#& eval

debut. minseo makes good points about the song choice, at least. if a hundred idol hopefuls had to learn the dance for a shot at debut, jinwook thinks it’s a fair gauge for his personal rite of passage, too.

at the same time, it’s a gamble. the choreography is difficult, and expectations will be high, and if jinwook can’t keep up, maybe baek jiyoung will send him off the ship entirely. maybe they really will fail him. debut plans shift all the time, and sphere isn’t obligated to honor his commitment just because jinwook told them he wanted it.

so it’s an opportunity to reassure himself as much as it is for his coaches to evaluate. for all his lamenting, he really does feel like his dance skill has been going somewhere since the summer. even if minseo barely gave him so much as a passing rank. 

and for all the insecurities about why me and feeling his debut chance is undeserved, maybe this will prove it to himself, calm his worries until the next ones arise;

and if and when jinwook does debut, maybe he’ll rest easier with the shared experience of a hundred others.

170926 D-4  |  “i think i should switch to pick me from season one. baekhyun tried to teach me that one last summer. i remember complaining a lot, but i don’t think the girls’ choreography was as hard as this one.” jinwook is frowning in front of his laptop again, rubbing out a sore shoulder. it’s amazing how much a day or two of struggle has managed to change his attitude toward the challenge. “dance bootcamp is just—” he mimes chomping jaws, eyes blown wide. the room is dim, but his teeth flash bright white in the webcam preview. “—it’s trying to eat me alive.”

back in jeju, minseo appears unamused. “it’s barely been two days, oppa.” she tsks. “you shouldn’t give up on yourself so easily.”

he shouldn’t. but he can, and he does more often than not. it’s always been this way — jinwook is disciplined in many ways, but other mountains seem impossible to climb, so why bother making a fool of himself?

“it’s just the way i am... you know that.”

his sister frowns at that, but it’s the barely-suppressed sigh and eye-roll that get to him — as if it’s so ridiculous to even suggest such a thing. part of jinwook is baiting her to prove him wrong. he’s exhausted, so he’s not hiding anything, and besides, jinwook really believes it sometimes. it’s unacceptable for an idol, though - for a group that will be asked, who is the most diligent, where the answer may be murky among the rest of the shining sphere boys, but no one will think of jinwook. maybe they will scoff to themselves as they glance over him in consideration.

jinwook’s eyes flicker to the clock in the corner of his screen. it’s late, but the twins are studying for entrance exams this time of year. they hardly ever sleep, so minseo probably needs the break. jinwook doesn’t feel too bad about it. she’d never ignore a call from him anyway.

she knows that this is when he needs her most often: when he’s home alone after training; when his coaches are too harsh but eve is too understanding; when it’s too late to call his grandmother; jinwook’s little sister will unfailingly give him a fresh perspective. she’ll tell it to him straight:

“that’s just the way you are? you can’t dance because you’re lazy?” minseo laughs with all the spunk of an incredulous seventeen year-old. “like, that excuse is bullshit and you know it.”

jinwook expected as much. he knows that hearing it from her holds him more accountable, but he flinches anyway; sometimes his baby sister can make him feel like the smaller one. “that’s not what i’m really saying.” lazy isn’t the right word. it’s so discouraging, though, to sweat all morning in dance workshops, then come back from lunch only to start from scratch, every step muddled and forgotten. every day the same story. whenever jinwook feels like he has the basics down, the next move throws him for a loop all over again. he’s discouraged. maybe pessimistic, but he would hate to associate that word with his personality.

he swallows hard. the same voice gets stuck in his head every time he starts learning a new choreography. how could minseo understand? his little sister has always been so much more talented, even with things that jinwook taught her himself. everything came more naturally to her. “i know you don’t get it—”

