#sph:eval

         maybe, joohyun had just been fortunate to avoid it up until now. on top of dancing rehearsals -- her own personal hell -- were the fluctuating changes to the parts that meant relearning new verses and harmonies with every new switch-up. not that she minded, but joohyun now getting to sing for these performances instead of rapping certainly was a step out of her own habitual expectations. when had the coaches noticed her singing had slowly been improving? or did they notice at all? joohyun doesn’t ask the question; she already knows the answer sits evenly split on the line between: “yes, joohyun we know you can sing, too” and “no, you just sing better than some others.” she doesn’t think any of them have cared about her before this. she isn’t so arrogant as to assume they do now.

         still, she does miss the rapping. while, undoubtedly, it’s a good challenge for her to sing for these songs, joohyun can’t help but feel lost hearing someone else rap the verses that were originally meant for her. she has to learn to share, but the perfectionist part of her inwardly criticizes what she can’t perform herself. joohyun longs to help the others out but she can’t, and the girl forces herself on concentrate on what she is meant to be doing. if she wanted to be taken seriously as an artist and not as an idol stuck in one mold, this was probably the best opportunity that could have come knocking on her door. she’ll have to endure it.

         joohyun gets into the costume for the first performance, a dress that’s as cute and as light-hearted as the very opposite of her current mood: bleak and serious. aegyo is not her thing, everyone already knows it’s not her thing, and yet how many times has joohyun forced herself to smile and look adorable for the sake of the fans in the crowd? luna had been practical with her advice during rehearsals: ‘these are the men who buy our albums’ and the shrewd side of joohyun appreciated the other’s heavy dose of reality. even though joohyun hated acting cute because of the insincere quality, using it for the benefit of the entire group stoked her altruistic ( and paradoxically, manipulative ) side.

         she’d do anything for the group to succeed. for herself to succeed.

         and that’s why it’s with a faux, sweet expression that she finally gets on stage with the others. the night air is absolutely freezing and joohyun feels physically in pain to have to keep the smile on her face when her entire body begins to shiver from the chill. the stage lights only help a little, unfortunately. their heat doesn’t do nearly enough. it’s the one time joohyun is grateful for the constant dancing movements that keep her lithe body active and warm. one doesn’t feel the cold as much if they’re distracted and she forces herself to concentrate on achieving just that as the first song goes on.

         in retrospect, her idea could have been a lot worse. pole-dancing, for instance, or even a challenging solo number that had her writhing and rolling all over the floor in an attempt to be seen as sexy. however, it’s bad enough that the second concept -- being ‘sexy’ -- ends up being the primary intention when joohyun shows up in the evaluation room on practice day. she purposefully sports a black minidress to highlight her minimal curves and, more importantly, to serve as an overt distraction for this attempt at ‘dancing’ she would soon convey. just the idea of sinking this low for dramatic effect causes joohyun to scoff aloud in self-disgust. it also earns her a surprised look from the staff member to whom she passes a usb over with her chosen song. “sorry,” she mutters to him in a low tone. to the man’s credit, he doesn’t judge her action anymore beyond that; to his non-credit, his gaze is soon trailing over her figure with an obvious enough interest to make her skin crawl.

         let’s get this over with, please.

         “bae joohyun, you’re living dangerously!” comes a joking call from the direction of the judges’ table. the rapper resists the urge to toss up a middle finger in the dance coach’s direction as she nervously teeter-totters in her three-inch stacked high heels. several evaluations ago, minhee had done her best to teach joohyun the key to balance in these death-traps, and it’s thanks only to that girl’s patient training that joohyun could even stand upright now. once she reaches the marked part of the floor, joohyun levels a cool gaze at the coach who’d made her life hell the last few days. “I’m bae joohyun,” she introduces stiffly. “I’m going to dance to a section of 愛をちょうだい. please look over me well.”

         maintaining a good attitude for this performance doesn’t factor in even once in joohyun’s thoughts; she’s too far gone in her distaste to even pretend she’s enjoying this test for what it is. it’s all the trainee can do to keep her features schooled to an utter blankness once the music begins and she gets into starting position. on the heels of the singer’s lyric, “when you aren’t by my side my heart hurts,”  joohyun rests her arm over her head and rocks her hips from side to side to the rhythm of the beat. she doesn’t know enough japanese to even mouth along with the singer’s voice and perhaps this is for the best; when all her attention is concentrated on staying on her feet and matching the rhythm of the choreography, expecting anything more of bae joohyun inevitably leads to crushed hopes.

