has this ever happened to you.
as if you've slept for a long time.

chapter eight.

Junhong supposed he should have been nervous.

It was, after all, supposedly once-in-a-lifetime chance at an interview with some high end entertainment company. Maybe, like the other kids lined up against the hall, he should have been warming up his throat and cramming whatever last spur of the moment advice he could get his hands on.

But Junhong had never really been like the other kids anyways.

He just could see what exactly there was to get worked up over anyways.

(There was nothing he at risk by taking his audition and making creamed soup out of it.)

Instead, he was seated loosely in the cushioned benches of the waiting area, slouched to a point that’d have his mother foaming at the mouth, idly at the identification sticker that had been tapped to his stomach - for identification purposes, of course. 20614. Today, he was 20614; he would introduce himself as so, when they called his number range, walking into a concert hall facing a long table with people waiting to judge him for how he stood and walked.

“Nervous?”

“Not really,” he shrugged, “I’m only here for you.”

The week prior, Jongup’s last attempts at getting his taller friend to join the auditioning process had fallen short, leading to frustration on both sides of the fight and a whole day of no actual conversation. In the end, Junhong had agreed to come with, but the audition wasn’t nearly as serious to him as it was to Jongup.

“Yeah, I guess.” Flashing a weak smile, Jongup nodded a tempo too fast for his usual lax nature, turning to stare down at his hands, beating them wildly in an erratic beat against his thighs.

The sight made Junhong laugh.

Jongup, the usually so cool, laid-back Jongup, was going weak in the knees for some powdered woman who couldn’t dance a step. Since when did his tanned, shorter friend ever get nervous? Never. And the fact that he was now, made Junhong laugh, snorting obnoxiously and turning heads, earning glares.

“Looks like you’re nervous though,” he chuckled after a hushed noise from his friend.

“Hey, might not be your dream, but I’d always thought it’d be pretty beast to dance and get paid for it.”

It would have been nice. But to Junhong, it required too much excess necessities. It would steal too much time away from doing what he liked and did best: laze around and look pitiful enough for Yongguk to baby him.

“You’ll have to sing too.”

“I can sing plenty.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“When?”

I sing in the shower.”

That cracked a smile from both parties, tiny shivers of bliss breaking to full snorting laughters. Singing in the showers was nothing to compare to having to sing and dance (like the public’s pet monkey).

Neither boys seemed particularly too bothered by the burning stares their knee slapping barks earned.

Let them judge.

It seemed at least to have calmed Jongup’s quivering nerves, however (in compensation to further petrifying the other contender’s patience).

Gasping takes of breath, Jongup shook his head, rubbing his eyes in fake show of clearing away welling tears from laughing too hard. He gave a thankful smile to his overgrown friend and sniffed loudly (obnoxiously), landing a slap to the boy’s upper arm. Junhong may not have been as seriously as he was about the audition - hell, it wouldn’t have surprised Jongup much at all to learn that Junhong talked in front of the judging panel and left with having made a single wailing quack - but, boy, was he glad the lanky friend had decided to tag along anyways.

Rubbing his arm - Jongup sure did have a violent way of expressing his gratitude - Junhong yawned, pressing down the number tag, identifying him, stickered to his stomach as he slouched lazily in his provided seat. “Do you suppose they’ll really make us sing?”

Jongup shrugged. It was an idol audition, after all. “Maybe.” Probably.

And to it, Junhong groaned. He’d never thought he’d had much of a talent in singing. He’d easily called quits on the nonexistent talent early on, deeming his recorded evidence of childhood singing more closely related to the yowling of a dying feline than of a human vocal. He was sure, the second they heard him sing, Junhong could be kicked out faster than he could form a proper excuse.

“Maybe they’ll let you rap then,” Jongup offered, quick to catch on to the too obvious distress expressed, “you’re good at rapping, aren’t ya’? I mean, Yongguk talks about you like you’re the next Tiger JK.”

He may or not have blushed at the second hand compliment. “He’s my brother, he’s supposed to compliment me.”

“Not true. Himchan told our mom that I sound like a dying whale in heat.”

Junhong rolled his eyes. Himchan was just a horrid drama queen and more than likely just saying so as to not get Jongup’s hopes up if the company pulled a stupid and rejected a talent like his younger brother.

But still.

He opened his mouth to voice a negative, to only be interrupted -

“What’s a dying whale in heat even supposed to sound like?”

That wasn’t Jongup, nor anyone of which Junhong could recognize. He frowned; he didn’t take too kindly to being interrupted, not by anyone he knew, never mind strangers.

