stage right, limelight
stage right, limelight
s.coups/nayeon
pg-13, 8292w
there isn't a word yet, for old friends who've just met. (hsm au)
written for director's cut fest 2020 and kirakirashahida's bday!
Nayeon was an award winner, that much was true. Sitting on the floor of her room, yawning, Seungcheol’s eyes roved the trophies, ribbons and framed certificates lining the walls and hanging precariously off the ends of shelves in a kind of haphazard attempt at interior decorating. It was actually kind of ridiculous how many awards she’d accumulated; there were awards for math of all things, debate ribbons, a silver medal in netball, a shiny badge pin for being English captain… Seungcheol snorted at that. Nayeon was absolute rubbish at English.
“What are you laughing at?” Nayeon frowned, turning around from her desk where she had been furiously scribbling something for what seemed like hours but was really only 25 minutes. She took in what he was looking at and a lopsided sort of smirk appeared on her face. “Basking in my glory, you loser?” Seungcheol rolled his eyes, annoyed at how much the jab actually stung him. It was a consolation to know that if nothing else, Im Nayeon was never going to win any awards for manners.
“You never got an award in science,” he commented with a sulky shrug.
Nayeon huffed and turned back to her desk. “You can’t win awards at subjects you deliberately don’t take,” she pointed out. Seungcheol wanted to remind her that science had been a compulsory subject until 2 years ago, but decided that it wasn’t worth the 10 minute argument that would come after. The ribbons from debate competitions weren’t just given out for free. Instead, he yawned again and clambered to his feet to peer over her shoulder.
“What the heck are you writing?” he asked, noticing the sun already beginning to set beyond the hump of the mountains that bordered the town. It did nothing to help his mood. “I didn’t waste a perfectly good afternoon to sit on your bedroom floor while you ignore me, you know.” He shifted around to her other shoulder when Nayeon exaggeratedly shielded her rows of shockingly messy handwriting from him with her arm. She covered the other page too, although he probably wouldn’t have been able to decipher a single word anyway. “Alright then,” he said deliberately. “I’m going home.”
“Wait!” Nayeon reached out and grabbed his hand before he could leave. He instantly shook her off, trying to keep the flush from rising up his neck. Knowing Nayeon since they were toddlers pushing each other over in the mud was probably why she was so damn good at knowing how to catch him off guard, even if they hadn’t really spoken for years. Now she scribbled down a few more lines, hanging on to the sleeve of his school-issued jumper instead, then scooped up the notebook with a flourish. “All done!”
“What is?” Seungcheol asked cautiously, because she had that maddening glint in her eye that used to get them into trouble with their parents, the school, or both.
“Our ticket out of here,” Nayeon grinned and slapped the notebook into his chest. Then noticing the blank look on his face, she sighed. “I wrote a musical,” she pointed out like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And you’re going to star in it.”
Seungcheol’s eyes rolled up to the ceiling so hard he was sure they would fall out of his head. “God help me,” he said to the lightbulb.
It wasn’t that Seungcheol couldn’t act - teachers always seemed to believe him when he weaseled out of homework or participating in class activities and he did actually have a knack for different languages and accents - and it wasn’t that he couldn’t sing either, if his friends’ requests for him to be their radio while they were supposed to be studying was anything to go by, but lead in their summer school musical?
“Absolutely not,” he had said firmly to Nayeon the afternoon she proposed it before stalking out of her house to go skip stones in the lake with Jeonghan, and he’d meant it.
“She’ll give up in a week and find someone else,” Jeonghan had said soothingly as his stone skipped a smooth 6 times and landed just as smoothly in the water, but Seungcheol wasn’t so sure. Nobody ever seemed to get Nayeon the way he did, and the one thing he’d figured out when they were still pushing each other over in the mud was that Nayeon always won.
She left him alone over the weekend but came at him with a vengeance on the Monday back at school. “Choi Seungcheol!” he heard someone yell shrilly at the door of his classroom when he was getting books out of his locker. He turned, and the next thing he knew he was pushed back against the wall by a girl who barely came up to his ear. Nayeon smirked up at him as she slapped a hand just beside his head to pin him there. Without ever intending to, he'd become the heroine of the national TV dramas his mum watched on days the family bakery was closed.
“What the hell are you doing?!” Seungcheol hissed, blushing furiously. He thought of shoving her away, but he hadn't actually touched her since they last went to catch fish bare handed in the stream behind her house. When had that been? It had to be at least 4 years ago now. She was so close he could count the freckles dotting across her nose, and had she always had freckles? He’d never noticed before. Whoever was in the room stared, and some boys burst into wolf whistles and whoops of ”Go get him, Nayeon!”
“Say you’ll audition for my musical,” Nayeon said without even bothering to keep her voice down. She loomed closer while he shrinked away from her into the wall.
“Or what?” he narrowed his eyes, just to give her a fight.
“Or I’ll kiss you,” she said sweetly, without missing a beat.
Several girls around them gasped. Jeonghan, just entering the classroom, reared backwards on to Joshua’s foot. Seungcheol’s face felt hot enough to fry an egg on it, but he still wanted to believe that he had some kind of fighting chance. He drew himself to full height and looked down at her. “You wouldn’t dare,” he scoffed imperiously.
Nayeon’s expression flickered. He felt a prickle of triumph bubbling up, but that quickly turned to horror as Nayeon lunged at him. He yelped and dove to the side as everyone around them either screamed or squealed. Nayeon barely missed kissing him; he felt the wind of her face passing over his ear, and while he was scrambling away backwards on the floor she reached out and grabbed him by the collar. She hauled him up towards her, her hair hanging over one shoulder and tickling his cheek as she bent over him. Her grip was hellishly strong. “Say you’ll audition, Choi Seungcheol!” she commanded.
“Over my dead body!” he yelled back, despite the sinking feeling that he had already lost this.
“Okay, you asked for it,” Nayeon said nonchalantly, and leaned in.
For one crazy, completely out of character moment, Seungcheol thought it would be better to just let her kiss him instead. Maybe it would actually be… not such a bad thing. But as she loomed closer, he had a flash forward to Nayeon cackling with glee as she announced to everyone “I’m Choi Seungcheol’s first kiss!” and somehow that seemed so much worse than being the lead in a school musical that he yelled, “Alright! You win! I’ll audition!”
Nayeon stopped. They were almost nose to nose. He could tell that her freckles were really only drawn on that morning. Then her eyes lit up, and somehow he’d never noticed just how bright Nayeon’s eyes were. It was like seeing the sun emerge from behind a cloud; it was dazzling. Nayeon beamed, and the brightness seemed to spill out over her face.
“Great! See you in the gym after school then! You won’t regret it!” she said in a rush without bothering to pause for breath, straightening up and brushing off her skirt. At the doorway she turned back and blew him a kiss, still beaming. “Toodles!”
Jeonghan and Joshua immediately sprinted over to see if he was alright. Still dazzled, Seungcheol shook them off. Even as the classroom erupted into a frenzy of chatter and whispers, it felt just a little bit duller to him after she left.
The auditions were even worse than he thought they would be.
He expected maybe five people at most, because he was quite sure the school would never be able to get together a drama department, which would mean the musical was never, ever going to happen. It was part of the reason why he decided to just do the bloody thing. The other part, of course, was to get Nayeon off his back.
But when he turned up to the gym and maybe 30 people sitting on the floor turned to look at him, Seungcheol immediately discovered two things: one, that he had clearly underestimated the amount of people in a tiny mountainside town that loved theatre and two, he most definitely did not belong there.
“Oh good, you came!” Nayeon bounded over, clutching at his arm before he could run. “Mr. Jo is just on his way over and then we can start! Did you prepare anything?” Before he could answer, she continued, “It’s okay if you didn’t though, we have some spare scripts you can use.” She dragged him over to the piano on the stage and smiled at the girl seated at it. “Jisoo, you know Choi Seungcheol.”
Jisoo smiled coolly back. “Ah yes. The taekwondo star.”
It was dreadfully sarcastic. Seungcheol had never actually won a taekwondo medal before and Jisoo seemed to know it, but before he could retort Mr. Jo entered the gym with a hot pink feather boa draped over his shoulders and a magnificent twirl. Seungcheol knew immediately who Nayeon had learned her flamboyant ways from. It was jarring to see his usually calm, meticulous English teacher sashaying around, but when Mr. Jo ordered Nayeon off stage and called for order it helped him feel a little like he really was just in the school gym and hadn’t stepped into some weird alternate world that didn’t seem to welcome him being there.