         a kick here, a sway there -- joohyun can’t help but wobble now and then unsteadily on these shoes. the key point of this choreography are the body-rolls anyway and so she focuses specifically on this move when it finally arrives in the song. It’s also the primary reason joohyun has chosen to wear this indecent dress in particular, as she knows her figure is well-emphasized in the moments she purposefully undulates her chest and waist in a graceful s-curve. she had her reasons for choosing this specific choreography for herself and it boiled down to this dance being all about the visual spectacle and nothing else. for most of its painful minute duration, joohyun could stand rooted in place and either move her hands in a sensual fashion or sway her hips in the appearance of tantalizing sexuality. there is no complicated jumping around or forcing herself into the ridiculous ‘popping’ and ‘locking’ positions the other dance trainees often crowed on about -- this simple style was the extent of all joohyun could handle all by herself with so little time to practice.

         even then, she hates it. joohyun hates the lascivious gazes she imagines trailing over her thighs and hips if she were to ever dance like this in public for others to see. she hates the short clothing that clings to her body now and the accompanying expectation that, as a female, her sexuality would be coldly used for the purpose of luring in even more (male) fans. what did talent matter when joohyun possessed a slim, feminine figure to draw in a male’s eyes to her? she despised the thought, abhorred the reality--

         even if there was nothing she could do about it.

        despite her natural inclination towards the routine ( because it’s comfortable, expected ) there are times when joohyun’s aries side manifests into abrupt impulsivity. chanyeol had suggested the pepero commercial as a jest but the longer joohyun thought about it, the more the absurd idea began to root itself as the best and most fun option. oh, she’d tried to do things the traditional way at first, capitalizing on the pair’s double strength as a rap duo to show off that way ( and still, she lowkey wishes they had ) but when else would joohyun get an opportunity to do something so completely out of the box like this? as it turned out, she and chanyeol also had another trait in common: in his words, “natural charisma,” and few would be the groups on stage who’d attempt a feat like this.

        ( in the end, the novelty of an acting performance had been too attractive for her to resist. )

        the Sunday before evaluations, joohyun stops by the hospital to have the cast around her arm removed. the doctor tells her it’s best to remain careful with it but the rapper doesn’t really need the reminder; it had been brutal enough having to endure rehearsals and training one-handedly and there is no way in hell joohyun would do anything to risk having to return to that state. the habit of keeping her arm tucked close to her chest lingers long after the hospital visit and it’s only with jonghyun’s gentle encouraging at home that joohyun begins to ease back on treating her own self like a breakable glass. ‘it was just an accident’ he reminds her with that brotherly scolding of his and joohyun inwardly sighs to realize he’s right in this case. she couldn’t prevent another accident simply by over-protecting herself anymore.

        little by little, joohyun forces herself to put full bodily effort into the final rehearsals before the actual performance day. she uses both of her hands, her whole body, and her rarely-smiling lips to act the part of a happily-surprised friend when it’s her turn to act. chanyeol’s uplifting spirits are always consistent and joohyun finds it impossible to remain down in the dumps for too long whenever he's around her-- an unexpected boon she is quick to take advantage of. chanyeol gets her laughing and that contribution alone heals her bruised trauma more rapidly than anything else.

        ( not that she’d ever tell anyone that, of course. )

        her heart races rapidly when it’s their turn to be called to the front. their props have all been arranged by the staff ahead of time: a small table placed for joohyun to sit down at for the start of the performance, the pepero boxes chanyeol will use, and the small cake set aside, too. but before they begin, the introductions are always expected. routine, tradition-- none of them could escape those even if their presentation was an unusual one. her palms are clammy and joohyun experiences a brief moment of uncertainty as she takes her place in front of the panel. was she crazy for agreeing to do this? would they think it was too stupid?

        well, there was no point in backing out now.

        “i’m bae joohyun, sphere trainee,” she introduces smoothly and accompanies it with the polite bow that’s expected of her. joohyun hears chanyeol follow suit and they explain the concept they’ve prepared: a short theatre performance that mimics the setup of a commercial spot. obviously performed without a camera, this act is only a testament to their live acting abilities-- and to better sell themselves as future brand ambassadors. the quiet snickers joohyun can hear from the other trainees are heard but promptly ignored. it’s only the expressions on the judges’ faces that matter to her and joohyun keeps her eyes locked on them, holding a steady gaze with the sphere ones in particular before she and chanyeol are given the nod to proceed.

        joohyun flashes chanyeol a soft smile of encouragement before heading over to take her spot by the table. the chair scrapes across the floor but she ignores the sound, ignores everything that could distract her from getting into character. her eyes close and joohyun imagines herself as someone else entirely: a lonely, upset girl whose friend has, yet again, forgotten her birthday this year. a sad expression takes hold of her features and joohyun sighs quietly. she occupies herself with a pen on the table, circling her name and birthday on a calendar as the first strains of background music begin to play. they’d chosen this accompaniment together: a simple, upbeat guitar instrumental to contrast joohyun’s current expression-- and to provide the smooth transition into chanyeol’s energetic entrance.