This stranger Junhong couldn’t make out - a kid, just around his age, Junhong guessed - wore a sort of smile, taking solid steps toward the two waiting contestants and gathering narrowed glares from the rest in the room. And he lacked a name tag, meaning he was either hopelessly lost or a part of this whole entertainment and label business; judging his almost too confident strides, Junhong got the feeling he wasn’t quite exactly lost.

“Youngjae!”

Youngjae, as Jongup named, gave a small wave of hand but gave no other signs to speeding up his approach, if anything, dragging his steps lazily as if his feet were glued messily to the floor. While he didn’t look in the least lost, neither did he particularly look like celebrity material.

(Who was he?)

“What’re you doing here?”

Feeling like a helpless third wheel came with a plus to adding a third person to a group conversation; Junhong stood a little off to the side, his arms crossed across his chest and a small frown curling his lips down. It wasn’t that he disapproved of Jongup’s attention being stolen away - he wasn’t like Changhyun - but something about this Youngjae guy seemed odd (he both looked in and out of place).

Neither of the two other boys seemed to pay much mind to the staring through.

“To see you.”

“Me?” Jongup’s eyes got an awful large. Junhong didn’t realize they could get so big. “You knew I was coming?”

“Nah, I expected Himchan, to be honest. Seokgu said he recruited a familiar face, so I thought maybe Himchan decided he couldn’t resist spotlight after all.” The stranger snorted here, rolling his eyes but giving an otherwise cheery smile. “Not that I’m not happy to see you or anything. I mean, just didn’t think little bed wetter Jongup would ever grow up, sheesh look at you. You don’t look like you wet the bed anymore. No wonder Seokgu couldn’t recognize you.”

Junhong laughed and his friend went a cherry red in the face, his arms flapping around and swatting Junhong once or twice in the face - gaining more attention than they already had as well with grunts of annoyance from the audience by.

For sure, Junhong would hold the bed wetter thing up against Jongup for as long as he possibly could.

Maybe this Youngjae guy wasn’t so bad after all.

(So long as he could provide Junhong with more embarrassing blackmail material.)

Only then, did Youngjae seem to take notice of Junhong cracking up to a poor image of Jongup with water dripping between his legs. He gave a almost scary grin - the smile that told you he was most definitely plotting something awful depending on perspectives - before swinging an arm securely around the middle schooler, disregarding the fact they’d only just met give or take two minutes ago.

“See, Jongup was this lil’ baby when Himchan used to work here with us. He’d come to watch big brother on set and cry real loud whenever something scary happened on set.”

“Hey, hey! What’s in the past stays in the past.”

(Junhong was sure the saying didn’t exactly go that way, but opted better to press down the complaint with a snort of laughter.)

Youngjae laughed, and this time hooked his other free arm around Jongup’s neck, bringing the three together with a low thump of heads. “Whatever, still nice seeing you again bed wetter.”

“Still a jerk,” Jongup sniffed.

“Forever a jerk.” And then, arms retracted and looks were pointed toward Junhong. “And he is?”

“Oh! This is Junhong. Junhong, that’s Youngjae. He’s two years older than us and thinks he’s the ruler of the universe.” He snorted while saying this.

“Not think,” a finger wiggling playfully in the air, “but know.”

(Cocky.)

Jongup rolled his eyes, taking a lunge for Youngjae’s gut.

“Don’t you have things to do, or are you just freeloading off of your aunt now?”

This seemed to have awoken a brain cell or two in the older - Junhong still couldn’t much believe it, Youngjae didn’t look at all like a high schooler. He blinked hard then jumped, turning his head the direction he’d arrived from, a wild look appearing and disappearing in a flash. Like he’d expected someone to have been there, watching.

“, you’re right.” Youngjae look a step away from the duo, giving them a double-handed wave of arms and a thumbs up. “Good luck on your audition Jongup, and you too Junhong!” And then he was off, weaving through the other contestants before breaking off into a jog.

Whatever he was running from - or so Junhong had guessed - must have been scary.

“I can bet you my left leg that he’s got Seokgu hot on his tail,” Jongup mused, stealing Junhong’s guess with a simple shrug of shoulders. “Probably pranked the poor manager again. Hope he gets caught. Seokgu deserves to at least he able to bump him real good on the head.”

Junhong nodded, giving his friend a bump to the shoulder. “But hey, despite the storm he brought up,” and the list of blackmail material he’d provided, “you’re a lot more chill now.”