“—and i know you’re not lazy,” interrupts minseo. “for real, is that what you’re gonna say? that i don’t get it because i’m a better dancer than you? yeah, we knew that, oppa.” minseo pauses and finally checks her tone. the sneer falls and a strand of hair flutters with her next breath, making the video stream lag for a moment. when she speaks again, jinwook is relieved to hear something less abrasive. “but how do you think you made it so far already?” minseo softens. “like, as far as i’m concerned, you’ve had to work even harder to catch up this whole time? it doesn’t make sense to give yourself an out now?”

all of jinwook’s heart jumps at her sincerity, yearning to agree. “i know you’re right,” he says, “it’s just frustrating.” he just wishes this past year of dance workshops could feel like it’s worth something when he’s still lagging behind, even in this bootcamp, where none of the other participants specialize in dance either.

his brain tells him his time investment is worth something; jinwook knows this to be true when he digs up archives of older workshops and compares them to his skills today. he prefers to be known for his optimism at sphere too, so to minseo he is eternally grateful for bearing the burden of the more negative moments. his heart still weighs heavier in weeks like these, but he can feel it lighten the longer she stays online with him.

“don’t worry,” he says suddenly. “don’t they get three days of practice in the show?” jinwook tries to let out his tension with a weak chuckle. “i guess i still owe it one more try?”

“yeah,” says minseo, “they do. and you do.” she purses her lips as a long moment of quiet passes, but doesn’t push the lecture further. “wanna show me what you’ve got so far?” she warms her expression with an encouraging smile that has all of her usual energy, but the edges carefully softened. “y’know i learned this one back when it first aired, right?”

170928 D-2  |  jinwook sets his laptop on top of a makeshift computer stand and cautiously steps back, checking its balance. this is one of the more remote practice studios in the building, so the wifi range can be spotty — a sigh of relief leaves his lips when minseo answers the call, appears on his screen and waves hello.

“i’ll make this quick,” says jinwook once the connection stabilizes, “since i’m not sure if you’re supposed to see inside sphere. but i’m one of the last ones around tonight, so — you won’t tell on me, right?” he grins. “just calling to show you that i’m all caught up to the evaluation segment on produce 101 now~”

“it took me a little too long to get it down... but today i worked with a coach i’ve never had before — something about her really made things click this time?” less lefts and rights and fluid counts; more about relative placement and movements matched to lyrics. it’d made a world of difference before jinwook even registered the subtle shift in vocabulary. he chuckles sheepishly. “i know that sounds silly. things don’t really click for me, so it probably helped that i’ve been re-learning the same sections all week, though.” jinwook can feel himself rambling but he knows minseo won’t mind. it must be pleasant to see his usual optimistic self after all his doubts prior.

his sister is five years younger but he’s considered her his equal for a long time; in some ways, both minseo and minjae seem more mature than jinwook. he already knows the twins will both do better than him on their university entrance exams. it will only be a year or two from now that they eclipse his education level entirely.

he’s struggled a lot with insecurities there, but minseo never makes him feel stupid even if she can be blunt. she holds an elegant self-assurance in contrast to minjae’s arrogance; one that always lifts jinwook up in the end. “that’s not dumb,” says minseo. her excitement is genuine, eyes bright. he’s grateful that she doesn’t acknowledge his fickle swings in attitude toward the song. “it’s so cool, see? maybe you were only missing the right instructor this whole time. c’mon, lemme see!”

jinwook’s steps aren’t perfect or delicate, but they’re more legible than they used to be. he watches himself in the mirror and tries to stay within view of his laptop’s webcam. one day he’ll fix his body lines and hunched shoulders. for now, he’s content to keep his feet on the ground and a smile on his face. it’s more than a solid start.

there’s lag to the video call, but he knows minseo will humor him regardless. when he returns to his laptop, he sings a line: “please remember this moment~ tonight~~”

“i will remember this moment, tonight~” minseo sings her promise to the same melody, giggling. “you were so much better, oppa. seriously, i think you’ll get the rest done in no time!”

