A/N #1: Reminder that this is a product of my imagination and is by no means intended to represent the actual personalities and stories of the people mentioned. Happy reading!

Life wasn’t fair, Jihyo knew that.

Life wasn’t fair, and the personification of that notion was walking through the doors of the dance classroom. Weirdly enough, Jihyo noticed the newcomer’s feet before anything else. The spotless white sneakers didn’t stomp, didn’t drag, didn’t even shuffle. They glided across the floor with a smoothness that was almost mechanical. Above them, skinny jeggings on skinny legs and a loose white t-shirt hanging off slender shoulders. Her head was slightly lowered, so that the view of her face was obstructed by a curtain of straight hair longer than Jihyo would ever have the patience to comb through. In a way, the fact that her face was covered worked in the newcomer’s favour, making the next moment that much more dramatic.

Because when she straightened and flipped the hair away from her face, Jihyo was caught off-guard by the responding rush in her own chest. The sensation passed too quickly for her to decipher its meaning (and honestly she’d rather not know), but whatever it was, it stemmed from the fact that the new girl was really pretty. Even by idols’ standards. And standard was an apt word, because her beauty was describable and obvious to any onlooker. From her slim oval face, straight nose and pale skin, to her full lips and vivid, appropriately sized eyes.

A thought occurred to Jihyo then. Her own family and friends called her pretty, too, but she doubted if her attractiveness could survive the intensive, feature-by-feature scrutiny she was subjecting the new girl to.

The dance instructor clapped his hands and drew attention to the newcomer. The girl waited for the murmurs to die down before speaking.

“Hello, everyone. I’m Mina, from Japan," she said with the same practiced flow she walked with.

“Demure,” the word that had been on the tip of Jihyo’s tongue rolled out in a whisper once she’d heard the girl’s voice for the first time. Luckily, no one seemed to hear Jihyo. They were too busy eyeing the new girl, whose poise stood amidst the wary stares like an unbothered cliff against the waves.

The unspoken doubt hanging over the dance class dissipated once they started on their routine and Mina showed no difficulty following the moves. This was one of the most challenging choreographies Jihyo had learned so far in her eight years at the company. Though it wasn’t tiring or horribly fast, the dotted rhythm and the nuanced footwork were hard to grasp.

Except for Mina, the class had had one session before this to practice the dance. And yet, the girl caught up in no time. Jihyo watched through the wall-length mirror the satisfying way Mina’s hand caught and release the off-beats precisely, the way her body roll curved around the edges of the erratic bass notes, the way the violin solo spun her on the tip of her toes like a spinner toy and yet let her land back on both feet at the exact moment of the .

It took being caught staring twice for Jihyo to stop checking how Mina was doing. Mina didn’t smile either time they made eye contact in the mirror but just regarded Jihyo with a detached gaze.

And so, when the instructor announced a break, Jihyo didn’t approach her like she usually did with new classmates. She didn’t even dare look in her direction anymore, although Mina’s every movement nudged at the edge of her vision.

It wasn't like Mina needed Jihyo to welcome her to the company anyway. One of the perks of being a foreign trainee was that your people would instantly adopt you. The Japanese clan, led by one Minatozaki Sana, had even tried to adopt Tzuyu when she came, and a custody battle had broken over between them and the smaller Taiwanese clan. Mina, being an actual Japanese, would have no problem finding friends here.

It was only the first day and Sana was already all over the new girl. From across the cafeteria, Jihyo watched honey spill from Sana’s eyes and smile onto Mina’s face. Jihyo would give it two weeks, max, before Sana started to try to kiss the pretty newbie. The thought filled Jihyo with a mixture of amusement and envy. She remembered her first few weeks here at JYPE. Eight years ago, before the rest of 6MIX had joined. She had been such a painfully shy kid. Breaking her way into the already-formed cliques within the larger Korean trainee population had seemed like an impossible task then, when she could hardly order a sandwich at the cafeteria without stumbling over her words. For a while, Jihyo had been convinced she would spend her whole time here alone, miserable.

“Hey.” Back in the present, Jeongyeon slammed her lunch box on the table so hard the water rippled in Jihyo’s cup. She used to think Jeongyeon had anger issues, but she knew now the girl was just born a little short of elegant.