The other auditions weren’t up to scratch. Seungcheol winced at one overblown performance of the Phantom of the Opera, and the kids who reenacted the Domyouji/Yuriko pushing scene from Hana Yori Dango seemed like they were in it just for laughs. And then it was his turn.
“I’m going to be reading from a script,” he announced dully when he went up on the stage, clutching the papers so hard in his hand that they fluttered. His supporting partner, Johnny, stood awkwardly beside him. His face was the sort of colour one expected from slightly off milk. Seungcheol looked out at the faces staring back at him, and decided it was a little like being in a taekwondo tournament - all he had to do was concentrate on his partner and ignore everyone else.
It was a short scene and he'd just barely had time to go through it twice before his turn came. His character was supposed to get mad at Johnny’s, and go off on a rant. That much Seungcheol could grasp. What he couldn’t seem to do was channel any sort of anger towards Johnny, mostly because he just wasn’t a very angry person by nature. And it didn’t seem nice to yell at someone who looked like he was going to pass out at any second. So he read the lines as sinisterly as he knew how, and hoped it would be enough to satisfy Nayeon.
It evidently wasn’t. Halfway through a long sentence Nayeon yelled “Speak up!” from the front row, jumped to her feet, and threw the book she was holding right at him. It ricocheted off his shoulder, landed with a dull thunk and went spiraling off to one side on the smooth wooden floor.
“Nayeon,” said Mr. Jo into the silence. “If you do that again I will guarantee you won’t have any part in this musical, even if you did write it.” He looked up at Seungcheol. “Please continue, Seungcheol,” he said kindly.
His shoulder throbbing, Seungcheol returned to the script. A tempest was bubbling beneath his skin. He glanced at the paper in his hand, then at Nayeon watching him with a slight grin playing on her lips, and rage burned through his chest. It was just so unfair. Seungcheol had never seen red before, but now there was fire in his eyes. He tossed the script to one side and let rip. He yelled and swaggered and stamped his feet at Johnny. He fell to his knees and punched the floorboards, screaming. And everytime he caught a glimpse of Nayeon sitting there smugly in the front row it only made him angrier. The scene ended with Johnny backing away looking completely harrowed and Seungcheol still on his knees, breathing hard.
The gym was deathly silent. Seungcheol had never seen so many mouths open in shock. Mr. Jo took off the feather boa and slowly got to his feet, a wondrous expression on his face. He raised his hands and clapped.
“…And that’s the story of how I got into this stupid musical,” Seungcheol ended dully. The boy he had just told his sorrowful story to - a brooding, awkward guy from Nayeon’s class named Dowoon - nodded. “What about you? I don’t remember seeing you at auditions.”
“Nayeon heard I tap dance so she said she’d trade math notes if I joined in,” Dowoon said just as dully. Seungcheol felt pity for him. Nayeon was probably just going to steal her older brother’s old math notes without even checking if they were still in the syllabus or not.
“Can you really tap dance?” he asked instead.
Dowoon grinned sheepishly, his braces glinting in the light. “Not really. I watched someone do it on Youtube and it seemed fun. Don’t tell Nayeon,” he added quickly. So they were even then, Seungcheol thought. He patted Dowoon on the shoulder and assured him that he wouldn’t tell.
“Hello, ladies!” Nayeon burst through the gym doors like a thunderclap. “And gentlemen,” she added like an afterthought as she sashayed towards them. “As president of the drama club, writer of this musical and female lead I’d like to say congratulations to everyone who passed auditions!” She burst into applause, and a smattering of hands joined her. “Personally, this is going to be the last musical us seniors will be allowed to fully participate in so for the next 3 months let’s give it our all, okay?” She beamed her most charming smile.
Seungcheol looked round at the adoring faces smiling back at her, and thought they had all been spectacularly duped. Then he remembered that he was the male lead, which made him the most duped of all. It was not an encouraging feeling. And mixed in with the disbelief that he had actually got the part, the despair that he now had to see Nayeon three days a week after school and the slowly setting in realization that he would now have to get up in front of maybe a hundred people and sing… well, he wouldn’t be surprised if he just dropped dead now in the middle of the gym.
“Seungcheol!” Nayeon was saying. Seungcheol dragged himself back from the harrowing whirlwind of emotions suddenly beating at him and looked at her. Her smile seemed to reassure him a little. If anything, Nayeon was a winner, he told himself. With her around, everything would go just right. “I was just saying how lucky we all are to have you as our lead,” she announced graciously. Seungcheol noticed the smiles directed at him were really just being polite. Nobody really believed that he deserved the spot, and to be perfectly honest he didn’t either. But Nayeon certainly did. “You’re going to be perfect.”
He stood up. Everyone’s smiles dropped into frowns. “Sorry,” he muttered, “I don’t feel so good.” He rushed out of the gym, and didn’t stop until he reached the bakery. His mother looked up at the cashier, surprised.
“I thought you had after school activities,” she said, already smiling behind him at the customer that had just entered.
Seungcheol sauntered over to the counter and put on an apron. “It got cancelled,” he replied easily, and went to the back of the store to see if his father needed any help with preparing next day’s bake.
In the end, what made Seungcheol return to the wretched musical was nothing more than a simple ingrained sense of responsibility and a sprinkling of guilt. It didn’t seem fair to steal the lead spot from someone more deserving only to abandon it. Nayeon said nothing when he turned up at the next rehearsal, although he saw her giving him quizzical looks all through their acting exercises.
Things seemed to improve after the first few rocky weeks, where Johnny absolutely refused to go anywhere near Seungcheol despite being his understudy and Jisoo made a face everytime Nayeon asked her to run through pitch exercises with him. Before Seungcheol realized it, they were a month into preparation and he was, dare he say, actually kind of enjoying himself.
“So how’s the practice going?” Jeonghan asked dubiously when he came into the bakery on Seungcheol’s off-musical day.
“It’s nothing much,” Seungcheol shrugged nonchalantly, but the truth was the day before he’d laughed himself silly watching Dowoon try to teach people to tap dance before Johnny tripped over a bucket of white paint and splashed it all over Jisoo’s shoes. And even Nayeon herself wasn’t as bad as Seungcheol expected her to be. In fact she was actually quite supportive, in her own Nayeon way.
“You’re too nice,” she told him one day when they were walking home from rehearsals. “You need to really feel the part, you know? I know you’re a sleepyhead and any emotion other than dullness isn’t in your nature but some intensity wouldn’t hurt you!”
“Is that why you threw a book at me?” he asked grumpily. He still hadn’t quite forgiven her for that. The sun was already beginning to set later than usual, and it glittered over the water of the lake. Around the shore and a little further beyond, the windows of houses and buildings glinted. Beyond that, the mountains were a patchwork of resplendent green and golden yellow. Seungcheol heaved in a lungful of fresh spring air, and felt keenly how fast the seasons were changing. In a few months summer would be here, and the musical with it. Then one last semester of school and then what? He’d never really thought about what came after. It had always seemed to him that he would just end up taking over the bakery and staying in this town forever.
“You don’t get it,” Nayeon shook her head. “I’m trying to save you.” But from what, she wouldn’t say. “Have some dreams, Seungcheol,” she replied mysteriously when he asked her about it. He left her waving amiably from the pathway leading up the hill to her house, and made his own way back to the bakery.
Two more weeks passed. Seungcheol’s voice stopped cracking on higher notes. The taekwondo club stopped asking why he was skipping out on practice. The rumours that he and Nayeon were dating eventually stopped too, thankfully. And, strangely enough, Nayeon herself stopped being someone he dreaded seeing to someone he actually started to like having around. But maybe he was just getting into character.
“Alright everyone get with your partner,” Mr. Jo clapped his hands. Nayeon stepped a little closer to Seungcheol. He half expected her to take his hand - over the weeks he’d gotten used to having her hand in his, what with dance numbers and semi-romantic scenes. On the stage, the pro that Mr. Jo had invited to give them tips was sitting with his legs dangling over the edge. Now he jumped down and strode among the pairs scattered around the gym.
“The best way to perform with your partner,” he announced, hands behind his back, “is to connect with them. You need to build trust. You need to feel that you two really do know everything about their character, even if your characters only meet for a brief moment.” He spun around - were actors always so flashy? Seungcheol thought - and flourished his hand in the air. “With this exercise, you’re going to try and connect with your partner. I want you to look at them and really feel them. And while you’re doing that, keep your character in your mind and what your partner’s character means to them. No speaking.”
