ATLAS.

a standstill.

that’s the place yeosang feels the most familiarity. it’s the place he’s acquainted with the most-- always the place he’s used to being. it’s not the best place to be, but it’s not the most uncomfortable of places either-- he could do much worse. but at the moment, in the now-- he really, really hates it.

he’d tried really hard not to let the elimination get the best of him, tried his hardest not to let himself back into that funk. and he’d done well for the most part-- with the help of his wonderful friends who checked on him and made sure he was doing alright. he was grateful. even so, he’s ashamed to admit that he still takes his rare off days to curl up in a ball in the middle of his bed, covers pulled high over his overgrown hair. more often than not, his bed is littered with his notebooks upon notebooks, pages of half finished lyrics haphazardly falling off of the side of the bed.

it’s one night that he’s finally pulled himself together to shower before midnight at least- that a worn out sheet of paper, thumbed at the edges, catches his eye. he pauses, towel slung around his neck and dubu pausing haltingly at his ankles, snout curiously sniffing around his heels. yeosang leans down to pick the sheet up, teeth worrying at his lower lip as his eyes scan over the ink covered sheet. multiple lines are crossed out, there are ink blotches and margin doodles - the carefully and tediously written lines are half of longing, half of acceptance-- half of hope-- but full of love. 

he carefully folds the sheet and tucks it into his tiny, beat up wallet - stashes it in his jacket.

and that’s how he was here, after a whole week of messing up that unassuming sheet of paper even more-- with his microphone set up, the beat that he’d originally chosen to go with pulled up. he holds the paper in front of him, stares at it before he exhales deeply.

and it’s a whole nother week after that-- after sending the track several places to be cleaned up, re-mastered, that yeosang finally... sets the file on his desktop screen. and leaves it there.

but today, he’s feeling particularly... okay. so he takes the file, drags it to upload-- and waits.

the progress bar reflects off of the light of his glasses as he sits there with bated breath, one hand nervously drumming on his tabletop while the other-- the other fumbles with his phone, thumb hovering over the locked and dark screen. the upload finishes-- and he gingerly holds the phone up to his face.

unlocks it.

every time yeosang thinks he’s all out of bitter feelings, he manages to surprise himself. and that’s the thought stuck in the forefront of his mind as he stares at the box next to his door that had laid untouched for the last two weeks, since he’d lugged it up the stairs on his birthday.

it’s become a sort of doorside table, actually, the cloth being one of his old jackets he threw over it and his keys and wallet and other random things lying haphazardly on the top. slowly, he walks over to it and removes his belongings, patting off the nonexistent dust. his fingers hover at the edges of the tape, eyes dull before his hands drop to his sides.

instead, he heaves as he bends over and picks it up, a curious dubu trotting at his heels as he kicks open the door to his room and carefully sets the box down by his closet.

it’s not much-- but it’s progress.

with one last look at it, he shuts his bedroom door behind him and returns to his living room full of his music sheets and ripped notebook papers of lyrics. but he sits down and organizes the last ones he’d been working on-- the screen of his laptop reflecting in his eyes as he finally decides on his song choice.

just like the last time-- yeosang wanted to do his best to capture people’s attention while staying true to his own feelings and his own sound. it’s not something he thinks people would expect from him--

but yeosang is tired of bitter. and this feels right.

...

even still... the day of recording comes and yeosang’s hands shake. his fingers are twitchy, his eyes are unfocused and his heartbeat is too loud inside of his chest. his solace is sia’s presence beside him, and the feeling of her hand warm in his whenever she can sense his distress.

and he calms down further when he checks his phone-- sees the last messages of encouragement he’d gotten from hongjoong. a gentle feeling of ease washes over him and he clutches the phone in his hand as if in consolation, thumb hovering over the blue and gray bubbles as the screen fades to black.

and he tries to focus more on the other performances this time-- not really to check out his competition and what he’s up against, but more to really gauge the other contestants’ talents, because he’s interested-- because he likes watching other people perform ( just... not as much as he loves performing ). even so, they go by quickly, and before he knows it, his name is being called.

#5019, kang yeosang, please come to the stage.

