#* solo

they’ve reached hallway that seems to have been converted to a makeshift waiting area, with several chairs lined up along the wall. the staff member hands nayoung a sheet of paper to pin to her shirt – her own name printed in big letters, so the judges will know who they’re watching when they look back on her video. after gesturing her to what’s apparently an assigned seat, the staff leaves her to sit with the strangers in the hall, all of whom are also wearing their names on their fronts and most of whom look at least as nervous as nayoung feels.

closing her eyes, she begins mouthing the lyrics to her song, focusing hard on that to avoid thinking about anything else, about the others kt is auditioning. after running through the rap several times, she thinks of the song she’ll be dancing to and starts doing the gestures of the dance, though she keeps it small, just reminding herself that she still remembers the choreography.

she doesn’t know how long they wait. she loses count of how many times she silently rehearses, but soon enough the girl in front of her is called in to the room they’re sitting outside, and nayoung’s chest clenches in panic. she’s going second.

when her name is called, nayoung stands up and does her best to ignore the nervous nausea that sweeps over her. she can’t help her trembling as she walks to the door and follows the staff member into the room, where there’s a camera set up next to a long table of judges. nayoung’s eyes scan the table quickly, and her mouth drops open when she instantly recognizes katie lee sitting in the middle. i’m going to dance to a katie lee song in front of katie lee, is her first ridiculous thought.

she bows as she walks to the middle of the room, handing her flash drive with the music to the staff member who showed her in. she feels like her throat’s closed up, and she doesn’t know if she’ll be able to even speak, let alone rap.

“i-i’m–” her voice cracks, and she winces a little before clearing her throat and trying again. “i’m im nayoung. i-i’ll be dancing t-to…” she meets katie lee’s eyes and stops speaking, nerves closing her throat again before she forces the words out. “katie lee’s black,” she says, giving the woman a jerky nod. “then i’ll be rapping to lc9′s dream girl.”

the music starts, and its familiarity settles her slightly. she’s glad that she decided to start with dancing. it’s more familiar, more comfortable, and will hopefully help her nerves settle.

after just a few short notes, nayoung throws herself into the first move, swinging her arms over her head and bending down at her hips. from there, the dance comes easy to her, though she keeps careful counts in her head so that she doesn’t accidentally rush – that’s been her consistent problem in practice.

the dance is more sensual than she usually does, but she likes it. she’s been working on it for a few weeks now, and she’s long since gotten over the embarrassment of the sexier parts of the dance, which were added at sooyoung’s suggestion. the dance technically isn’t anything like contemporary or ballet, but it’s nayoung’s personal style, which combines the smooth gracefulness of those with the modern popping of hip hop. the song is perfect for it, too – with a solid percussion bass under the smooth vocals and consistent acoustics, it’s like the song was meant for her dance.

as if to communicate this, nayoung finds herself meeting eyes with katie lee during the parts of the dance where she’s facing the judges, her eyes ignoring the camera and skipping over the other faces to land on the artist of this song, the ceo of the company nayoung’s trying to get into. in her eyes is a daring kind of charisma that doesn’t show up when she’s speaking, that isn’t there except for when she’s dancing.

she doesn’t have the regular charisma of most idols, doesn’t find it easy to even introduce herself or get through a simple interview. but she’s a performer – it’s this determined, challenging charisma that kept her on the rink for so long, that got her to the junior grand prix twice. this is why she ultimately chose to dance for this audition, because this is what she wants to show kt. this is her true talent.

when she gets to the end of the chorus, she steps up and pops her limbs and head a few times, her ponytail jerking with every dramatic movement of her head. she ends the dance with a hand on the front of her leg, the other extended slightly near her hip. her eyes are still locked with katie lee’s until she breaks the contact, brushing a few loose strands of red hair out of her face and stepping back to the center of the room, trying to catch her breath.