“Hey.”

“Hey hey hey,” Nayeon greeted as she slipped into the seat next to Jeongyeon.

“Hey,” Jihyo repeated, not missing a beat.

“Heyyyyyyy.”

The three of them sat around saying hey to each other in increasingly weird voices until Nayeon started to sing Good girl, bad girl entirely in hey’s and Jihyo had to put a stop to it.

“Okay, enough!” Jihyo held her hands up. “Unnie, where’s your lunch?”

“I forgot to bring it. Can I have some of your food, Jeongyeon ah?”

“What? Don’t be such a bother. Just go over there and buy yourself a bun or something,” Jeongyeon whined even though she was handing over her chopsticks to Nayeon, who grinned and dug into Jeongyeon’s bulgogi chicken. “Anyway, I heard there’s a new trainee. Is that her over there?”

Nayeon leaned back to look past Jeongyeon to where Sana and Mina were sitting. “Ooh. She’s hot. Anyone knows who she is?”

“Mina. She’s from Japan.”

“Wow, since when was our Jihyo so up-to-date with this kind of gossip?” Jeongyeon teased.

“Of course I’d know. She’s in my dance class.”

“What?” Nayeon and Jeongyeon exclaimed in unison, with Jeongyeon spitting out a bit of chicken without realising it.

“She’s in the senior dance class? That’s crazy,” Nayeon said, “She’s literally the most junior trainee around if this is her first day.”

“She must be some dance genius,” Jeongyeon hypothesised, “Like, Momo-level genius.”

“Not Momo-level, as far as I can tell. But she’s good,” Jihyo acknowledged.

She thought, but didn’t say, that Mina just wasn’t Momo-level yet. After three, five years of training, who knew how far she could go?

And after eight years?

Jihyo pulled the emergency lever on that train of thought. She couldn’t afford to feel sorry for herself. Not right now. She needed to get through this week of training and school, and then the one after that, and the one after that.

Jihyo found out Mina was the same age as her.

She didn’t know what to do with this information, other than let it brew it her mind until her head was heavy with the implications. Did the other trainees know, too? Did they put Jihyo and Mina side-by-side and compare them in their minds? In their conversations?

Jihyo watched Mina goof off with Momo to boy group dances in the practice room and thought about how it came so naturally to her, what took Jihyo years upon painful years of hard work.

Jihyo watched Mina sit quietly with the Japanese girls and thought about how difficult it had been for Jihyo to make friends and Mina didn’t even have to try.

Jihyo watched the three male trainees swarm Mina at the bus stop like a circle of flies and thought about how she herself had never received a confession. In school, yes, but here at JYPE, Jihyo knew she paled in comparison with the conventional, feminine beauties at every corner of the building. And yet, Jihyo had never felt such an aversion towards Sana, Nayeon, Cecilia, or even Suzy when they’d been training together. It was because she knew that, beyond their flawless exteriors, Nayeon was actually a food-stealing toddler and Sana was just a hyperactive, embarrassing puppy. Jihyo thought she must at least give herself a chance to try and know Mina. She hated holding all these negative feelings inside.

“Yah Minhyuk,” Jihyo yelled over to where the bunch of boys were trapping Mina.

“Yeah?”

“You’re not supposed to be here. Your mom’s probably at the parking lot on the other side. D’you want me to call her and tell her to wait for you to finish flirting?”

“Oh come on, noona…”

“Hmm, what’s that?” Jihyo pretended not to hear his plea and pulled out her phone.

“Fine, I’m going.”

“You two as well.” Jihyo waved a hand and boys whined before dispersing.

It became quiet at the bus stop, where dusk was falling over the two girls. Mina stood still at her spot for what felt like full minutes, during which Jihyo started to question whether Mina had actually been enjoying the boys’ attention and Jihyo had messed it up for her. Then, slowly, the girl walked over to the bench Jihyo was sitting on. Again, Jihyo took note of the way her feet move, only this time they weren’t gliding but kind of… waddling?

Before Jihyo could make up her mind about whether her eyes were tricking her, Mina had sat down next to her. Well, sat down on the same bench as her. There was an awkward amount of space between them.

