#rkinho

he spoke with juyeon about it, seeking the older out for the first time in over a week. 

but what if im not good enough

just do what feels right kid, dont have regrets. 

and he knows.... he knows what he want. who he wants to reach. his goal right now is not so much a dream, but he could see it becoming that. dancing has grown on him, he likes to dance. it’s almost more fun than cooking, but for whatever reason he’s having so much trouble admitting any of this. he doesn’t know why he can’t just say ‘hey, i want to be an idol--i want to dance’--although, maybe he does know. 

you’re nothing like your brother, he’d fit into all that. you dont fit anywhere, you do nothing. 

( there has been a voice in his head for weeks now, one that sounds suspiciously like his father, that whispers to him how worthless his effort is. how he should give up. he always gives up--- why doesn’t he just give up on this. after all, he’s a lazy kid, he has no drive for anything. he just makes messes and doesn’t care who he hurts )

even in the last week when he was trying to pretend he hated to dance, when he slipped back into bad habits and found himself needing to be picked up twice by his hyungs for different reasons and ended up scolded three times--four if you count inho and sungho as two-- and told himself this is all you’re worth, hyunjoon. when he cried for the fifth time in one week, five times more than he has cried in the last year, and wanted to do nothing more than just implode and not deal with anything--and he kind of did. flashes of harsh words, hard hits, bruises that would last to this day. in all that time he told himself, this isn’t you. this is who you are, why are you doing this. why can’t he just stop.

he told himself. you’re not a dancer--you’re not a chef---you can’t even pretend to care about anything--before he said fuck it and he found himself back at orions practice room.  found himself spending hours sweating out his anger in dance after dance until he collapsed onto the floor in exhausted laughter. grinning like he hasn’t in days, feeling lighter than he has in days. and he finally thought--okay, maybe this is me. 

he worked on a new dance that night, going out and performing it on his own instead of with the rest of the dance crew. he just needed to do this himself. 

he still feels the sting of being cut the first episode. 

he knows he doesn’t have the experience or talent that most had on the show, but to be cut mostly for his age was more hurtful than being cut for literally sucking at everything. he’d rather they tell him he would never make it as a idol or that his dancing stinks, than for him to be cut for his age. it’s so minor--if anything his age was his advantage. it gives the company time to mold him how they want or need. and maybe he’s bitter over that. maybe he’s annoyed that there’s still someone on the show who wasn’t even two months older yet he’s on the show, and hyunjoon isn’t.

OKAY, so he’s a lot bitter. 

but it’s not often hyunjoon finds something he actually really feels a connection too. he found cooking when he was young, and pokemon, but other than that he kind of just floats around. its why he got into partying and smoking. it was something to do. something to keep himself occupied and to keep his mind off everything. honestly. if it hadn’t been for inho and sungho, hyunjoon might have slipped into harder stuff. he was on the verge of going back into that world and the kid knew people who were into some heavy shit. it wouldn’t have been hard. 

maybe he doesn’t really realize how close he was to being unreachable. maybe he doesn’t see the danger he as putting himself in. hyunjoon has never been one to care for his own well being. he followed what his friends were doing. he followed whatever seemed to be the best path to just keep his mind working. or to numb everything out. 

dancing helped. 

that could be why he really likes it so much. not only does it give him a connection with a good handful of his friends, but he can focus on a routine and on nothing else. his mind running through the motions leaving it now time to fuck him over. dancing helped--dancing was fun. dancing is what he wants to do. to dance alone, with his friends, or even complete strangers. hyunjoon just wants to dance. 

and he was going to show them all that he was more than just some kid. that he wasn’t doing this because he wanted that five seconds of fame. that dancing means more, this show means more.

he tried cute. he tried to play off his age and go for what everyone expects of a fifteen year old. but maybe that had been his first mistake. because hyunjoon ( no matter what haknyeon or hongseok say ) is not a cute person. he doesn’t do aegyo or throw cute smiles around that curve his eyes just right. he doesn’t hold up finger hearts, or wear bright colors. he’s dark clothing, and monotone words. he’s sarcastic remarks that come out of the blue because he hasn’t spoken in over two hours. he’s holding his hyungs hand but pretending nothing is happening because the attention would scare him off. he’s subtle and blunt and closed off all at the same time. he shouldn’t have tried to be so far off from what he is. 