“next i’ll be rapping to lc9′s dream girl,” she says, not giving herself any more time than absolutely necessary to catch her breath. she’ll rap a cappella, not needing the music for this. it would just detract from the focus of her rapping, especially with the high note that covers up the final lines. after licking her lips and taking a deep breath, nayoung begins to rap.

the feeling of seeing your eyes, your lips, you’re so beautiful

she didn’t choose this song because she identified with the lyrics, but because she’s known the rap since shortly after the song was released. she’s loved lc9 for years, and has supported every comeback of theirs since their debut. she was lucky enough to see them in concert in seoul twice since she got into them, and she thinks it’s only appropriate that her first company audition – and for kt, no less – include one of their songs.

the rap lines come easily to her after years of doing them along with the song and under her breath when the song has been stuck in her head, and after the constant practicing of it she’s done in the last few days.

from one to a hundred, i treat you gently the day you chose me is when the world stops you’re my world

when the end of the song comes, nayoung opens her eyes and lowers her hands – she hadn’t even realized she’d closed her eyes, or that she’d been gesturing along with the imaginary beat while she rapped. the room is strangely silent now, lacking the sound of nayoung’s rap filling the room. she doesn’t find it difficult to speak anymore, and her eyes find katie lee’s again as she bows. “thank you for your time,” she says, her voice lacking all the shakiness and nerves from before.

when she straightens, she meets katie lee’s eyes one last time before bowing shallowly again and turning to leave.

it’s amazing what one minute of performing could do – it turned her nervous panic to adrenaline, and nayoung can’t help but smiling to herself as she leaves the room, following the staff’s directions to sit back down on her seat. a kind of giddiness fills her now, after what felt like a successful display of her talents.

A knock of a hand to his back and his friend was telling him that he was ready. Everything was set. 

Yuta closed his eyes momentarily, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly; like his mother had taught him the first time he had to act in a drama next to her. A stammered end result, but it had been enough for the director and Yuta’s gushing mother had stroked his ego further in the years after. His throat cleared, his head nodded, and his shirt adjusted into place as he glanced towards his friend in signal for being read. The smooth beat of the beginning began, Yuta slipping forward and into the easy roll of his body as he began, 

“Baby--”

there’s only a small moon in the sky tonight It covers your softly trembling shadow Baby, stay just like that My lips are reflected on your clear lips

Your hand pulls me like it’ll touch but not We’re black out lay down Our noisy love song Keep it going, hold tight Your red lips make Lips make me

As people stopped to watched or glanced over, Yuta grew in confidence and allowed himself to feel the music more. One hand holding the microphone to his lips as he let the other follow with the wave of the beat, his sneakers working in slides and his hips rolling when necessary. He felt the music, let it move through him and eased through the chorus with a loose charismatic hold on a girl who had stopped to watch him perform. Pick someone in the crowd, center his energy on seducing them until he’s slipping back with the tug of a smirk; a twist and click of his fingers.

Red light green light black out This is what I feel like My eyes are blinded, lower the bright lights I can find you even if I can’t see

Your hand pulls me like it’ll touch but not We’re black out lay down Our noisy love song Keep it going, hold tight Your red lips make Lips make me

There was the subtlest points in his dance, in the repeated rhythmic motions and he left the spark of each of his steps play out slowly. Slow, smooth, easy and then cut with the twist, with the jerk of his hand to his shoulder and rolled out at his shoulders. His voice barely strained, his bangs falling messily and his jacket slipping as he tugged at the denim jeans unnecessarily with his movements. Choosing out another passerby as he came to the music, wearing a boyish smile and putting more energy into his movements; like he was dancing at a club, like he was playing around, like he could own anything he wanted. Empty hand slipping down his body with wave, the roll, until he gripped the buckle and button, tugging roughly and cutting back into the chorus at the beat.