“Chill, but maybe a little too chilly. I’m going to have nightmares now of my childhood. Youngjae liked to lock me up in staff closets for being noisy.” Jongup frowned, scrunching up his eyebrows. “I never did get him back for that.”

A laugh “Whatever you missed him.”

And a smile. “I never said I didn’t.”

(Junhong may or may not have felt a little jealous at that.)

“20610 to 20615, please line up for your audition.”

It was their time to shine.

Gathering up their courage - Junhong fetching his black snapback he’d bought on the way to the audition (because he just had to have it) and shoving down against his eyes - they scrambled to line up with the other four teams by the back doors, waiting for the cue to file in (“Orderly! Stay in line! One behind the other!”) and have their go at stardom.

The audition was nothing special. The hall reminded Junhong an awful lot of the auditorium back at school: big and empty. Being herded to the back by the curtains, Junhong grimaced, toying with the hem of his sweatshirt whilst he waited his turn, watching the numbers ahead of him do their thing.

Some danced, as Junhong and Jongup would do, while the others sang or rapped. In some, not all, the judges had the contestants speak some foreign language - some of which Junhong was positive was made up - leading to guesses that they’d written something of the sort in the papers they’d filled out upon arriving at the building that day.

They were both good at bad, a singer in particular making him almost wish he was deaf.

It took maybe ten minutes for them to call Jongup and Junhong to center stage.

“MOON N’ ZELO? What is it supposed to mean?”

The question was only obvious.

It was a little duet name the two had made.

Not that it made much sense to anyone other than the two boys who’d come up with the title.

But then again, it wasn’t supposed to make any sense; it was their thing, spoken in the language of the two underaged dancers.

(Himchan had pitched a sort of queer fit when they’d come up with the name, asking why they had to come up with something that made so much of no sense.)

Junhong frowned, curling his brows together in distaste. They hadn’t made the name to be questioned about it every time it was mentioned. Why couldn’t people just appreciate titles for the way they sounded instead of asking and probing for answers in places where answers didn’t exist?

“Moon,” Junhong began, seeing as Jongup seemed still a little dazed by the spotlight squinting their vision, “is him,” a thumb jerked, “cause his eyes look like little moon slits.” Then, he turned his thumb back to himself, “And Zelo, is me, because Zelus, god of dedication and zeal.”

(And jealousy.)

The judges nodded, humming a word of consent and scribbling something down in the little yellow pads they had sitting on the desk in front of them. “I see.” They probably didn’t. They were probably just saying, because it was in their job description to at least pretend they were interested.

(After all, sorting through hundreds of kids, both talented and not, ended up almost nauseating at a point.)

The man on the left nodded some more before waving his wrist toward the duo, “Alright, do your thing then.”

The two boys shared a look, Jongup at Junhong and Junhong at Jongup.

Their thing?

The man sighed. “Dance? Sing? Rap? What’re you boys going to do?”

Oh.

“We’re going to dance.” Jongup look the lead this time, answering with smiles impossible to ignore (someone scribbled this down on their pad, drawing a little smiley face next to the words angelic smile).

The music was tuned up and their bodies moved accordingly, swaying to the heavy baseline rhythm that played in the background. Dancing came easy for them, like speaking back in their mother tongue. What they weren’t good at, their language barrier (and how to not awkward), they made up with their movements, twisting and jerking in just the right beats to a pattern that seemed both natural but organized.

Junhong almost groaned when the music was cut off.

“You have different styles.”

They turned again to face either other, brows lifting questioningly.

They did?

“But you managed to somehow compliment each other’s movements nicely.” There were more scribbling, the scratches of pencil and pen against paper sounding loud compared to the suppressed heaves of breath the two middle schoolers took.

More notes were taken before all eyes returned to the boys. It made Junhong feel much like an animal behind cages of a zoo.

(He was not to be gawked at.)

“Do you have anything else you’d liked to show us?”

“Junhong can rap.”

They all turned to Jongup at the outburst - Junhong included (“I can?”) - heads tilt in mild interest.

“Would you like to rap for us?”

He almost said no.

Jongup nudged him in the side, shoving his shoulder up against his friend’s. “Come on,” was what he mouthed, an encouraged look shining in his eyes.

“Well Jongup can B-Boy.”

The glanced turned to him as Junhong looked down at his friend smugly. No way was he going alone on this. If he had to show off his rapping - though, Junhong thought of it more or less as just trying to copy his brother - then Jongup would have to at least do a headspin.

