09. stress (come on!)

“Guys! Guys did you hear?” Bongjoon comes running into the practice room, practically skidding to stop before slamming into the door frame. The inhabitants of the room look up briefly at the noise, some raising eyebrows while others can hardly contain their snickers, before Jisang stands up and walks over to where Bongjoon is rolling on the ground in pain. Picking the other boy up, Jisang all but half carries half drags him into the room and softly massages the growing reed spot on Bongjoon’s shoulder.

“So what’s the news bud?” Seungcheol asks, leaning forwards. He discards the lyric sheet he had been holding and lets it fall to the ground and turns towards Bongjoon with interest. A couple other trainees also turn their heads towards the commotion, much too tired of practicing to pay attention to anything else.

“Do you guys remember how Henry ssi said before that people would be coming in and out of the project?” Bongjoon finally speaks up after absorbing enough attention from Jisang. Some of the males in the room nod, most of them shake their head.

“Didn’t he say like, the teams we were in weren’t permanent?” Chihu thinks back. “So even if you’re in like, Team Gladius now you could very easily be bumped into Icarus after a while?”

“Yeah, rearranging teams,” Bongjoon nods, pleased that no one else was really sure what he was talking about. Well, not exactly. He was kind of pressured, considering everyone was looking at him with confusion. He wasn’t sure if he could explain what he wanted to say properly, but at the same time he was practically glowing under all the attention. “But Henry ssi also said that you shouldn’t be too comfortable with your spot in YRT2016 because if you don’t do well in monthly evaluations, you’ll drop out and another trainee will take your place, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” San pauses, looking up from his paper. “Are monthly evaluations soon? Is that why you’re bringing this up?”

“Henry ssi told me as I was walking back to remind everyone about it,” Bongjoon nods. “And that something might be different this time or something? I don’t… really remember.” Deflating now that his time in the spotlight was over, Bongjoon awkwardly pulls on his shirt as he sees other people start to lose interest in him. Myunghwan in particular gives him a disgusted look when he has no further explanation to offer, causing Bongjoon to pout a bit. At least he managed to relay his information without stuttering – that had to count for something, right?

“Hey wait,” Taeryung speaks up, hitting the ground in his revelation. “I think I remember Jisoo ssi saying something about that! Since we’ve been getting somewhat popular because of our weekly broadcasts–”

“We literally cap at like 100 viewers every week how is that popular,” Chihu rolls his eyes, scoffing at Taeryung’s optimism.

“–this time the monthly evaluations would be put up on the YouTube channel,” Taeryung continues as if Chihu had never spoken. “I remember him talking to Kyungsoo ssi about it too, like how we’d all have to get into groups this time and make a choreography or sing or do something to show off our talents and they’d record it and put it online.”

“And they’ll be judging us off of that?” Taekjin confirms. “That’s nerve-wracking,” the awkward male shivers anxiously at the very thought of it. He had worked hard to get into Yunrae and to keep his position as one of the better trainees in terms of skill. When he had found out he was going to be a part of YRT2016, he was ecstatic. He was one step closer to debuting, and every single on of the trainees wanted to be in his spot. Now that the time had come to – for lack of a better word – defend his position, Taekjin was worried he wouldn’t be able to keep up with the other, more talented trainees.

“Well then, better get to work then,” Junho shrugs, seemingly nonchalant about the whole ordeal. On the inside however, he was very much freaking out. Well, maybe not freaking out, but definitely stressed. The last time they had an assignment or assessment like this, Junho had lost, so it’s natural that he wasn’t feeling very confident. This time was even worse though, because it wasn’t just a little exposure that was at risk. Junho could take not appearing in a MV, it was just a little tidbit that would be interesting to look back on the future, he could do without that. Getting kicked out of YRT2016 on the other hand? That was scary. Junho definitely had to do good this time.

“These are the groups?” Taewoo asks, looking around at the other males in his presence. “It’s interesting how they didn’t split us in Icarus and Gladius.”

“I think,” San starts, stopping only to snicker when Seungcheol drops the envelope Kyungsoo had given them beforehand, before continuing, “they split us into positional groups.”

“Like what they did on Produce 101?” Seungcheol confirms, sitting down and smacking San’s shoulder at his previous laughing. “Let’s see what this says then,” Seungcheol opens the envelope, successfully freeing the paper inside and smoothing it out before reading it. “Hello everyone! This is Yoo Hyeri – wow she’s kind of unprofessional – as most of you may know, we’re going to be starting monthly assessments. They’ll be different for YRT2016 members. You’ve been split up and contacted by the appropriate managers. These will be your groups for the evaluation. They have been decided based on everyone’s skill level and main talents.”

“So, you were right,” Taewoo observes, playing with his shoelace absentmindedly.

“Yeah,” Seungcheol nods. “Oh look at this here, we’re the ‘rappers’ apparently,” Seungcheol grins, throwing San a quick look.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” San raises his eyebrows. “I can rap.”

“You mostly sing,” Taewoo points out.

“That just means I’m awesome because I can do both,” San rolls his eyes. “Now continue reading.”

