Chapter Text
This is not what I went to school for, Y/N thought as she stood at the walk sign. Four years of internships, interviews, and college presentations all to run lunch errands for the senior staff.
Sure, she was grateful for the job––not many people from her major could say they landed a marketing spot at one of the biggest agencies in Korea––but she’d hoped to do something more. She had so many concept ideas for the upcoming comeback, but hadn’t gotten the chance to present to the rest of the Creative Marketing team. How could she? She was their errand girl when they held all the comeback meetings. But she couldn’t say anything because she was a new hire; she didn’t want to rock the boat now.
But seriously, it was unfair. The point of training and onboarding was to get situated with how JYP’s advertising department worked, so why wasn’t she doing that? Even the guy that had joined with her was being given more tasks––more relevant tasks––than her. But when Y/N brought it up to her supervisor, Kim Sujin waved her off.
“It’s not sexism, Y/N,” she’d said, turning to lean against the glass window. “He just has more experience than you. He worked at HYBE for three months. You’ll get there. Oh, did you customize extra espresso?"
She hadn’t. That was why Y/N had gone out to the same cafe again for a new coffee order.
She wanted to scream. Sure, she was getting paid the same, but she wanted to do something. She didn’t want to call home every weekend to tell her parents she left Incheon to run deliveries in Seoul. And she physically ached everytime she saw Stray Kids’ Chan or JAYB of GOT7 leave the conference room, laptops in hand and her supervisors in tow. She wanted to contribute, too.
She heard a loud horn that ripped her from her thoughts. Puddle water splashed over her, drenching her clothes and the brown paper bag she held. Thunder boomed overhead.
Wonderful.
---------------------------------
Meanwhile, in a dance practice room three blocks away, eight men heaved.
“Stop,” Minho called, walking over to turn the music down. Some of the guys dropped to the ground, while others stood to catch their breath. “Iyen,” he pointed, looking at the brunette staring at the mirror.
“Hyung?”
“Your hands need to go front and back, not side to side.” Minho showed him the motions as he counted down. “Do it again.”
The maknae obliged, counting down with him as he tried again.
“Faster,” Minho demanded, turning the music up again. “It has to look natural. Clean.”
He tried. He really did. But after the first two waves, Jeongin felt his shoulders tense up as he cut the air sideways. He stopped as his sneakers squeaked against the floor. Minho’s disappointment radiated off his face.
Another voice cut through the air. “We could change it,” Hyunjin said, patting his neck with a towel. “It won’t look out of place if everyone does it side to side.”
Jeongin looked up. “No,” he protested. “I can fix it––”
Minho sighed. “Okay,” he agreed, turning to the other main dancer. “Everyone heard that?”
A chorus of yeses filled the room. Felix and Changbin had begun practicing the new adaptation. It didn’t look as good as the original, but no one would know since the choreography hadn’t been seen before.
“No, hyung,” Jeongin said, fingers catching the sleeves of Minho’s sweater. “I can do it. I just need to practice––”
Minho shook his head, effectively cutting off his words. “It’s fine,” he said simply. “You’re the youngest.” He didn’t say anything else as he took his spot in the center again.
He didn’t mean for it to hurt. Jeongin knew that logically. All his hyungs looked out for him––adored him. But all he heard was “You’re the youngest. No one expects you to get it.” The dismissal stung. Still, he resumed his spot on the side, looking straight into the mirror.
“Okay,” he agreed softly, raising his hands in position again. “Thank you, hyung.”
The words felt like ash in his mouth.