Work Text:
Sweat was pouring down my face. My breathing was rapid, no matter how hard I tried to control it, while my eyes were glued to the movements of our choreographer Son Sungdeuk. Almost clinging on. I gritted my teeth, fighting myself, fighting my exhaustion. Mentally and physically.
In his private life, Sungdeuk was actually a very nice man, but when it came to dancing, he couldn't take a joke. Everything had to be right down to the smallest detail and had to be consistent. As different as we all were. Not everyone had it in their blood. Some had to work for it. Others already had a talent. Actually, they all had it. Except for me.
"That's it for today," came the choreographer's voice. But I only noticed it to a limited extent. It was only after he clapped his hands several times that I flinched and returned to reality. I heard the rattling of my lungs, felt the pain in my ribs and the sweat dripping from my chin.
"Seokjin! You stay here a little longer. The rest of you can go."
I sighed. I had known it would happen. This wasn't the first time I'd been taken aside to talk about my skills. What I still needed to improve. All the things I couldn't do. The only reason I had been cast for this was my face. My supposedly stunning looks that would take the hearts of the fans by storm.
When Sungdeuk cleared his throat impatiently, I pulled myself together and let the lecture wash over me. I sat there nodding in surrender, looked him in the eye and listened. I couldn't memorize the steps fast enough, I was too slow, too stiff. I had to become faster, more passionate. Even if we didn't enjoy dancing, we should still radiate it. Because only then would people be carried away.
But his words turned from a few drops into a pattering rain and then more and more into a torrential, raging river that began to sweep me away. The roar became a roar and I felt dizzy. I shook my head to get rid of it and met Sungdeuk's irritated gaze. A hint of concern gleamed in his dark eyes. But maybe I was wrong.
"I'm fine," I pressed out, looked at him and motioned for him to continue. But he shook his head and stood up.
"I think that's enough for today. Get some rest," he said and left. A few seconds later, I also left the room in silence. Rest... that had become a foreign word to me by now. It had been a long time since I had last been able to sleep peacefully. Not only had we been rehearsing late into the night... So many thoughts were buzzing around in my head.
Would I even make it to the debut? Everyone was replaceable, right? I was a lost cause. What did I bring to the band apart from the thing with my looks?
I was a slow learner, I moved stiffly when I danced and when I had to sing, I couldn't get my vocals as high as Jimin, Tae or Jungkook.
When I walked through the door of our shared apartment, I headed straight for the bathroom. Even from a distance, I could hear the loud pattering of the shower. A sigh escaped me. My eyes wandered longingly towards the bed. But I didn't dare sit down or even lie down.
Then I would fall asleep on the spot. Undressed and unshowered. The others wouldn't thank me for it. And I certainly wouldn't thank myself the next morning. So I decided to take up position next to the door. To wait for whoever was showering to finally finish.
"Not exactly one of our best days, is it?" a voice sounded behind me and I flinched. It was only at second glance that I recognized the figure who had made himself comfortable on the windowsill a few steps away. The light, almost white skin contrasted sharply with his dark hair.
Yoongi looked at me. A look that went right through me. Nevertheless, I tried not to let it show. I was the oldest here. I was supposed to set a good example. Instead... I pressed my lips together. Instead, I failed miserably.
"There have been better ones. But I'm fine," I lied and just managed to look him in the eye.
I wonder how many times I'd said those words to other people. To be honest, I had stopped counting.
I'm fine. Don't worry about it. I'm just tired. I really am!
My counterpart puffed softly before sitting up and leaning his upper body slightly forward. He looked at me attentively. As if I were a book that he just needed to read and it would tell him everything about himself.
"Don't fool me. And don't think you're the only one who doubts yourself. All of us here have our own baggage to carry," grumbled Yoongi.
"Hobi is a brilliant dancer, but the fans haven't sent him any messages yet, don't you think that's getting to him? Or Namjoon, he's also lagging behind in his dancing like you and me. He's also our leader. He has to take care of things that we don't even think about. Even our exceptional talent Jungkook struggles with himself. You are by no means alone with your fears, Hyung."
Yoongi let his words hang in the air. I stood there in silence and felt a guilty conscience begin to gnaw at me. All of a sudden, I hated myself for thinking that I was the only one struggling with something.
"But it's true. You're the one who has the most to learn here. And for still trying, fighting and showing progress... you have my deepest respect," Yoongi added before he slid off the windowsill and went his way. And indeed, after a while, his words made me feel a little lighter.