#doc:sph

         Who in their right minds would spend an early morning sacrificing sleep just to learn the science of kimchi-making?

         Under the right conditions, Myungsoo would.

        He wakes up to a bad morning that day, feeling as if his stomach has transformed into a monster overnight. The food offered during breakfast had not been enough to satiate his hunger, and so the prospect of getting to eat free food (one of his favorites, no less) afterwards is enough to lure him into signing up for the morning activity. Anyway, what could go wrong with kimchi?

         The trainee shows up several minutes late for the session but he’s warmly welcomed by the instructor already wearing red pepper paste-stained gloves. Quietly occupying one of the vacant tables, he looks at the other people in the room and feels a twinge of embarrassment upon seeing a fellow trainee. No words nor waves are given as a greeting -- just a smirk as an attempt of dispelling the awkwardness rooting from the idea that he’s actually here with the intention to learn more about kimchi.

          “What’s a pretty girl like you doing here alone?”

          Myungsoo hears the question cutting through the faint background noise of speeding vehicles and night breeze. “Are you waiting for someone?” More slurred words spill into the air; the owner of the voice is a gangling man around his twenties as the trainee can see from several feet away. In the vicinity was only him, the stranger, and a girl whom Myungsoo barely talked to, but recognized enough for her name to be remembered. Circumstances can be seen from many a perspective other than his own, but to Myungsoo, this scenario he’s witnessing doesn’t spell safety at all. (Especially when the female is evidently avoiding her pursuer’s incessant prodding.)

          His steps further approach the bus stop with suppressed urgency. Eyebrows deepen into a scowl as Myungsoo announces his presence with the scuffle of his sneakers against the pavement, rough and heavy. He takes more steps forward to his fellow trainee, interrupting the other man’s drunk soliloquy without so much as a warning.

          Training in Sphere reminds him of school in more ways than one: there are strict schedules, demanding classes and different kinds of students he’d rather not stay in a room with for more than five minutes. One of the most notable things about the company, however, is its notorious line-up of teachers that exercise their authority in the best (worst) way. While it might be true that horrible teachers exist in every learning institution (even in entertainment companies like this), Myungsoo wishes there were a way he could live without them.

          He’s only a few levels away from seething as he finds himself standing outside the music room with another trainee, their vocal coach giving them a condescending look that makes the young male’s jaw clench in barely-concealed resentment. “I don’t need five-year-olds in my class. You two will be happily welcomed back once you pipe down and resolve that argument of yours, but until then, learn how to act your age.”

rkluna:

luna spotted myungsoo in the hallway after independent study let out as the herd of sphere trainees gradually channeled towards the diner for dinner. if asked, she would blame being able to recognize him by the back of his head on being on the same season of the mgas as him and watching his performances from backstage, although it was probably myungsoo’s signature aura that gave him away– something like a natural, silent state of misanthropy. of course, that didn’t dissuade luna. she practically skipped over to his side, then swung an arm around his shoulders like it wasn’t a complete invasion of personal space.

“so, sphere’s grumpy cat kim myungsoo, have you thought of a nickname for yourself for the upcoming evaluation yet?” truthfully, luna never knew what to expect from myungsoo, so any of his ideas could’ve been genius or flatter than his typical tone of voice when speaking. “if you had to give me a nickname what would you call me?” obnoxious, luna answered the question herself in her mind with her best internal myungsoo impression.

          Apparently, half a day of contemplation isn’t enough to think of a short, simple line that would showcase his prime identity as a budding artist. The evaluation task makes Myungsoo realize that he isn’t aware and certain of himself as much as he thinks, for every idea that pops in his mind is rather tacky or unbecoming, and other people’s (other people being Joonyoung) suggestions don’t quite make it past tolerable level. The quandary continues to occupy him even as he makes his way to the cafeteria for food, not noticing another trainee prancing towards him until he’s slightly shaken from the impact of her throwing an arm over him.

          The tears won’t stop... In the end...

          This world without you...

          Everything... is a dream...

          Myungsoo’s eyes fall shut, palms meeting a face painted with frustration. Japanese, apparently, isn’t as easy as he used to think it was. Having learned the basics back in his first year of high school and picked up a handful of things through the years from different kinds of media, he had quite the confidence about choosing his next performance for April’s evaluations, but the paper in front of him tells otherwise. 

          The translations that he obtained online just won’t cut it. There they were, Japanese words directly converted into their Korean equivalents as conveniently as modern technology could provide -- still, it doesn’t mean that merely memorizing a song and singing it in front of important audiences would do the work. It violates his personal standards, not to mention his coaches’. Being a fan of the artist who sang the song, he already knows by heart every pause and drag of the lyrics; however, he’s greedy for something else: a deeper, more heartfelt understanding of the song that would open doors for a better, more emotional performance.

          If only he were fluent in Japanese.

( /he’s been keeping a cold distance to Myungsoo ever since the trainee signed to the company, a hint of bitterness on his tongue whenever he looked at him, if only because of the circumstances of the other’s contract signing and with some influence from Jonghyun as well, but Baekho has never liked being distant or cold to anyone, even if he does kind of agree with Jonghyun’s logic, so when he approaches Myungsoo during their lunch break, it’s with an apologetic smile and a kind tone. ) Myungsoo, right? ( /he knows it’s right, of course he does, but he still says it anyway. ) I don’t think I ever properly introduced myself… In fact, I’m sure I didn’t. I’ve been colder to you than I should have. ( /he gives a sheepish laugh, a hint of guilt in there as well, before giving a bow. ) I’m Kang Dongho, but pretty much everyone around here just calls me Baekho. I know you’ve been handling yourself pretty well around here but I… just wanted to let you know… if you need any help with anything, just come and see me, okay? I’ve been around here the longest, so I know most of the tricks. ( /he smiles, a little brighter now. ) I’ll be happy to help any way I can.

[/ he’s been approaching every single employee since the memo was sent out, every single employee no matter if they’re a staff member, coach, senior or junior trainee — he’s going up to every single one of them, laying his pride entirely aside to do what he feels is right] Kim Myungsoo-ssi … [/ he stops before him, his eyes downcast, unable to look him in the eyes or even lift his head, and he dips into a full 90 degree bow, a very strange and sudden act of strong respect and apology. this doesn’t look like the normal, charismatic hong jonghyun, and rightly so, especially after what his actions have cost everyone at sphere] I’m sorry for my actions and how they’ve affected you and everyone else. I didn’t think and acted immaturely and I can understand if you’re upset or pissed off at me and I will accept full responsibility for my actions. I’m sorry.

          The last thing he expects to happen while he gets distracted with the vibration of his phone during an hour-long gym session is for his elbow to nudge the unfortunately uncapped water bottle by his side. It’s only a moment of distraction, the briefest seconds of carelessness; yet he manages to create a little accident — the bottle tips on the surface of the yoga mat he’s currently slumped on and spills its contents, leaving Myungsoo with only a murmur when his eyes fall upon the sight.

          “Shit.” The curse escapes him in a whisper (thankfully), reaching out by reflex to put the bottle upright. The damage has been done, however; more than half of the liquid had already spilled on the mat in waste. “Aish…” is all Myungsoo can only sigh out at the aftermath before rising from the floor and walking off to find something to clean the mess up.