#be:accepted

she confidently smiled to the camera and introduced herself. "hello everyone! my name is park seol hee!" she did a quick and polite bow to the camera and then faced the interviewer and did another bow. this wasn't her original plan today. she was on the hunt for a viral bakery. she wanted to try the interesting flavors on her stream tonight, but before she could make it, the girl was stopped for an on the street style interview. the interview seemed simple enough, and seol hee was confident it would go well.

she nodded her head as she listened to the question the interviewer was giving her. a fake and exaggerated gasp left her lips "i can't believe you're calling me a wannabe! i'm destined to be famous!" she made an exaggerated model pose towards the camera and continued, "have you seen me? it would practically be a crime to deny me a debut! i'm basically perfect!" she gave the camera a cheeky wink, before letting out a laugh. "and i'm funny too! a born entertainer! what more could companies want in their talent?" she laughed, while she began to straighten herself out. looking around and checking to see the faces of the crew behind the camera. they kept up their stoic appearance, but seol hee wasn't nervous at all. "i'm just kidding, you shouldn't take things seriously all the time." she directed to the crew more than the camera.

Light brown down casted round eyes dared not to meet those dark blue familiar eyes that she has grown to fear whenever her father is angered. The man behind those daunting eyes do not always bring her anxiety; they do when it comes to the grand expectations that are expected of her and her vocal capabilities, musicality, and flow mastery. Eden’s father, as always, is her harshest critic, but she understands that he wants her to succeed in her dreams. The man whom she shared half her DNA with is by all means highly qualified in his critique being a singer, songwriter, and producer himself, the flaws even as minute he can easily pick up.

 “You think you are in tune? Have you smacked your head on the pavement, and all your senses have gone away? Do it again, come on, I know you can do better.” His attempt to soften the rumble of his mercilessness veiled as productive criticism truly did little to soothe the ache deep in her heart. She understood that her father’s criticism was at least coming from a genuine place.  

merxat opened the video with a bright smile and a polite bow. "hello! my name is dawamaiti mirexiati." it was reflex now to use the mandarin version of his name. though often with his customers he just used merxat or mire. "i'm twenty three years old from urumqi, china. i speak mandarin, korean and uyghur. and today i'll be performing miniskirt by nina."

he knew that picking this song was a little bit of a risk. it was one of nina's enduring hits and was very sensual but he felt like if he managed to carry it off it would be memorable at least. and merxat was confident that he could pull it off, he'd been practicing for several weeks to clean the choreography to the best of his abilities and he'd cut the song around the rap part so that he wouldn't strain himself with the more difficult vocal parts later in the song.

he found his mark and turned on the stereo. as soon as the music started he began the modified choreography. although he would have liked to do the original version before the ban he didn't have the ability to capture the floor part very well so he went with the modified choreo because it filmed better and it was a little easier to sing when he wasn't laying on the floor.

merxat sang along into the over the head mic he'd borrowed for this, although his singing voice wasn't particularly anything to write home about it was passable and he stayed in tune. what he was really going for was nailing the sultry feeling of the song and hopefully pulling off the rap well enough that they'd understand what he was going for.

merxat continued the song, putting his all into seducing the camera. when the rap came up he did his best to give it his own spin, rather than just imitate what the nina members had done on stage when they performed it. by the time his alotted time was up merxat was breathing heavily but he was satisfied with his performance. he gave himself a few moments to catch is breath before standing up to go turn off the camera.

when the music starts, there's nothing else that yumi can hear, the sound of the world around her fades into white noise and, eventually, nothing - not even a dull hum in the back of her mind as she closes her eyes, gripping her microphone and throwing her head back. in this moment, she's a solo act, though the song isn't one of her own; something passionate and anthemic by one of her favorite groups, a pretty typical choice for her. nevertheless, she's the one singing, belting out the words at the top of her lungs over the sound of fans calling her name as the music swells, building to the climax of it all when suddenly--

"yumi!" her manager yells, snatching her headphone out of her ear and shoving her shoulder. yumi blinks her eyes open, dropping the electric milk frother she'd dubbed a mic, jolted back into reality where she's a cafe barista, not a rockstar. reality smells a lot like overblended strawberries, the blender's blades making it all smell like burnt rubber and the looming threat of an electrical fire. there's strawberry leaking over the edge, even as she presses the button to turn it off. "what the hell are you doing?"

sheepishly rubbing the back of her neck, yumi shrugs, unsure of how to answer the question even though it'd no-doubt been rhetorical. her manager's face is bright red, veins popping from her forehead in a way that suggests she's under stress that can't be healthy for anyone under 30. beyond the glass divider, the customer who'd been waiting for their strawberry matcha all along looks perturbed, unsure of how to carry on as yumi's scolded in front of her. she thinks to tell her that this isn't anything new, that she's used to fucking-up-a-little-bit and getting scolded - that that in and of itself is her charm, her and her manager's aegyo, if you will - but something in the look of absolute rage in her manager's eyes tells him to keep her mouth shut.

"go to my office," her manager says through a tired, longsuffering sigh, pointing behind herself to the great beyond of the bright yellow door labeled 'staff only'. she goes.

it takes fifteen minutes for her manager, hyoyeon, to join her and, when she does, she gets this sinking feeling.

"yumi..." hyoyeon says in that pitying, sorry way that people always do when they've run out of patience with her. "i don't know how to say this."

because she's a career fuck-up with a heart of gold, she saves her the trouble, "i'm fired, huh?"