“it’s a big surprise, isn’t it? i’ll do my best.” jinwook is pleased, but can hear sleepiness in her tone now. he tries to wipe away the heartache that comes with that realization. he wishes he could tuck her in or something, but he hasn’t seen her in over a year. “you should get to sleep,” he adds. “thanks for the feedback, minnie. just don’t get your expectations up too high.”

she smiles in a knowing way. “good luck on saturday, i think you’ll surprise yourself even more.” she raises an encouraging fist before disconnecting. “kim jinwook fighting~ goodnight, oppa.”

jinwook dances one last time that night, spontaneously singing over the track along with the choreography. it’s ambitious, given his exhaustion and the song’s high vocal range, but if jinwook doesn’t sound great, at least he remembers all the steps. he’ll forgive himself for that.

he packs up his laptop and plugs in headphones before he leaves. he thinks of sphere and of debut as he runs the choreography in his head: pick me, pick me, up. please pick my heart.

his chest feels lighter on the walk home.

171001 D+1  |  he emails minseo the video from his final pre-evaluation practice, watching it back a few times before he hits send. 

tonight the star is me, it’s me, it’s me~ the last person to steal your heart~~ ㅋㅋ im ready for my new rank? 🙈🙈

her video call arrives only a few minutes later. jinwook answers and speaks quickly over her greeting: “actually, please don’t judge me. i’ll be happier without knowing.” he laughs, nerves spiking. “i just wanted you to see it.”

“oh— jinwook oppa, are you sure you don’t want your re-evaluation?” he can hear painted fingernails clicking against her desk, and a drawn-out hum of consideration. “i’ll spoil it and tell you that you’re not an f, at least.”

his dance skills are nothing special, but he’s secured the basics after all the months of struggling. he chooses a song to reflect this. where jinwook lacks in flexibility and power, as his coaches so frequently point out, he does his best to compensate with overtime and muscle memory. the steps to 12:30 become manageable even for him, and look clean and fluid in jinwook’s practice videos ( though on closer inspection, he’s often spotted mouthing along with the beat count ).

he recruits help to trim down his lines without losing flow. catching rest on trickier dance sections, and dropping choreography from the bridge entirely, make things more realistic for someone with his dismal lack of live singing and dancing experience ( in a lifetime: the mgas, that nova audition, i feel you, and the christmas evaluations ). when he struggles to bring the elements all together, he finds support from his members, his leaders, and his trainers — every step of the way.

but your warm embrace, i can’t see it or touch it now

the bridge turns into the highlight of the performance. that’s the intention, at least, because jinwook is supposed to be a vocalist on the vocal team. he’s happy with the way he sounds, too, when he’s able to practice only the vocals.

in full run-throughs, the bridge is hit or miss. in front of the panel, jinwook seeks out center-stage and stands in place for the duration. he can feel it, as soon as he stops moving, that he’d gone a little too hard in the first minute. his breath control is rough from exertion, vocals thin, but he presses a hand to his chest and rides it out. the beat mellows — finger snaps, piano, harmonies in the instrumental — and jinwook fights to catch his breath before the high note.

a moment of truth: adlibs soar in the backtrack, and jinwook impulsively drops an octave below them. the note is weak and oddly sustained, and he bites his lip, missing a beat as he grinds back into the choreography.

it’s a small miracle that the final chorus goes smoothly otherwise. hardly a beat after the music fades, jinwook loses the composure and drops his head, an apology on his lips. he bows to the coaches, to the camera, thanking them. disappointment. he pictures it radiating in waves off the panel; his own regret bounds forward to meet them halfway. the sound of his breath fills the silence. when he finally lifts his head, he eyes the red recording light of the video camera, and straightens back up.

he knows he’ll regret this for months if they highlight the take on project convex. it takes another moment of courage to address baek jiyoung directly. “i’m sorry, sajang-nim. i’m not sure what happened there.” jinwook tilts his head, tries to even his voice. “but if it’s possible that i could have just one more try… i think i can show a better performance.”