“my name is kang yeosang, i’ll be performing original lyrics and a remixed arrangement.”

yeosang holds the microphone to him, devoid of a stand for this particular performance. and he’s dressed more casually today as opposed to the all black he’d been appearing in for the past few rounds. in a white bomber jacket, black shirt, and light wash blue ripped jeans, he’s hoping to deliver his serious message with a much less serious vibe-- a song that’s enjoyable to listen to.

his head starts to bob as the instrumental begins, a smile on his lips from the start-- and he’s sure that this in itself shocks the people that have seen him perform before. he clears his throat, stance relaxed as he breathes the lyrics into the microphone.

is this love, yeah is this love, yeah sometimes i know, yeah sometimes i don't, yeah

“the next line, what should i write? so many words are circling me, but i don’t like single one.”  yeosang paces back and forth across the stage, his hand pushing his bangs out of his face as he delivers the lyrics clearly and fluidly through the microphone. his tone is firm but his expression remains unbothered, the tone and melody of the song contrasting with the heavier meaning lyrics.

and the story he tells this time is a vague one-- of a push and pull relationship between a mother and son without explicitly stating either role. it’s lyrics full of doubt but painted over this cheery, easy going vibe. 

it’s a catharsis of sorts as he reaches the chorus-- it’s the end of his regret.

난 그냥 사람, 사람, 사람 넌 나의 모든 모서릴 잠식 나를 사랑, 사랑, 사랑 으로 만들어 만들어

“i live so i love, i live so i love,” yeosang bounces across the stage, hoping his energy is infectious as he rocks back and forth with the beat, moving his body with whatever feels right in the moment.

he dives right into the second verse, and this is the epiphany-- the second verse a tale of forgiveness, but cerainly not of forget. his expression is a little bit more solemn, and his movements have restricted to hand movements as he focuses on the judges fully-- he’d been glancing at them and the other members of the audience throughout the performance.

but he finishes his verse abruptly, like he’d rehearsed, with emphasis and ends with a final

“if it’s love, i will love you.”

his breath comes a bit harsher, the beads of sweat gathering at the corners of his temples as he fixes his eyes on the judge panel one last time. he bows his head down, microphone held tightly between his hands.

at the very least, it feels like a weight has been lifted from his chest. and he feels like he’s shown another side of him again, along with his display of skill.

he straightens up again, lips curling into a slightly shyer smile as he raises the microphone to his lips one more time,

q. “ so let’s begin. how did you feel when you received news of the callback? ”

yeosang blinks slowly, taking a careful breath in and out before he finally answers, honestly, “nervous.” he cracks a smile, eyes looking away from the camera as he rubs the bac of his neck. “excited, grateful, but mostly nervous. i didn’t want to get too far ahead of myself-- after all, i made it past the first round last time as well,” he explains-- his voice quiet but firm, answers clear and enunciated. “i knew i had a lot to do if i wanted to be able to pass this time.”

q. “ i see, then do you think you’ve improved enough to pass this time? ”

that question throws him off slightly-- he wasn’t expecting such a direct question, such a non-general one that he pauses for a beat of a second before he swiftly responds, “i think so,” and hurries to follow it with, “i’d like to think that i’ve improved in the year since i first auditioned-- so i would say yes, i believe i have improved-- and i hope it’s enough to pass.”

q. “ moving on-- what did you think when the judges were revealed? ”

“i wasn’t surprised,” he laughs gently. “since i’ve seen them before. but, it was interesting to see them again now that i have seen them in person a few times, not quite as nerve-wracking. i doubt they remember me-- but i hope i give them reason to this time around. that’s what i’m planning.”

q. “ were there any performances that stood out to you? ”

and yeosang was dreading this question, but it wasn’t unexpected. he did manage to think of a few that he could call to the front of his mind, luckily-- because he didn’t know how else to explain that he just couldn’t focus properly enough to have a concise answer.

“the uh... trap mix of baby shark was interesting,” he muses, “i.. can’t quite remember the name of the person who performed it, though, i’m sorry,” he bows his head in apology-- just in the case that said performer would see this, “it was attention-grabbing to say the least. they did a good job,” he finishes politely. “also... hoseok-- i think? his dance and rap had a great vibe-- it was easy and fun to watch-- he has great stage presence,” he hums quietly, eyebrows furrowed as he tries to give his honest opinions about the other contestants.

“the trot version of ring ding dong--” yeosang huffs out a small laugh at this, “i’m not much of a trot fan? but i think he pulled it off well-- it was creative and memorable at the very least.”

q. “ you’re mainly a rapper, right? did any rap performances stand out to you? ”

“ah... that question pulls out my bias,” yeosang admits with a sheepish laugh, “but also, i think it’s well deserved to say that for rap performances, i most enjoyed changbin’s, chan’s and moonbok’s. changbinnie performs almost effortlessly, and his song was a good, easy-flowing choice that i think a lot of the audience will like. chan-hyung was strong as usual-- that was to be expected. and moonbok-hyung... i like his voice. it’s nice to listen to and easy to follow and get into, even for people who aren’t too fond of rap-- i think that’s what his music sounds like.”

