17. First Stage

SEVENTEEN

Charis feels guiltilyglad to not be rooming with Soohyun. It's not that Soohyun has been behaving strangely toward him, or making Charis feel uncomfortable. He knows that he's the one with the problem, just like he knows that he has to get over it and stuff it down.

Any one of his members would say the same.

He wakes up feeling refreshed in the morning. A solid night of sleep had done him good, and he feels even better by the time he's taken a shower. Mouse is licking the remnants of yogurt off his spoon, and Charis takes advantage of the opportunity to order a bowl of porridge that arrives in a small paper cup with a plastic spoon.

He licks the warm grains from the back of it as he steadily eats.

"What's on the agenda for today?"

"Meeting with Hwa Chungae in the morning with the others, then rehearsal from morning to night. We're really fucking in for it."

Charis nods.

"They booked you into physical therapy for your leg, too," Mouse says casually.

Charis stills where he's already been running through a set of stretches and strengthening exercises from his physio. Mouse waits for it—if there's gonna be an outburst, but Charis only nods shortly and goes back to what he was doing.

The others had suggested not telling him, but that just wasn't Mouse's style. Besides, he'd want to be forewarned, too, if anyone was going to spring that kind of thing on him.

Charis takes a deep breath. He doesn't want more physical therapy; he doesn't want more appointments, but he's committed to being a good patient. He breathes in deeply and holds his breath as he holds a hamstring stretch, one, two, three, four, five— He holds it until his lungs start to protest at the strain, and then he lets it out, imagining all his sharp, angry, hurt feelings flying away like a bubble in the atmosphere.

"Okay," he says, and doesn't say anything more.

They don't bother to get dressed up today. They're going to practice, and it's going to be filmed, but they don't do anything to their faces besides put on a light coat of powder and some concealer to hide the dark circles under their eyes. Mouse hands Pocky his tinted lip balm after he's done with it, and Pocky smooths it on absently.

"Thanks for handling the video last night," Charis says into the blue.

"It's no big deal."

They're about to leave this room that doesn't feel like home yet but surely will after spending weeks here—that is, if they don't get cut in one of the first couple rounds. Charis will work hard to make sure that doesn't happen.

The hallway is right outside the door, and Charis pauses with his fingers on the handle. He breathes in the cold, air conditioned air. They've made so many places that aren't feel like home. It's only been shy of two years, but it feels like a lifetime.

And then Charis turns around and hugs Mouse all at once. He gets him around the back in a sneak attack, wrapping his arms around Mouse's lean, strong body. The sudden back hug is so unexpected that it makes Mouse stumble forward before he manages to hold firm and catch Charis. He reaches out a hand to brace himself on the door.

"Hey, what's all that about?" Mouse asks when he suddenly has Charis' hot body smothered against him in every place their two bodies can touch. They're very nearly the exact same height, and he can feel it now when they're standing together this way.

Mouse is suddenly glad for the lack of cameras in the room.

Charis shakes his head and buries his face in Mouse's neck, feeling overcome by an emotion he can't name, only that it sits enormous and burgeoning in his chest.

"Just… need you," he finally says. "I don't know if I could do it without you."

Mouse reaches up to touch the top of Charis' head in a comforting gesture.

"Well, good thing for you, you're never gonna have to. Like hell I would leave you, Pocky."

His voice is bare and plain, stripped of its swagger, and Mouse means every word.

Charis shudders, and with the way they're pressed up together, Mouse can feel it.

"I don't know why I'm like this with you. You must hate it."

"Hey, no. Stop that. None of that. There's things I hate and things I like, and you're definitely one of the things I like. You can be however you gotta with me, you know that. Right?"

It only takes a little while before Charis nods again.

He doesn't cry, but when he pulls back, his eyes feel hot, and they look a little red.

"Is it too much pressure?" Mouse asks quietly, very serious. "Because if it is?—"

Charis shakes his head and doesn't even give him the chance to finish that sentence. "No, it's nothing like that. I'm fine, really."

I just have been going crazy over you lately.

Mouse frowns, knowing that Charis has been acting different. But he shrugs eventually, taking Charis at his word. If he says he's fine, then Mouse will believe him.

"Come on, let's get to the meeting before Chungae-ssi kicks all our asses."

He only hesitates for the barest second before reaching out and taking Charis' hand. They walk like that down the hallway, fingers interweaved, with Mouse going in front and only slightly pulling Charis behind him.

The others look at their interlocked hands when they show up in the meeting room, expressions of surprise flitting across their faces. Most of them are tactful enough not to say anything about it. Miyong is not one of them.

"Mouse-hyung and Charis-hyung are holding hands?" he asks brightly.

The early morning's got nothing on him. Even in this unfamiliar place, he slept like a baby. His clear, boyish voice is so loud. Even Hwa Chungae, already on the monitor for their video call, looks in their direction.