Seungcheol turned to face Nayeon, pulling a face at her. She screwed her nose at him. “Don’t laugh!” she whispered warningly. He shrugged and pulled a face back, and her face lit up in one of those bright smiles he was beginning to appreciate a lot more these days. Then the pro was calling for silence and she lapsed back into a neutral expression. It impressed Seungcheol just how much she could control herself when she had to. She was a better actress than he’d ever expected.
“15 minutes,” the pro announced. “And go!”
Almost immediately people found that staring someone straight in the face was a more awkward moment than anything else in the world. Giggles broke out around the gym. Seungcheol spotted Jisoo resolutely refusing to look at Dowoon. He grinned at that and turned back to Nayeon. She stared determinedly back, trying to keep the corner of her lip from twitching. Seungcheol snickered, raising an eyebrow at her, silently mocking her height. She rolled her eyes in response.
Seungcheol spent the next 5 minutes continuing to grin mockingly at her while she resolutely tried to hold her nerve, but eventually she thrust her chin up, drew herself to full height (just under his nose) and glared at him. Every inch of her face screamed Shut up before I kick you in the shin so hard you’ll be limping for a week! Seungcheol wasn’t sure if that was what made him give it up or the shock at how easily he could read her. But he shut up and did what she wanted. He was supposed to play basketball with Jeonghan after this.
He looked back down at her, properly this time. She stared back, her face settling back into a more relaxed state. Nayeon was prettier when she was calmer. The thought came to him before he even realized it was in his head, and he felt the flush creeping up his neck. What a crazy idea, thinking Nayeon was pretty! It was almost like thinking he was a good actor, or that Dowoon was a good dancer. There were some things that could stay as impossible things.
If Nayeon noticed his internal struggle she showed no sign of it, although a tiny, very tiny smile appeared for a second before she composed herself. He noted, without really noting anything, that her ears were a little pink. It really only occurred to him later, when they were walking home together, that even small smiles from Nayeon were like being bathed in sunlight.
“This kinda feels like when were kids, doesn’t it?” she suddenly asked when they rounded a corner and came across an empty playground. The paint on the slide was chipping and the chains on the swing set were rusty, but to Seungcheol it felt like he was 8 years old and ready to take on the world. He felt it every day he passed it. It was strange how fleeting the moment lasted before the present swooped back in, mundane and oh so comfortable in its mundaneness. “We used to play here everyday, didn’t we?” Nayeon asked, wandering over to the swings and seating herself in it. She looked back at him.
Jeonghan and Joshua were already waiting at the basketball court, but Seungcheol figured he could wait a little longer. He ambled over and sat in the other swing. “Yeah, and you fell right over that tree root and split your head open,” he pointed as Nayeon swung lightly to and fro beside him.
“I did!” Nayeon laughed like it was a memory that made her particularly happy. “And you started crying and ran to get my mom and she got so scared she made you cry harder. You were such a crybaby back then, you know?”
“Well, it’s a good thing people grow up,” Seungcheol huffed. He had one hour before the sun started setting. Better to get to the basketball court as soon as he could. “So I should probably get going -”
Nayeon trained a brilliant smile on him, stilling herself with her toes on the ground. “Hey. Race you.” Her eyes sparkled.
An old instinct rose in Seungcheol’s throat before he could stop it. “Last one to the top buys drinks!” he yelled, and kicked off from the ground. Nayeon followed, yelling protests through her laughter. They swung faster, higher, heaving and sweeping their bodies through the air, the whole swing set shaking and shuddering along with them, and at the highest point of his sweep Seungcheol looked between his feet and saw the great lake shimmering and glittering in the light. He didn’t dare turn his head to see if Nayeon’s smile was just as dazzling.
In the end they agreed - Nayeon a little reluctantly - that Seungcheol had won, just by the tiniest inch. As the cans rattled out of the neighbourhood vending machine, Nayeon turned to him. “I wonder why we stopped hanging out like that,” she remarked casually, then leant down to collect the drinks. Seungcheol popped open the lukewarm can she handed him, trying to think of an answer.
“I guess… we just started liking different things,” he said vaguely. “I mean… you got into theatre and debate and sports and I… I got into taekwondo, you know?” It was only part of the truth - he'd only started taekwondo because you had to choose a club. That was all it had really been to him, unlike Nayeon. But it’s probably because you’re a winner and I’m just a loser who doesn’t know what he wants, he wanted to add. Before he started spending so much time with her again he’d always felt a little smaller in her presence. And you’re blinding.
Nayeon thoughtfully took a long drag from her own can. Her hair was a perfect golden halo in the sunlight. “The more I think about it, the more I don’t understand why things like that would push people apart. I mean, it’s not like either of us moved away. We’ve both always been here. And I don’t think things change much in this place, if you know what I mean.” A light breeze rustled the zelkova tree hanging above them, its yellow-green leaves dancing in the wind. Nayeon smiled. “Anyway, I’m glad you joined my musical, Cheol. It means a lot to me. Hey, can I try some of yours?” she indicated to his drink.
He passed it to her. Even though she drank what was left without asking if he wanted anymore, he just couldn’t find it in himself to get worked up about it.
Everything fell apart three and a half weeks before opening night.
It started with Seungcheol messing up his dance sequence with Nayeon five times in a row. The last mess up was particularly brutal, when he tripped over his own feet and brought Nayeon down with him on the cold, hard floorboards.
“Let’s run through that one more time!” Mr. Jo clapped his hands in his usual calm collected way as Seungcheol hauled Nayeon to her feet, but his expression was tight. Seungcheol was keenly aware of the tension in the air as everyone watched him. It just wouldn’t do for the lead actor to not have his shit together this close to opening night. He gritted his teeth.
“Ignore them,” Nayeon said, squeezing his hand encouragingly. “They’re all just jealous anyway.” He looked down at her, but she was already waltzing away to the other side of the stage to begin the sequence again. They were supposed to dance separately before coming together into a tango-like dance, and he’d never had trouble with it in practice before - but today was just not his day.
“Seriously, Choi Seungcheol,” Jisoo abruptly stopped playing the piano when he tripped over Nayeon’s foot and stumbled to the floor again. “Get your damn act together or you’ll ruin it for all of us.”
“Jisoo!” Nayeon exclaimed, horrified. The rest of the company paused doing whatever they were doing. Paintbrushes stood dripping in the air, and hands clutched to ladders. They felt something that something very dramatic was about to happen.
Seungcheol got to his feet heavily. He was bruised and defeated and he was sick of letting Kim Jisoo look down her nose at him, Nayeon’s best friend be damned. He felt the same fire from auditions coursing through his veins again. “Well maybe if you were actually decent at keeping time I might actually have a chance getting it right.” He smiled sardonically. “Or are you just so frosty that your fingers are slipping on the keys?”
“Shut up, you,” Jisoo snapped, eyes narrowed. Nayeon tried to pull Seungcheol back, but he pushed her away. If it was a fight Jisoo wanted, it was a fight she was going to get. He was tired of her haughty glares and exasperated sighs and secret little grins whenever he messed something up. He was tired of the stony stares and the whispers behind hands from the others. He was tired of feeling, under all the joy and fun he really was having, that apart from Nayeon nobody really wanted him to be there.
“No,” he said firmly. The worst thing was that he still didn’t think he deserved to be there either. “You’ve been a total bitch to me this whole time and I’m sick of it. Just try being a decent person for once in your life, won’t you?”
Jisoo coloured. “I wouldn’t be if you actually cared about being here,” she sneered. “It’s been obvious since the moment you walked into auditions. You hate everything about the theatre. This is just all one big joke to you, isn’t it?”
That was unfair. Recently Seungcheol had been waking up looking forward to rehearsals. He’d liked helping out the backstage crew with painting and lighting. “Would you rather Johnny be lead then?” he asked politely. That was unfair, again, because Johnny really was a good actor if prone to terrible cases of stagefright, but Seungcheol had no idea how to tell Jisoo how much he’d loved working on the musical without looking like a sentimental ass. Johnny himself started backing away from them into the shadows. He narrowly avoided tripping over a still-wet bush.
“Johnny’s a better performer than you anyway!” Jisoo shot back, standing up so abruptly that the piano seat screeched on the floorboards. “He’s been in this club for the past 3 years, he should have gotten the part! You’re just some… some aimless loser. The only reason you really got the part is because of Nayeon,” she waved her hand at Nayeon, who looked dismayed. “You don’t belong here,” she spat. “You’ll never belong anywhere!”
That hit him where it hurt. While he was still reeling from that, Jisoo snatched up her sheets from the piano stand. “I know your type, Choi Seungcheol. You don’t have any ambition or any conviction in anything you do. And I’m not going to stay here and watch all our hard work burn because of you. I quit.” She dropped off the stage and stomped towards the door.
