#audtape

the week leading up to the performance has been rough.  jei spends most of them under her blanket with her brother’s phone glued to her hand, shopping as if retail therapy is going to help cure the emptiness that loss will leave behind.  she had spent the week before the casting preparing, going over choreography that she’d already once learned and recording her voice to lay over the live performance bits in all the right places.  since then though, jei lost her interest  -  not that there was much there to begin with.  the only thing that she cares about now is shopping and sleeping.

but she still pulls herself out of bed on the 21st, as much as she may not want to.  it’s hard not to recall the choreography and the words of a song that has haunted her since the summer of 2018, even if jei doesn’t want to admit it.  even though she would have liked to practice more, sometimes it’s better to just allow your body the grief that it needs.  breaking up with hyun was probably the worst thing she could have done before this performance, but it was for the better.  for him.  for her.  for them both.

that’s what she has to tell herself.

by the time that jei arrives, she wants to perform even less than she did when she realized that she ultimately fucked up.  the track of her song is still sitting in her bag, safely  -  she just takes one look at the line and feels nothing.  there’s no desire, there’s no interest.  at first, she doesn’t even bother lining up because standing there for hours to perform a song for two minutes is the last thing on her list of things she wants to do in her life.  

so she spends her time watching performances instead of waiting herself.  it was a good thing that she and jinyoung didn’t arrive together originally because if they did, he likely would have pushed her into line with him.  an annoyed sigh escapes her lips and she pushes back her hair, eyes scanning the stage and finally seeing him perform some rendition of a song from some group that she didn’t listen to.

and still, she feels nothing.  no desire.  no interest.  deep down, jei wonders if she’s depressed.  (  deeper down, she knows that she is and just won’t admit it.  )

it doesn’t take her long to meet up with jinyoung, just to congratulate him on his performance.  maybe he won’t comment on the fact that she hasn’t performed.  maybe she can get out of this and just go home.  (  jei should have known she’d never have such luck.  )  it’s probably a joke, but he very pointedly says that he hasn’t seen her perform yet and jei knows she’s stuck in this.  in reality, he probably wouldn’t care that much if she just went home.  but mention the betrayal of her words even passively and jei becomes a stubborn bitch.  “ ugh, fucking fine.  i’m going.”  jei can only imagine the look on jinyoung’s face  -  more than likely, it’s probably smug  -  but before she can see it and get more annoyed, she turns away.  her eyes roll now that he can’t see her and finally, she goes to sign up, ending up in her place in line for the time that it’ll take for her to perform.

jei finds that she wishes she’d at least feel something.  even if it’s hate, it’s better than nothing at all.

when her name is called without much pomp and circumstance, jei still doesn’t really feel anything.  there’s no fear, but there’s also nothing else, either  -  aside from the confidence that she exudes walking towards the stage, her expression is unreadable.  but that is just like jei; when she gets to the stage, it’ll be different.  even if she says that she can’t feel anything at all, she’ll still be able to express it through her dance at the very least.

because that’s what jei’s good at.  it’s the only slip that she’ll allow herself when it comes to her tower walls.

her turn on the stage and looking out to the many faces staring up at her doesn’t really faze her.  it never did before either, even though she’s sure that others felt the pinpricks of stage fright while standing in the spot she is.  she heard it in some of their voices, even  -  but when jei speaks, it’s as clear as a bell.  “ hello .. my name is jei kim.”  bet you thought you’d seen the last of me.  “ and i remember a song called tell me.”  her lips quirk up just a little, though whether it’s a smirk of confidence or a sneer of utter hatred, no one can be sure.  most will probably assume the former.  after all, no one could hate tiger jk that much if they’re here ... right?  (  they’d be wrong on that, but jei isn’t about to correct anyone over something so trivial  -  or something that no one else will understand.  )   “ so that’s what i’ll be performing today.”

familiarity fills her senses as she takes her place and her position on the stage.  this is something that she’s done once before in much warmer weather, some months ago.  she carried the same feeling with her then that she does with her now  -  that this is hardly the thing that she wants to be doing at the moment.  but jei is someone who tries to live her life without regrets, so the lack of desire won’t show in her movement.

even if she doesn’t care about trc, even if she’d rather burn every entertaiment building to the ground than to step foot into one of them again, the last thing she plans on doing is fucking up this stage performance on purpose.  because even if she doesn’t care about this audition, she cares about dancing.  she’d never mock it.