"it's been great having you work here, you've got a ton of charisma and the customers love you, but you're too unfocused." a pause, "or, well, focused on all of the wrong things," hyoyeon amends. "it's better this way."

here, she frowns, though it reads like more of a doughy pout. she considers pretending not to understand what she's saying, but instead says, "i'm a really good barista."

"you're horrible, but you're cute and i was hoping that would make up for everything you lack as an employee. you're always ten minutes late to your shifts and you forget to restock the ingredients on the line before you leave — hana has been complaining about it for the last two months and i can't cover for you anymore. it's time to grow up and get it together, yumi..." hyoyeon reaches out to touch her knee, as though comforting her. she gets the feeling that she should be offended about essentially being told her role at smoothie nyam-nyam! had been 'eye candy' for the better part of the six months she'd been there, but she's actually kind of flattered. "somewhere else."

"what's this i hear about you getting a 45 on your last exam?" his father asks as soon as he sees him.

"i don't know. how am i supposed to know what you heard?" austin returns, opening the fridge and searching for a water without even looking at his dad.

his dad just sighs. "aren't you embarrassed?"

"nope," austin replies easily.

"really? you aren't embarrassed that your sister is going to be more successful than you? even rhiannon shows more potential than you." austin's jaw clenches. he grabs a water, then turns on his heel to face the man.

"i'm not embarrassed. angie deserves to be successful. you're just an asshole. you should be embarrassed that you have two daughters and are still such a misogynist."

he takes a sip of his water, then adds, "also, don't fucking talk about annie like that." even rhiannon shows more potential than you. like it's some shock that his younger sister might have a bright future ahead of her. it pisses him off.

"i don't know what i did to get such disrespectful, lazy children," his father complains.

"i don't know, been the prime example of laziness? sure, you have a job, but then you get home and just sit on your ass and drink or watch tv or both. aren't you embarrassed that angie is more successful than you? at the very least she's a better parent than you. fuck."

"you ungrateful piece of shit. you know things have been difficult with your mother, but i still allow you to live in my house even though you contribute nothing–"

"it's been over 10 fucking years! you think we aren't sad that the nurses at the fucking mental hospital see our mom more than we do? do you think angie likes taking care of everyone without a mom to take care of her? no! but we fucking – get on with our lives! because that's what we have to do. maybe you could learn a few things from us? fucking asshole!" austin shouts.

"fuck you! you are grounded. indefinitely. until you learn some manners. unless you want us to ship you off to school in korea too?" "oh yeah? wanna know what i think about that?" austin leaves the kitchen, heads toward their front door, and opens it, giving his father the middle finger over his shoulder.

"austin dabin yoon, you–"

he doesn't hear what his father says because he slams the door behind him.

he doesn't know where he's going. he doesn't have any money with him, so it's not like he can take the bus to some faraway destination and never look back, no matter how much he may want to.

he'll just walk. he knows his dad won't wait for him to get home safely, so maybe he'll just stay out until the man has gone to sleep so he doesn't have to talk to him again.

[Camera pans to Han Jian. He sits upright in his black varsity jacket, hands folded neatly in his lap. There's a confidence in his posture, but a seriousness too.]

"My dream is simple, but not easy. I want to be someone who can move people. I want to be remembered, for my name, for my family, and for my art. I want to be a performer who commands a stage, who tells stories through dance, voice, and expression. I want to be someone who earns applause, not someone its expected for."

He glances down for a moment, then back up.

"I come from a very privileged background. I know that. There's nothing I need that I can't already access, except this. Except the chance to start from the bottom and prove I belong somewhere based on talent and effort. The industry is brutal, yes. But it's also beautiful. It rewards perseverance and authenticity. That's what draws me to it." A soft smile now.

he stretches; like his usually does when it comes to dancing. it was always important to stretch, wasn’t it? then again, maybe he was currently overdoing it just a bit, because he was running through his head on doing this video audition. he had a feeling that it was something that he was going to do well; but, were the people who were going to open up his audition and view it, think so too? or was leean just being delusional in some kind of sense of thinking that he was going to do well? it probably wasn’t worth it to dawn on it, he should probably just do it. he had to think of it like a play on the soccer field; you can do everything in your power to make sure you get the ball to the net and get that woosh of the ball against the back of the net. but, sometimes, it doesn’t happen like that and something else gets in your way. but, there’s always more chances to score throughout the game. it was better to view it like that, wasn’t it? so, instead of taking all this time to stretch when he’s already stretched, he decides to just go for it instead. with one more stretch and a slight lifting of his black t-shirt; he decided it was time to just go for it. 

so, he does. 

he turns the camera on, before stepping back to get into position. “hello! i’m twenty-one year old, go leean!” he says, bowing towards the camera. “i’m currently a college student studying music and dance at seoul national university,” he states. really, he probably didn’t have to be saying all of that because did they actually care about any of that? but, truthfully, leean was unsure of what else to actually say. “and i hope i get the chance to get to be a trainee and maybe an idol under your company in the future,” he adds onto his words. now, he just feels like he almost made it awkward in a sense. but, really, he was simply hungry for it; he wanted it. he needed that push to finally get into chasing this music dream that he has, the one his parents so badly want him to achieve as well. nonetheless, he quickly brushes past it like he’s on his skateboard. “i’m going to perform hot for you!” he states. it’s not long before he lets the music play.