“Thanks for coming, unnie,” Jungeun says bashfully. “Sorry I forgot to text earlier. They had us up early for make up this morning, I’m pretty sure my eyes are still swollen from the two hours of sleep I got last night.”
“Kim Jungeun, seriously.” Haseul makes a little hand-wavey flourish at the sweatpants and debut-era sweater she’s wearing. “The security team eyed me on my way in. You look beautiful.”
It’s been nearly a year since they last performed together as twelve, and six since Odd Eye Circle performed as a trio, but Haseul knows that Jungeun hasn’t forgotten, can practically hear the music bursting out of Jungeun’s head. They’re all nervous about the showcase. The Odd Eye Circle redebut, the launch of ARTMS, mark of a new era. A bruise that’s only starting to heal. The waiting room used to be so loud with the twelve of them. Haseul’s itching to pass out sandwiches to everybody, but she’s just a visitor here. She’d gifted Yerim three packs of peach konjac jelly and slid a loose hair pin back to its place above Jinsol’s ear. Jungeun she’d done vocal warm ups with earlier, combing through the new songs while Haseul telegraphed the choreos. An old, aching ritual.
“Besides,” she continues. “Your fans love you already, you rookie.”
“What if they think I’m washed up.” Jungeun smiles, pokes Haseul’s shoulder with a gloved hand. “If I freeze out there will you take my place? You know all of it already. I heard you practiced Air Force One with Yerim until midnight on Monday, our crazy leader.”
“It’s not like it’s a hard song,” Haseul jokes, bunching up her shoulders haughtily. “I’ve done worse back in the old days.”
“I remember,” Jungeun says. “Paint the Town nearly killed all of us.” But Haseul’s really thinking about their pre-debut release, Favorite, the one Jungeun opened for the rest of them just as she’s doing now, young Heejin and her unwavering confidence, Yeojin crying on the second day of dance practice, Haseul sharing a look with Vivi when they learned they’d be dancing in the back for most of it. How scared they’d all been. But it had given them a gift, too: the hunger for a new beginning.
Someone calls out the countdown, setting off a flurry: audio technicians testing the mic packs, their make up artist hurriedly fixing Jinsol’s eye shadow, the back up dancers falling into line. Haseul can only step back. When it’s done, Jungeun takes a step towards the stage, and Yerim and Jinsol join her by her side.
“Good luck,” Haseul tells them, that thing in her throat stopping her from saying more, but her three members seem to understand, and Jungeun flashes her a knowing smile before she disappears beyond the curtains into the cheer of a loving audience.
just follow the feeling – kim lip/haseul (loona) – canon
“Kim Jungeun, seriously.” Haseul makes a little hand-wavey flourish at the sweatpants and debut-era sweater she’s wearing. “The security team eyed me on my way in. You look beautiful.”
It’s been nearly a year since they last performed together as twelve, and six since Odd Eye Circle performed as a trio, but Haseul knows that Jungeun hasn’t forgotten, can practically hear the music bursting out of Jungeun’s head. They’re all nervous about the showcase. The Odd Eye Circle redebut, the launch of ARTMS, mark of a new era. A bruise that’s only starting to heal. The waiting room used to be so loud with the twelve of them. Haseul’s itching to pass out sandwiches to everybody, but she’s just a visitor here. She’d gifted Yerim three packs of peach konjac jelly and slid a loose hair pin back to its place above Jinsol’s ear. Jungeun she’d done vocal warm ups with earlier, combing through the new songs while Haseul telegraphed the choreos. An old, aching ritual.
“Besides,” she continues. “Your fans love you already, you rookie.”
“What if they think I’m washed up.” Jungeun smiles, pokes Haseul’s shoulder with a gloved hand. “If I freeze out there will you take my place? You know all of it already. I heard you practiced Air Force One with Yerim until midnight on Monday, our crazy leader.”
“It’s not like it’s a hard song,” Haseul jokes, bunching up her shoulders haughtily. “I’ve done worse back in the old days.”
“I remember,” Jungeun says. “Paint the Town nearly killed all of us.” But Haseul’s really thinking about their pre-debut release, Favorite, the one Jungeun opened for the rest of them just as she’s doing now, young Heejin and her unwavering confidence, Yeojin crying on the second day of dance practice, Haseul sharing a look with Vivi when they learned they’d be dancing in the back for most of it. How scared they’d all been. But it had given them a gift, too: the hunger for a new beginning.
Someone calls out the countdown, setting off a flurry: audio technicians testing the mic packs, their make up artist hurriedly fixing Jinsol’s eye shadow, the back up dancers falling into line. Haseul can only step back. When it’s done, Jungeun takes a step towards the stage, and Yerim and Jinsol join her by her side.
“Good luck,” Haseul tells them, that thing in her throat stopping her from saying more, but her three members seem to understand, and Jungeun flashes her a knowing smile before she disappears beyond the curtains into the cheer of a loving audience.