“Jisoo!” Nayeon called out. She aimed one long, stricken glance at Seungcheol, then jumped off the stage herself and ran after Jisoo.
“Well!” Mr. Jo said, looking as shocked as everyone else. “I think we’d better call off today’s rehearsal. Backstage crew, you can keep working on your props. Seungcheol,” he said, putting a hand on Seungcheol’s shoulder, “please don’t take to heart anything Jisoo said. She’s just upset and you’re a wonderful, talented performer. We really do love having you in this production.”
Seungcheol could see he was just being kind. “Thanks Mr. Jo,” he mumbled, stepping away from his teacher. “But I think I’d better go home.” He slowly collected his things from the stage. Nobody stopped him. Dowoon looked like he wanted to say something, but didn’t. As Seungcheol was sweeping his bag over his shoulder, he looked up and spotted Johnny.
“Hey,” he said, walking up to him. Johnny shifted slightly, but said nothing. “I’m sorry I said that,” Seungcheol told him earnestly. “You probably do deserve the part more than me.” Then he left the gym.
He was sitting in the swing in the playground, head bowed and very still, when Nayeon found him.
“Choi Seungcheol,” she said heavily, standing in front of him. He looked up. Nayeon looked frazzled, and her eyes were wide. “Why did you have to go and do that?”
Seungcheol was immediately upset. The fire that had choked up during his fight with Jisoo came raging back. When he thought about it, this really had all been Nayeon’s fault anyway. Everything had happened because of her. If she hadn’t asked him to walk her home that afternoon, he wouldn’t have ended up in her room and he wouldn’t have been roped into her scheme. He was too nice, Nayeon had told him. He’d always thought his niceness was what got him into trouble, but now he could see that it was his niceness to Nayeon that encouraged her to get him into trouble.
“What did I do?” he asked, incensed. “All I did was what you asked me, Nayeon. Do I have to remind you that this whole thing is your idea?”
“I didn’t ask you to upset Jisoo!” she almost yelled, then seemed to check herself. “I can’t lose our chief songwriter - our arrangements aren't even finalized yet. I need you to apologize to her.” She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him. Seungcheol stared back. An invisible tug-of-war seemed to be happening between them, and he was determined not to give in this time.
“No,” he said quietly.
“Seungcheol, please!” Nayeon groaned.
“You’re not getting your way this time,” he snapped at her. “Why did you work so hard to get me to join this thing, Nayeon? What are you really planning?” He saw her opening her mouth to come out with a diversion and stood up before she could. The swing creaked beneath him. “Give me a straight answer for once,” he said, trying not to lose his cool. “I know you had something in mind when you hatched this. You always do.”
Nayeon swallowed and bit her lip. “So you still know me that well, huh?” she asked, smiling shakily. “Okay, fine. I’ll come clean. The musical is my ticket out of this dead town. I need it to be perfect so I can leave.”
He stared at her. “Leave?”
She wrapped her arms around herself, staring out over the treetops to where the lake glittered. The wind was blowing unusually cold today. “There’s nothing here for me. I’m applying for performing schools in Seoul and I need good references. Writing, directing and starring in the school musical would just be the icing on the cake, wouldn’t it? Since I’ve already got awards in other things.”
“What does that have to do with me?” Seungcheol was annoyed all over again. “Sounds like this plan is just about you, isn’t it?”
Nayeon turned to him. He thought he could see a sort of wistfulness behind her eyes. “Haven’t you ever dreamt about leaving this place?” she asked quietly.
He looked past her to the lake, with its serene beauty. To the familiar windows of the buildings and houses beyond the shore. To the mountains, always steadfastly, solidly there. He thought about the bakery with its warm bready scent and his mother’s cheerful smile. His father's big, flour-covered hands. He realized now why he’d never been able to see clearly past high school graduation. It just didn’t seem right to think of a future with none of his home comforts in it. “I like living here,” he said carefully. “Quietly. Without drama. It’s enough for me.”
Nayeon shook her head. “You don’t know how much potential you have, Seungcheol. I’ve watched you all these years, just drifting along without really doing anything. You’re so much better than that. Even when we were kids, I knew you were going to do great things.” She stepped closer to him. “You know, part of me wrote that musical for you, just to show you what you can do when you really put your mind to it. And you’re good. You’re really good. There’s a whole world out there waiting for you, don’t waste it here.”
Her eyes were bright and earnest. Seungcheol swallowed. “Nayeon, I’m grateful. I am. But we’re not the same people we were when we were kids. We’re… we’re different now. We’re barely even friends. You need to accept that.”
He watched Nayeon’s face fill with disappointment. Then her eyes narrowed. “If you have no ambition, Choi Seungcheol, then you should just leave the musical too. Just go back to your normal, boring life and I’ll go back to mine.” He thought her voice wobbled a little, but she turned before he could be sure and stalked off.
“You can’t always win, Nayeon,” he called after her as the sun set behind the mountains. Without its warmth, the wind chilled him to his bones.
“So you’re really not going back, huh?” Footsteps crunched on the pebbly shoreline and Jeonghan squatted down beside him, his shirt collar unbuttoned. The water lapped peacefully at his shoes, and he shuffled backwards a little. “Isn’t the show next week?”
Seungcheol picked out the smoothest pebble he could find and weighed in his hand just so he had a reason to not answer him. He got to his feet and hurled the pebble out into the lake in what should have been a perfect arc. It skipped once, then disappeared into the water with a plop.
“Looks like summer’s already here,” Jeonghan remarked as he threw his own stone into the water. It skimmed 4 times. Smooth as always. Seungcheol already felt the heat already beating at him even though June was barely over. His shirt was sticking uncomfortably to his skin.
“Have you thought about what you’re going to do when we graduate?” he asked brusquely, throwing a pebble up and down in his hand before hurling it out.
Jeonghan hummed. “Probably get a teaching degree or something. Maybe I’ll even come back and teach, I guess? Who knows. I don’t pretend to know what’s going to happen in the future. I don’t even know what I’m having for dinner later.” He skipped another stone, then turned to Seungcheol. “Did something happen between you and Nayeon?” he asked pointedly.
“What makes you think that?” Seungcheol muttered.
“Well, every morning for the past two weeks she’s been hanging around outside our class, but she always runs away when I ask her if she’s looking for you,” Jeonghan said in a matter-of-fact kind of way. “I’m not a complete idiot, you know? There’s a rumour going round that you and Kim Jisoo got into a fight and I know you don’t actually know how to get mad properly so… what actually happened?”
Seungcheol dug the toe of his shoe into the ground, glancing out over the water. Dark, rumbling clouds were already starting to gather over the mountains, like they had every afternoon for the past month. He told Jeonghan about Nayeon’s ridiculous scheme, but it didn’t make him feel any better. If anything, it only made him feel worse.
“Well, you already knew she was like that,” Jeonghan pointed out after listening intently. “To me it doesn’t sound so different to how she usually is. Kind of self-centered, totally oblivious to anyone else’s feelings, stubborn as an old cow… that’s what you called her last time, didn’t you?”
That only seemed like a half-truth of what Nayeon was really like. “Maybe,” Seungcheol said uncomfortably. “I mean, she can be like that sometimes. But she’s also really encouraging, and she’s warm, and… she tried to help me. I think. In a really roundabout kind of way. And she has big dreams. Isn’t it better to have dreams rather than being like me, with no idea what I want to do with the rest of my life?” He moodily dropped the pebble he was holding back on to the shore.
“The way I see it,” Jeonghan said carefully, trying to hide a secret smile, “you can do whatever the hell you want with your life, anytime you want to. I mean, didn’t you get the lead in a musical without any experience? I don’t think it matters if you stay or if you leave. If you leave, you can always come back. And if you stay, you can always leave. Nothing’s really set in concrete, so I don't think it hurts to just dream a little, if you can. That’s what I think anyway.”
Seungcheol almost felt something unwrap itself from its shoulders and take flight. That was true. He’d been so fixated on the question of whether to stay or leave that he’d forgotten the most important thing: there was always somewhere he could return to. The town would always be here, no matter what he chose. He picked up a pebble and threw it out in the water. It skipped 7 times. He watched the ripples spread themselves into nothing, then turned to Jeonghan with a grin. “Basketball?”
“You’re going to be a decent teacher, I guess,” he commented later on the way to the court.
“Shut up,” Jeonghan grizzled.
That night, as he helped his father portion out flour and eggs for the next morning’s bake, Seungcheol fished a flyer out of his pocket and laid it in the middle of the floury workbench.
