"And the winner of the 2015 MAMA Rookie Award is... Seventeen!"

Silence. There's a faint buzz nagging Jihoon in the corner of his brain, then a roar of applause filling his eardrums. He can see Seungcheol standing with a stunned, proud look dancing across his features, and he's ushering the members onstage to receive the award. Jeonghan and Jisoo are clapping in unmasked joy, Soonyoung and Seokmin bowing towards the crowd, Junhui and Minghao mumbling in their homeland's language with one another, Wonwoo and Mingyu are jostling each other playfully as they climb up the steps, and Seungkwan is tearing up already while helping Hansol guide a shocked Chan to his place in line. 

Everything is a blur, and somehow Jihoon manages to work himself into his own place in Seventeen's lineup. He pats Chan's back gently as he feels the younger boy trembling in a mixture of excitement and nerves. He can hear Seungcheol rattling off names of designers, makeup artists and hair stylists, managers, sunbaes and the like, faltering as he mentions family. Seungcheol passes the microphone to Jihoon, who thanks the fans for their undying love and support, which calls forward a second storm of screams. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Jihoon finds Soonyoung wiping at his eyes secretly before mustering up a strong front and smiling. Seokmin punches the other's arm playfully, pointing teasingly at the older's tears while facing the audience. He can imagine what must be running through Soonyoung's head: the many choreographies he had spent weeks planning out, member by member, had been eyecatching enough for them to be recognized. Junhui is making comments in fluid Chinese with an arm slung over Minghao's shoulder, waving at the fans with his trademark greasy grin. Seungkwan is sobbing into Hansol's shoulder, and Jihoon being right beside them can hear Hansol muttering lightheartedly about Seungkwan's smoky eyeshadow smearing his suit. 

Jeonghan and Jisoo, being two of the oldest, are holding their share of waterworks in and continuously dipping their heads in gratitude. Wonwoo seems to have failed in keeping a straight face as he had promised, and he is silently crying besides Mingyu, who is exchanging lame jokes about Wonwoo's not-so-strong-now appearance. Jihoon makes eye contact with some of the fans, soft smiles tugging at the corners of his lips, and mouths "thank you so much" to them. Even through the white masks obscuring their facial expressions, he can see their wide grins and crescent-shaped eyes filled with pride and success. 

They're walking offstage now, their short-lived epitome of achievement dissipating within the majority of the people as other awards are named and idols strut in and out of the spotlight. But through the fans, the members, the energy and adrenaline from their victory remains, pumping through their veins. All Jihoon can think about is his—no—their hardships throughout the years, all of his five years as trainee saturated with blood and sweat and tears sacrificed for his sole dream. All Jihoon can focus on is how he sang until his throat bled, danced until his muscles were sore and his bones felt like shattering, produced music with countless nights without sleep until he passed out from lack of rest and nutrition. 

Then Seungcheol is beside him, an arm circling his waist in a way that seems casual, but it isn't because it's Seungcheol, the one who had accompanied him through his trainee years and through thick and thin. He whispers words into Jihoon's ear that make him want to break down right there in the middle of live broadcasting. 

"We did it, Jihoon-ah. We made it."

The ride back to the dorm is quieter than expected. Jihoon stares out the foggy window, his eyes clouded in a similar way as he falls six feet under a turmoil of thoughts. Everyone's once styled hair is now disheveled, their ties loosened and the top few buttons of dress shirts ed. There's a ghost of remaining elation drifting in the air, but no one dares to articulate the idea in fear of voices cracking and puddles of uncontrolled emotions.

They change into their pajamas, crawling into their respective bunk beds with a warmth blooming in their hearts. Jihoon shuts his own eyelids, willing himself to sleep, but ends up peeling them open and sitting up. His fingertips are quivering, chest heaving, head spinning, because they made it. And it was his songs that helped them acheive a goal that had seemed so far away.

The ones where he had spent pondering on for hours, chewing down both the eraser of his pencil and his patience as he conjured up a somewhat useful melody. The ones where he had argued over with management because they weren't the "trendy hip-hop music" but Jihoon's own flow and rhythm. The ones where he had lashed out at different members because he wasn't satisfied with their recordings.

Jihoon reminisces on how vigorously he and the others had worked for this place in the industry, how much they had argued and hurt and wept. But their determination and labor had finally paid off because here they were, fresh 2015 rookies who were voted as most significant and memorable. Shuddering violently, he exhales in an attempt to calm himself before he wakes everyone through the thin walls of the dorm. But tears are slipping out of his shut eyelids, tracing his cheeks and staining the sheets, and he claps a hand over his mouth as the first sob surfaces.

As if staged, the door is thrown open and a flood of boys pour in, throwing arms around Jihoon and sending him sprawling, cooing congratulations. Seokmin's joking about the world ending since "our strong Jihoonie hyung is crying, oh my God." Even through the clamor, Jisoo is scolding Seokmin for using the Lord's name in vain, and Jihoon begins laughing, giggling until his lungs hurt from the lack of oxygen and his stomach muscles are cramping.

"I love you guys. So, so much. And I'm sorry for being a sarcastic most of the time who insults you and doesn't accept your jokes and has an expression disorder or something, but I love you guys more than I love myself, I promise. And- I just, I adore the fact I was put in a group with the twelve of you because you're amazing and patient with me, and I... I love you guys," Jihoon rambles out in one breath, gasping and gazing at the twelve boys kneeling in front of him with sparkling eyes. There's a moment of silence as they gape at Jihoon, the "I'm not in the mood, off" aura no longer around him, until he speaks up again.

"Group hug?" Jihoon offers, spreading his arms wide, and they gladly oblige, taking the opportunity of his emotional vulnerability (perhaps temporary, perhaps not) to cuddle up against him. All thirteen boys cram themselves onto Jihoon's bunk, piled on top of one another, and fall asleep to Jihoon humming along to a mindless melody.

To be very honest, I started tearing up while writing this. I can imagine Jihoon holding in his tears until they're back in their dorms and crying when he thinks no one is looking because he's so proud of their success. I really hope Seventeen can somehow work their way up to 1st place, past iKon, so they can win...

I apologize for this being so description-heavy with nearly no dialogue, but that's kind of how I wanted the story to end up. I know this isn't as great as my other works, but I typed this up in about thirty minutes so it's quite crude. I still hope some enjoyed reading this, though. May this be your inspiration to continue voting for our boys. #ProjectMakeSeungkwanCry