V. DOYOUNG

Nearly six months have passed since his fall out with the choir, and Kim Dongyoung is still a wrecked mix of social anxiety and humiliation.

There’s this saying that goes around a lot—the one about how it takes years to build up a reputation, but only seconds to destroy one. Doyoung attests to that; he’s experienced it first hand, and he knows full well how it feels to see everything you’ve worked your off to achieve crumble around you like sandcastles carried away by the tide. The horror that dawns upon you as the realization slowly settles, that everything you’ve worked for is gone. All to the heavy feeling that gnaws upon whatever’s left of the hope you carry, wanting to instead stay at home all day and maybe bury yourself six feet under instead of facing the crowd that’s seen you at one of your lowest points.

Doyoung is young; however, he knows better than perhaps anybody in his closest circle, parents included, how it feels to be utterly ashamed and humiliated.

Another day to pave your path towards your dreams! is what the poster he’d made when he was fourteen years old says, the crumpled and rain-stained (the roof leaks sometimes, although Doyoung is used to it, having lived in the same crappy apartment for the past ten years of his life) displayed proudly onto the stark, pristine walls of his bedroom. That is the view that greets him every morning, as well as the last thing he sees before he closes his eyes to sleep. He remembers, vaguely, a time when the poster did something other than causing him to roll his eyes, wonder why he hasn’t taken it down yet. Sentiment, perhaps.

Aside from glaring holes at the innocent poster stuck on the wall of his bedroom, another morning routine Doyoung sticks to is to check on his phone; maybe mope for a moment or two, if he chooses to reminisce of the days when Nayeon wasn’t the only person who would talk to him casually, and not just asking about a certain assignment or group work. Choir kids aren’t necessarily the kings and queens of high school, but Doyoung was… well, he was something other than the shell of a high school student he is now.

From: Nayeon

Don’t forget today’s the big audition, Choir Boy!

From: Dongyoung

didn’t have to tell me twice. :/

The audition. Doyoung wears a small frown as he thinks of the two words that have been haunting his mind since he first signed up for this, just a few days ago; the last time he is able to recall being involved in something musical (not to mention public) dates to his choir days, and that didn’t end up so good. He tugs his tie a little too tight, triggered (if he might say, rather jokingly but also rather not) by the thought of that goddamned choir, and ends up gasping for breath because ouch, too tight.

“You’re going to be okay.” The words are said from Doyoung to his own reflection, fingers shakily combing through the strands of ginger-dyed hair in a valiant attempt to tame the unruly locks. He doesn’t bother to try a smile, because he knows all his smiles look the same; a bunny teeth-ed smile, with the kind of smile that always seems to scream ‘I, an Awkward Person.’ Either way, with the way his brows furrow and his lips start twitching into a frown, it’s evident the impromptu pep talk is… mediocre, perhaps, at best. “What the am I doing,” Doyoung mumbles, immediately averting his glance from himself in the mirror. “Why am I such a mess.”

Before he gets the chance to answer himself, he hears the honk of his father’s car all the way from the apartment’s lobby (though that doesn’t mean much as he lives in the basement right below the ty apartment concierge), and a peek at his bedroom watch says it all—

He’s already three minutes late for school.

“Damn it!”

Somehow, perhaps by a of luck, Doyoung is able to waltz away from after-school punishment. Maybe it’s because he made sure to lay out the charm heavier than usual—the teacher that kept track of the late students earlier always was a er for pretty boys, and while Doyoung isn’t pretty, he knows how to utilize his looks and how to please people—but either way, he doesn’t have anything to do after school aside from auditions, and yet he’s still a nervous, blubbering wreck.

“I’m going to mess up later, aren’t I,” Doyoung mopes, staring sullenly at the sandwich in his hands that has long gone soggy. Nayeon follows his line of sight, and her nose crinkles in disgust (either by the sight or the smell, or maybe even the sheer pathetic-ness of her close friend right now—maybe even a mix of all three.)

“Don’t be such a pessimist.” Nayeon rolls her eyes, and Doyoung tilts his head, looking at her with the saddest, most puppy-like look on his face that she’s ever seen. And puppy-like doesn’t even make sense, considering Doyoung resembles a bunny instead of a canine. “If you can give your chocolate milk to a stranger because the part of your freezing heart that has been thawed managed to control you for like, three seconds, then you can get through the auditions without messing up. It’s just singing.”

“Singing and guitar,” corrects Doyoung, his tone matter-of-fact.

Nayeon sighs, the universal sign of ‘why are you like this.’