the wild card event is another chance to prove himself not only to the judges on mga, but also to himself that he is more than his dad says. that’s he’s more than a kid with his head full of silly ideas. to prove to himself that this isn’t a bad path to do down. that hyunjoon just needs to work harder and put in more effort. and then he’ll get there. it’s like trying to bake the perfect cake. sloppy mixing will get a result but not the one you want. 

he arrives on time, he gets ready. he’s not nervous, not like he was the first time. his expression is blank, but there’s a glint in his eye. he’s ready. he wants on that stage and regardless of what the results are, he wants to dance--no--he wants to perform. even if he doesn’t make it back onto mga, hyunjoon will be happy just to draw a reaction out of someone. 

he had shared part of his lyrics of choice with guanlin. texting the older boy rather vaguely to ask his opinion. he didn’t tell guanlin though that he was going to try for the wild card thing. he didn’t even bring up that it was lyrics he sent. he wanted to make a splash, and guanlin had to be kept in the dark. he would treat the older to ice cream or something later. 

“heo hyunjoon, thank you for the second chance.” is all he says once on stage, bowing at his waist politely. but his expression is blank, his voice is even. there’s no shake or tremble like there had been. he’s not scared like he had been. before he hadn’t been sure what he was doing on this stage. he hadn’t known what he was doing on the mga. it had all been impulsive and done without thinking and hyunjoon hadn’t been ready.

this time is different. 

the music starts, a simple back beat sounding very much like the tune of ariana grande no tears left to cry. hyunjoon is relaxed as he starts instantly into a rap. a surprise, as he had said so himself that he isn’t much of a performer outside dancing. the rap is a self composed one too. rough, and raw, and he’s on the slower side. but emotional. a mix of korean and chinese to show off his language skills. 

he keeps himself relaxed, keeps his expression even and his voice soft--a touch on the raspy side. aiming for the almost defeated look. trying to fit with the lyrics he has for his rap, which is all too easy as hyunjoon himself is a rather tired, and defeated looking person. the faded bruises on his cheek and jaw--though covered in makeup--would attest to the defeated part. 

he raps like he’s reading a poem. he raps like he’s trying to explain himself to the judges, and to his parents who probably wouldn’t watch this. he raps like he’s trying to convince himself this is where he belongs. his tone never falters. there’s not one emotion in his tone because he’s speaking with so many. contained anger, bitterness, unease, confusion, excitement, acceptance--he’s trying to portray his ambition to be here. the time he put in to actually create his own rap. actually consulting students in school who he knows are writers--or at least into the writing. it was hard to find the words to get across what he wanted.

especially when he didn’t even know what he wanted. 

but he thinks he has it down now. he knows how to feel for this. knows what he’s supposed to look like when talking--rapping--these lines. his body moving with ease as he goes from line to line. smoothly flowing through the transitions--practiced ease--and fluctuating his tone, emphasizing the words when needed. even the switch from korean to chinese was nice. 

too young im told too young to hold and face this path all on my own

so here’s my shot in the dark here’s the chance I shouldn’t take the chance pushed out of my sight and when I dive in again just let me sink this is my time

and sometimes you have to lose it all sometimes you have to face that wall even when i’m scared to death--scared to be alone i face that wall, and scared to death of letting go--to fall apart and be alone

he wonders if ricky would see this. empty enigma and ricky have always been the biggest influences in him wanting to peruse this. seeing ricky at the idol class had really ignited that childhood dream. but its different now. 

before he just wanted to be with ricky. now he wants this for himself--he wants to be able to look at himself and say you did you’re best and even if he doesn’t make it far. even if he goes back to his dream of cooking ( still a really good dream ) hyunjoon wouldn’t be angry. he tried. he did. thats all anyone can ask of him. he’s trying every day to be better. and not just in dancing or rapping. but in everything. in his delinquent behavior as sungho calls it. he wants to be good. 

he knows what it feels like to fall apart. 

i hold my breath and take the dive release my grip this is my next try  i’ve got to take this leap of faith and trust in a self that i don’t know 

and who am i to say these things i still just know this one thing that i’ve got no tears left to cry 

about 30 seconds of his rap, the music picks up and the actual ariana song begins to play and he breaks into dance. his movements are sharper, but he still flows through each movement easily. with practiced ease. a smirk had pulled across his face as he started to dance. and he makes sure to make eye contact with a few of the judges when he can. belaying to them that he knows he’s young. but that doesn’t make him any less of a good contestant than the others on the show. that he can improve too, and his age is only going to allow him to get better and better. 