“Thank you,” Mina’s soft voice called out for her attention.

Jihyo realised she was still starting at the other girl’s feet and looked up, only to be struck by a warm eye-smile. There was that rush in her chest again. Had her heart always been this weak against attractive people?

“You’re welcome,” Jihyo said, hoping her face didn’t flush. In the quiet seconds that followed, she swung her legs back and forth below the bench, while Mina sat still with the tips of her toes just touching the ground.

“You’re Jihyo, right? I’m Mina, from Japan. We’re in the same dance class,” Mina said with a hand pressed to her chest.

The corners of Jihyo’s lips tugged upwards without her realising it. Mina didn’t think Jihyo remembered her? And the careful way she enunciated each Korean syllable was oddly endearing.

“Of course I know your name, Mina. You’re a really good dancer.”

“Oh.” Mina’s cheeks turned pink almost immediately. “Thank you.”

She was so obviously shy. Jihyo was glad she was there to stop the boys from bothering her further. Although, come to think of it, Mina wasn’t blushing when the boys were complimenting her just now, was she?

“You’re a-“ Mina started to say but saw that Jihyo had opened to speak as well, “Oh. You say first.”

“Okay.” Jihyo chuckled. “I was about to ask which vocal class you’re in. I don’t think any of my friends is in the same class as you. Or perhaps you’re a rapper… ?” The idea sounded absurd as soon as Jihyo said it out loud, but she didn’t want to assume anything.

Mina was blushing really hard now, her fingers fiddling with the hair tie around her wrist and her voice dwindling to a nearly inaudible volume. “No no no. I can’t rap. It’s just that I’ve been having… what is it called in Korean… private lessons. Yeah. The company arranged private vocal lessons for me.”

Mina’s bus arrived just as she finished her sentence. The girl, still blushing, turned around once to bow before boarding.

Jihyo’s smile fell from her face as the bus pulled away.

Private vocal lessons. Mina was having private vocal lessons.

As far as Jihyo knew (and Jihyo knew a lot by virtue of being around this place for eight years), there was no precedent for this. Everyone trained in classes, not only because that made economical sense for the company, but also because it gave them the opportunity to bond. Mina must have been way too good for the rest of them to explain this situation.

If there was one thing that Jihyo could count on, it was her voice. That was her strength, her way of standing out, her ticket to a debut. She had worked her off for eight long years, under her share of scary vocal coaches and through sleepless nights when she’d thought she’d lost her voice, and Mina, a one-week-old trainee, had private vocal lessons?

Jihyo had to get better, do better, and fast. Because when the opportunity for debut came and Park Jinyoung decided that, after all, he didn’t need her as a main vocalist when he already had Mina, Jihyo would be done for. Eight years of her life flushed down the drain, just like that.

And so, Jihyo started to stay back every day to practice. There was a policy that trainees who were still going to school were not supposed to practice overtime in the building. But one of the privileges Jihyo enjoyed for having trained for so long was that she knew everyone personally, including the instructors and security guards, and they closed an eye when she stepped outside the rules.

Jihyo half-wished she hadn’t been the one to instigate the no-talking-behind-each-other’s-backs rule among the trainees, because right now she really wanted to complain to someone how much this situation with Mina was bothering her. How utterly unfair she thought it was. But, instead, her frustrated voice echoed back at her in the lonely practice room. Jihyo winced, reaching a hand out to turn down the reverb of the mic. There was a high note she couldn’t pull off. No matter how many times she tried it, she always came off a little flat, a little shaky. Not good enough. Not good enough.

Never good enough.

Turning her back against the security camera mounted on the ceiling, Jihyo finally let the tears fall.

The rain clouds cleared from her mind, slowly, drop by drop, until Jihyo could convince herself that she could do it, she had what it took, she just had to try again and again. Maybe her vocal chords were just tired, that was all. It would all be better after a short break.

Nodding to herself, she made towards the backpack in the corner of the room. She pulled from it a bottle of water and, after a moment’s hesitation, a Kit-Kat bar. The company had been tough on her since the last weight evaluation, but certainly a Kit-Kat wouldn’t hurt. Chocolate eased her mind, and there was always time to lose weight before debut.