And to the smug outburst, a gaping look from Jongup, the female judge in the middle laughed, clapping her hands like an amused child. Brushing her fringe off to the side, looping it behind her ear, she nodded, scooting her rimmed glasses up her nose. “Then so be it, Junhong,” she turned to him, confirming whether she’d gotten the name right, “will rap and Jongup will B-Boy for us.”

There really wasn’t a saying no to the definite smile she had on her face, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms in wait for the show. The other judges sitting around seemed unable to voice a word, had it been that they had a complaint against it. She must have been a higher rank than the others there.

It seemed fair enough for Junhong.

“The smoke from the cigarette fills up the room in drawing my future but evaporate with the air.
I’m short of breath as I draw a picture with my two eyes while drinking from my cup late at night.
No matter how much I run, reality’s too overwhelming as it suppresses my path before me.
Even if I’m full, my greed blocks the shining light in making me cry.”

He drew back from his rap with a sharp intake of breath, frowning when he paused. The lyrics, he’d forgotten the rest of the lyrics.

It didn’t seem to much matter as the woman clapped at his pause, taking the frown as having been absorbed deeply into the meaning of his rap. She seemed pleased, if anything - though, she didn’t write anything down, as she had when they’d first stepped up to light.

“And now it’s Jongup’s turn.”

Her smile was warm, kind. Like a mother, watching her baby son put on a one-man show.

Junhong decided she liked this lady, whoever she was.

“Well that didn’t totally .”

Jongup was bright when they stepped down from the lights of the stage, leaving with a short thank you and notice that they’d call within the month with news of the acceptance (or denial). And Junhong had to agree. It wasn’t as ish as he’d thought it might have been. If all the personals in the entertainment business had been like the middle lady - as Junhong had come to name her - then he wouldn’t have minded standing on stage for a living. They smiled, sharing high fives and starting toward the front doors, where Himchan had promised to pick them up once finished.

Musing his tidied hair, Junhong peeled off the sticker with their number from his front hoodie, folding it neatly up and stuffing it on his pocket. A momento. Something to remind him that he’d auditioned and it wasn’t actually just a queer childish dream of becoming an idol.

He’d just gotten the sticker in his pocket, when coming up short to the man that’d scouted them from the mini-contest not too long ago.

“Oh!” The short, pudgy had gasped, taking a step back from Junhong’s crash into his side. “Oh!” Then, recognition hit his eyes. “You’re MOON N’ ZELO!” He turned to Jongup. “And you’re Jongup! Kim Himchan’s little brother!”

Jongup looked a little sick in memory. “Please don’t mention anything else Junhong can use as blackmail against me.”

Seokgu looked a little lost, but he cast the confusion aside, shaking his head and then bringing in the shorter boy for a bear hug. Jongup gasped for breath, tapping Seokgu’s shoulder rapidly.

“Seokgu-... I can’t b-breath!”

He was let down with a sheepish smile and Junhong was in turn swooped in for a hug, this time mindful of the fact little boys still needed to breathe to survive.

“It’s really nice to see you boys here.” The manager smiled genuinely, looking as if he wanted to pull the boys into another round of hugs and choking. “How’d your audition go? You did come here to audition, right?”

Junhong nodded. “It was alright.”

“Alright? It was great!” Jongup smiled, nodding. “I saw Ms. Yoo. She looks as lively as always.”

Seokgu blew out in a fit of laughs. “Yes, yes. She and her nephew both. I’m always chasing one or the other!” He gave an imaginary swipe to his forehead and put a hand to his waist in mock exhaustion, a small pout unfittingly hanging on his lips. “They’re a handful.” He then smiled, reaching out to ruffle both boys instead of crushing the air from their lungs. “I have to go, but I’ll see you boys later, alright. I’ll buy you guys a cup of hot chocolate then!”

He then turned to leave, jogging down the large hall, short heaves of breath trailing after him.

He sounded pretty damned positive that he’d be seeing both MOON N’ ZELO around the building some time soon.

(Junhong hoped so too.)

a/n: this is late. like. two months late. &today's not an update day, but.... i'm so ing behind......

also, i went to the doctor to see what was up with my hand (cause it kept hurting). apparently it's alright now, but because i didn't treat it properly when i first did hurt it, it's going to hurt randomly now. bah. or something like that. eitherway. i'm not supposed to be using it at all this week or the next. but i really didn't want to put this off. mer.

with that said. i won't have a specific update date until further notice.

(i'm awful. i'm sorry.)

hope you guys enjoyed.

*the rap junhong did was drunk by jepp blackman. the lyrics were translated by heodang on tumblr.