        “happy birthday!” comes his cheerful voice and joohyun is stunned when a pepero box is laid down in front of her. her eyes widen but the gifts and wishes keep coming. each box chanyeol gives to her is graced with positive messages-- ones of love, of humor (“buy me food, joohyun!”), of friendship-- and joohyun finds herself grinning in delight in a matter of minutes. but delight rapidly slides into disappointment once it hits her that this is all he’s planned. all this time waiting for him to remember and pepero boxes is all he’s come up with! call it spoiled, call it high expectations-- joohyun’s pretty face darkens into a scowl as she turns in her chair in order to stand up. quickly collecting the pepero boxes to her chest, the girl gets to her feet threateningly, her lips parted around a devilish scolding before her words are ripped away in a sharp gasp.

        -- chanyeol stands there, his face wreathed in a warm, heart-stopping smile as he holds up a birthday cake for her. in that instant, joohyun’s anger melts away in a flash. a beautiful smile replaces the fury, blossoming brightly on her face in resplendent answer to his surprise. chanyeol sings ‘happy birthday’ to her and joohyun is awash with utter happiness, the tears pearling behind her eyes as she turns to face the front of the panel with chanyeol beside her. her fingers curl around the pepero boxes as she holds them up proudly and, together with chanyeol, they speak the rehearsed phrases in sync:

         the rapper personally blames her mindset on the trauma she’d suffered the previous month, and the ghost of an ache joohyun still feels in her elbow whenever she forgets not to move it too quickly. simple is what she desired-- no dancing, no special movements, nothing but she and her companion showing off their god-given talents in as direct a way as possible. the doctor had told her to take it easy during her last checkup but joohyun hadn’t had the brutality then to tell him such a thing was impossible. for trainees, ‘taking it easy’ was the quick-ticket to expulsion and there was no way, in hell or anywhere, that joohyun was going to relax with two evaluations on the line.

         her performance with wendy, however, boasted of a less-active charm and because of it is the only one she tells the doctor about. it wasn’t as if the old man was going to visit during the evaluations and discover her lie ( that kind of thing only happened in the dramas, after all ) so joohyun is perfectly content to brush his professional worries aside. once she’s out of the hospital, she’s on her own and it’s exactly where she feels the most comfortable.

         “i’m bae joohyun, sphere trainee,” she introduces for the second time in front of the panel. the judges exchange looks at her words -- no doubt remembering her ‘acting’ performance with chanyeol earlier in the day -- but joohyun doesn’t waver now just as she didn’t then. she levels them with a look, the serious one that causes all the men in her life to tremble with unease, and then gifts wendy beside her with a softer, reassuring smile. “we’ll be performing yoon mirae’s “black happiness” for you today.”

         two stools have been set up for them and joohyun takes the one on the left side, propping herself up and curling her hand around the mic stand that’s perched in front of her. she quietly waits for wendy to also get ready and, when done, signals to the staff to begin the music. if joohyun had time ( and will ) to reflect upon it, she might have admitted that there was a certain wistfulness inside her for being unable to play the piano by herself. being restricted by the doctor had made her fingers restless with longing to touch the ivory keys again but, this time, restraint had been foremost. ‘simple’ -- that is all she allowed herself.

does the world judge me, when I hate the world? i close my eyes, i put my soul into the music my father gave me i feel the volume and fly higher and higher far away la musique

         yoon mirae’s old song is a masterpiece and joohyun had initially felt wary of tackling it when wendy had suggested it. she’d never mentioned so to the younger, however, as there was a bigger, selfish part of joohyun that relished in the old school of music -- of melodies that were far away from the pop sounds they were oversaturated with in the current era. melodies full of personal meaning that tugged at the heartstrings and brought tears to listeners’ eyes upon hearing. joohyun knew, of course, that she couldn’t ever personally relate to yoon mirae’s struggles -- the pain of black happiness would only ever be understood by those like mirae herself -- but still the rapper could show respect for original through her performance. this song in particular would only be cheapened by a half-hearted attempt and joohyun refused to be that person who pulled such a weak stunt. instead, joohyun had chosen to work hard with wendy during their rehearsals to get the rhythm of the verses down just right, on pronouncing mirae’s words and giving emotion everywhere that it felt right.

         when wendy sings the chorus, joohyun is reminded anew that yoon mirae’s song speaks not only of one type of pain but of many: the varied kinds of inner turmoil healed only by the common cure of music. joohyun can relate to that, at least. and also of the pain of a separated father and a mother who struggled for most of her life to keep joohyun and her head afloat of debt. joohyun’s father had remarried a rich woman but joohyun knew nothing of that life-- refused to, not when her poorer mother deserved her love and loyalty so much more.

music doesn't judge color they give me light i lead my music we lean on each other i don't feel lonely then one day i was given a chance i held onto my microphone and suddenly I was on stage i say goodbye to music and ask it to come back