Wet my heart, make it rain So it won’t dry, so it won’t hurt Raining in my room Hug me Feel my warmth So I can fall asleep yeah Wet wet I need an umbrella Wet wet I need an umbrella

but they couldn’t really blame her for that, could they? sure, she’s always been at home at a shoot around the gorgeous models and well-known photographers and powerful magazine editors, but to be the one in front of the camera has her thrown for a loop.

she knows how lucky it is to even be granted this opportunity when it could lead to so many other greater things, such as a solid stepping stone for her to achieve her actual dreams of getting into one of the big five companies to perform for a living, and she appreciates that. but she wants to dance and she wants to sing and she wants to be on a stage. some might consider a photo shoot just another version of that, but it’s hard for her to see that when being a model is such a foreign concept for her.

getting the almost obligatory pep talk from yixing before stepping into the studio for the sportswear photoshoot helps put some of those thoughts at ease, though, so the application of makeup and going through wardrobe seems fairly simple. it’s as if she’s the one on the other end again, conversation coming as easily as it does when she’s the one with the brush in hand, words lively and hands and body animated to match. she almost forgets the reason she’s there, but reality comes crashing down when she’s called for her turn in front of the cameras.

she freezes up.

she becomes a rock, immovable, and her expression is rigid and awkward. it’s as if she’s a prehistoric human preserved in a solid block of ice and the photographer is from the national geographic, taking photographic evidence for the missing link between humans and their ancestors. she almost wants to cry because she knows how bad she’s blowing it simply by the look in the photographer’s and the assitants’ eyes, and she swallows hard, not knowing what to do or what to say. if it were an option, she might have just run out of there without completing the shoot.

but then there are words of advice, and as simple and as sarcastic as they are, they help, because it reminds her of the theme, and of all the direction she’s heard given at other shoots, reminds her that all her experience should be an advantage because even if she’s never been in front of the camera, she’s seen people who were, and through that, she’s learned.

“why don’t you try moving?”

it’s that easy. the words spur her on and she moves. they’re small gestures at first---a tiny pose here, a small wave there, but then she’s absorbing the newfound energy of the room and she’s as active as ever, using the aura that surrounds them as a soundless music to her actions and she’s dancing and it’s the most natural feeling in the world.

by the time the shoot comes to an end, she’s completely forgotten it was a shoot at all. she’s out of breath and a little overwhelmed, but the grin on her face and animated thanks she gives to all the staff involved as she leaves the set lets everyone and herself know that she’s satisfied. even if nothing comes from this, it’s just another experience to put under her belt to help propel her forward, a learning experience.

it takes a couple more hours, but eventually they have a cohesive choreography, and they film it right then and there, with nayoung as the center and focus of the video since it was her idea in the first place. 

it starts with just her, moving easily to the opening of the song, grinning to jiu and chungha giving her big thumbs-up and making dumb faces at her from the edge of the room, unseen by the camera. this opening part is mostly of her own creation, and it shows in the style, which is full of the smooth movements and dramatic hand and arm movements influenced from nayoung’s ballet and contemporary experience. she loves it, loves the fact that she now has hip hop influences to add to that already-unique style, loves how incredibly her it feels. 

she only gets about twenty seconds to herself before jiu and chungha run in, taking their places behind her. as the song brightens, so do they, even holding hands at one point before nayoung spins them both out, a rare wide grin on her face as she does. 

this part is heavily influenced by jiu and chungha’s own styles, and the difference shows, but nayoung still loves it. she loves dancing with them, loves the over-the-top joy of the moves themselves. her grin doesn’t leave for the rest of the dance, and several times she meets her friends’ eyes in the mirror and see that they’re also clearly having fun. and even though they’re just performing for a camera and a mirror, it’s still incredibly fun and still manages to give nayoung the rush that performing always does, that amazing pump of adrenaline and glee that she’s chasing after in this dream. 

the dance ends with nayoung’s arms around her two best friends, the three of them grinning before jiu rushes forward, waving cheerfully at the lens before moving her hand over it, cutting the video to black. 

nayoung shows up to the seocho complex twenty minutes before the arrival time she was told, always being more comfortable arriving at an unfamiliar event and remembering sooyoung’s rants about how big the place is. upon arriving, nayoung immediately recognizes that her cousin was right -- the seocho complex is huge. however, thanks to the generous amount of signs and employees pointing her in the right direction, nayoung has no trouble finding the modeling area. 

she bows frequently, at least once to each person she talks to. her words are polite and quiet when she needs to speak to any of the employees, and by the time she reaches her first stylist nayoung feels like a jack-in-the-box from bowing up and down so much. 

