girl interrupted

GIRL FRONT with @pgyuna

all of these young and fresh faces of the industry gathered today at the radio show for a special episode, secretly aiming to promote these rising stars’ names and singles, are giving gowon a spark of jolliness in her heart. some of them debuted earlier, some later than her but they’re still very much new to the scene. gowon feels lucky to have the chance to represent cross_over, normally she’s in charge of being a resident dumbass so if it’s about promoting the group in the best way before the camera ( no accidental spoilers for the next comeback, no unintentional stupid sayings and learns a this-song-is-about script by heart ) then the blonde is automatically eliminated. 

this time, however, she goes to the radio show alone. don’t ask gowon, she doesn’t know why either and even when she’s halfway through the show, the female idol still wonders if the company and her manager made a mistake when they announced in front of the girls that she was specifically chosen as a guest. up until now, she’s doing amazingly well at warming up the room with her adorable personality and numerous dumb sayings. they’re about to take a short break after talking for what feels like 84 years when a song comes on to which gowon assumes that it belongs to one of the idols she’s surrounded by.

can’t take my eyes off you, you and my eclipse (i only see you in my eyes) can’t touch, you were dangerous (woo boy) my heart as well (keeps closing in on you)

this track sounds familiar, she thinks she recognizes it. gowon turns to the younger idol sitting besides her, the lead vocalist of cross_over forms a peaceful, almost too innocent smile on her lips. “yuna-ssi, is this one of your babies?” 

go yuna, remain.... calm.

it’s no big deal. 

totally cool. coolcoolcoolcoolcool nbdnbdnbdnbdnbd. you’re an idol yourself, a public figure in your own right, so it’d be unbecoming of you to geek out on camera. it’s fine that ! gowon ! from !!! cross_over !!! is sat in the same room as you, breathing the same air, and...

oh my god, gowon knows her name.

GOWON KNOWS HER NAME.

emotionally? she’s clutching at her heart and screaming in a pitch mariah carey would shake at. physically? she blinks. and then blinks again, because the latter part of the sentence is finally registering, and no, this is most definitely not one of hers. if only! 

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Re: Very Important Work Email. Please Respond Urgently.

Dear Ms. Go Yuna,

Unfortunately, your email comes at an extremely inappropriate time. I believe you should also be paying attention to the stuffy man up front who is over-enthusiastically pitching the same idea as everyone else—which, I think, I’ve heard about twenty times in the past one hour.   

Get the stapler yourself.

By the way, hand it over when you’re done with it. I think I might need it too.

Thank you.

P.S. I would kill for a coffee right now. Or maybe a tequila. Any ideas?

Best regards, Go Eundam Over Out ✉ [email protected] Zircon Sound Mangwon-dong, Mapo-gu, Seoul

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: I Will Kill Everyone In This Room If I Have To Sit Through One More Proposal. Thank you and regards.

Dear Mr. Go Eundam,

Thank you for reaching out to me, and for your suggestion, which I have taken into consideration.

Despite my best efforts, I have discovered that my arm is too short to reach the stapler. I can, and will, cause you grievous bodily harm if you make a short joke.

Very bold of you to assume my brain did not log out the minute I walked into this meeting room and saw that it was filled with executives thrice our age. 

P.S. An Irish coffee? I don’t have any schedules after this. It’s 5pm somewhere.

“so fuckin’ good,”

“out of this world,”

“grade a. korea’s best.”

the television sizzles on, flickers of faces young, younger, and younger still, teetering the line between fetal and tween. there’s the odd snippet of applause cut too short, a last-minute edit amidst countless others, likely outsourced too late in the night to be ethically sound.

it’s all part of the job—fortunately, not sangho’s. here he is, reveling in his saturday night encircled by the same chorus of idiots who are as convincing as they are shitfaced. minho juts his chopsticks inches away from sangho’s nose, impatient. "hey. you listening?”

sangho blinks back to awareness, leveling his own chopsticks against the waxed table before grabbing for a chunk of underdone pork belly.