i know it’s all my fault but i couldn’t let go of the feelings, the hope

“would that be okay with you?” he risks a sheepish smile, though smiling is the last thing he feels like doing. it’s a pity appeal to his favorite coach. vouch for me. he may be out of line, but that performance was out of line, and at least he can say he asked for a second chance. jinwook knows he doesn’t need to clarify the terms of his request: i’ll make it worth the wait.

he hadn’t been lying when he’d told baekhyun he was nervous. it’s only natural for his mind to wander; it’s not a far leap for his brain to skip ahead and see that this evaluation is not just practice. it’s real, concrete preparation. in a matter of months, it won’t be his coaches scrutinizing his words; the whole world could have access to them — and this is as nerve-wracking as it is exhilarating.

the same could be said for any one of his evaluations going forward, though ( and really, every minute of observed practice time since the day the group was announced ). any time he blunders through a dance workshop. any time his voice cracks on a high note. behind the closed doors of sphere, some coaches are harsh — but the public will be harsher.

it’s too easy to spiral into dangerous thoughts from there: wouldn’t it be crushing to fail an evaluation that plays right into his personality strengths? jinwook would rather not find out. before he enters the interview room, he takes a moment to rein himself in.

reset. he shakes his head like a wet puppy dog, both hands slapping lightly against his cheeks. mind clear. it’s just practice. he repeats it to himself again, and the second time, he sticks with the sentiment, snorting at his dramatic worries. it’s just practice, no matter what happens in the future.

introduce yourself and your position.

it’s an immediate relief, the way he manages to perk himself up as soon as he sees that familiar red LED unblinking before at him. the smile that spreads across jinwook’s face feels natural, despite his heart pounding loud enough for the mic to hear.

“hello! i’m kim jinwook, convex’s sunshine vocalist!” jinwook bows to the camera, expression bright, a rookie smile. there’s a brief moment of hesitation as he decides whether to do an extended version. his eyes shift to his coach, who gives no hints, and jinwook hums, continuing. “i got the name sunshine because i smile so much. i’m twenty-two years old and i’m from jeju.”

you’re originally from jeju, but we heard that you moved to seoul just to become an idol?

“ah,” jinwook says, “i originally moved to seoul to attend university here! that was about two years ago, but i’ve wanted to be an idol ever since high school.” he nods, eager to support the question’s implications of his passion, despite his rebuttal. “so as soon as i got to the city, i pursued my dream as often as i could. i participated in the mgas, season three in--” he tilts his head, misremembering the dates for a split-moment, “--the spring of 2016. i also attended some auditions for other companies, but i am so happy that my dreams can come true in sphere!”

jinwook’s attention shifts to his coach, then, instead of the camera lens. there’s sincerity behind the twinkling eyes and cheesy smile. “really, i am so grateful to baek jiyoung and all of my coaches from my trainee period~”

we’d love to hear more about your time as a trainee. you trained for over a year. what were some of your hardships?

“it’s easy to complain, but my trainee period was short compared to some of the other members. my dancing skills in particular are still lacking, and i feel regretful to hold the team back.” he nods to himself, electing to not delve into the grittier details. “i’ll never stop training to improve, so even though we’ve debuted, i do not consider my training complete just yet.”

“also, because of the long hours, i was not able to go home at all since becoming a trainee.” jinwook tilts his head, remembering his long winter hardships. this year, he resolves, things will be much different. this year, there is shining stardom at the end of the winter tunnel. december starts tomorrow, but he doesn’t feel hopeless at all.

“we have a lot of members in our team with faraway families,” he adds. “so i feel thankful to have my members as a strong support system here in seoul.”

of course, hopefully you can see your family again soon.

“of course. my family actually attended our debut showcase!” as the words leave his mouth, ljinwook suddenly brightens at the idea, his hands lifting to clasp in front of him. maybe debuting will finally convince them to make the trip to the seoul for him. he hasn’t seen anyone in more than a year.