this is a performance that has haunted her since the mgas, though.  she remembers every word of the song, every distinct movement, and more so, everything that myname is known for as the music starts to play.  jei won’t stumble because she can’t, not when that day is a moment in her life that has replayed in her mind since last summer.  tell me is really a song that haunts her, and maybe with this, she’ll finally be able to lay it to rest.  maybe she’ll be able to let it go.

maybe this time, she’ll be able to reflect what the song means.  that was one of the problems that they had with her, right?  her expression?

now that she’s lost hyun by her own choice, maybe she’ll be able to express this song “ correctly”.

anywhere anytime

어딜 가든 어디 있든 네가 그리워 못 참겠어 제발 다시 내게 내게 돌아와 줘 제발 다시 내게 내게 돌아와 줘 어딜 가든 어디 있든 네가 그리워 못 참겠어 제발 다시 내게 내게 돌아와 줘 제발 다시 내게 내게 돌아와 줘

she remembers this song so well.  even the parts that weren’t hers in the mgas are ingrained in her memory, easy to follow along with the cues and to perform.  some might say she’s lazy for performing a song that she’s already performed once for an entire nation, but that’s hardly the case.  while it’s true that jei doesn’t really want to be here right now, would much rather be at home in bed or anything else than trying to dance for a company like a trained monkey, she’s performing this song for herself.  to prove that she’s much more than just the weakest link.

jei has already been the weakest link once in her life.  that’s not something that she wants to go back to.

도망쳐버렸어 익숙해져 점점 착각처럼 끝이 온 줄 알았어 다 망쳐버렸어 eh 또 난 뻔한 드라마 속 eh 서 있는 거 같아 텅 비어 허전해 그저 후회뿐

singing is something that comes to jei easily.  dancing is something that comes to her even easier.  rap though is not one of her talents and jei hardly wants to even try mastering it.  however, with this song, it’s different.  although rap is hardly something that she’s used to doing  -  it’s hard not to be able to follow along with the words and the flow when this song is something that she’s been replaying over and over in her head for months now.  and maybe jei has an easier time with the rap because of it, like those people who can do rap covers easily just because they listen to a song thousands of times.  it’s not like this rap is difficult either; it’s just spoken with feeling.

and there comes the problem with expression.  but what the judges don’t know is that jei has recently lost someone that’s touched her heart further than anyone who came before him, broke down walls that she built or climbed them just to peek at her through the window with a smile.  it’s hard not to be able to express the feeling in this song when it hits so close to home.

between the rap, the singing, and the dancing, of course she’s going to be a better dancer.  but jei doesn’t think she’s doing poorly in any aspect at all.

i luv you in my mind 달콤한 너의 말 그때처럼 너에게 듣고 싶어 oh

i know you in my heart 날 위로했던 말 돌려볼게 안아볼게 다시 뜨거웠던 때로

어딜 가든 어디 있든 네가 그리워 못 참겠어 제발 다시 내게 내게 돌아와 줘 제발 다시 내게 내게 돌아와 줘 어딜 가든 어디 있든 네가 그리워 못 참겠어 제발 다시 내게 내게 돌아와 줘 제발 다시 내게 내게 돌아와 줘

if she’s honest, jei never really thought her singing was truly the problem when it came to her performances.  perhaps when placed in a group of main singers, consistently, her voice paled in comparison but now that she’s alone, maybe it’s easier to show off her vocal colour more.  it’s the only explanation that she has; it’s not like they told her she downright sucked at it but instead, needed to shine more. 

now that she’s here, alone and on a stage, it’s easier to vocalize.  some parts of her voice are pre recorded due to the way that the vocals overlay other parts in the song that she would have rather sung live, and she’s sure that it’s a shock to hear her voice coming from both the speakers and the microphone that she’s singing into.

jei prepares more than she seems; she knows what she can and can’t do.  it could be why her groups called her a good leader, even if she often blamed herself when choices she made led to people going home.

tell me luv luv luv lu lu lu lu luv luv lu lu lu lu tell me luv luv lu lu lu lu tell me tell me tell me tell me luv luv lu lu lu lu luv luv lu lu lu lu luv luv lu lu lu lu 내게 내게 돌아와 줘 babe

the chorus itself is a break, much of it pre -recorded and autotuned to sound a little similar to the original.  this makes it easier to show off her dance, with every movement defined and sharp as its supposed to be  -  it’s what myname is known for, after all. 

let’s go i miss you all day 너를 그려 매일 마치 화가

and as much as she doesn’t want to admit it, tell me does follow the basis for her skills fairly well.  the rap isn’t too difficult, the dance is much more so and the singing is right on key with her voice. jei finds that the rap comes easier if she speaks it with feeling, her brows furrowed together and a darker look in her eye as she looks out into the audience and moves along with the beat.