he knows he probably shouldn’t lowkey try and challenge the ceo’s especially since they’re the ones who decide who stays on the show and who doesn’t. but hyunjoon doesn’t really care anymore. they cut him once, what does it matter? there’s only two outcomes here. they shove him back onto the show, or they kick him out again. either way. he’s proud of this performance.

his dances comes to an end just milliseconds under the two minute make. his bangs sticking to his face a little thanks to sweat, only showing how hard he had actually danced. how much effort he put into trying to make a point. because thats what he wanted. to prove himself--to prove he got better, that he wsa improving. and he would only continue to improve. just like gordon ramsay sunbaenim says, he has to keep at it to get better. he’s such a good cook these days because he spends so much time cooking.

the same it about to be said for dancing. hyunjoon is going to improve. he’s going to work on it himself, and get better and better and better. he would catch up to everyone on the show, to his hyungs already trainee, to his idols who have been in this world for so long, catch up to his father who thinks he’ll never make himself anything. he would catch up to himself and show himself that yes, hyunjoon, you are worth something more. and that maybe his dreams are allowed to change because he is young.

he’s young, and he’ll embrace that. after all, he has room to grow. 

they’re not here to chastise sungho for a relationship that they know nothing about. he is here to perform for them, like he does every month. they look at him like they don’t expect too much, and sungho doesn’t blame them. his face doesn’t relax from a frown the whole time they introduce themselves, their scene. all formalities for the coaches, for organizational purposes or something.

he thinks about holding inho’s hand, just briefly. he’s scared in a way he could never admit out loud, his fingers twitching as they yearn for something to grasp for comfort. no, not here. never here.

they take their places and sungho takes a huge breath as he tries to forget himself. don’t be the paranoid freakout waiting to happen; be the angry young warrior with a cause. be pissed at your friend for lying to you, your king for committing the worst sin against your best friend. sungho closes his eyes, just for a moment, and when they reopen he thinks he’s ready.

the scene starts with action. he grabs inho’s arm and pushes him back as if ready to start a fight. the aggression is too familiar, too easy. the first words belong to sungho, and his throat feels dry when he speaks them. “until when are you going to run away? don’t you have something to tell me?”

inho replies with his own accusation; “how does it feel pretending to be the king?” and sungho, just briefly, wonders what he’s thinking right now.

his character’s temper is just as short as his own, but he’s more careful now. he won’t hit inho again, not like he did in practice. sungho wonders if it shows, if his movement seems a little too weak, his expression wavering as he focuses his energy on missing rather than hitting. it should just be an illusion, after all. inho falls to the ground as if the blow had been real and sungho struggles to find his rage again, but frustration serves him well enough when he spits his next words. “you should know what it feels like,” he accuses his king.

the king swings back and sungho feels the little woosh of air as inho’s fist whiffs by his face. he spins with the imagined blow and falls as they had practiced. he imagines the humiliation of being bested in a fight. his anger comes back to him.

“i’ve never pretended to be the king.”

he gets to his feet, staring at the other as if incredulous. angry as he, or at least his character, is, he fires right back, “you’ve never been a real one either.”

the hurt and fury on inho’s face looks too real. some part of sungho would have been satisfied to see such a turbulent reaction from the other man; the sungho of a year ago certainly would have tried to push him to this point. now he just feels vaguely ill, disguising his true feelings with an angry look as the king defends himself. “don’t think you know everything, because i’m also doing everything i can. i’m also fighting as well!”

his laugh is almost genuine. bitter, as if he can’t imagine inho fighting, let alone fighting the same way he does. “fight? is that what your fight is about? running away, hiding, and avoiding things?”

“it’s a fight hoping that silla will become better. a fight hoping citizens won’t die because of silla’s bone rank order system. never again will ordinary citizens become robbers! a fight that protects.”

and like that, a moment of understanding passes through his character. sungho feels it as if experiencing a past life; looking at inho like he’s loathe to agree with him but his words appeal nonetheless. they are fighting the same fight after all, united despite their misunderstandings, but a stubborn streak prevents him from saying so.

just like that, the scene is over. sungho lets his face fall back into a nervous frown, bowing silently to the coaches as they’re dismissed. he looks at inho without speaking, fearful that any words he could form now would be condemning. he wonders if inho understands. thank you for helping me this month. sorry i sucked at the end. i l-