“which concept are you going to do, dear?” the woman preparing to do nayoung’s makeup asks. 

nayoung replies instantly, a small, polite smile on her lips. “cocktail,” she says confidently. it hadn’t taken much effort to decide which one to go with -- as a former figure skater and ballerina, the gracefulness needed for a fancy cocktail party theme comes easily to her, and what some of her friends call “stony” expressions may fit nicely into the atmosphere. 

the stylist gets to work right away, and nayoung quickly loses count of the different types of makeup that are applied to her face. she closes her eyes when she’s told, occasionally moving her head this way and that as the woman instructs her. 

she has no idea how long it takes, but finally her makeup is finished. she looks at herself in the mirror and smiles a bit at how pretty she is. she’s always been self-conscious of things like her round cheeks and too-small mouth, but the way the stylist applied the makeup makes nayoung appreciate even the features of her face that she’s never liked before. it isn’t her first experience with professionally applied makeup -- she sat in the chair a lot during her ballet days, especially -- but it’s still nice to feel so pretty. 

she bows graciously and thanks the stylist before following directions into the next room, where she finds another stylist waiting among racks of fancy dresses and suits. this doesn’t take as long as the makeup -- the stylist takes one look at nayoung, nods to herself, and immediately rustles through the racks for a moment before removing a knee-length, sleeveless black dress. nayoung dresses behind a divider, folding her clothes and leaving them on a chair that the stylist indicates. she then slips into a pair of black heels and looks at herself in the mirror. 

the dress reminds her of one of her first free skate costumes, and she finds herself smiling again at the memory. the costume was the one she wore at her second junior nationals, where she placed third -- her first time ever winning a medal. 

she has to pull herself out of the memory quickly as she bows again and thanks this stylist, too, before moving into the actual set. this, like so many things at the seocho facility, is bigger than it probably should be, but nayoung keeps these thoughts quiet and swallows down her nerves as she bows repeatedly to every employee she passes. 

she has to wait a bit before it’s her turn, but she recognizes plenty of people around the room -- it seems many of her friends also signed up for this, and also chose the cocktail party concept. nayoung manages a couple short, quiet conversations with a few of them, but nobody sticks around for very long after they’ve finished shooting. 

when it’s finally her turn, she bows to the photographer as she introduces herself, and, after watching several others pose before her, is unsurprised when he greets her cheerfully. she wonders if whoever’s in charge told all the employees to be gentle with the models, since most of them are amateurs. 

“alright nayoung-ssi,” the photographer’s voice pulls her from her thoughts, and she reminds herself to pay attention. “we’ll start with you on the couch, i think. sit here by this arm, yes, like that, and rest your elbow on it -- perfect!” he exclaims as nayoung places her chin daintily in her palm, her fingertips resting lightly on her cheek as she stares at the camera. 

after a few clicks of the camera, she realizes she’s held what’s essentially a poker face so far. to mix it up, she raises an eyebrow and quirks the corner of her lips upward in a tiny, mona lisa-esque smile. 

the same cycle continues for about ten minutes, with nayoung changing position every few shots. she sits on the courch, stands behind it, and sits on the side of the arm, and all of her focus stays on keeping her figure graceful and her expressions vibrant. if she doesn’t focus on what her face is doing, she knows it’ll fall back into her natural resting bitch face, and she knows from experience that that doesn’t make for a good picture. 

by the time it ends, her feet are killing her, but she still stands up straight and walks with confidence and grace, but still makes sure to bow to and thank the photographer and every other staff member she sees.