기억을 replay don’t pass me by 널 내 품에 줘 uh 널 찾아 헤매 go walk walk hard

on the coming of the final note, she holds it for just a few seconds knowing that it’s not the true ending of the actual song and that the cut would be strange if she didn’t do so. and that’s it  -  it’s the big finale, the end of the song, and hopefully she’s put her demons to rest.  jei really hopes so, because she’s tired of feeling bitter about a situation that she never wanted to be in in the first place.

but he’s kind of glad they don’t because he can’t play the harmonica.

regardless, despite all the elated feelings and the joking around, things aren’t completely perfect.  not because he isn’t looking forward to the audition, not because he didn’t want to try out for this company - there was a reason nova was once upon a time his first choice, after all.  but it still comes with a feeling of dread and disappointment, and a feeling of guilt.  hiding behind his smile is the awkward reminder that he should have been doing this with his twin - they were supposed to get into a company together.  train together.  debut together.

this is what they’ve been planning for years now, and knowing that, jinseok feels like he’s committed some sort of betrayal.  like he’s taking a huge step forward while his brother has to hang back and watch him from the sidelines.

the thing about twins is, it seems like his brother knows before he even tells him.

he always seems to read the way jinseok holds his smile differently, if he’s worried about something or feeling a bit more down than he lets on.  because even though people think that jinseok is oblivious, he doesn’t quite wear his heart on his sleeve.  he’s a lot more secretive than he lets on, and his brother knows that.  he knows what jinseok needs without him having to say it.

that night when hyun is still at practice and jinseok is sitting at the kitchen table alone and staring off into space, he sits across from him. “ did you pick a song yet? let’s practice.”

jinseok smiles, but his lip trembles.

all of them are moving forward.  

the thing about rap is, if it doesn’t mean something to you then you might as well be simply reciting something dull.  in that moment, a rapper practically becomes an actor without a soul.  a sun that fizzled out a long time ago.  that’s something that jinseok refuses to become, especially in front of the panel in nova - if they really want to see his skill, they have to see the full extent of it.  that includes his heart, laid bare and beating for them to read like a bloody storybook.

as much as he may want to, he puts aside the idea of perhaps writing his own song.  making a beat, writing the lyrics, and memorizing them in the time span of just two weeks is difficult, and this audition should show off what he can do, not what he struggles with.  he doesn’t want to appear foolish and make them think he bit off more than he could chew - for now, at least.  the audition isn’t the place for the possibility of a stumble; if jinseok makes it through, he can go above and beyond trying to impress.

that leaves the choice of a song, one that means something to him and one that he knows well enough to perform.

things always come to jinseok when he’s not thinking about them.

no matter how hard he was putting his brain into the process, trying and failing and reaching for lyrics that would work for him, it just wasn’t working.  but the moment that jinseok let himself relax, it’s like the choice was set before him on a dinner plate.  loco’s you don’t know talks about his heart and all the things he feels for one jung jaewon and maybe, he thinks, that’s why it’s perfect.  it’s strange that a song he hasn’t written himself can resonate so strongly within him.

but it’s a song that came to mind while thinking about him.

(  and no one has to know.  )

the day of the audition does not bring with it anxiety, but instead, excitement.  jinseok has never been the type to get a dose of stage fright when eyes have been on him; instead, with attention he thrives.  when his foot taps against the floor, waiting for his turn in the audition room it is not out of nerves but rather, anticipation.  he wants to be able to show his spark.  the practice he put forth with his brother, late hours into the night when they both really should have been sleeping since they had class the next day.

there’s still the sense of guilt that lingers somewhere in his gut, but they are all moving forward.  jinseok has learned these past few days that he, too, needs to take steps on his own.

so he wants to make this all worthwhile.  just because he’s auditioning without his brother this time, doesn’t mean that he’s losing him.  it doesn’t mean that their dream of debut together can’t come true.  these thoughts sound off to the beat of you don’t know, because that’s the only song that jinseok has in his head these days.

it even sounds like the receptionist’s voice works with the rhythm when she calls his name.  everything for him right now is about the music, about this.  everything is about this audition.

he steps into the room and he’s all smiles, just as he always is - but there’s nothing lurking behind it this time, no guilt and no worries.  just a wide smile that shows all his teeth, one that doesn’t fall when he dips his head low for a bow.  “ thanks for having me today!” his voice is sure, confident and he looks the panel in the eyes when he speaks.  “ i’m oh jinseok, and i have something for you - ah, where did it go -” he starts searching inside the jacket that he’s wearing like he’s lost something, an aha moment and then - he pulls out his thumb and his forefinger, shaped into a heart.  “ found it ~” he snickers and drops his hands comfortably to his sides, rocking on his feet.  

