Minhyuk sprawled on the floor of the practice room, panting. “Is this really going to be worth it?”
He glanced over at Hyungwon, who was lying beside him, limbs akimbo, sweat-damp hair plastered to his forehead. “I dunno. What do you think, Kihyun?”
“Wish I could ask my future self.” Kihyun, who had a bit more dignity, was sitting up against the wall, a half-empty water bottle dangling limply from his fingers.
“If I hear another motivational speech, I think I’m gonna puke.” Seokwon made a face. He and Gunhee were sprawled on the floor near Hyunwoo, who was leaning against the wall, expression blank.
Gunhee snorted. “Right? Go out and get it, give it all you’ve got!”
Jooheon chimed in with a terribly accurate imitation of one of their other mentors. “You’ll never get over the view from the top.” He was lying beside one of the metal folding chairs, too tired to actually pull himself up onto it.
Minhyuk was surprised when Hoseok, sweet and cheery Hoseok, joined in.
“Just reach the finish, just ring the bell, you’ll have trophies to show and stories to tell.” From his place on the floor, his voice was clear and strong.
Minhyuk and Hyungwon both craned their necks to peer at the trophies that lined one wall of the practice room, the honors and accolades their sunbaes had brought back from broadcast shows and awards shows.
“It’s hard not to believe it,” Hyunwoo said.
Minhyuk turned to peer at him, the one who’d been a trainee the longest, even if mostly with another company. Hyunwoo was twenty-three. If he didn’t debut now, he would never have the chance. Minhyuk and Hyungwon had trained at the same dance academy, promised each other they’d debut together — or not at all.
They had to debut together. They weren’t much younger than Hyunwoo, and their time was running out.
Changkyun said, “But don’t you get the feeling that finding the gold might be losing the rainbow? The colors are all there, but they’re not the same.”
Changkyun was sitting against the other wall, a little apart from the others. They liked him, and he was a fantastic rapper, but the way he’d arrived so suddenly had been a jolt to all of them, especially Jooheon and Gunhee, who were already established as rappers.
“Gold? Rainbow?” Jooheon lifted his head briefly to peer at Changkyun, then sank back, overcome by exhaustion.
“You know, leprechauns. Have a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow?” Changkyun said. “The Irish folk tale?”
“Irish?” Hoseok echoed. “I thought you lived in Israel and America.”
“Yeah. Boston. Which has a big Irish population.”
Seokwon and Gunhee stared at him blankly.
Changkyun flapped a dismissive hand. “Never mind.”
“Dear future self,” Kihyun said, “if you’re still smiling with one mile to go, if you’ve got the answer, let us all know.”
Hyungwon hummed in agreement. “Yes, future self. Please let us all know. Will it be worth it?”
“But — can’t you feel it?” Hoseok asked. “You’ve got nothing on paper, it’s all in your mind, but you can see it all perfect. Doesn’t it give you a rush?”
“It does,” Gunhee said softly.
For nine episodes they’d fought hard, nine episodes of scrutiny and judgment and relentless critical blinking red eyes of the cameras, and now there was one episode left.
Nine episodes of no mercy — the show was aptly named — on top of all the years of training they’d each endured.
“When I was halfway through it, did I even want to do it?” Seokwon wondered.
Changkyun said, “If touching the sky is why we’re all reaching, why we’re all struggling for fame, are we missing the point? You know, missing the meaning.”
He was deeply philosophical in a way the others wouldn’t, raised by brilliant scientist parents, home-schooled, half-foreign, thinking circles around them in two languages.
But Hyunwoo nodded. “What is the point of all this struggle? Is it the knowing? Is it the seeing?”
“Or is it the dreaming?” Kihyun asked.
That’s how they keep us hooked, Minhyuk thought. How they keep us holding on. By keeping us dreaming.
“It’s definitely the dreaming,” Hoseok said, smiling up at the ceiling, no doubt almost lost in his own dream.
Hyunwoo pushed himself to his feet. “Let’s keep dreaming — and keep on working. Come on.”
The others roused themselves slowly. Minhyuk made it to his feet first. After Hyungwon let out a borderline-aegyo whimpering sound of distress, Minhyuk offered him a hand up, but he was bone-tired and Hyungwon almost pulled him off his feet. It was Hoseok who caught and steadied both of them.
They arranged themselves in their starting positions, and Hyunwoo started the music.
