo to even consider asking for help, so the fact that he was actively seeking out Taewoo right now was practically a miracle. He’d spent most of his life shouldering his problems on his own, gritting his teeth and just trudging through when things got hard, but as much as he loathed to admit it, this wasn’t just about him anymore. Whatever he did would affect the group. The songs and the albums were all of theirs-- even Sebin’s, regretfully-- and Geonwoo didn’t want to be the one to mess up and hold them back.
He knocked on the door to Sebin and Taewoo’s room (after making sure Sebin wasn’t inside, of course), pages of lyrics crinkling from his other hand’s grip. “Hyung,” he called through the door, hoping he didn’t sound too off. “Can I run something by you?”