“Rappers, you’ll be given a track on random made by Jinhyuk and are to write your own lyrics for them. A dance is additional but is appreciated for stage value. Your song is included in this enevelope – I dropped it though – please feel free to use the music players in the practice rooms to listen to it! Good luck!” Seungcheol finishes the letter. As San reaches into the envelope to pick up the hopefully undamaged USB, Seungcheol clears his throat and folds the letter up again.

“Let’s start with the song hm?” Taewoo suggests as San plugs it into the speaker. The song starts playing and Taewoo’s eyebrows shoot up. “This… is definitely not what I was expecting.”

“It’s different from regular rap that’s for sure,” San practically laughs at the softer, almost pop-like melody flows around the room. “Looks like it’s a good thing I’m a vocalist because there’s no way you’re going to be able to write a rap chorus for this in the little time we have.”

“Guess so,” Seungcheol begrudgingly agrees, shooting San a lopsided grin. “Isn’t it nice how fate works out?”

“For sure,” San replies, shooting Seungcheol a wink, only to have Taewoo clear his throat.

“What should our topic be? It’s easiest to write according to a concept,” Taewoo suggests, shooting San a jokingly disgusted look. “By the sound of the song it can’t be a dissing track or anything very harsh. Maybe something with a deeper meaning?”

“I could play around with that,” Seungcheol hums in agreement. “Metaphors and things like that. It would be fun. Let’s see… what’s happening around now that we can use to our advantage?” Silence befalls the room as the track stops playing. The three males trail off, all in their own little worlds of thought as they try and come up with a reasonable concept for the song. It couldn’t be too light-hearted, that would just make them sound like a typical ‘idol’ rapper, and if this was one of the first things that would show themselves off to the public, then that was the last thing they wanted. But because the song seemed so soft, they couldn’t do a passionate, aggressive rap either – which was probably better in the long run, a first impression like that would turn some fans off.

“Aren’t kids taking their university entrance exams around now?” Taewoo finally thinks. “I remember seeing some posts about it on Instagram or whatever.”

“Aw, the little kiddies are growing up,” San teases. “They’re probably so innocent and eager still, how cute.”

“You sound so old,” Taewoo rolls his eyes. He lays down on the ground and rolls over to poke San in the stomach. “Hey, getting chubby huh? Better start working out before someone gets on your case about it. Weigh ins are a pain in the .”

“That’s for sure,” San sighs. “Sora was talking yesterday about how she wasn’t going to drink any water the day before so she’s shed all her water weight before the weigh in.”

“That’s not fair she’s too young to be thinking about stuff like that,” Seungcheol pouts at the mention of their younger friend. “Hey wait a minute,” Seungcheol jolts up, putting two and two together. “We could write about that, like how you lose innocence once you become an adult and then combined with university exams it’ll make sense! Kind of.”

“It’s better than nothing,” San shrugs, dragging his bag over and grabbing a pen and a piece of paper. Shoving it onto the floor at the rappers, he leans back. “You guys write your raps while I think of a chorus. We’ll get through this, probably.”

“Dancers huh?” Chihu looks around at his teammates before glancing back at the envelope on the ground. “I’m pretty sure there are some better dancers that should be here,” he gives certain members a good look before flopping onto the floor, “but that’s not my problem.”

“Thank you for that insight,” Jisang resists the urge to sigh. “Anyways, does the letter say we can use any song we want to?” Jisang crawls over to Dohyun, who has the piece of paper in his hands, before peering over the edge. Struggling to read upside down, Dohyun laughs a bit at his antics before flipping the page over for Jisang to read normally. “Ah, we do. I wonder if the others get to do that too.”

“Probably not,” Chihu says. “It gives them too much freedom. Since writing lyrics and what not is hard enough as it is, it’d be doubly as hard to find a good song as well.”

“But it’s hard to find a good song to choregraph too,” Myunghwan points out. “Unless they’re flinging us so called ‘dancers’ away for the seconds – which I doubt since Henry ssi is the boss of the whole YRT2016 deal.”

“Well, whatever the reasoning is, at least we get to choose the song we want,” Dohyun reasons, causing the two younger males to shrug and stare off into different directions. “Now does anyone have a preferred genre they want to do? Contemporary? Jazz? Hip hop?”

“Isn’t this one of the first glimpses people get in terms of finding out who we are?” Jisang asks for confirmation. “Well then we should show something powerful, right? Not all the fans are going to be dancers so it’d be best to put on something showy.”

“Are you saying ballet and dances like that aren’t skillful?” Chihu raises an eyebrow at that, mouth settling into a fine line as he regards the younger boy silently. Myunghwan scoffs at that, leaning back and resting his weight on his hands as he watches the small fight in front of him unravel. “Because I don’t know about you but ballerinos are muscular as .”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Jisang replies calmly, not getting baited into Chihu’s immature argument. Myunghwan sighs in disappointment at Jisang’s level headedness before slumping forwards and resting his head on his knees. “Normally, people who don’t dance only see strong, ‘good’ dancers as those who do hip hop and flips and tricks. They don’t know that precision, fluidity, and flexibility are really big factors to dance so they can’t really appreciate the finer dance styles.”

