Yujin

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She shouldn’t have been the leader of IVE—she’s not cut out for it.

“Yujin~. Yujin!”

When she felt the gust of air from a swatted hand beat against her face, she blinked rapidly and widened her eyes, letting them know that she was wide awake. The two girls on either side of her chuckled as they inched their chairs closer to her, resting their hands and arms on her desk.

“Seems like she came back to Earth now. You were spacing out there again,” Eunjung noted, opening a bag of chips and fishing for one to snack on. “Class is over now. I’m guessing you need notes for pre-calculus?”

“Ya, that lesson was difficult, wasn’t it? And they call that ‘pre-calculus’? Ya, ‘pre’? ‘Pre’ what? That was already hard enough—I don’t want to imagine what the real calculus is like!” the air-headed Youngsoon exclaimed, rubbing the back of her head.

Yujin mustered a faint chuckle as she stared back down at her desk. Her notebook was still fully opened, but there was nothing on the two blank pages that they were spread open to—nothing except for a little set of doodles on the upper right corner of one of the leafs.

Eunjung rolled her eyes when she didn’t get much of a response from Yujin, glancing down at her notebook. “Blank as ever. What’s that?” she asked, gesturing to the doodle.

Yujin’s eyes widened once more, but she couldn’t find it in her to explain. Youngsoon beat her to the punch and grabbed her notebook, holding it up in front of her. “Ah, it’s just some drawing of a person with a microphone. What’s that all about?”

Yujin parted her lips to speak, but something heavy sank into the pit of her stomach. Not wanting to muster up the effort to, she just kept silently to herself and let the other two girls pick her doodle apart.

“Let me see,” Eunjung beckoned, grabbing the notebook with her greasy hand. Yujin wanted to tell her to wipe her hands first, but it was too late. “Mm? What a waste of a notebook page. That drawing’s going to block a lot of space. Still, were you thinking of trying out?”

Her chest tightened as she was confronted with such a question. “H-How …?”

“Tryouts? Eh? For what?” Youngsoon asked dumbfoundedly, glancing at Yujin. “Do you have an audition lined up? Lucky you!”

All Yujin could do was nod shyly. She glanced downwards past her table and gazed at her pair of shiny black shoes, clicking them together by the heels gently. “I … I was thinking of it … but … ah, yeah … I don’t think I’m cut out for it.”

“Girl, are you kidding me? This is the opportunity of a lifetime!” Eunjung hollered in absolute disbelief, slamming the notebook on her desk. “Ya, An Yujin! Not every trainee gets the chance to try out for their company’s ensemble to a survival show. This could be your big break!”

“But … I’ve only … I don’t know, I’ve … I’ve only been training for a year or so, so—.”

“Blegh, a year is a year!” Youngsoon interjected, grabbing Yujin’s shoulder and shaking it. “I didn’t even last a few months as a trainee in my old company. And you? You lasted more than a year? When will you ever be ready?”

“I … I …”

Yujin was conflicted. She didn’t like being placed underneath the spotlight. She knew her friends meant well, but it felt like, in the heat of the moment, she was being placed under heavy scrutiny for having doubts and uncertainties.

How could she not? How could she not harbor these feelings?

She’s seen her fellow trainees train to their absolute limits. One of them constantly takes charge of group training and helps the other trainees with their weak points. One of them, Yujin remembered, spends a lot of time in the gym trying to practice singing while running on the treadmill. Another went even as far as to encourage her parents to allow her to enroll as a trainee under Starship despite her young age.

But what about Yujin? What was she doing with her time? What was she doing with her life as a trainee?

What was she even doing with her life at this point? All she had under her belt so far was a year of mediocre training under Starship alongside accelerating one academic year because of her studiousness back in middle school.

Irritated by the long silence, Eunjung stood up and sighed. “Like I thought. What a waste. If you’re not going to take it seriously, you might as well just stop daydreaming about it altogether and focus on listening in class. You’re supposed to be a prodigy, right? Start acting like one, will you? Whatever—I’ll message you my notes later after I fix them.”

Youngsoon followed suit and smacked the back of Yujin’s head playfully. “Whatever makes you happy. See ya, Yujin.”

As they left the classroom altogether, Yujin’s notebook got swept up by their skirts. She reached forward to try and warn them about it, but nothing came out of her mouth. Her voice remained constricted and muted. Without anyone or anything to stop their motions, the notebook fell open on the ground as Eunjung stepped on it, sullying the blank white page with a large dusty footprint of her shoe.

