Welcome to my dream world

Come, come, come in, only look at me

You can’t escape

You’re in my hands

...

Stay trapped like this forever

Minji felt weak.

She set her iced coffee down on the table, shaking her hand in an attempt to alleviate the numbness incurred from carrying the cold cup all the way to the company. A few errant drops of condensation that had previously coated her palm were flung from her fingertips. While beginning to fidget with her bag, she unconsciously wiped the remaining water on her jeans. Unceremoniously the bag and the jacket were shed - dropped to the floor and hung haphazardly on the back of the chair. Falling back in the chair with a quiet, “Oooof,” Minji looked at the time. Eight at night. She spent a moment simply staring into nothingness, every ounce of her energy split between exhaustion and doubt. Just barely suppressing a sigh, she forced her legs to support her weight once more and began to stretch.

She had resolved to devote this weekend to vocal practice, and every productive session always began with stretching. Contorting herself, she breathed deeply, feeling a tug at her back. Once she felt sufficiently supple, she plunked a key on the electric keyboard and began running scales through her range and through all the vowels. Robotic as it was, there was something comfortingly ritualistic about starting out like this. There was so much to be stressed about as of late, and this short period with no immediate things being asked of her seemed like a slice of heaven. 

But how much of a paradise could this heaven be if self-consciousness was able to creep back in so quickly? Every time she caught herself forgetting about her worries, her immediate reaction was to bring them all up again, as if it was irresponsible of her to leave them behind. She was the leader. Maybe she didn’t fully understand what that meant, but she understood enough. It was her duty to be the foundation of Minx. In all things she must be sturdy and steadfast - secured deep in the bedrock. If the ground were to shift, and if the building were to collapse, the rubble would fall on her shoulders. It was a weight she bore with a smile so bright it blinded everyone to her true feelings. 

She was the leader. A vocalist and a dancer, but not the main vocalist; not the main dancer. She felt, in this group of talented members, that she could easily slip further from the ideal if she didn’t constantly strive for improvement. She supposed in the realm of dance she was on par with Bora. She could keep up -- maybe even give her a run for her money. It was her voice that she felt was the issue. Siyeon had quickly distinguished herself with her almost unbelievable pitch and Yoohyeon had not been far behind with a vocal tone that was so clear that it had stunned Minji into silence in their trainee days. 

In comparison Minji felt like an amateur. What good was her voice? It was so light. There was no deep, throaty resonance she could muster. Even in her chest voice. The other members sounded so mature, confidant, and womanly, and then there was her. She was still pitchy when she sang live. 

She ran her scales again. 

She just had to be better.

After a while she was satisfied, at least relatively so, and moved on to practicing songs. She pulled up an instrumental track on her phone and closed her eyes, focusing on her intonation. So completely absorbed in this was she that when she finally paused long enough between songs she nearly jumped off her chair when she heard strains of music faintly through the door. Poking her head into the hall, she saw a sliver of light pouring from beneath the door of the practice room at the other end of the hall. It was Yoohyeon. Hard-working Yoohyeon, Minji thought. Coming in late to practice even after an uncharacteristically busy weekend of preparation. The song was beautiful, as always when it was Yoohyeon singing it. After a few beats Minji realized the song was in English. She didn’t know what all the words were, but it sounded sad. 

If there was one thing the group was missing it was a member fluent in English. Truth be told, none of them were very good, but the best among their number was Yoohyeon. She seemed to have a natural inclination, an ear for languages if you will. Something about how her brain worked gave her the ability to dissect the awkward sounds and cadence of English; a trait Minji was both proud of and envied. 

She closed the door to resume practicing her plain, Korean songs. 

It was nine-thirty and Minji was tired. She felt as though she’d made at least a little progress and figured she could fit in one more song before she packed up. As she pondered what song to practice with next, she heard a knock at the door.

“Yes?” she called out. 

“Unnie, I’m heading out.” The voice paused awkwardly. “Is there anything I can get you?” Yoohyeon’s voice came through the barrier quiet. Almost timid.

This was ridiculous. They were close, weren’t they? So why did Yoohyeon call her “Unnie” and not Minji? She got up from her chair, and opened the door. Perhaps she had moved a little too quickly -- judging by the wide eyed look that greeted her. 

Minji tried to smile, but it was anyone’s guess as to what expression she actually made.“Thanks, though I think I’m good.”

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