“So, by that, to establish a good first impression, you’re saying we should do hip hop?” Chihu questions. Honestly, he had wanted to do hip hop in the first place, but he didn’t like the fact that someone younger than him was giving out suggestions. Call him old fashioned or just in the mood for an argument, but Chihu was raving to let out his frustrations. He didn’t it was very fair for everyone to make it into YRT2016, only to be dropped a month and a half later. They should’ve done this whole ‘changing up members’ thing at least every three months or half a year – something with a longer period in between. How could they gain fans and keep people interested if your favourite left the team (or whatever YRT2016 was supposed to be) every couple of months?

Chihu guessed it served as a kind of incentive, so trainees wouldn’t slack off and continue to work hard. After all, YRT2016 didn’t guarantee a debut, it just meant you were closer to it. The higher ups had said that, if they did end up making a new group, that those in YRT2016 would be considered first for the lineup, but what if you did really well but just had a bad month or something? Did that mean all your previous training and efforts meant nothing? Chihu didn’t think it was logical or fair in that case.

“It doesn’t have to be hip hop,” Dohyun concludes cleanly. “But definitely something strong and charismatic, your typical dance performance I guess. Next time when we have more security we can take risks and try something for classical. Now let’s get started on finding a song.”

“It’s cool that the groups are split pretty evenly,” Taeryung hums as Junho finishes reading the letter sent by Hyeri. “I went to the bathroom earlier and the other rooms have at least three or four people each – meaning if we do debut, we’ll have a good amount of dancers, singers, and rappers. No one will be able to say we’re a ‘performance only’ group or whatever else.”

“That’s not that great either,” Hyukjin coughs. “We won’t shine in any particular area – jack of all trades, master of none.”

“But a jack of all trades is better than a master of one,” Junho says cheerfully, trying to combat Hyukjin’s negative aura. “Anyways, did they give us a song to sing or do we get to choose one?”

“I think we get to choose one,” Taekjin peeks into the envelope tentatively. “There’s no disk or USB,” he reports, “vocals and dancers probably get to choose the song, but rappers most likely will write their own lyrics.”

“Rappers don’t like having to copy other people after all,” Hyukjin comments and Taeryung nods along. “Anyways, I guess that means we’re picking a song?”

“Isn’t that a bit too plain though?” Taeryung pouts. “The dancers get to show off their own made choreography and the rappers get the credit of writing their own raps – what do we do? Just cover a song? That’s lame.”

“W-we could rearrange a song?” Bongjoon suggests, fiddling with a stray thread on his shirt. He practically squeaks when Hyukjin gives him a measured look before the older man hums thoughtfully.

“By ‘we’ it’s probably just going to mean me,” Hyukjin says dismissively. “But I could do it. Make an acoustic version of a more pop song or change up the style and tempo, easy stuff.” Bongjoon nods along, although he didn’t really know what Hyukjin was talking about. The awkward child just liked to sing. He didn’t understand any of that music theory stuff or whatever Jinhyuk had been trying to teach him last time they had a vocal session together. Apparently, according to the producer, Bongjoon naturally had a good tone of voice and managed to subconsciously learn various singing skills, but he was still lacking in the technique department. To combat that, Bongjoon was now forced to pour over a music history and theory book every hour for two days a week – much to his and Jinhyuk’s distress.

“Would that be enough?” Junho questions. “Rearranging a song is great and all but that only shows off your talents,” the oldest male explains, “and while that’s wonderful on your part, we all need a time to shine I think.” The group quiets at that, no doubt thinking about their own chances at debuting. Although he didn’t want to sound mean, Junho was very much concerned about his own well-being. While it was always nice to do well as a group, it felt like Hyukjin was putting too much emphasis on his own talents rather than the collective group.

“Oh!” Taeryung perks up. “You three can play instruments right?” Taeryung tilts his head to the side, observing Hyukjin, Junho, and Taekjin. “Bongjoon and I can’t, but we can work around that. Maybe we could play instruments and sing at the same time? A band-like concept, not a lot of idols do that nowadays and fans love it when people accompany their vocals with the guitar and what not.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Taekjin nods. “I can play the keyboard or the synthesizer, I think Junho and Hyukjin got guitar and bass covered, but what would you two do?”

“D-drums?” Bongjoon says tentatively. “I mean, I dance pretty well so I think I’d have an okay rhythm. Maybe I could hit a triangle or something?”

“We can work with that,” Junho considers. “You can play the cajon.”

“Cannon?” Bongjoon stumbles over the unfamiliar word.

“What about me?” Taeryung breezes over Bongjoon’s comment.

“Well that depends on what song we’re doing,” Hyukjin thinks. “Depending on the song we’ll pick an instrument for you and I’ll try to make the instrument line easier for you to play. Does that sound good?”

“I’ve always wanted to learn an instrument!” Taeryung cheers, and with his positivity, the rest of the group pours over the tablet in Bongjoon’s hands as they try and figure out a song.