“What’s that?” his mother asked, looking up from counting the day’s earnings.
“It’s this semester’s musical,” Seungcheol said, in what he hoped was a casual tone. “I’m… I’m the lead actor. Or I was the lead actor.” He waited for his parents’ sounds of disbelief, but none came. They just grinned mischievously and exchanged glances, his father dusting flour off his hands in large clouds.
“We already know,” his mother smiled. His father gingerly picked up the flyer. “You kept humming and dancing around the shop on the weekends so it wasn’t that hard to guess.”
Before Seungcheol could react to that his father added, “And Nayeon already told us last month.”
Seungcheol rolled his eyes to the ceiling, even though he couldn’t stop the grin rising on his face. “Of course she did,” he said. He really had to stop letting her win one of these days.
He hadn’t really planned on gatecrashing the musical he’d abandoned. It all just sort of happened.
The gym had been transformed into a pseudo auditorium. The sides of the gym were hidden behind long, black floor to ceiling curtains, and the bleachers themselves were pulled into the middle to function as seats. It felt smaller like that. Seungcheol was skulking backstage looking for Nayeon to wish her good luck when he ran into Dowoon. Dressed top to toe in black and a blazer that looked like it had seen better days, Dowoon suddenly seemed a little more dignified.
“Aren’t you a little late?” Dowoon asked, like he expected him to be there. Then he burst into a wide grin and grabbed on to his arm. “Better late than never, I guess. But I guess it’s just like you actors to be fashionably late. You guys must like the attention.” He started dragging Seungcheol behind the curtains, where a flurry of activity indicated where the real backstage was.
“What are you talking about?” Seungcheol protested, but Dowoon tugged him to an area with racks of costumes. Johnny was sitting on a plastic chair, his head in his hands. His face was, once again, the colour of slightly off milk. He looked up when Seungcheol appeared, and fairly leapt out of the chair.
“Thank God you’re here!” he exclaimed, clinging to the front of Seungcheol’s shirt. “You were wrong. I can’t do it. I just can’t. I can’t go first. Tomorrow night, maybe, but not opening night! There’s nothing as terrifying as that in the world!” He let Seungcheol go and fell back on to the chair
Seungcheol turned to Dowoon, who shrugged. “He’s been like this all week. We kept thinking you might come back, but when you didn’t I think that’s when the panic really set in.” He looked at the two girls who just entered the area. “You’ve still got Seungcheol’s costumes right?” They nodded and immediately started sorting through the racks.
“Wait, I didn’t say I’d do it,” Seungcheol said indignantly. “I haven’t even been practicing -,” he started, but stopped. Because he had been practicing, sort of. He’d been singing all his parts in the shower every day. And his feet never seemed to let him forget any of the steps.
“You’ll be fine,” Dowoon patted him on the shoulder. “You’re the only one who really connected with Nayeon. Johnny was just a poor imitation. No offence,” he added to Johnny, who only shook his head and flapped a weak hand at him. “You’re the only one who can do this, Seungcheol!” he said, looking at his watch like he suddenly remembered something. “We’re all counting on you!” And he hurried off.
“What’s Dowoon doing now?” Seungcheol asked one of the girls, who shoved a bundle of clothing into his arms. “Is he coordinator or something?”
“No,” the girl replied, looking amused. “He became the new songwriter. He’s actually better than Jisoo.”
As Seungcheol stood in the wings, waiting for the rest to take their places and thinking this was absolute insanity, he looked across the stage and found Nayeon staring back at him. If he had to star in the opening night of a musical every night for the rest of his life completely unprepared, seeing the dumbfounded look on her face made it absolutely worth it. He cracked a grin, and waggled his fingers at her. At the moment the lights dimmed. Seungcheol couldn’t see if she was smiling, but he had a feeling that through the darkness, a beam of sunlight was shining down on him.
In the end, only a miracle really saved the musical from being a complete disaster. Only a miracle could have helped him remember all his lines and songs, and only a miracle could have been the reason why he danced every sequence perfectly - even the one that made him quit. Or maybe it was just fact that everything Nayeon touched was always going to be a success. In this case, he was glad some of her luck had rubbed off on him too.
The stage closed with Nayeon lying dead in his arms, because only Nayeon would write something as melodramatic as the heroine dying in the end. Seungcheol suspected it was mostly so she could get some experience with dying scenes.
As the curtain went down, a huge crash of applause almost made him jump out of his skin. Nayeon immediately jumped to her feet and pulled him along with her, her eyes sparkling. “Listen to that,” she whispered, exultant. Sweat was running down the side of her face. Her ears were more than a little pink.
“That’s you they’re clapping for,” he told her, and meant it.
But she shook her head. “They’re clapping for you.”
“Everyone get ready for curtain call!” Mr. Jo whispered, running down the length of the stage. The other team members lined themselves up along Seungcheol and Nayeon, with much rustling and jostling.
“Seungcheol,” Nayeon breathed as everyone settled down. He looked down at her. Her hand found his between them, and her fingers were warm as they wrapped around his. The words tumbled out of her mouth in a sort of rapid fire whisper. “I’m sorry. About everything. I was being selfish. We’re still friends, aren’t we?”
He was glad it was dark enough behind the curtain for her to not see the way his face reddened. “Of course we are,” he whispered hurriedly as someone shushed him from the back. He grinned. “Were you surprised to see me?”
The spotlights suddenly swung on them. As the curtain started rising, Nayeon had time to aim a bright, dazzling smile at him, sunlight spilling across her face until she glowed. “Totally shocked,” she laughed. “You actually beat me at something.” Seungcheol was keenly aware of the feel of her hand in his as she turned back to the audience and lifted their arms into the air. He decided to hold off from telling her he was considering applying to a school in Seoul too, if it meant being able to see her smile that way again.
They swept into a low, perfect bow amidst whistles and cheers and the thunderous sound of applause. When Seungcheol lifted his head, his own smile threatening to split his face in half, the lights were blinding.
s.coups/nayeon
pg-13, 8292w
there isn't a word yet, for old friends who've just met. (hsm au)
written for director's cut fest 2020 and kirakirashahida's bday!
Nayeon was an award winner, that much was true. Sitting on the floor of her room, yawning, Seungcheol’s eyes roved the trophies, ribbons and framed certificates lining the walls and hanging precariously off the ends of shelves in a kind of haphazard attempt at interior decorating. It was actually kind of ridiculous how many awards she’d accumulated; there were awards for math of all things, debate ribbons, a silver medal in netball, a shiny badge pin for being English captain… Seungcheol snorted at that. Nayeon was absolute rubbish at English.
“What are you laughing at?” Nayeon frowned, turning around from her desk where she had been furiously scribbling something for what seemed like hours but was really only 25 minutes. She took in what he was looking at and a lopsided sort of smirk appeared on her face. “Basking in my glory, you loser?” Seungcheol rolled his eyes, annoyed at how much the jab actually stung him. It was a consolation to know that if nothing else, Im Nayeon was never going to win any awards for manners.
“You never got an award in science,” he commented with a sulky shrug.
Nayeon huffed and turned back to her desk. “You can’t win awards at subjects you deliberately don’t take,” she pointed out. Seungcheol wanted to remind her that science had been a compulsory subject until 2 years ago, but decided that it wasn’t worth the 10 minute argument that would come after. The ribbons from debate competitions weren’t just given out for free. Instead, he yawned again and clambered to his feet to peer over her shoulder.
“What the heck are you writing?” he asked, noticing the sun already beginning to set beyond the hump of the mountains that bordered the town. It did nothing to help his mood. “I didn’t waste a perfectly good afternoon to sit on your bedroom floor while you ignore me, you know.” He shifted around to her other shoulder when Nayeon exaggeratedly shielded her rows of shockingly messy handwriting from him with her arm. She covered the other page too, although he probably wouldn’t have been able to decipher a single word anyway. “Alright then,” he said deliberately. “I’m going home.”
“Wait!” Nayeon reached out and grabbed his hand before he could leave. He instantly shook her off, trying to keep the flush from rising up his neck. Knowing Nayeon since they were toddlers pushing each other over in the mud was probably why she was so damn good at knowing how to catch him off guard, even if they hadn’t really spoken for years. Now she scribbled down a few more lines, hanging on to the sleeve of his school-issued jumper instead, then scooped up the notebook with a flourish. “All done!”
“What is?” Seungcheol asked cautiously, because she had that maddening glint in her eye that used to get them into trouble with their parents, the school, or both.