Jihyo made her way through the building with the Kit-Kat tucked in her hoodie pocket. There was a secret spot on the rooftop terrace, one she didn’t even tell Nayeon and Jeongyeon about, where the cameras didn’t reach. She knew the place well enough to leave her body on autopilot and went over the song she’d been practicing in her head. Perhaps she should slur the vowel on the high note a bit, that could help to keep open…

Music hit her ears as soon as she opened the door that led out onto the rooftop. She'd thought it was coming from the streets below at first, but now that she was standing here, there was no doubt someone was playing a song at her secret spot. The chorus started then, and Jihyo recognised the song was She said by Toy and Kwon Jinah.

A large concrete planter currently obstructed the mysterious source of music from Jihyo’s vision. It took her a few hesitant steps before the last person Jihyo expected to see came into view.

“Mina?”

The girl jolted. Jihyo knew Mina was a few centimetres taller than her, but the way the Japanese trainee was sitting, hugging her knees and gazing up at her with glossy eyes, it made her look so small. So young.

“Jihyo,” Mina’s voice croaked, and she had to clear before continuing, “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Oh.” Mina shrugged, turning her head away from Jihyo and looking forward again. “Just listening to music.”

Jihyo stood shuffling her feet. She wasn’t sure what to do with herself. Of course, on one hand, she knew that no one would stay back this late to listen to music alone at this specific place on the rooftop. Something must have been bothering Mina. But, on the other hand, why did it have to be Jihyo out of all people to comfort her, when her appearance at the company had caused Jihyo so much distress?

Someone switched on a light in the next building. In the dim fluorescent glow, Jihyo saw the wet patches on Mina’s sleeves. And Jihyo’s heart, her tender, helpless heart that could barely keep up with her own worries and pains, it ached for Mina.

With a small sigh, the senior trainee stepped closer and sat down. It reminded her of that day, two weeks ago, when the two of them had sat together at the bus stop, but there was a little less empty space between them now.

“Something on your mind?” Jihyo asked, carefully, as if approaching an easily frightened animal.

“I guess you can say that.”

Jihyo nodded, rattling her brain for things that used to trouble her as a new trainee. “Are the other kids treating you well?”

“Yeah. Everyone’s been really kind.”

“Then…” Jihyo mused for a moment. “Worried about the next showcase?”

Mina’s sigh answered the question even before she nodded.

Jihyo blinked in incomprehension. “Hmm? But you're doing so well?”

“You only saw me in dance class. You’ve never heard me sing.”

“Well yeah but-I assumed-I just thought, since you’re having private singing lessons…”

Mina shook her head and hugged her legs a bit more tightly. “I’m having private lessons because I can’t sing in front of other people.”

“Oh.”

Oh.

“I don’t know why it’s so difficult.” Mina’s voice dropped to a low, confessional murmur. “Dancing is fine, but when I have to open my mouth in front of an audience, I just… choke. The company agreed to give me a month with a private coach to build up my confidence. Well, the month’s almost up now, and just the thought singing in public makes me want to throw up. I can barely eat anymore.”

Jihyo couldn’t see Mina’s face from the side because of her long hair. Her eyes fell instead on Mina’s bony wrists, then down to the lack of a stomach bulge where her t-shirt was tucked into the front of her jeans even when she was sitting down. Jihyo had always considered it simply as part of the whole-package conventional beauty that Mina had been born with. It had never crossed her mind that Mina looked the way she did because she had been too nauseous to eat.

“It’d be easier if my mom was here,” Mina continued when Jihyo didn’t say anything, “She’d know what to say. I miss her and dad. And Ray. God, I hope Ray’s okay while I’m gone.”

Jihyo found herself raising an eyebrow. Ray? An American-Japanese boyfriend? She was curious but didn’t want to pry.

“Hey, it’ll get easier,” Jihyo said softly instead, “The first internal showcase is always scary. But once you've survived that, you’ll know what to do the next time.”

“I don’t know. Singing a full line in front of people seems hard enough. I don’t think I can sing and dance and smile, let alone look attractive doing it. I’ll never be as good as the other trainees.”

“You mean Sana and Nayeon unnie and all? Don’t let them intimidate you-“

“I meant you, actually.”