“Just eat your soggy sandwich,” Nayeon grumbles, and Doyoung complies in a heartbeat, because a grumbly Nayeon is not a nice to deal with Nayeon. Knowldge like that is one of the things one only gains after years of friendship—and such is the case between Nayeon and Doyoung, with Nayeon having started bothering him for attention and friendship since Doyoung first moved into the apartment building they both resided in.

“Why didn’t you come pick me up in front of my apartment earlier?” Doyoung complains in between bites of his jam sandwich, occasionally making faces at the terrible taste. Nayeon bites back a laugh, although her amusement is evident, the same way Doyoung’s irritation is.

“I tried. No one would answer the door, and you know your doorbell’s broken, right?” Doyoung pouts, an obvious sign that no, he didn’t know his doorbell was broken up until Nayeon’s information reveal. “Don’t look at me like that. Here, have a cookie. Say ‘aah.’” Like a child, Doyoung complies, opening his mouth slightly to make space for Nayeon to feed him one of the cookies she’d brought to school for lunch. He crunches the cookies as he eats, and Nayeon watches him with a motherly smile, wiping the crumbs off his lips like a mother would to her son afterwards.

“You’re more of a mom than my mom ever was,” Doyoung mutters under his breath afterwards, and Nayeon looks at him with a side glance, a warning look in her dark brown eyes.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

Doyoung dodges and mumbles something about ‘that’s not motherly of you’ when Nayeon aims a tissue at his orange head.

“Let’s start with you, Zhou Jieqiong.”

Though he isn’t one to judge solely on appearance—he can attest to this with the proof of most of his friends not being conventionally attractive—Doyoung must admit, when he first approached the infamous Zhou Jieqiong, he hadn’t took her to be the band type. It’s hard, though, to expect someone of Jieqiong’s calibre (one of the most popular girls in their grade, a natural beauty as well as one of the most well-liked people in town, probably) to actually give some time of their life to spare at auditions for a no-name band that would, most likely, stay no-name.

Still, though; as Jieqiong makes her way from her seat—even the way she rose was graceful, Doyoung is thoroughly baffled—to the drums, anticipation and expectation rises with him, because Doyoung likes surprises. Only the good kind, so maybe he doesn’t like all kinds of surprises, but he generally likes it when someone is able to defy his expectations (again, in a good way: Doyoung likes it safe and vanilla.)

“Is there a song you want me to drum to in particular?” As she speaks, Jieqiong’s fingers move to pull her waist-length hair back in a ponytail, and Doyoung struggles to keep his eyes on her face instead of her pale, delicate neck. (Sue him, he’s still a teenage boy, after all.)

“Just go with whatever you’re comfortable with,” Hanbin decides.

As a response, Jieqiong nods, and she pulls her phone out of her pocket, presumably to find a song to drum to. “Is there an AUX cord?” From the corner of his eyes, Doyoung notices Hanbin nudge Mina, who scowls for a moment before standing up and, reluctantly, handing over a cord for the cheerleader. Jieqiong accepts it with an expressionless face, although she nods her thanks. The air grows tense the same way Doyoung’s confusion increases at the scene that has just unfolded.

Wordlessly, Jieqiong plugs the cord into her phone, and a few moments later, music starts to blare from the speakers located throughout the room. Doyoung recognizes the song as one of those old K-Pop songs, probably something by H.O.T or the likes, but he’s never really followed the music scene of his own country.

Despite having no clue about the drums, Doyoung knows that Jieqiong is good. There’s something about the way she easily matches the rhythm of the original song, looking effortless as she does, never missing a beat. The way her brows furrow as she focuses whole-heartedly onto the matter at hand, how her eyes close sometimes to focus; Jieqiong goes above and beyond the expectations he’d placed, and she finishes with flourish, smiling brightly at Hanbin in what Doyoung presumes is an extra finish. Mina doesn’t seem as pleased as Hanbin is, though Doyoung would bet his lifesavings that even Mina, who he thinks may have bad blood with Jieqiong, is impressed—and he knows that because Mina looks as if she’d swallowed something particularly sour, but her hands are moving in begrudging, half-hearted claps.

“You’ve got no competition,” Hanbin begins, and Jieqiong laughs airily, “but if you did, I’m sure they would’ve felt threatened. You’re good,” judges Hanbin, scrawling something down on his paper before motioning for Jieqiong to sit back down. “Alright. Next we’ve got an Im Nayeon.”

