✎ ᝰ "hey, hey, hey, boy you make me jellyous." ☑
The night spent celebrating with those closest to you; whether family or friends. Trainees and idols rhapsodically awaited the two weeks off offered by their labels after the New Years. They wanted no more than to feel the freedom once again, even in the slightest bit- and those who came to Seoul from a distant domicile; the warm embraces of their loved ones that they had yearned to see more than once a year.
It was cruel, in a way. These kids who wanted no more than to live out their dreams, being stripped away from the warmth of their home and guardians - all for training that won't guarantee their success or future.
It was pitiful, and something Eunmi thought of constantly.
She didn't feel that affected by the circumstances; she had a dream, a goal and she'd do anything in her power to reach it. She didn't have time for lousy distractions she saw her fellow trainees engaging in.
The constant gossip, making plans for dinner after training, arranging who's dorm would be sacrificed for a movie night, traveling back home for the weekend, starting relationships; platonic and romantic - Eunmi couldn't sacrifice her precious time for any of those menial activities, the thought itself made her skin crawl and stomach churn with anxiety and uncertainty.
Because, in the end, the more she focused on perfecting her abilities, the more promised her future grew.
So, she watched from the sidelines. Gazing from the balcony of her dorm as individuals littered out the building one by one, hugging and kissing their friends goodbye, exchanging 'ill miss you's and 'keep in touch's like they won't be back in two weeks. It was always more dramatic than it needed to be.
A shiver racked the girls body as a strong gust of the chilling, winter wind passed by, beckoning Eunmi to close the glass door and succumb to the warmth her dorm offered.
The creak of the old, plastic handle echoed through the empty room, honey brown eyes squinting at the disfavoring sound before shifting to her roommate.
Song-yi sat on the couch, scrolling on her phone, awaiting the one phone call that would make her leave the coziness of the dorm shared by four girls. Her bags and suitcase were packed and ready by the door even.
She felt the strong gaze of the younger girl on her, urging her to break the silence, "You're not going home for the break, Eunmi?" she asked, for the sake of small talk.
Eunmi didn't like small talk.
She shook her head, simply; there was no need to open her mouth to a yes or no question, no need to waste her breath on a conversation that wouldn't be worthy.
Song-yi hummed in response, not pressing the younger any further, knowing that even if she did - she wouldn't be met with an answer that would appeal her curiousity.
The familiar ring of her phone bounced off the empty walls of the dorm and the redhead stood from her place on the couch.
Eunmi followed her to the door, handed her a couple forgotten items before saying their farewells.
The dorm that once bustled with four girls, loud and messy was now quiet and clean, empty and lonely. Yet Cheon found peace in the much needed silence.
Two weeks alone; it sounded too good to be true, but it somehow was and she promised she'd savour every moment.
Studios were for once empty. The usual flickering lights, squeaking of shoes on the glossy wooden floors, blaring music and messy vocals were gone-silent-in the HYBE building. A sight hardly ever seen before.
Eunmi's body was on autopilot, her legs carried her to studio #03 which she frequented daily for the past year; ever since she got promoted to trainee group A.
Her hand wrapped around the handle of the studio's entrance with ease, the shape and sharpness of it felt familiar in her cold palm. For the first time in years, the girl entered the studio without fear coursing in her veins, she was finally content; something she didn't get to experience much. Not her, not her fellow trainees either.
She flicked the light on, the room coming to life and blaring those blinding yellowish lights she learned to hate in the early mornings.
The bag that was slunged on her shoulder dropped near the resting area and without a second to spare she connected her laptop to the speakers.
It was 8pm, staff would leave and start locking rooms at around 12am - Five hours. She had five hours.
With that thought in mind, she put her playlist on, set her phone up to record and danced through numerous routines, sharp, energetic, alive.
Every routine was flawlessly executed, with her own touch to the choreography. There were no judging eyes, no one ready to scrutinize, scold, or yell. She was free to dance the way she wanted, after being under the condemning and criticizing gaze of her fellow trainees and her choreographer for years.
Three hours into practice, Eunmi was so focused, so absorbed into her training she jumped at the sound of the door creaking open.
She turned, startled, expecting a staff member to scold her but her eyes met with surprised hazel ones, "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."
The velvety voice belonged to a tall, slim - almost lanky - guy. Hair messy and clothes ruffled.
"A staff member said this studio's the only one open to trainees, and empty...guess they were wrong." he continued; tone slightly awkward as he scratched the back of his head, brown hair shaking on his head.
"It's...um, okay." Eunmi replied quietly, out of breath and equally awkward. Her eyes couldn't look away no matter how much her brain screamed at her to. She knew him, almost everyone did.
Martin Edwards Park, a name you couldn't miss in the halls of HYBE, every trainee has at least uttered it once.
He was in the male trainee group A, Martin assisted in coming up with choreographies and producing songs from different popular HYBE artists. He had already secured his spot for debut in the eyes of many, even Eunmis.
She felt her skin prickle at the thought; maybe if she had gotten the amount of chances he did, she'd already be debuted.
HYBE always prefered debuting male trainees first.
"You're Eunmi Cheon, right?" his voice broke through the awkward silence as the song that played in the background came to an end. His korean wasn't clean, studied and taught in the comfort of his canadian home, a bit of an accent coming out when nervous.
The brunette nodded, mouth pressed into a tight line. Why do people ask questions if they know the answer? That was another thing she hated, one of her pet peeves. She waited for him to continue nonetheless.
"We worked on choreography together last year...if you remember...?" Martin's voice was confident at the beginning of his statement, but it gradually died down at the neutral expression on the girl's face, making him end it with a question.
Eunmi nodded yet again, silence falling upon the two at the lack of enthusiasm from her side. The atmosphere grew awkward - for Martin, that is.
After another beat, the lanky male cleared his throat, eyes dropping to the wooden floor of the studio with a small, sheepish grin on his face, "So, um...could I practice here too? Since...you know...only studio empty."
The way he worded his sentences made the Cheons eye twitch, incoherence was something she disliked, along with shyness.
"Sure." she muttered, voice flat, not an ounce of something to show Martin how she was feeling at his request, it made him feel even more awkward. He had a feeling they wouldn't get along too well.
He slipped into the studio after her acknowledgment, stretching in the opposite corner of the studio. His hazelish brown eyes couldn't help but steal glances as she went through choreography.
It was enchanting, he felt - no, was - captivated, transfixed by the way her body moved freely, every count executed with the right amount of energy at the right time.
Eunmi felt his hard gaze on her, watching her every move right until the song ended. She knew she had to grow accustomed to eyes on her if she wanted to become an idol, but the way his eyes felt on her sweat glistening skin was different.
Mostly, when she was being watched it was criticizing, judging, jealous.
For the first time she felt admired.
notes: reworked ver. yay! not proofread ‹/𝟹
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