Mouse lets go of Charis' hand like it was nothing, and he puts his elbow on the table, leaning in toward Miyong. "This place is so big I thought I was gonna get lost. Your big brother Charis was making sure you're not gonna be down a rapper. What'dyou think, did you want to carry the rap line by yourself, Miyongie?"

"NO," Miyong says emphatically, and Mouse laughs.

"I'll hold your hand whenever you want, Miyong-ah," Joon says, and he really does stick his hand out for Miyong to grab, which Miyong does happily.

If Kim Joon is tired, he doesn't show it. He's wearing the same stony, unflappable poker face he more or less always has. He's doing his best to smooth over the awkwardness and to call attention away from Miyong's outburst in his own way.

Hwa Chungae is already used to their antics and only clears his throat to get the meeting started. Joon and Miyong hold hands for the entirety of the meeting.

Since Chungae-ssi couldn't be there in person, they'd set up an old silver laptop at the front of the round table they're using as a conference table. They're in the same green room they'd waited in yesterday after filming, and the whole meeting feels weirdly retro and futuristic at once. Charis thinks of the episodes of Star Trek he used to see on the foreign channels of TV sometimes, with words like "the bridge" and everyone calling "captain."

He thinks of Chungae-ssi as their captain, and it brings a small, laughing smile to his face. Mouse looks at him curiously, and Charis only smiles and shakes his head, coughing and getting himself under control as he makes the effort to be serious and listen.

Park Nabom is present as their manager onsite, and he stands off to one side, his hands behind his back and his back against the wall. His bespectacled face is turned toward the monitor, as well, as he listens.

In another room, the five members of First Love have already decided the set piece for their first performance.

"Isn't this boring?" asks a boy with black lips and nictitating membranes that slide sideways over his eyes when he blinks. It's only there in a flash—there and then gone. He hangs on the back of his chair, head pillowed in his hands before he pushes back off explosively. "We're gonna knock ‘em dead either way, isn't that right, Meyemi-han?"

"That's right," Meyemi says.

"But we still have to work hard," says another boy standing behind the little one with the black lips. He pushes down on the little kit's head, making it bob.

When Bo, the black-lipped kid, is finally let go, he turns his head and shows his teeth in a quiet snarl.

"Can't believe this was in our contract," says a fourth boy—the long-limbed one that had followed Meyemi, their leader, out of the arena on the first day.

Jewel shrugs after slapping Bo lightly on the back of the head for snarling at him. "Whatever, stop bitching. We might as well have some fun with it."

They have the opportunity to watch each other's stages, and everyone is excited. The air in the stadium is palpably tense, pregnant with anticipation.

First Love is the first one to perform, and everyone is excited and nervous to see what they have in store. Charis' friend Jinho sits on the far bleachers with the rest of B-Love. He can barely keep his feet from jiggling, and they rattle in a low drum beat against the riser floor. He takes notice of it and composes himself, stopping himself from kicking, but as soon as he takes his attention away, his feet start up on doing it again.

The rest are barely any better off. Jinho looks across the dirt floor of the stadium to see Charis and the rest of their sunbaenim.

So that's the difference a year makes, Jinho thinks. Fairytale looks perfectly composed, like the princes they are. Not like B-Love, who are a nervous, twitchy wreck.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Yejun says. They're dressed all in black today, in similar uniform-style suits. Yejun pulls at Soojung's sleeve. "I really think I'm going to be sick."

"You're going to be fine," Soojung says. He keeps his eyes fixed on the dimmed stage, unable to pull them away, but his arm comes up reflexively to rub Yejun's back. "You're not going to be sick. If you think you are, put your head between your knees and breathe. They'll cut it in post."

"Right, right…"

Yejun nods, practically vibrating with nervous energy. He takes deep, steady breaths that end in panicky gulps, telling himself that Soojung is right, that he won't get sick.

In the end, he just gives up and sticks his head between his knees and gulps air from down there—Soojung is wrong; he definitely feels like he's going to throw up.

Jinho is wearing an unusually thoughtful expression. Yejun is too busy with his own self, and one of the other hyungs tries to get his attention—there was a passing comment he wanted to make to Jinho, but when he sees the expression on the younger boy's face, he gives up on it. It wasn't that important, anyway.

The lights in the arena dim and a quiet hush takes over. They all respect the necessity of good filming conditions, but the silence seems very loud, if that's possible. In the heavy blackness that smothers the auditorium, a harsh overhead spotlight clicks on. Fog swirls up from the ground, obscuring everything.

Fog is just fog. Many of them have worked with fog machines in their time, but it's still suddenly so shocking that a gasp goes up. Jinho feels the hair raise on the back of his neck.

The drop of the beat for First Love's first song is loud and sudden. The stadium is suddenly full of a rush of noise that makes their teeth ache and their bones feel like they're ringing. The group rises out of the shadows and the fog in an explosive moment of motion and light.

Baby, you've been dreaming, but I'm here to make you live

Open your mind to another life

Yeah, we're living in another life

More princely than Fairytale and suaver than Revolution. They make B-Love seem like children in comparison.