“Our ticket out of here,” Nayeon grinned and slapped the notebook into his chest. Then noticing the blank look on his face, she sighed. “I wrote a musical,” she pointed out like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And you’re going to star in it.”
Seungcheol’s eyes rolled up to the ceiling so hard he was sure they would fall out of his head. “God help me,” he said to the lightbulb.
It wasn’t that Seungcheol couldn’t act - teachers always seemed to believe him when he weaseled out of homework or participating in class activities and he did actually have a knack for different languages and accents - and it wasn’t that he couldn’t sing either, if his friends’ requests for him to be their radio while they were supposed to be studying was anything to go by, but lead in their summer school musical?
“Absolutely not,” he had said firmly to Nayeon the afternoon she proposed it before stalking out of her house to go skip stones in the lake with Jeonghan, and he’d meant it.
“She’ll give up in a week and find someone else,” Jeonghan had said soothingly as his stone skipped a smooth 6 times and landed just as smoothly in the water, but Seungcheol wasn’t so sure. Nobody ever seemed to get Nayeon the way he did, and the one thing he’d figured out when they were still pushing each other over in the mud was that Nayeon always won.
She left him alone over the weekend but came at him with a vengeance on the Monday back at school. “Choi Seungcheol!” he heard someone yell shrilly at the door of his classroom when he was getting books out of his locker. He turned, and the next thing he knew he was pushed back against the wall by a girl who barely came up to his ear. Nayeon smirked up at him as she slapped a hand just beside his head to pin him there. Without ever intending to, he'd become the heroine of the national TV dramas his mum watched on days the family bakery was closed.
“What the hell are you doing?!” Seungcheol hissed, blushing furiously. He thought of shoving her away, but he hadn't actually touched her since they last went to catch fish bare handed in the stream behind her house. When had that been? It had to be at least 4 years ago now. She was so close he could count the freckles dotting across her nose, and had she always had freckles? He’d never noticed before. Whoever was in the room stared, and some boys burst into wolf whistles and whoops of ”Go get him, Nayeon!”
“Say you’ll audition for my musical,” Nayeon said without even bothering to keep her voice down. She loomed closer while he shrinked away from her into the wall.
“Or what?” he narrowed his eyes, just to give her a fight.
“Or I’ll kiss you,” she said sweetly, without missing a beat.
Several girls around them gasped. Jeonghan, just entering the classroom, reared backwards on to Joshua’s foot. Seungcheol’s face felt hot enough to fry an egg on it, but he still wanted to believe that he had some kind of fighting chance. He drew himself to full height and looked down at her. “You wouldn’t dare,” he scoffed imperiously.
Nayeon’s expression flickered. He felt a prickle of triumph bubbling up, but that quickly turned to horror as Nayeon lunged at him. He yelped and dove to the side as everyone around them either screamed or squealed. Nayeon barely missed kissing him; he felt the wind of her face passing over his ear, and while he was scrambling away backwards on the floor she reached out and grabbed him by the collar. She hauled him up towards her, her hair hanging over one shoulder and tickling his cheek as she bent over him. Her grip was hellishly strong. “Say you’ll audition, Choi Seungcheol!” she commanded.
“Over my dead body!” he yelled back, despite the sinking feeling that he had already lost this.
“Okay, you asked for it,” Nayeon said nonchalantly, and leaned in.
For one crazy, completely out of character moment, Seungcheol thought it would be better to just let her kiss him instead. Maybe it would actually be… not such a bad thing. But as she loomed closer, he had a flash forward to Nayeon cackling with glee as she announced to everyone “I’m Choi Seungcheol’s first kiss!” and somehow that seemed so much worse than being the lead in a school musical that he yelled, “Alright! You win! I’ll audition!”
Nayeon stopped. They were almost nose to nose. He could tell that her freckles were really only drawn on that morning. Then her eyes lit up, and somehow he’d never noticed just how bright Nayeon’s eyes were. It was like seeing the sun emerge from behind a cloud; it was dazzling. Nayeon beamed, and the brightness seemed to spill out over her face.
“Great! See you in the gym after school then! You won’t regret it!” she said in a rush without bothering to pause for breath, straightening up and brushing off her skirt. At the doorway she turned back and blew him a kiss, still beaming. “Toodles!”
Jeonghan and Joshua immediately sprinted over to see if he was alright. Still dazzled, Seungcheol shook them off. Even as the classroom erupted into a frenzy of chatter and whispers, it felt just a little bit duller to him after she left.
The auditions were even worse than he thought they would be.
He expected maybe five people at most, because he was quite sure the school would never be able to get together a drama department, which would mean the musical was never, ever going to happen. It was part of the reason why he decided to just do the bloody thing. The other part, of course, was to get Nayeon off his back.
But when he turned up to the gym and maybe 30 people sitting on the floor turned to look at him, Seungcheol immediately discovered two things: one, that he had clearly underestimated the amount of people in a tiny mountainside town that loved theatre and two, he most definitely did not belong there.
“Oh good, you came!” Nayeon bounded over, clutching at his arm before he could run. “Mr. Jo is just on his way over and then we can start! Did you prepare anything?” Before he could answer, she continued, “It’s okay if you didn’t though, we have some spare scripts you can use.” She dragged him over to the piano on the stage and smiled at the girl seated at it. “Jisoo, you know Choi Seungcheol.”
Jisoo smiled coolly back. “Ah yes. The taekwondo star.”
It was dreadfully sarcastic. Seungcheol had never actually won a taekwondo medal before and Jisoo seemed to know it, but before he could retort Mr. Jo entered the gym with a hot pink feather boa draped over his shoulders and a magnificent twirl. Seungcheol knew immediately who Nayeon had learned her flamboyant ways from. It was jarring to see his usually calm, meticulous English teacher sashaying around, but when Mr. Jo ordered Nayeon off stage and called for order it helped him feel a little like he really was just in the school gym and hadn’t stepped into some weird alternate world that didn’t seem to welcome him being there.
The other auditions weren’t up to scratch. Seungcheol winced at one overblown performance of the Phantom of the Opera, and the kids who reenacted the Domyouji/Yuriko pushing scene from Hana Yori Dango seemed like they were in it just for laughs. And then it was his turn.
“I’m going to be reading from a script,” he announced dully when he went up on the stage, clutching the papers so hard in his hand that they fluttered. His supporting partner, Johnny, stood awkwardly beside him. His face was the sort of colour one expected from slightly off milk. Seungcheol looked out at the faces staring back at him, and decided it was a little like being in a taekwondo tournament - all he had to do was concentrate on his partner and ignore everyone else.
It was a short scene and he'd just barely had time to go through it twice before his turn came. His character was supposed to get mad at Johnny’s, and go off on a rant. That much Seungcheol could grasp. What he couldn’t seem to do was channel any sort of anger towards Johnny, mostly because he just wasn’t a very angry person by nature. And it didn’t seem nice to yell at someone who looked like he was going to pass out at any second. So he read the lines as sinisterly as he knew how, and hoped it would be enough to satisfy Nayeon.
It evidently wasn’t. Halfway through a long sentence Nayeon yelled “Speak up!” from the front row, jumped to her feet, and threw the book she was holding right at him. It ricocheted off his shoulder, landed with a dull thunk and went spiraling off to one side on the smooth wooden floor.
“Nayeon,” said Mr. Jo into the silence. “If you do that again I will guarantee you won’t have any part in this musical, even if you did write it.” He looked up at Seungcheol. “Please continue, Seungcheol,” he said kindly.
His shoulder throbbing, Seungcheol returned to the script. A tempest was bubbling beneath his skin. He glanced at the paper in his hand, then at Nayeon watching him with a slight grin playing on her lips, and rage burned through his chest. It was just so unfair. Seungcheol had never seen red before, but now there was fire in his eyes. He tossed the script to one side and let rip. He yelled and swaggered and stamped his feet at Johnny. He fell to his knees and punched the floorboards, screaming. And everytime he caught a glimpse of Nayeon sitting there smugly in the front row it only made him angrier. The scene ended with Johnny backing away looking completely harrowed and Seungcheol still on his knees, breathing hard.
The gym was deathly silent. Seungcheol had never seen so many mouths open in shock. Mr. Jo took off the feather boa and slowly got to his feet, a wondrous expression on his face. He raised his hands and clapped.
“…And that’s the story of how I got into this stupid musical,” Seungcheol ended dully. The boy he had just told his sorrowful story to - a brooding, awkward guy from Nayeon’s class named Dowoon - nodded. “What about you? I don’t remember seeing you at auditions.”
