#nae(queue)haja

          { /late nights out of Sphere are what keep Myungsoo sane; here, in the comfort of his apartment, getting buried in the soft couch instead of sitting on hard dance floors, has become his ultimate idea of rest. it might not be as grand as what his idea of a Great Escape used to be before Sphere, but the exhaustion constantly weighing him down seems to have also meddled with his personal taste, and he really can't find it in himself to complain further. it doesn't matter -- what matters now is that it's been a good night, made even better by the company of his cousin. }

          “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.”