q. “ speaking of performances-- what did you think of kim sihyeon’s performance? ”

“ah--” yeosang smiles at this, wide and easy as he nods his head, “i didn’t want to just announce it and put her on the spot like that-- but i guess since you’re asking me, it’s pretty obvious that sihyeon is the friend i wrote my song for.” he nods again, curt this time. “her performance-- she’s been improving constantly, and i think she showed a great side of her musicality in her performance today. we’ve been friends for a long time, and i’m grateful to have her by my side for this journey this year. i’m cheering her on as well, always.”

q. “ is there anyone you are certain will move on to the next phase of the mgas, and likewise is there anyone you are certain will be eliminated today? ”

“to those questions...” yeo deliberates before firmly stating, “i have no comment. thank you for your time,” and the interviewer seems to be dissastisfied with such an answer, but ends up waving a hand and giving him the okay to return to his seat.

and with a soft breath of relief, he stands from his seat and bows to the staff and the camera and straightens up with the brightest smile he’d shown since appearing in the room.

it had been a rough two weeks.

yeosang had almost fallen off of the couch when he'd received the email, nearly startling poor dubu who was snoring at the foot of it. he'd read it over and over again, mouth forming each word as the words, bold on the lcd screen of his laptop reflected from his eyes in its glare. when he was positive that it was real... his brain began to conflict.

he'd hoped to make it to the next round, of course-- but his hopes had been the same last year as well. he doesn't just want to make it to the next round-- he wants to do more, he wants to show his growth. so his teeth worries at his lips as his hands lay idle on his laptop as his worries get the best of him. he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath-- decides worrying will do no good. he'll just have to go for it-- he'll just have to do it, he'll have to do better.

he leaps into action.

the living room that had been finally been tidied up after the hurricane of the weeks before the first audition was thrown into a frenzy as yeosang immediately decided his best option was to pull out an old song and rework it-- he'd spent a good few hours flipping throuhg his notebooks of lyrics and finished, unfinished, barely finished, and barely started compositions until his frantically working hands had paused at a particular two sheets, paperclipped together.

his eyes can over the pretty-much completed lyrics, and the music behind it before he decides yes-- this is what he'd be working with.

he connected his music equipment, his mics, all of his software... and he began to tinker.

-

he'd had his backing track prepared and loaded onto his phone, earbuds blasting it on the way to the venue that morning as he stared out the bus window.

there's always room for improvement, always ways for it to be better-- but yeosang, at the very least, was ready for today.

even so, his hands twitch, back tenses, jaw clenches slightly-- all these little ticks as his name is called by a familiar voice. and he'd known he would encounter them again eventually, and he wished he could say it was less nervewracking the third time around. he hears sia whisper a quiet encouragement as he stiffly stands up from his seat and walks toward the stage. he breathes out slowly, head down as he steadies his breathing-- eyes fixed on his sneakers as they take one step after another, carrying him past other contestants, until the floor changes and he knows he's standing on the stage.

center stage.

and then he lifts his head, eyes devoid of any of the nervousness he had expelled on his walk up there. he fixes his eyes on the judge panel, his hand reaching up to shield his eyes from the light shining on him, eyes squinting so he could make them out for just a brief moment. he then smiles, politely and respectfully, friendly, as he steps back from the microphone and stand to provide a full bow for the judges. he straightens up and steps forward again, hand wrapping around the mic naturally, comfortably. when he speaks, his voice is soft and calm, but loud enough to be clear through the microphone.

"hello. my name is kang yeosang, 21 years old. for my performance today, i prepared a song written about a good friend of mine. thank you."

as with most of his performances, he closes his eyes, both hands wrapped around the microphone as the backing track begins. his eyes open when the peaceful piano begins to flood through the studio, and his hands tighten around the microphone, loosening again as he finally opens his mouth, a bit of rasp clinging to his huskier voice as it rings over the instrumental.

i’m walking on this street can you hear that 이제 시작이야 나와 걸어줄래

he'd been doing a lot of studying in the past year-- and by studying, he's been listening to more styles of music, listening to a lot of different artists, emulating tricks and sounds that he likes into his own songs. he'd come to like rap-singing a lot, and was a lot more confident to show it this time around. he pulls the microphone close to him, practically ( but not really ) touching his lips as his eyes close again, the first verse falling from his lips smoothly.