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timeasmymeasure
Fill: Monsta X, gen, AO3-G, The Dreaming
Date: 2023-05-14 10:20 pm (UTC)He glanced over at Hyungwon, who was lying beside him, limbs akimbo, sweat-damp hair plastered to his forehead. “I dunno. What do you think, Kihyun?”
“Wish I could ask my future self.” Kihyun, who had a bit more dignity, was sitting up against the wall, a half-empty water bottle dangling limply from his fingers.
“If I hear another motivational speech, I think I’m gonna puke.” Seokwon made a face. He and Gunhee were sprawled on the floor near Hyunwoo, who was leaning against the wall, expression blank.
Gunhee snorted. “Right? Go out and get it, give it all you’ve got!”
Jooheon chimed in with a terribly accurate imitation of one of their other mentors. “You’ll never get over the view from the top.” He was lying beside one of the metal folding chairs, too tired to actually pull himself up onto it.
Minhyuk was surprised when Hoseok, sweet and cheery Hoseok, joined in.
“Just reach the finish, just ring the bell, you’ll have trophies to show and stories to tell.” From his place on the floor, his voice was clear and strong.
Minhyuk and Hyungwon both craned their necks to peer at the trophies that lined one wall of the practice room, the honors and accolades their sunbaes had brought back from broadcast shows and awards shows.
“It’s hard not to believe it,” Hyunwoo said.
Minhyuk turned to peer at him, the one who’d been a trainee the longest, even if mostly with another company. Hyunwoo was twenty-three. If he didn’t debut now, he would never have the chance. Minhyuk and Hyungwon had trained at the same dance academy, promised each other they’d debut together — or not at all.
They had to debut together. They weren’t much younger than Hyunwoo, and their time was running out.
Changkyun said, “But don’t you get the feeling that finding the gold might be losing the rainbow? The colors are all there, but they’re not the same.”
Changkyun was sitting against the other wall, a little apart from the others. They liked him, and he was a fantastic rapper, but the way he’d arrived so suddenly had been a jolt to all of them, especially Jooheon and Gunhee, who were already established as rappers.
“Gold? Rainbow?” Jooheon lifted his head briefly to peer at Changkyun, then sank back, overcome by exhaustion.
“You know, leprechauns. Have a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow?” Changkyun said. “The Irish folk tale?”
“Irish?” Hoseok echoed. “I thought you lived in Israel and America.”
“Yeah. Boston. Which has a big Irish population.”
Seokwon and Gunhee stared at him blankly.
Changkyun flapped a dismissive hand. “Never mind.”
“Dear future self,” Kihyun said, “if you’re still smiling with one mile to go, if you’ve got the answer, let us all know.”
Hyungwon hummed in agreement. “Yes, future self. Please let us all know. Will it be worth it?”
“But — can’t you feel it?” Hoseok asked. “You’ve got nothing on paper, it’s all in your mind, but you can see it all perfect. Doesn’t it give you a rush?”
“It does,” Gunhee said softly.
For nine episodes they’d fought hard, nine episodes of scrutiny and judgment and relentless critical blinking red eyes of the cameras, and now there was one episode left.
Nine episodes of no mercy — the show was aptly named — on top of all the years of training they’d each endured.
“When I was halfway through it, did I even want to do it?” Seokwon wondered.
Changkyun said, “If touching the sky is why we’re all reaching, why we’re all struggling for fame, are we missing the point? You know, missing the meaning.”
He was deeply philosophical in a way the others wouldn’t, raised by brilliant scientist parents, home-schooled, half-foreign, thinking circles around them in two languages.
But Hyunwoo nodded. “What is the point of all this struggle? Is it the knowing? Is it the seeing?”
“Or is it the dreaming?” Kihyun asked.
That’s how they keep us hooked, Minhyuk thought. How they keep us holding on. By keeping us dreaming.
“It’s definitely the dreaming,” Hoseok said, smiling up at the ceiling, no doubt almost lost in his own dream.
Hyunwoo pushed himself to his feet. “Let’s keep dreaming — and keep on working. Come on.”
The others roused themselves slowly. Minhyuk made it to his feet first. After Hyungwon let out a borderline-aegyo whimpering sound of distress, Minhyuk offered him a hand up, but he was bone-tired and Hyungwon almost pulled him off his feet. It was Hoseok who caught and steadied both of them.
They arranged themselves in their starting positions, and Hyunwoo started the music.
“From the top. Let’s go!”