“yes,” he continues, rolling on, “my parents, my two younger siblings, and my grandmother all came to see me. the whole family.” it’s a bit of improvisation, but not unrealistic. he’s not sure if there is amusement or disdain lurking behind his neutral coach’s gaze. still, he can’t help completing the brief fantasy. “for my grandmother, she was born and raised in jeju. coming to my debut was her very first time leaving the island in her whole life, so it was really special for me, and for my whole family.”

right, we know that your family influenced your musical interests quite a bit. can you tell us about any other musical inspirations?

“aside from my family... there are so many, it’s hard to choose.” jinwook chuckles a bit, relieved at the not-so-subtle nudge back to idol-related topics. dwelling too long on family matters may have strayed into emotional territory — perfect to frame his backstory in an idol reality show, but probably not necessary for a mock interview like this.

“i’d like to mention nell, first, and second, our company seniors royal pirates. as an aspiring musician and composer, i really admire these bands.”

“and growing up, my favorite idol groups,” admits jinwook, allowing sheepish mischief into his eyes, “were chi chi and brave girls.”

he started learning english in grade school. everyone did, really, but jinwook never lost touch with it. he’d been fascinated by its ubiquity. growing up in a guesthouse, working in a tourist town, and now dating an american girl — basic proficiency (plus relentlessly pestering native speakers) bred conversational skills he’s proud to call his own.

it doesn’t take long to pick up the lyrics of a song he already knows and loves. for his december evaluation, he’d also sung in english, with another slow, stripped-down song.

are two consecutive evaluations enough to earn a reputation as a one-trick pony? honestly, jinwook is just grateful for another assignment that sits nicely within his comfort zone. he dreads the day when he’ll have to prepare a dance performance instead.

his voice has sounded tired lately, struggling to adjust to the demands of trainee life just like the rest of his body. jinwook remembers to drink a lot of water the morning of his evaluation, so it’s not obvious as long as the instrumental plays behind him. the track starts right after jinwook introduces himself with a few comfortable, simple english phrases.

it’s his first performance in sphere with a premade backing track. jinwook had practiced a live guitar arrangement — the song begs you to play along — but ultimately decided against the extra distraction. standing in front of sphere’s coaches, all he has is his voice and his second language.

surprisingly, the biggest challenge is figuring out what to do with his hands. jinwook grips his mic with both at first, almost demure in posture. he errs on the side of over-enunciation through the entire first verse, just shy of dragging the syllables offbeat.

will your eyes still smile from your cheeks?

he opens up afterward, pressing one hand to his chest. it’s not theatrical, but the lyrics are sweet and sincere. jinwook can’t resist a smile as the song crescendos with a short vocal run.

so honey, now...

“take me into your loving arms,” he sings, swaying slightly along with the music. this part is fun to sing, and jinwook relaxes into the more familiar lyrics. it was the easiest section to learn, given how much jinwook had already absorbed in the two years since the song’s release.

kiss me under the light of a thousand stars.

the second verse was much more difficult. besides containing some of the hardest words to wrap his tongue around, jinri insists there’s an audible british accent on the record, which further abstracts it all.

jinwook really truly can’t tell the difference, and he glosses over the tricky lines with some indistinct mix of his, jinri’s, and ed sheeran’s accents.

maybe it’s all part of a plan...

as the music builds again, jinwook sings his way back into familiar lyrical territory. he even lets some of his emotion from earlier spill into the potent song — only for his voice to crack on the second line of the chorus.

he recovers with a smile immediately, reflexively, and picks up the end of the line with only the tiniest waver of embarrassed laughter. “—of a thousand stars...”

jinwook composes himself as two hands find the base of the microphone again. the last few lines flow smoothly, sliding into a little falsetto flourish at the end.

i’m thinking out loud; maybe we found love right where we are.

jinwook bows as the song fades into its interlude, satisfied at least with succeeding in the evaluation’s task, though the execution wasn’t flawless. weak. he resists the urge to bring a hand to his throat.

