#hakyeonrk

As he grew older and rebelled against his own kin, Minsoo discovered a vast number of facts, for instance; dancing is in fact not only for girls, boys danced too and it was pretty damn hardcore watching them bend their bones in ways that must surely not only hurt but needed talent with a lot of flexibility. By this point, the middle boy learned that, for dancing regardless of its ballroom or street nature, he didn’t have the talent nor the flexibility for it at all. Leading him to lean more towards other forms of performing arts, and a great deal of respect to those boys who can dance, like Kim ‘Key’ Kibum. 

The same ‘Key' that he practically wanted to throw across the Royal’s practice room by the third day of practicing the dance routine. Initially it frustrated Minsoo to no end because despite knowing that that the other trainee was only trying to help, -in fact the other two,  Cha Hakyeon who helpfully pointed out a couple of things for him to work on and Tuan Yien who gave him more sympathetic looks which went surprisingly well with his encouraging nods; both of whom wanting to help too- Minsoo knew didn’t just need help, he needed a bloody miracle. 

Saying this out loud would have caused tension amongst them, and quite frankly with what’s happening with Jieun, causing a scene with the other trainees was the last thing he needed. Its a good thing that he was never really the verbal type of bloke, preferring to act on things rather then spit rainbow bullshit or toddler temper tantrums. But frustration and determination becomes of him, by the time their performance was nearing; Minsoo had finally managed to catch up with them, although given he must have looked like an amateur twat. With the thoughts of, as long as he doesn’t trip in their performance, then he’s going to count this as a huge success.

Then just like that, it was the day of their  performance. For the months he’d become a trainee, the reoccurring theme of evaluation days were the strange mix of emotions; mostly numb from exhaustion -simply wanting to get it all over with- and the overwhelming need to do his best in front of the older highly respected members of society. The latter something he’s never felt before. It was nerve wrecking. It also felt bloody brilliant. 

Letting his alter ego take the wheel Minsoo watched from the inside of his mind as Cap impressively kept up with the others. Every calculated move, drilled into him, seemed more natural now that Cap was in control; Minsoo always overthought and overworked, leading to inevitable fuck ups. While Cap only came out during a performance and dire situations, the alter seemed as though he was the one out this whole month practicing with the Royal boys. He even managed to keep up with the notes as he sang -damned right he sang - and never looked more comfortable dancing with his fellow trainees than he ever did.

so he focuses. he practices. he absorbs himself in training -- even more than usual -- and tries to make the best of the short time he has left. 

because he doesn’t want to assume they’re going to offer him a renewal. he doesn’t want to get his hopes up: it’s better to expect and prepare for the worst than to hope for the best. that way he can’t be disappointed with how it turns out -- theoretically, at least. 

he practices harder for this eval than he has for any other, because although it isn't his last, he feels like it's a chance to prove himself to his coaches and trainers, and to so jisub himself. he sees it as his chance to really show them how much he’s improved in everything -- how he’s worked to improve his skills so he can really be considered a triple threat like he wants to be. 

he wants to show them that he’s learned. he can do other things besides just dance now -- he can do everything necessary. he can sing, rap, and dance, of course, and he can also be charismatic enough onstage to capture the judges’ attention, and be creative enough to make the song his own. 

but the theme of this evaluation is teamwork, and surprisingly that’s where he finds himself struggling the most. he’s used to learning on his own, even in large-group workshops. that isn’t to say he’s a loner, though -- he has plenty of friends in the company, which is why he didn’t have much trouble finding a group to do the eval with. however, as he began practicing and working with them to figure out the details of the performance, he was shocked to realize that he’s become far more independent than he thought he had. 

it’s strange working almost constantly with others, though not because they disagree often. on the contrary, they all work well together -- it’s easy for them to make decisions and find compromises when they need to. no, kibum just feels strange working with others after getting so used to working alone on his training. 

this month, spent practicing almost exclusively with three other male trainees, has made him realize just how much he took those hours spent practicing alone for granted. except for the little bit of time he spends in his apartment showering and sleeping, his independent practice time is the only time he gets to be completely alone in his day-to-day life. 