The varying degrees of reaction is funny, Doyoung thinks, considering Jeongguk has a smirk on his face that reads ‘I bet you’re going to embarrass yourself’ meanwhile Soonyoung is looking at Nayeon as if she might step on him at any given moment. Jieqiong, probably experienced in the act of crowd pleasing, has a smile on her face and is clapping in encouragement, while Hanbin and Mina are quiet, though Doyoung senses an air of anticipation. Doyoung himself knows first hand that Nayeon is good: Nayeon has a keyboard in her bedroom, as Doyoung’s seen first hand, and she knows how to carry a tune. His ego refuses to let him say Nayeon is better than him at singing, but—well, keyboarding skills are an entire different story, this he reminisces with a wince, remembering how disastrous the time he’d attempted to play a keyboard turned out.

Noticing the worry lines frowning on Nayeon’s face, Doyoung balls his fist, raising it in a pitiful aegyo attempt to push his friend forward. Nayeon doesn’t appear to notice, however, and Jeongguk notices him instead. Just kill me now, Doyoung thinks, cheeks flamed red as Jeongguk raises a high, questioning brow. “Sorry,” Doyoung mouths, to no response.

“Can I try out the keyboard first?” Nayeon asks, a little timid, but Mina nods; a kind smile gracing her supple lips. And so, Nayeon tries out a few keys, taking her time not to rush through things—and all the while Doyoung is smiling after her, attempting to send her the courage she needs. (It’s all very hypocritical of him, really, because he’d be the first to think pessimistically about his own chance of success, but when it comes to other people, Doyoung is a carer to the core.)

“I’ll just… start, I guess.” Nayeon takes a deep breath, and her fingers start to play the notes that Doyoung recognizes as her go-to song, Coffee by Urban Zakapa.

“Dongyoung! Have you heard of that new song?”

The year is 2009. Nayeon and Doyoung sit together, huddled on top of Nayeon’s coral pink comforter; the both of them are wearing their uniforms, awkward in their attempts to make themselves look more grown up than they are. Doyoung has his braces on, while Nayeon’s cheetah-printed glasses are still a thing.

“What new song?” Doyoung asks, voice slurred as his eyelids attempt to pry open. “‘M tired, Nayeon,” he whines, afterwards attempting to bury his face onto a panda-printed pillow. Nayeon snatches the pillow away from him quickly, clutching it close to her chest, face affronted.

“Don’t you dare. Last time you did that, you got drool all over my pillow.”

The pout Doyoung throws her way is ineffective, and Doyoung eventually relents, mumbling a soft ‘okay.’

“You know I’ve been trying to play songs by ear, right?” Nayeon chatters on, eyes gleaming with the same kind of bright-eyed look she has on her face every time she talks about music. Doyoung smiles instantly at the sight, soft and fond. “There’s a new Urban Zakapa song out. It’s called Coffee! And I managed to try playing it on my own. Listen, okay!”

With small steps, Nayeon plugs her keyboard in, and starts playing the tune to the song she’d raved about just a few moments prior. And Doyoung tries to listen, he really does, but the soft composition she’d put together along with the calming lull that her voice resonates doesn’t do much to keep him awake; he finds his eyes closing, breath coming in and out softer and softer as the song progresses.

(When Nayeon realizes her friend had fallen asleep instead of listening, Doyoung had gotten the scolding of his life, as well as the promise to not fall asleep and drool all over Nayeon’s pillow the next time she showed him more of her compositions.)

He knows he should’ve expected it, because Nayeon is someone who never ceases to amaze him, but Nayeon’s improvement still manages to stagger even Doyoung who knows her the best (in this room, at least. Sojung is a different story.)

Nayeon carries emotion with her as she plays the song, her voice a soft accompaniment fit for a calm, chill vibe kind of song such as Urban Zakapa’s Coffee. Nayeon’s voice is still a little too soft sometimes, but she has a nice vocal tone, and she doesn’t sound too bad. There isn’t the ‘wow’ factor that Jieqiong had, mostly because Nayeon’s social standing is nothing as impressive as Jieqiong’s, but Doyoung can tell Hanbin is pleased with Nayeon’s skill, if the smile on Kim Hanbin’s face is anything to judge by.

“Great job,” Hanbin compliments after Nayeon finishes the song, and Nayeon smiles in return; Doyoung feels pride welling in his chest, the kind that makes him want to go around exclaiming ‘that’s my friend!’ but he restrains himself. Barely, anyways. “I already know you’re good, Jeongguk, but do you want to try playing too? Just to make it fair.”

Jeon Jeongguk, who has been utterly silent most of the time since the beginning of try-outs, shakes his head. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to talk at first, until Nayeon shoots him a piercing glare.

 “What, do you think you’re too good to demonstrate for us or something?” Nayeon snides, and Jeongguk stiffens, before returning Nayeon’s glare with an impressive one of his own.

“I’m already in the band. I don’t see why I have to.”