rest, he thinks. jinwook would only need a day or two of rest to be back at a hundred percent.

in jinwook’s opinion, artistry shouldn’t be measured on a scale, but it’s unavoidable here, isn’t it? he’s supposed to have peers but most trainees are on an entirely different level, so much so that it’s hard to tell if they’re even playing the same game. this is ( probably, logically, obviously? ) just a result of training for so long…  but it could be something inherent - some talents that jinwook just doesn’t have, no matter how much potential baek jiyoung and hyun bin claimed to see in him.

jinri tells him not to be so hard on himself, and jinwook knows it’s not fair to compare himself to trainees who have had professional lessons for years. he knows the necessary strength, stamina, and control will build with time. it’s still frustrating to struggle through hours of dance training each day with no results to indicate that proficiency lies anywhere on the horizon. it’s still frustrating that he’s expected to strain for higher notes in vocal lessons, knowing full well that his voice just isn’t capable of hitting them yet.

so he sticks to something more comfortable for his very first performance as a trainee: an acoustic arrangement of a familiar song, with a familiar friend. baekhyun and lisa needed accompaniment for their duet, and when baekhyun sticks around to mess around with christmas carols after practice time, one thing leads to another. it just makes sense in the end. there’s no point in attempting to show off new skills when there aren’t any quite yet.

he’s been wearing caps more often lately, to hide his terribly grown-out roots. ( his excuses are threefold: baekhyun’s too busy to do touchups these days; jinwook doesn’t want to pay to get it done professionally; and yet it’s not quite long enough to snip the bleached bits completely. solution: hats. )

tonight it’s a santa hat instead of a baseball cap, the cheap scratchy kind - comfort sacrificed for the sake of holiday spirit. despite the itchy scalp, it does help put jinwook in a good mood as he watches everyone’s performances, though sitting with jinri tends to do that on its own. it’s a good few hours of enjoyment before jinwook eventually follows baekhyun backstage for their turn.

they go on right after a flashy ariana grande dance cover, and as jinwook rushes to hook up the keyboard on stage he does his best to keep cool — “idols should know how to contain that energy as soon as you stand in front of your audience” — the critique from his audition panel lurks in his memory, and he visibly relaxes his shoulders. he’s confident in his preparation, and the nerves stemming from the daunting concept of being evaluated will have to be repressed for just a few minutes.

baekhyun introduces himself as jinwook finishes setting up. “i’m kim jinwook,” he adds once he’s settled, “from sphere.” he tests the sound on the keyboard with a simple arppegiated chord. it’s a bit jazzy, hopefully setting the mood. “it’s getting late, so we’re going to dial it back down a little,” he says, shooting a small smile to baekhyun. “this is ‘the christmas song.’”

jinwook begins to play the keyboard as he sings the first verse. neither part is particularly difficult, but he’s pleased by the acoustics of the stage. with the quiet audience, soft lighting, and warm arrangement, the performance seems fit to set the mood for the dim lounge of a holiday party.

Chestnuts roasting on an open fire Jack Frost nipping at your nose Yuletide carols being sung by a choir And folks dressed up like Eskimos

the spotlight turns to baekhyun for the middle section. his english is notoriously sloppy, and jinwook soft-smiles as he listens and plays along. it’s not like jinwook’s pronunciation is even close to perfect either, especially with so many unfamiliar words in this song, but he’s proud of his friend for all the extra work he’s put in. as long as the audience can understand “chestnuts roasting” at the beginning and “merry christmas” at the end, he thinks they’ll be okay.

as baekhyun hits his high note at the climax of the song, jinwook leans back into the mic to ease them out of it, the last verse softer again.