however, as the month goes on, he finds himself growing accustomed to the group practices, just as he did to his independent ones. the other members place him in charge of making sure they all learn the choreography properly, and he’s also responsible for modifying the original dance to suit four people rather than seven. learning the dance is a breeze for him, and it doesn’t take him long to learn the rap he’s given either, as that has always come a bit more naturally to him than singing. 

teaching the others the dance -- specifically minsoo, who is the least dance-oriented among them, to say the least -- is also not a challenge thanks to his experience as a dance teacher, though it is rather time-consuming, as his primary method is making them all repeat it perfectly so many times that it becomes muscle memory and even minsoo at least seems like he knows what he’s doing. 

the most difficult thing by far is his singing parts. he somehow ends up with the most difficult vocal lines of the song, and while he’s thankful he doesn’t have to belt out any high notes, the falsetto the idol achieves is daunting. he finds himself wishing for the help of his singing coach -- insults and all -- more times than he’d like to admit. but he manages. he practices on his own, in front of his teammates, in the mirror, even quietly in the shower at home. he matches his pitch to the audio, then finds the notes on the piano and matches that instead, to give it a more unique sound, to make it his. 

and once he learns how to hit the notes, he has to incorporate them into the energy of the song, which is a bit easier. this isn’t so much singing as it is simply performing -- adjusting the energy and charisma of the rest of the performance around the notes he spent so long learning.

by the end of the month, they’ve got the whole performance put together, and they spend their practices running through the whole thing, over and over, working out the kinks. at one point, kibum suggests setting up one of their phones or a camera on a tripod in front of them and filming it, so they can all watch the recording and see the performance from an outsider’s perspective. 

it works, and it helps them all get the last few recurring mistakes worked out, until the performance is as close to perfect as kibum thinks it’s going to get, but he’s only thinking that way because he doesn’t want to risk calling it perfect in his head. again, he doesn’t want to get his hopes up, or his expectations too high. 

the day of the eval dawns, and the performance goes just as they practiced. they stand in their starting positions as they introduce themselves and their song to the panel of judges. once the formalities are out of the way, they kneel and wait for the music to start.

once it does, the performance is just like all those practices, and kibum plays off the performance of the other three a lot, since the dance’s energy lends itself to that kind of thing. he smirks and winks towards their panel audience whenever he’s in the center for his lines, which is far more often than he expected to be centered in a group of four. he revels in it though, his nerves melting away as he loses himself in the performance. 

look at me. i belong here. i’ve grown. i’ve improved. i can make the stage my own, even while working with teammates and letting them shine too. 

please don’t make me leave.

he’s reminded of his audition for royal -- nearly two years ago now somehow feeling both like an eternity and like no time at all -- as he channels his passion into the dance, rap, and vocals. he thinks of how much he wants to stay in royal, how much he wants to show these coaches and managers and whoever else is on the panel that he’s worth keeping for another two years. he wants to imprint himself on their minds two months early, to make sure they remember him when it comes time to make that fateful decision.

because while the decision could be life-changing for kibum, it’s nothing more than a simple business move in their eyes. he has to make them remember him, so that they don’t forget him when it matters. 

as the performance nears its end and there are more vocals than raps, giving kibum and hakyeon most of the lines, he allows his body to move automatically in the dance through muscle memory and habit, so that he can focus mainly on perfecting the rather difficult vocals. they finally come to the dreaded falsetto part, and though he has to close his eyes to focus enough to hit the note properly, he does it, and the song moves on before he can even have time to worry about it. 

there’s a cocky grin on his lips as the performance ends, to go along with his expressions through the rest of it, but as they move out of their final pose and bow to the panel, and kibum feels his heart pounding in his ears, it widens into a genuine smile before they hurry away to allow the next group to go. 

and a few minutes later, as kibum’s legs turn to jelly and he slides down the nearest wall to sit on the ground as the adrenaline of the performance finally drains from his system, he’s finally able to let go of the stress of the last month. because for this performance, at least, he gave it his best shot. for the first time, he actually feels like a real triple threat, not just someone who wants to be one.

he accepts yien’s hand to help him up before high-fiving his teammates, a laugh escaping him as a huge wave of relief watches over him.