“Nayeon heard I tap dance so she said she’d trade math notes if I joined in,” Dowoon said just as dully. Seungcheol felt pity for him. Nayeon was probably just going to steal her older brother’s old math notes without even checking if they were still in the syllabus or not.
“Can you really tap dance?” he asked instead.
Dowoon grinned sheepishly, his braces glinting in the light. “Not really. I watched someone do it on Youtube and it seemed fun. Don’t tell Nayeon,” he added quickly. So they were even then, Seungcheol thought. He patted Dowoon on the shoulder and assured him that he wouldn’t tell.
“Hello, ladies!” Nayeon burst through the gym doors like a thunderclap. “And gentlemen,” she added like an afterthought as she sashayed towards them. “As president of the drama club, writer of this musical and female lead I’d like to say congratulations to everyone who passed auditions!” She burst into applause, and a smattering of hands joined her. “Personally, this is going to be the last musical us seniors will be allowed to fully participate in so for the next 3 months let’s give it our all, okay?” She beamed her most charming smile.
Seungcheol looked round at the adoring faces smiling back at her, and thought they had all been spectacularly duped. Then he remembered that he was the male lead, which made him the most duped of all. It was not an encouraging feeling. And mixed in with the disbelief that he had actually got the part, the despair that he now had to see Nayeon three days a week after school and the slowly setting in realization that he would now have to get up in front of maybe a hundred people and sing… well, he wouldn’t be surprised if he just dropped dead now in the middle of the gym.
“Seungcheol!” Nayeon was saying. Seungcheol dragged himself back from the harrowing whirlwind of emotions suddenly beating at him and looked at her. Her smile seemed to reassure him a little. If anything, Nayeon was a winner, he told himself. With her around, everything would go just right. “I was just saying how lucky we all are to have you as our lead,” she announced graciously. Seungcheol noticed the smiles directed at him were really just being polite. Nobody really believed that he deserved the spot, and to be perfectly honest he didn’t either. But Nayeon certainly did. “You’re going to be perfect.”
He stood up. Everyone’s smiles dropped into frowns. “Sorry,” he muttered, “I don’t feel so good.” He rushed out of the gym, and didn’t stop until he reached the bakery. His mother looked up at the cashier, surprised.
“I thought you had after school activities,” she said, already smiling behind him at the customer that had just entered.
Seungcheol sauntered over to the counter and put on an apron. “It got cancelled,” he replied easily, and went to the back of the store to see if his father needed any help with preparing next day’s bake.
In the end, what made Seungcheol return to the wretched musical was nothing more than a simple ingrained sense of responsibility and a sprinkling of guilt. It didn’t seem fair to steal the lead spot from someone more deserving only to abandon it. Nayeon said nothing when he turned up at the next rehearsal, although he saw her giving him quizzical looks all through their acting exercises.
Things seemed to improve after the first few rocky weeks, where Johnny absolutely refused to go anywhere near Seungcheol despite being his understudy and Jisoo made a face everytime Nayeon asked her to run through pitch exercises with him. Before Seungcheol realized it, they were a month into preparation and he was, dare he say, actually kind of enjoying himself.
“So how’s the practice going?” Jeonghan asked dubiously when he came into the bakery on Seungcheol’s off-musical day.
“It’s nothing much,” Seungcheol shrugged nonchalantly, but the truth was the day before he’d laughed himself silly watching Dowoon try to teach people to tap dance before Johnny tripped over a bucket of white paint and splashed it all over Jisoo’s shoes. And even Nayeon herself wasn’t as bad as Seungcheol expected her to be. In fact she was actually quite supportive, in her own Nayeon way.
“You’re too nice,” she told him one day when they were walking home from rehearsals. “You need to really feel the part, you know? I know you’re a sleepyhead and any emotion other than dullness isn’t in your nature but some intensity wouldn’t hurt you!”
“Is that why you threw a book at me?” he asked grumpily. He still hadn’t quite forgiven her for that. The sun was already beginning to set later than usual, and it glittered over the water of the lake. Around the shore and a little further beyond, the windows of houses and buildings glinted. Beyond that, the mountains were a patchwork of resplendent green and golden yellow. Seungcheol heaved in a lungful of fresh spring air, and felt keenly how fast the seasons were changing. In a few months summer would be here, and the musical with it. Then one last semester of school and then what? He’d never really thought about what came after. It had always seemed to him that he would just end up taking over the bakery and staying in this town forever.
“You don’t get it,” Nayeon shook her head. “I’m trying to save you.” But from what, she wouldn’t say. “Have some dreams, Seungcheol,” she replied mysteriously when he asked her about it. He left her waving amiably from the pathway leading up the hill to her house, and made his own way back to the bakery.
Two more weeks passed. Seungcheol’s voice stopped cracking on higher notes. The taekwondo club stopped asking why he was skipping out on practice. The rumours that he and Nayeon were dating eventually stopped too, thankfully. And, strangely enough, Nayeon herself stopped being someone he dreaded seeing to someone he actually started to like having around. But maybe he was just getting into character.
“Alright everyone get with your partner,” Mr. Jo clapped his hands. Nayeon stepped a little closer to Seungcheol. He half expected her to take his hand - over the weeks he’d gotten used to having her hand in his, what with dance numbers and semi-romantic scenes. On the stage, the pro that Mr. Jo had invited to give them tips was sitting with his legs dangling over the edge. Now he jumped down and strode among the pairs scattered around the gym.
“The best way to perform with your partner,” he announced, hands behind his back, “is to connect with them. You need to build trust. You need to feel that you two really do know everything about their character, even if your characters only meet for a brief moment.” He spun around - were actors always so flashy? Seungcheol thought - and flourished his hand in the air. “With this exercise, you’re going to try and connect with your partner. I want you to look at them and really feel them. And while you’re doing that, keep your character in your mind and what your partner’s character means to them. No speaking.”
Seungcheol turned to face Nayeon, pulling a face at her. She screwed her nose at him. “Don’t laugh!” she whispered warningly. He shrugged and pulled a face back, and her face lit up in one of those bright smiles he was beginning to appreciate a lot more these days. Then the pro was calling for silence and she lapsed back into a neutral expression. It impressed Seungcheol just how much she could control herself when she had to. She was a better actress than he’d ever expected.
“15 minutes,” the pro announced. “And go!”
Almost immediately people found that staring someone straight in the face was a more awkward moment than anything else in the world. Giggles broke out around the gym. Seungcheol spotted Jisoo resolutely refusing to look at Dowoon. He grinned at that and turned back to Nayeon. She stared determinedly back, trying to keep the corner of her lip from twitching. Seungcheol snickered, raising an eyebrow at her, silently mocking her height. She rolled her eyes in response.
Seungcheol spent the next 5 minutes continuing to grin mockingly at her while she resolutely tried to hold her nerve, but eventually she thrust her chin up, drew herself to full height (just under his nose) and glared at him. Every inch of her face screamed Shut up before I kick you in the shin so hard you’ll be limping for a week! Seungcheol wasn’t sure if that was what made him give it up or the shock at how easily he could read her. But he shut up and did what she wanted. He was supposed to play basketball with Jeonghan after this.
He looked back down at her, properly this time. She stared back, her face settling back into a more relaxed state. Nayeon was prettier when she was calmer. The thought came to him before he even realized it was in his head, and he felt the flush creeping up his neck. What a crazy idea, thinking Nayeon was pretty! It was almost like thinking he was a good actor, or that Dowoon was a good dancer. There were some things that could stay as impossible things.
If Nayeon noticed his internal struggle she showed no sign of it, although a tiny, very tiny smile appeared for a second before she composed herself. He noted, without really noting anything, that her ears were a little pink. It really only occurred to him later, when they were walking home together, that even small smiles from Nayeon were like being bathed in sunlight.
“This kinda feels like when were kids, doesn’t it?” she suddenly asked when they rounded a corner and came across an empty playground. The paint on the slide was chipping and the chains on the swing set were rusty, but to Seungcheol it felt like he was 8 years old and ready to take on the world. He felt it every day he passed it. It was strange how fleeting the moment lasted before the present swooped back in, mundane and oh so comfortable in its mundaneness. “We used to play here everyday, didn’t we?” Nayeon asked, wandering over to the swings and seating herself in it. She looked back at him.
Jeonghan and Joshua were already waiting at the basketball court, but Seungcheol figured he could wait a little longer. He ambled over and sat in the other swing. “Yeah, and you fell right over that tree root and split your head open,” he pointed as Nayeon swung lightly to and fro beside him.