Pursing her lips, Yujin crawled over to it and gently picked it up from the ground. She held the opened page with her doodle now covered in dust marks and tried to shake some dirt off with a bare hand. Unfortunately, it remained dirtied no matter what she did.

Sighing, she closed the notebook and pressed it against her chest, hugging it tightly.

Maybe … I should try …

“Anyone else? Anyone else! Final call now, girls, final call for everyone!”

Practice Room 1-A was filled with the noise of about a hundred different girls darting back and forth, discussing with one another, chatting and murmuring amongst themselves or by themselves, mulling over their personal decisions. The usual air-conditioned atmosphere was now rather heated and thick with humidity as everyone around Yujin looked rather restless.

Unlike them, Yujin wasn’t.

She kept to herself, tucked away by one corner of the room against one of the mirrored walls. Unlike them, Yujin had already made up her mind the moment she walked into the practice room. Right now, she was focusing on her mini-goal, which was to improve her form during warm-up so she could subsequently improve her form during her dance practice proper.

“Me! I … I’d like to volunteer!”

Just as Yujin was about to do another guided squat with one hand on the railing, she glanced at the noisy crowd. As she propped herself back up into a straight stand, she spotted one of the girls raising her hand in the air. She wasn’t particularly tall, and she was rather slim and fragile in stature, but with an aura of confidence like hers, she surely stood out as she made her way through the crowd.

“Ya, that’s Gaeul-unnie, right? The ‘substitute’ trainer? She’s really going for it, isn’t she? That suits her. I think she’ll make it far,” one of the girls muttered to her friend.

Another hand rose in the air, making Yujin glance the other way as she stretched downwards to try and touch her toes without bending her knees. There, another girl raised her hand and awkwardly went the long way around the crowd to reach the front where the instructor was. She stared wide-eyed at the other girls who were in front of her before looking down at her own two feet. Yujin found that little meek gesture of hers to be rather adorable.

“Hm? Jiwon? Kim Jiwon? She’s really considering trying out?” another girl in the crowd mumbled to her friends. “She’s not a strong dancer though, but she’s got a powerful voice. I hated being grouped up with her during monitoring. She always steals the show, that little Jeju brat.”

Yujin took a deep breath and exhaled deeply. None of this would sway her. None of this would affect her choice. None of this would change her mind. She was ironclad on this. She made a decision already—she made her decision already. No matter what was said about her when she was to make this choice, no matter what was said about others when she’d make this choice, regardless of what happens, she won’t change her mind.

Yujin was fixed on this.

“Anyone else? Anyone … else?” the instructor cooed, pausing and slowing down her invitation. It was almost as if she was waiting for a handful more people to show up and head away from the crowd to join the small group of girls next to her. “Joining the tryouts doesn’t guarantee you a chance to be on the Produce lineup, but … if you don’t go, then there’s absolutely no chance for you to make it on.”

Yujin gripped the railing with both hands now, head tucked between both of her arms as she stared forcibly at the polished marble floor beneath her.

“Going once? Going twice?”

Nothing will change my mind. Nothing.

Nothing …

Nodding, their instructor let out a sigh and waved a hand in the air. “Alright. For the girls who volunteered, thank you very much for your bravery. Come with me to Practice Room 1-B so we can begin your audition. For the rest of you, you can just go back to your daily scheduled practice.”

Taking another deep breath, Yujin held it in her chest as she watched the wave of trainees of all different ages and heights flock out in unison as they returned to their usual programming. She continued to hold her breath until she was the last one in the room. The last trainee there. The girl no one bothered to check on or invite out to practice with. Completely invisible. When she was finally alone, she dropped onto her knees and exhaled, falling forward on her hands as well.

“This … this is what I wanted …” she muttered to herself repeatedly as if she was trying to convince herself. “This … this is what’s best for me …”

On all fours, she lifted her chin up and glanced at her reflection through the mirror. Her messy hair covered most of her face, but through the strands, she could see the tears in her eyes.

It’s not my time yet … I’ll get there … but for now … I … I can’t … I can’t …

I’m just … I’m just not cut out for it …

Shaking her head, she wiped her tears and sat cross-legged on the ground. She took deep breaths and began stretching—again and again and again. She would stretch, do a few pre-planned dance routines, tune her voice to a handful of SISTAR songs, and call it a day.

This was how it always was, and for Yujin, this will be how it’s always meant to be.

For days. For weeks. For months. For years to come.