Jihyo’s entire Korean vocabulary evaporated from her brain. Maybe Mina was speaking so softly that she’d misheard her?

Mina turned her head to look at her and gave small smile. “Don’t be so surprised, God Jihyo.”

“Oh come on. That God Jihyo thing is a joke. Yoo Jungyeon probably started it to mess it me.”

“Maybe it’s kinda funny, but it’s not a joke. The other trainees admire you a lot, and I can see why. You’re good at everything. Singing, dancing, variety show skills. And you’re good to everyone. They all want to debut with you.” Mina paused and ducked her head slightly. “Me too. Although I know that’s impossible.”

Jihyo leaned back against the planter they were sitting in front of and took a deep breath, letting it all sink in. She should be feeling good, shouldn’t she? This pretty, talented trainee – the object of Jihyo’s and many others’ envy – was describing her as if she were some kind of invincible superstar that was way out of reach for normal people.

But that wasn’t what Jihyo wanted. She didn’t want to become an idol because she wanted to be worshipped and envied. It wasn’t even because she wanted to sing and dance; there were other ways to do that. No, she had started on this tortuous path eight years ago because, when she’d been a kid wondering if she’d ever make anything of herself in this world, S.E.S. encouraged her through their music to choose her dreams over her fears. And since then, she had been able to continue this marathon because Shinhwa assured her the stars would watch over her dreams, Wonder Girls told her to protect her dreams the way her dreams protected her, and SNSD commended her for making it this far, assuring her there was nothing she couldn’t handle.

Sitting there now, on the quiet rooftop, next to someone who had more in common with her than she had thought, Jihyo was reminded of what she had nearly forgotten along the way. She didn’t want to be put on a pedestal. She just wanted to be on that poster above someone’s desk, so that when they felt like they had no strength to go on, they would look up and think, someday, their dreams would come true too.

"Hey, don’t use that word so carelessly.”

“Hmm?” Mina tilted her head to a side.

“Impossible. Don’t say it so lightly. You know, Chaeyoung has this really nice saying that goes, whether you think you can, or you think you can’t, you’re right. So when you-What? Why are you laughing?”

“Nothing.” Mina giggled. “It’s just that’s not Chaeyoung’s saying. That’s Henry Ford.”

Jihyo narrowed her eyes at the Japanese girl, who held her laughter and gestured for Jihyo to continue.

“Anyway, the point is, I see so much potential when I look at you, Mina. But it’s on you to be strong and work hard to realise that potential, okay?”

Mina’s smile widened and her eyes turned into curves. Jihyo’s gaze lingered on the mole above her top lip, her thoughts on how unfair it was for someone to look so pretty while showing this much gum. But, come to think of it, Jihyo was the one who got to see that beautiful gummy smile, so maybe life wasn’t that unfair after all.

“Okay,” Mina replied, barely above a whisper.

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Come on.” Jihyo stood up and helped to pull Mina up. “I’ll show you some tricks to feel less nervous while singing.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Do you want a Kit-Kat by the way?” Jihyo pulled the chocolate from her pocket and Mina took it with a timid nod.

“Let’s share it.”

“Hah, okay. Wait what-" Crack. "Yah, Myoui Mina, what kind of insane person breaks a Kit-Kat in half in that direction? They already made it into two bars for you, you know?”

“I guess we’re speaking informally now?” Mina flashed one more of her gummy smiles, and Jihyo couldn’t even fake being mad at her.

“I guess so, sociopath Myoui.”

As the pair quietly walked along the corridors nibbling on Kit-Kat, Jihyo’s gaze fell on Mina’s feet again. Feet that didn’t stomp, didn’t shuffle, didn’t glide, but waddled. Something about the sight made Jihyo smile to herself. What had she been torturing herself over the past few weeks for when it was supposed to be this easy all along?

“What does that word mean by the way?” Mina broke the silence after a while. “‘Soziopath’?”

Jihyo laughed over a mouthful of chocolate. “Sociopath.”

“Right. So-ci-o-path. Is that a good thing?”

“Yeah yeah. Totally. It’s a compliment, sociopath Myoui.”

A/N #2: Thanks for reading! If you're having a bad day, remember that God Jihyo believes in you.