#surface level self reflection

     she can’t wait to fucking debut.

    her limbs itch with the desire to dance ; and not to dance like she does every day. not in the practice room with xiao & the other solar girls, not in the dorm by herself while the other girls are busy or sleeping — but to dance on a stage, on a music show ; in front of the public, in front of the cameras & underneath the sweltering, suffocating spotlights — spotlights that would instead breathe life into her. this is what she’s meant to do — and she’s damn well sure of it.

     her confidence tastes like desperation sometimes ; a feeling miyeon is too proud to own up to, but her debut is something she craves. desperately. she knows she’s ready (   she did attend performing arts schools all her life !   ) — she can already taste the praise of the public, of her fans on her fucking tongue, but it tastes faint. and although she’s confident in her ability to debut, in her ability to be a fucking star — she feels a twinge of envy course through her veins as she watches those who’ve trained less than her debut first. it’s for the concept, she tells herself — everyone knows miyeon is too much of a powerhouse dancer to be thrown into gleam or radiance, right ?  could anyone really see miyeon singing ballads and dancing to strictly cutesy choreography ?  darker concepts are better suited for her, she knows that and mobius knows that. but she’s impatient and, goddammit — she deserves to debut. 

     she is set to appear on dancing high, after all — even though trainees aren’t supposed to be on the show. she considers it to be a sign — a sign that mobius feels the same way as her ; that they feel as if she’s too talented to remain locked up as a trainee. 

     ruby lips purse as she enters the practice room. she’s alone, for once (   if you don’t count managers, staff, and instructors ...   ) — which is surprisingly bittersweet. she’s grown accustomed to practicing with xiao, or with the other girls (   a more accurate statement is that she’s grown accustomed to showing off  !   ) — although she finds herself dancing alone back at the dorm, she never considers it practice. it’s just for fun — just her way of getting the creative juices flowing ; her way of getting the frustration, the cynicism, the lingering doubts out. her bag slips from her slender digits, small shoulders shrugging off her windbreaker as she stands in front of the mirror, feet planted firmly against the practice room floor. she sinks her frame down into the splits (  she even shows off when she stretches !  ), cocoa orbs fixating on her reflection in the mirror.