(  he hopes he didn’t mistake the quick smile he thought he saw before a second glance showed only carefully schooled neutrality.  )

“ when i called for this audition, they told me you wanted to see what i could offer in terms of rap and vocal, so that’s what i’m going to do - kind of glad you didn’t actually ask me to balance on a fitness ball while playing the harmonica because that would have taken a lot of learning.” he pauses with another quick grin. inwardly, jinseok wonders just how many people joke around with the audition panel before they really begin.  he decides it doesn’t really matter - after all, this is his personality.  he’s always trying to get people to smile.  so he just brushes it off, scratches the back of his head and shrugs. “ still would have done it if you asked, though.  but since that’s not what you wanted to see, today, i’m here with loco’s you don’t know.”

there are a lot of things important to rap.  there’s knowing the lyrics, judging the flow, but jinseok still feels like having heart in the song is what matters most.  he thinks about his brother, because that’s who stayed up late with him to work on this audition.  he thinks about his parents, and what they’re going to say by the end.  

but most of all, he thinks about jaewon, and so he starts off slow.  

it begins with a simple melody.  singing isn’t necessarily his focus, but jinseok enjoys it - he can carry the tune in clear tones and closed eyes.  the thing about this song is that the singing supplements the rap that comes after; it’s not meant to be the focus but rather, an allusion to sweeter yearning and bottled feelings.

난 오늘밤도 너를 떠올려 니가 모르게 니가 모르게 난 지금 이 순간에도 어김없이 너를 떠올려  니가 모르게 니가 모르게

he doesn’t show any doubt, because these are his real feelings all wrapped up in a song that’s almost meant for him to sing - to rap.  and rap is where he really shines, eyes open now and looking at the panel.  it’s like this song is for them rather than who it’s really meant for, because that’s something that they’ll never have to know.

오늘도 조용하게 말하지 닿을 수 있다면 오늘도 조용하게 말하지 닿을 수 있다면 어쩔 수 없다는 상황 탓을 하며 괜히 상상해 보는 너와 마주치는 장면 그래 다시 볼 수 있겠지 널 언젠가는 매일 너의 사진들을 확인하는 나와는 다르게 애써 무관심한 척 보낸 말들 더는 아무것도 모른 채 살고 있겠지 노래를 듣게 되도 그냥 지나치겠지 용기를 내고 싶어 마셨던 술 때문에 잃었던 기억 서롤 붙잡고 쳤던 춤 더 빠져들기 싫어서 멈췄던 대화 넌 지금쯤 어떤 상대와 또 인연을 맺고 있을 수도 있어 이기적이지만 그 인연은 아니길 난 빌어

the first verse comes off smooth, natural.  he’s practiced it enough to chant it in his sleep, and even though this is loco’s song, jinseok - with his own charm, with his own way, is making it his own.  it shows in the way he points at the judges when a line in english comes in the form of lines sung, every time a you is spoken and a one, two, three -

생각했었지 미련을 갖기엔 인생은 너무 짧다고 그런 말을 하기엔 난 아직 어린가 봐 너의 말 한마디에 아무것도 하지 못하고 있는 나를 알기에 걷어내고 싶어 네 마음에 모든 벽 궁금해 그 벽장 속에 모든 것  조금이라도 내가 담겨있을 까 아니면 다른 누군가로 가득 차 있을까 분명히 언젠가는 잊혀지겠지 시간은 가고 이 노래가 남겨지겠지 이 감정을 버리고 싶지 않아서 난 끄적였던 가사들을 이 곳에 다 담았어 넌 지금 나의 모든 것을 벌거벗겨 그래도 난 부끄럽지 않아 당당하게 서있어 하지만 넌 아무것도 보지 못해 지금도 너를 떠올리네 네가 모르게 yeah

he finishes off strong, the second verse punctuated with an english ending.  this verse was trickier than the first, with different ways to work his tone and his lyrics - it’s almost like telling a story of hesitation, worry, with different stops and falling tones on certain syllables.  but jinseok did his best to convey, and he thinks that he succeeded - he did everything as he practiced those long hours into the night when he should have been sleeping for school.

so with nothing left to give but a smile, jinseok finds himself satisfied.  no matter how this turns out, he knows he gave them what he could offer.  there would be no regrets.