—awe
@idryusan chile showcase.
“despacito!” she half-shouts at him when she sees him backstage. performing first and having absolutely nothing in the way of special stages (rightly so) means that she’s had more than enough time to kill, plenty of it spent watching the performances of the seniors she finds the most enjoyable, and san is always at the top of the list. she’d be a liar to say she joined midas - joined the industry- for any reason other than pretty much san specifically. his work as a soloist is everything she wants to do for herself. his passion is incredible, his ferocity on stage belied only by his immeasurable grace. she’d cried real tears when she watched the dance practice for sayonara hitori the first time, her breath frozen in her lungs. awe, admiration, and respect were overflowing in her and as she got to know him as a person, as more than a monolithic figure, she cared for him even more. a brother that could understand her perhaps even better than her own actual brother- probably because he was a fucking creep. a lovable creep, but still.
“you were incredible. it was incredible. i think everyone out there about died when you started in on it, oh my god.” she laughs, shaking her head as she does, a cascade of tousled hair around her head, brushing her shoulders. “i know you’re going to say some bullshit about messing up, i know you are, but i don’t want to hear it, because no one but you even noticed whatever it is, whatever half millisecond of a delay or speed up, or whatever hair’s breadth of a false move there was, just don’t.” he hates the effusive praise, she knows that he does. it’s the nature of perfectionism to despise it, to pick holes and flaws in one’s self and, similarly, in any praise offered. she’s lived that herself, albeit to a lessened degree, but she knows too that he deserves to hear it. that perhaps if she can replace some of that endless negative feedback loop with enough of her own positivity, it can make some kind of incremental difference. and really, to do that, would be enough.
she sighs, shakes her head. “i can’t believe you. incredible.” she holds up a hand preemptively as his face crumples, “sh, i know, sh, just take a compliment sunbae, okay, it’s important.” she’d never imagined standing eye to eye with him like this. somehow he’d always seemed impossibly tall in her imagination, likely due to his incredible dance lines. but here, both of them in flats, they stand at equal height, and she kind of likes it. likes the delicacy of his features and the strength underlying it. the kind of appearance that is easily chalked up to simply pretty, if one doesn’t bother to pay attention. she knows he doesn’t appreciate it, the way he should. “i’m sure your olympus stage will be fine too, but, really, i think you could even slack off if you wanted… realistically you’ll make more impact in the solo stage. they gave you guys such slow songs for the finale, it’s a waste.” this is her own personal opinion, unasked for but given regardless.