Chapter Text
“Come on!” he shouts back to Ma, running ahead of her towards the Pledis building looming up ahead on the crowded Seoul street.
He’s been dreaming of this for so long. Even before Pledis had given him a call all those weeks ago, asking him to come and audition. He’s always wanted to sing, to be up on a stage in front of others, but it hadn’t seemed possible for a fourteen-year-old from Jeju Island. This opportunity is a dream, and he’s going to make the most of it.
“Slow down, Seungkwan!” Ma complains. “We don’t all have young legs!”
“And we don’t have all the time in the world, either!” he laughs, checking she’s still behind him as he turns into the building, running up the steps with anticipation. They only have to step into the lobby to see the number of people waiting to audition; there’s young boys and girls everywhere, waiting with parents and siblings, practising their singing or dancing or rapping in any space they can find.
They wait for three hours, and Seungkwan isn’t deterred in the slightest. Instead he sings, belts out loud, practises his runs; tugs at his new shirt and practises bowing to the judges when he enters. The kids leaving in tears make him feel nervous, so the ones leaving with beaming smiles are where he puts his focus.
“Boo Seungkwan?” the woman at the door calls, and he stands quickly, Ma standing with him.
She tugs at his shirt collar and brushes non-existent dust from his shoulders. “Good luck, baby.”
“Thanks, Ma,” he says, and pulls his shirt from her grip, almost running towards the audition room. He waits with the woman for another minute, then the previous boy comes out of the room, seemingly stunned. He walks into the gap he’d left, the space in the middle of the room, facing the four panellists watching him. Bowing respectfully, he greets them with a voice smaller than usual.
“Hello, judges. I’m Boo Seungkwan. Thank you for calling me to audition here.”
“Hello, Seungkwan,” the man to the left says kindly. The other three watch him with impassive expressions. “We called you to audition here, did we?”
“Yes,” he says, wiping sweaty hands on his trousers. “I was casted from a video of me singing.”
“If that’s so, let us hear you sing,” he says, gesturing for him to start.
Seungkwan takes a deep breath in and starts the opening lines steadily.
“I long for that voice, I miss you so much I can’t even get up,” he sings, closing his eyes and entering his own world, where this singer longs for their soulmate. “Time is telling me to forget, but your face becomes even clearer.” When he goes into the chorus, he belts all the feeling he has into the lyrics, emoting for his audience. His eyes stay shut until the end, and when he opens them again, the light of the room surprises him. He’d almost forgotten the judges were there.
“Thank you, Seungkwan,” the kind judge says. “You should hear from us in the next few days.” He smiles encouragingly, and Seungkwan smiles back, bowing to each of them before leaving the room again. The woman at end of the table quickly scribbles in her book as he leaves the room, which he hopes is a good sign.
He comes outside and walks up to Ma again, who stands as soon as she sees him. “Well? How did it go?”
“Okay, I think,” he says. “They seemed to like me. They said they’ll contact us in the next few days.”
“You’ve done your best,” Ma says, ruffling his hair affectionately. “They’ll be missing out if they don’t take you on.”
Seungkwan smiles and nods at the floor. She’s his Ma, so she’s supposed to think that, but it’s still nice to hear.
They walk out of the lobby together, Ma walking ahead of him to push at the building door. Just as he’s stepping through the doorway behind Ma, one hand pushing at the glass door, the strangest feeling overcomes him; like the whole world freezes in place, holding him still. The ground beneath his feet is firm and unmoving, much like everything else; like Ma, like all the people on the street outside, like his body, stuck still, frozen. There’s no gentle breeze brushing at his hair; even the air is unmoving, his lungs still in his chest. Then everything distorts, like he’s slipping through a crack in the universe, all wrong, his surroundings suddenly distant. His heart is clenched, and everything is bending, like the universe is swallowing him whole.
He’s not standing in a Seoul street anymore. He’s nowhere. He’s everywhere.