There’s a choking noise somewhere in the room, and a few moments later, Hanbin staggers to his feet, hand absentmindedly wiping away the water on his chin. “You’re joining the band?”

As if he’d admitted something he wish he could take back, Jeongguk freezes for a moment before nodding tersely, jaw clenched. “…Yes.”

(A part of Doyoung wants to say, “now that wasn’t so bad was it?” but he doesn’t feel like getting injured in his sleep because Jeon Jeongguk is intimidating, so he does the wise thing and keeps his lips firmly sealed.)

“We’re looking forward to working with you,” Mina interjects, and Jeongguk actually blushes. Well, Doyoung thinks in amusement, that’s something interesting.

Hanbin needs a few more minutes to regain control of himself, but when he does, it’s obvious he means to go back to business mode—and Doyoung feels his heart pounding faster in his chest, the rhythm skipping past its usual beat. It’s only him and Soonyoung left, and when he steals a peek at his ‘opponent’, Soonyoung appears to be just as nervous as him, if not more; after all, while Doyoung is mostly looking like he’s constipated as hell, Soonyoung is actually breaking out in sweat, and Doyoung feels bad for him. Kind of.

“There are only two people now, so… who wants to go first? Doyoung or Soonyoung?” Hanbin looks at the both of them, gaze lingering on Doyoung for a few seconds longer than what Doyoung would’ve liked. Personally, he has no idea if word has spread about Doyoung’s past mishap, but he hopes it hasn’t. Nayeon isn’t someone who would blabber away about his personal business to others, and while it wouldn’t make sense for anyone else in the school to know (unless they personally had ties to those that went to his old school), there was still something… unsettling, to say the least, about how Hanbin had looked at him prior; almost as if he was sizing him up.

Just as Doyoung is about to volunteer because he’d have to go eventually anyway, Soonyoung hops (yes, hops) up to his feet, silencing the entire room. (Doesn’t mean much considering there’s barely anyone in there, but, the point still stands.)

“Where was the AUX cord?” Soonyoung inquires breathlessly, as if he’s running on sugar, and Jieqiong hastily hands it over to him. He plugs it onto his phone quickly, and then a song starts playing—a very loud, very dance-like EDM song. This is confusing, at least, it is to Doyoung, but before he’s able to ask any questions, Soonyoung makes his way onto the emptier part of the room and starts to dance.

Which, kind of drives Doyoung speechless, not just because Soonyoung’s really good but also because he’s confused as to why exactly Soonyoung is dancing.

The music (and by extension, dancing) ends around three minutes later, and confused clapping goes around the room, although Jieqiong seems particularly enthusiastic as she whoops for Soonyoung. Hanbin, with the most baffled expression Doyoung has ever seen, asks weakly, “…what?”

“When you wrote band auditions, I thought there was a chance this would be like, an idol group,” Soonyoung explains, tone sheepish and hand tugging at his nape. “I kind of found out I was wrong after Jieqiong’s performance, but if you guys ever need a dancer…” Soonyoung wags a thumb at himself, beaming brightly.

“But here you registered for rhythmic guitar,” Hanbin says, flabbergasted.

“It’s a rhythmic dance to a guitar.”

“…I’m.” Hanbin shakes his head afterwards, because what is his life really (or something, that’s just what Doyoung guesses), but manages a faint smile. “You’re a good dancer. Just… you know, not what we’re looking for in a band. We’ll let you know if we ever need a dancer, though.” The last sentence is more like an afterthought after a pointed elbow in the ribs from Mina, which leaves Hanbin wheezing, but Soonyoung’s smile is enough to light up the room. “Could you sit down now, please?”

“Ah, yes!” Soonyoung exclaims, flustered as he scurries back towards his previous spot. “Sorry about that.”

Almost mechanically, just after Soonyoung sits down, Doyoung stands up, walking as if on auto-pilot towards the guitar as well as the microphone. He feels his heart pounding, can hear it clearly, and his throat is dry—he attempts to it away, only to find that his tongue feels coarse, too.

This isn’t the time to panic, he chants in his head in an attempt to calm himself, and he keeps his gaze drawn to the ground, fingers shaking as he holds the guitar—the weight heavy in his palms.

Stage fright had not been a problem up until his disastrous experience, but as he views Nayeon’s encouraging smile as well as the kind eyes of the others, Doyoung feels his chest loosen, a courage he didn’t know he still had blooming in his chest.

And with that, he opened his mouth, ready to sing.

Author's Note

lol i'm surprised i'm still alive

anyways yes i hope you enjoyed this! even though this chapter was a train wreck because i haven't written in so long aAAA

keep dropping those comments they motivate me to write xoxo <3