"So this is the power of the 3rd gen," Yejun says with awe in his voice. His feeling of sickness has been completely stolen away, forgotten at the siren song of First Love's first and most beloved hit, "Another Life."

The performance seems to end much too quickly. Jinho feels like he just blinked, and already it's over.

He blinks a few more times to clear his head.

"Are you ready?" Michael asks with a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"Mm," he says.

They're next.

He blinks the stars out of his eyes and makes up his mind that yes—he has to find a chance to speak to Charis later.

Bo is smug as he swaggers off the stage. He grins for the camera when the ending fairy lands on him, flashing a hint of a toothy smile. His sharp canines drive all the girls wild. He blows a kiss as they walk through the dimmed stadium toward their seat on the bleachers, full of the thrumming giddiness that comes from knowing that he did well. His performance was perfect. There was nothing that could have possibly gone better.

Bo monkeys his way onto the top row of the bleachers, sitting behind the older boys who take their seats much more decorously. Meyemi in particular always holds himself like bona fide royalty.

"What'd you think?" Bo asks, nudging Jewel with his shoulders.

"Not bad," Jewel says, folding his arms and leaning back.

B-Love takes the stage.

They do well, but Jinho gets off the stage feeling like he just lived through a disaster. He holds their ending pose with the rest of his crew, chest bellowing hard, arms outstretched, face and hair dappled with sweat.

The other groups in the stands clap, but Jinho feels eaten up with shame and a gnawing kind of self-hatred. He doesn't know what's wrong, only that that wasn't his best—not by a long shot.

"Are you okay?" Rhineheart asks him.

"Yeah," he says, trying to be cheerful. "Yeah, I'm fine."

The boys in Fairytale don't notice anything off.

"They were good," Xiao Yu says, leaning in.

Charis' brow creases. Maybe it was just nerves—god knows he's badly affected by them—but he feels like he remembers Jinho being better than that.

He keeps his speculations to himself.

Miyong is too nervous to focus on anything but their upcoming performance, but many of the older boys keep their wits about them and truly do their best to watch the competition.

It's Revolution's turn to take the stage. They're known for their explosive power and sex appeal, and they don't disappoint, putting on a daring performance that wows and stuns after B-Love's smooth vocals and synchronized dance moves.

Revolution's moves are far more chaotic and more mesmerizing for it.

One particular dancer catches Kim Joon's eye.

"He's very good," he says, his startlement breaking his habitual silence.

"That's Milla Kim," Soohyun says, following Joon's gaze. "He's their ace dancer."

Joon nods, and even with their flashy stage and everything else going on as they speak, he can't take his eyes off him. There's a burst of heat from a pyrotechnic effect that lights up the stage, and they finish to cheers and thunderous applause.

4QY are up next, and then Fairytale are the last to take the stage.

"Just like we practiced," Soohyun murmurs.

They're filled with anxiety, but even the anxiety transmutates into something exciting. The stadium is filled with a hush, and all eyes are on them.

The dirt floor of the arena is suddenly transformed into the ballroom of a palace as a cool sweep of blue light shines down from above, dying all the members in its color. Charis stands front and center with his head beatifically lowered. Although he isn't their vocal main, this song is his time to shine.

The music changes, and he lifts his head, voice singing a clear, pure note. The onlookers in the stands gasp, suddenly taken over by this lovely sight. The camera pans over his face, and the viewers at home fall in love, too. Families sitting together on their couches talking in hushed tones, friends huddled around a shared computer, pointing and chattering, lonesome Charms sitting up late in their dorm room beds with the lights all off and the music playing secretly in their headphones, a comforted smile on their face as they let their familiar Prince's lovely voice carry them away.

The rest of the group joins in slowly, and then the melody turns into a shifting, sinuous thing.

It's not that it stays that way. They bring the energy, too. But for one shining moment, they're almost otherworldly.

Charis wants to remember it. He tries to make it a point to sear this competition, this performance, into his brain, but his body moves on its own, and by the time they're done, he almost can't remember what just happened. It passes by in a blur, and then they're left with the audience's thunderous applause. In the stands, some people rise to their feet. First one or two here and there, and then more and more, standing in concert until almost the whole stadium is on their feet.

Fairytale holds their ending poses for the camera.

Charis is sweating and breathing heavily by the time they go back to their seats.

The lights stay down for a few moments more, so they don't notice First Love staring intently in their direction.

"Thank you for your incredible, inspiring performances today," the host says as he begins his closing remarks. He's standing beneath a spotlight, dressed in a dapper suit that echoes his words, black velvet with tiny, intricate flashes of reflective fibers, like a sheet of stars. The lights in the house go back up, and the camera pans over everyone in the stands, catching their reactions. "May you all shine like the brightest stars as you continue heavenward on your journey. I wish you all the best of luck."

He bows deeply, gallantly.

The results of the first stage will be announced later, after the audience is given an opportunity to vote.