일어났어 벌써 아침이네 날이 밝고 있어

he remains still for the duration of the first verse which has him partially singing-- no gestures, no movements, putting all of his energy into conveying the meaning of his song through his voice. that's the reason he writes them, after all-- because they mean something to him. and this one, specifically, meant a lot. the lyrics were written with care and continuous re-editing, until he was satisfied.

after all-- the song was about sia. sihyeon, who was practically his sister-- who empathized ( empathizes ) with him, who has accompanied him through every major part of his life, who is always there to encourage him and bring out his best. who was there with her that day, and who he hoped to encourage as well.

his eyes find her briefly in the crowd-- not that he can see her directly, but they dart over in her direction, lips curling into a gentle, easy-going smile before he straightens up again, hands gripping the microphone tighter and pulling the stand upright as he begins the rap verse.

this verse is stronger hitting-- if the previous one spoke about the comfortable, nurturing aspect of their relationship, this one is a bit rougher around the edges, meant to get across the hardships they'd experienced without going into detail about either of their stories-- vague but concentrated. and how they're stronger because of it.

his rap verse fades out with him practically on his tippy toes, tapering off as he prepares to sing again. and he relaxes once more, heels touching the floor of the stage as he takes a short but deep breath, the lyrics falling out with his next breath.

i can be better with you how could I say thank you no one can replace you

a slow inhale is meticulously taken, his voice softer now as the backing music starts to fade a bit as well.

you’re all that matters to me how could I say thank you no one can replace you

and the music stops there, but he hums a tiny bit before he delivers the final line in the resounding silence.

be better be better be better for you

his head lifts once he's finished, the serious expression on his face lingering for a beat, for two. a grin then breaks across his face, partly because he knows it's expected, and partially from the adrenaline and the elation that always comes after he's performed. he drops one hand to his side, the other remaining on the microphone as he states into the microphone,

"thank you, again, for your consideration."

yeosang steps away, taking a spot next to the mic, both hands clasped in front-- and bows one final time.

4:25 pm.

"good work everyone," yeosang bows his head to each of the staff members as they bustle past him, returning the friendly smiles and the cheery calls that were frequent after a finished shoot.

he's heading back to the dressing rooms, hands busy unbuckling the accessories hung on his pants when he's stopped by his agent with a wave of his hand.

"oh yeosang, you're in a hurry-- have some birthday plans?"

yeosang blinks at him slowly, smile frozen on his face-- "ah-- i didn't think you would remember," he chuckles, waving off the protests with good manners. "no, i'm headed to the noraebang to work today, they asked me to come in a bit earlier so i'll at least get off before midnight today."

the older man nods his head and claps him on the back a few times.

"such a hardworking kid. get home quick so you can celebrate with your family, hm?"

"...yeah i wi--""

and like the busy man he is he's off after that, leaving yeosang behind, the chain accent hanging limp from his fingers.

5:10pm

"ah yeosang," the auntie at the desk greets him as he walks into his apartment building, "a big package was left for you today, do you need any help carrying it up?"

"of course not," yeosang blinks at her and responds with an easy laugh, "i can handle it mrs. oh, thank you."

and so he puts his duffel bag on top of the box and carries it up the stairs, slowly-- it was hard to see over the large cardboard box. he drops it to the ground to unlock his door, breaths coming out in short spurts as his chest rises and falls, trying to go back to normal. he pushes the door open and manages to gently get the box inside with a few careful kicks, the door falling shut behind him with a soft click.

he falls to his knees next to it, elbows resting on top as he exhales a sigh. curious, and with a bit of difficulty, he flips the box until the taped paper with all the information faces upward.

to: kang yeosang, address: -------- seoul, south korea

from: jung sara, address: -------- berlin, germany

yeosang stares at the tag for a few minutes, mouth parting slightly. his phone reminder alarm snaps him out of his daze and he's on his feet and in his room to get ready for work.

he leaves the apartment without another glance behind him.

11:50pm

soft yellow light flickers off of the walls, the shadows dancing across the white surface and bouncing off of the tables. it flickers off of the white cardboard of the box that had been placed carefully next to his door, but had not been touched since. his eyes are closed, hands clasped together on the table, soft fur tickling his skin and heat radiating from his side. he opens his mouth-- and he blows.

the light goes out.

yeosang stands up and treads carefully over to the light switch, flicking it up and squinting as light floods the small area of his living room. rubbing at his eyes slowly, he walks back over to where dubu is sitting and wagging his tail-- he barks once at him excitedly. a soft, fond smile lifts the corners of his lips as he sits back down on the floor in front of his coffee table, scratching the pup between his ears, "thanks."

he plucks the candle out of the small cake he'd picked up on the way back from work ( matcha and vanilla-- he wasn't much of a chocolate person ). he reaches into the plastic bag and pulls out a cup of whip cream he had requested, setting it down and uncapping it for dubu.

ruffling his fur affectionately and leaving his hand resting on the dog's back, he leans back on his other hand and murmurs,