So I’m offering this simple phrase To kids from one to ninety-two Although it’s been said many times, many ways Merry Christmas to you

jinwook smiles, looking to the audience this time as he repeats the last line, fingers dancing across the keyboard keys. merry christmas~, he sings, baekhyun joining in to harmonize on each adlib. they’ve always gotten along well, so it’s only natural that their voices are agreeable as well. making the arrangement had been a breeze too, each aspect flowing together as if the two had practically been destined to work together.

jinwook tilts his head, the white tip of his santa hat swinging in front of him. with the last merry christmas to you~, he leans back to let his voice fade as he plays the outro, a brief ‘jingle bells’ motif. the last chord lingers as jinwook grins at baekhyun again. “merry christmas!” they chime.

he releases the last note and looks out at the audience, many faces familiar by now even if jinwook hadn’t formally met them all. beyond the audience sits the panel of ceos, no doubt full of critiques for the evaluation. if jinwook didn’t necessarily impress, he at least set the warm mood he intended to create. that’s what the holiday spirit is all about - heart. baek jiyoung is full of it, and jinwook hopes one day he’ll prove that he’s worthy of her faith in him.

it should be everything he needs; they’re meant to be his brothers. baek jiyoung certainly fills the role of kind-hearted motherly figure. even her criticisms are filled to the brim with sweetness, but for jinwook she’d had nothing but praise, and it’d turned jinwook’s heart like a flower to the sun. jinwook tries not to take any of it for granted. he wants to bask in her warmth and grow with it.

he sticks close as taeyong emerges as the team’s shining ace of all trades, and he finds inspiration in hyun — whose lack of confidence in the task doesn’t take away from his leadership by example. hyun goes above and beyond to diversify his skills throughout the month, and jinwook is forced to accept that should try to keep up. after all, his dance skills are not quite up to par either, even if he has gained see confidence in them. jinwook stays late with hyun and tries to learn from his work ethic and dedication. night after night, they see each other through it.

their song is difficult, after all, even if they can’t show it in their expressions on evaluation day. jinwook is nervous about their scrutiny on his dance, but excited for the rest of it. it’s fun and upbeat and feel-good by all measures — the mood is not too far off from their debut track. jinwook is great at playing happy. he thinks brightness is a strength of the vocal unit as a whole. a great smile can outweigh a minor slip-up, in performances and in life. jinwook mouths along with hyun’s intro and exudes confidence as they begin the choreography.

your eyes and smile feel so good

they’re not as focused on vocals for the performance. jinwook is thankful that he isn’t responsible for the higher parts, not wishing for a recall to the flush-faced, wavery-voiced evaluation in february. still, he hopes he’s able to show some improvement. these parts are safe, but they’re stable.

it feels good today

jinwook grins after his line in the chorus, letting the exuberance shine through as the unit swings their hips in unison. neither strength nor stamina have ever been a strong point in his skillset as a trainee. still, the song’s breaks allow him to put a ton of energy into the bouncy steps of the chorus - a little too much in this instance. jinwook spins to face his group but takes a step in the wrong direction, his weight shifting when he quickly over-corrects. immediately after, though, they’re awarded a chance to catch their breath. jinwook collects himself and shakes off the mistake. he monitors their “rappers” from the sideline, unable to hide the ragged rise and fall of his chest. when it’s time to jump back into the choreography, cheesiness returns to overpower it all.

i’m only for you, feel so good

it feels so good today

it’s odd being placed front and center for the choruses. jinwook is hardly visible in mansae, shielded by the more skilled dancers in the group. there’s no place to hide with only five members, though. that’s why they’d needed the entire month to perfect this, even with their extra individual dance sessions. the steps are much quicker than even their debut song at times. jinwook focuses on not breaking his ankles on the footwork, and this time the choreography goes smoothly, right through the bridge. jinwook takes a few steps forward here. he beckons to their faux audience, and then finds eye contact with the main camera.

hey girl, gimme your love give me your, give me your, give me your love to me

there’s a bit of lighthearted freestyling near the end, and jinwook thinks it’s a perfect way to leave an impact. he swings an arm around his nearest groupmate and lipsyncs along to their vocals — i feel so good! — in the moment, surrounded by people he treasures and seeing the results of a month’s hard work, jinwook really does.