“not to you,” sangho retorts with a snort. can’t tell if he’s directing the snort to minho or the entitled pipsqueak on the screen telling everyone to pipe the fuck down. sangho gnaws down on his chopsticks, never mind the sauce dish minho slips in front of him a second too late, never mind the unpleasant, fleshy gush in his mouth and the jeweled piece on the grill taunting him in its medium-well rendered glory.

“figures,” junyeop chides, folding a lettuce wrap for himself. “it’s another one of those shows. didn’t you just finish one last month?”

sangho spits out the leftover gristle into a napkin. he unconsciously derails. “this one’s a bootleg as far as i can tell.” minho throws a properly cooked piece of pork onto his plate (“you’re welcome,”) just as sangho whips his head back guffawing. 

“beyoncé?! from this kid? she can’t be serious.”

beyoncé?! from this kid? she can’t be serious.

that seems to be the general sentiment, anyway. the disgruntled look from the feedback that rings around the studio transforms into a cruel smirk, barely concealed, on hyun’s face. unbridled glee at the prospect of seeing someone crash and burn on national television. 

luna really just wants for all this to be over.

these survival shows are one and the same anyway, and the path the kid seems to be going down? she’s about to become pann’s laughingstock for the next week. chum in the water. still, there’s a bit of heart left in her even after all these years in the industry, and she takes pity on the kid. “go on...” the nametag says...  “yuna.”

the lights don’t dim-- there’s none of that star treatment type bull in the first round of an audition determined to weed out the best of the best. instead, the resolve on the kid’s face is clear as day, as she glowers at everyone in the audience like they owe her money.

the first notes play, and well...

colour her surprised.

the audience has fallen silent, as has the panel of judges beside her. there’s relative silence in the studio, everyone a mix of contrition and astonishment. that is, until little go yuna begins strutting around like she owns the place, crooning about how she won’t be pushed aside. (oddly fitting.)

a gradually increasing buzz from the audience reaches a crescendo of cheers as the kid belts the finishing note, and she bows. more out of necessity than anything, if the expression on her face is anything to go by. 

From: [email protected]

Subject: Very Important Work Email. Please Respond Urgently.

Dear Mr. Go Eundam,

I hope this email finds you well, and not in the middle of a creative meeting so boring that a certain Zircon soloist is one more ‘facilitation of the free-flow of creative exchanges between the artists and management’ away from stapling her own hand to get out of this meeting. 

Oh, there is it. 

Kindly hand me the stapler beside you at your earliest possible convenience, or bash me over the head with it. 

Thank you.

the host seems to sense her distress, and they react with an anecdote about their age. where appropriate, yuna reacts with a nod or chuckle, unable to do much more with her brain in overdrive trying desperately to fish memories of idol youth from the murky depths of her brain. she takes an unusually long sip from her bottled water as the host wraps up their little story, feeling like they’ve given yuna enough time to formulate a response.

a beat passes.

“right! yeah, wow. i can’t believe it’s really been that long-- seems like just yesterday i was auditioning for the show!” the host nods and gestures for her to elaborate, and yuna’s smile freezes on her face.

ah, fuck.

well. nothing to do but keep going and pray she remembers as she goes. “it technically wasn’t my first audition-- of course there were all those preliminaries, but those were all private. it’s pretty funny, actually, looking back-- my parents hadn’t ever heard me sing before that televised audition.” the host interrupts with a really? your parents must really have believed in you! and cracks up. yuna laughs along even though she doesn’t think it’s all that funny. all for good radio, she supposes. 

“yeah! so that was the first time they’d ever heard me sing seriously. i did beyoncé’s listen-- the audience was ooh-ing and aah-ing when i announced my song of choice, and even laughed at me when i told them to shush so i could start singing.” a little kid with a voice bigger than themselves is such an overplayed trope, c’mon. “i got nervous when they started laughing, and i dropped my mic, which, i’ll tell you this, is not a good way to start an audition.” well, what people didn’t need to know was that it was a plot to get the audience’s attention, and hey, it’d worked, so. 

hi, hi! i’m jia (18+, she/hers), and i’ll be writing for go yuna, newly debuted soloist/rubies trainee! all u rlly need to know about her is that she was inspired by this vine. more abt her will be under the cut, but like this post & i’ll message u 2 luv on u n ur muse! (also plotting.)