“I did!” Nayeon laughed like it was a memory that made her particularly happy. “And you started crying and ran to get my mom and she got so scared she made you cry harder. You were such a crybaby back then, you know?”
“Well, it’s a good thing people grow up,” Seungcheol huffed. He had one hour before the sun started setting. Better to get to the basketball court as soon as he could. “So I should probably get going -”
Nayeon trained a brilliant smile on him, stilling herself with her toes on the ground. “Hey. Race you.” Her eyes sparkled.
An old instinct rose in Seungcheol’s throat before he could stop it. “Last one to the top buys drinks!” he yelled, and kicked off from the ground. Nayeon followed, yelling protests through her laughter. They swung faster, higher, heaving and sweeping their bodies through the air, the whole swing set shaking and shuddering along with them, and at the highest point of his sweep Seungcheol looked between his feet and saw the great lake shimmering and glittering in the light. He didn’t dare turn his head to see if Nayeon’s smile was just as dazzling.
In the end they agreed - Nayeon a little reluctantly - that Seungcheol had won, just by the tiniest inch. As the cans rattled out of the neighbourhood vending machine, Nayeon turned to him. “I wonder why we stopped hanging out like that,” she remarked casually, then leant down to collect the drinks. Seungcheol popped open the lukewarm can she handed him, trying to think of an answer.
“I guess… we just started liking different things,” he said vaguely. “I mean… you got into theatre and debate and sports and I… I got into taekwondo, you know?” It was only part of the truth - he'd only started taekwondo because you had to choose a club. That was all it had really been to him, unlike Nayeon. But it’s probably because you’re a winner and I’m just a loser who doesn’t know what he wants, he wanted to add. Before he started spending so much time with her again he’d always felt a little smaller in her presence. And you’re blinding.
Nayeon thoughtfully took a long drag from her own can. Her hair was a perfect golden halo in the sunlight. “The more I think about it, the more I don’t understand why things like that would push people apart. I mean, it’s not like either of us moved away. We’ve both always been here. And I don’t think things change much in this place, if you know what I mean.” A light breeze rustled the zelkova tree hanging above them, its yellow-green leaves dancing in the wind. Nayeon smiled. “Anyway, I’m glad you joined my musical, Cheol. It means a lot to me. Hey, can I try some of yours?” she indicated to his drink.
He passed it to her. Even though she drank what was left without asking if he wanted anymore, he just couldn’t find it in himself to get worked up about it.
Everything fell apart three and a half weeks before opening night.
It started with Seungcheol messing up his dance sequence with Nayeon five times in a row. The last mess up was particularly brutal, when he tripped over his own feet and brought Nayeon down with him on the cold, hard floorboards.
“Let’s run through that one more time!” Mr. Jo clapped his hands in his usual calm collected way as Seungcheol hauled Nayeon to her feet, but his expression was tight. Seungcheol was keenly aware of the tension in the air as everyone watched him. It just wouldn’t do for the lead actor to not have his shit together this close to opening night. He gritted his teeth.
“Ignore them,” Nayeon said, squeezing his hand encouragingly. “They’re all just jealous anyway.” He looked down at her, but she was already waltzing away to the other side of the stage to begin the sequence again. They were supposed to dance separately before coming together into a tango-like dance, and he’d never had trouble with it in practice before - but today was just not his day.
“Seriously, Choi Seungcheol,” Jisoo abruptly stopped playing the piano when he tripped over Nayeon’s foot and stumbled to the floor again. “Get your damn act together or you’ll ruin it for all of us.”
“Jisoo!” Nayeon exclaimed, horrified. The rest of the company paused doing whatever they were doing. Paintbrushes stood dripping in the air, and hands clutched to ladders. They felt something that something very dramatic was about to happen.
Seungcheol got to his feet heavily. He was bruised and defeated and he was sick of letting Kim Jisoo look down her nose at him, Nayeon’s best friend be damned. He felt the same fire from auditions coursing through his veins again. “Well maybe if you were actually decent at keeping time I might actually have a chance getting it right.” He smiled sardonically. “Or are you just so frosty that your fingers are slipping on the keys?”
“Shut up, you,” Jisoo snapped, eyes narrowed. Nayeon tried to pull Seungcheol back, but he pushed her away. If it was a fight Jisoo wanted, it was a fight she was going to get. He was tired of her haughty glares and exasperated sighs and secret little grins whenever he messed something up. He was tired of the stony stares and the whispers behind hands from the others. He was tired of feeling, under all the joy and fun he really was having, that apart from Nayeon nobody really wanted him to be there.
“No,” he said firmly. The worst thing was that he still didn’t think he deserved to be there either. “You’ve been a total bitch to me this whole time and I’m sick of it. Just try being a decent person for once in your life, won’t you?”
Jisoo coloured. “I wouldn’t be if you actually cared about being here,” she sneered. “It’s been obvious since the moment you walked into auditions. You hate everything about the theatre. This is just all one big joke to you, isn’t it?”
That was unfair. Recently Seungcheol had been waking up looking forward to rehearsals. He’d liked helping out the backstage crew with painting and lighting. “Would you rather Johnny be lead then?” he asked politely. That was unfair, again, because Johnny really was a good actor if prone to terrible cases of stagefright, but Seungcheol had no idea how to tell Jisoo how much he’d loved working on the musical without looking like a sentimental ass. Johnny himself started backing away from them into the shadows. He narrowly avoided tripping over a still-wet bush.
“Johnny’s a better performer than you anyway!” Jisoo shot back, standing up so abruptly that the piano seat screeched on the floorboards. “He’s been in this club for the past 3 years, he should have gotten the part! You’re just some… some aimless loser. The only reason you really got the part is because of Nayeon,” she waved her hand at Nayeon, who looked dismayed. “You don’t belong here,” she spat. “You’ll never belong anywhere!”
That hit him where it hurt. While he was still reeling from that, Jisoo snatched up her sheets from the piano stand. “I know your type, Choi Seungcheol. You don’t have any ambition or any conviction in anything you do. And I’m not going to stay here and watch all our hard work burn because of you. I quit.” She dropped off the stage and stomped towards the door.
“Jisoo!” Nayeon called out. She aimed one long, stricken glance at Seungcheol, then jumped off the stage herself and ran after Jisoo.
“Well!” Mr. Jo said, looking as shocked as everyone else. “I think we’d better call off today’s rehearsal. Backstage crew, you can keep working on your props. Seungcheol,” he said, putting a hand on Seungcheol’s shoulder, “please don’t take to heart anything Jisoo said. She’s just upset and you’re a wonderful, talented performer. We really do love having you in this production.”
Seungcheol could see he was just being kind. “Thanks Mr. Jo,” he mumbled, stepping away from his teacher. “But I think I’d better go home.” He slowly collected his things from the stage. Nobody stopped him. Dowoon looked like he wanted to say something, but didn’t. As Seungcheol was sweeping his bag over his shoulder, he looked up and spotted Johnny.
“Hey,” he said, walking up to him. Johnny shifted slightly, but said nothing. “I’m sorry I said that,” Seungcheol told him earnestly. “You probably do deserve the part more than me.” Then he left the gym.
He was sitting in the swing in the playground, head bowed and very still, when Nayeon found him.
“Choi Seungcheol,” she said heavily, standing in front of him. He looked up. Nayeon looked frazzled, and her eyes were wide. “Why did you have to go and do that?”
Seungcheol was immediately upset. The fire that had choked up during his fight with Jisoo came raging back. When he thought about it, this really had all been Nayeon’s fault anyway. Everything had happened because of her. If she hadn’t asked him to walk her home that afternoon, he wouldn’t have ended up in her room and he wouldn’t have been roped into her scheme. He was too nice, Nayeon had told him. He’d always thought his niceness was what got him into trouble, but now he could see that it was his niceness to Nayeon that encouraged her to get him into trouble.
“What did I do?” he asked, incensed. “All I did was what you asked me, Nayeon. Do I have to remind you that this whole thing is your idea?”
“I didn’t ask you to upset Jisoo!” she almost yelled, then seemed to check herself. “I can’t lose our chief songwriter - our arrangements aren't even finalized yet. I need you to apologize to her.” She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him. Seungcheol stared back. An invisible tug-of-war seemed to be happening between them, and he was determined not to give in this time.
“No,” he said quietly.
“Seungcheol, please!” Nayeon groaned.
“You’re not getting your way this time,” he snapped at her. “Why did you work so hard to get me to join this thing, Nayeon? What are you really planning?” He saw her opening her mouth to come out with a diversion and stood up before she could. The swing creaked beneath him. “Give me a straight answer for once,” he said, trying not to lose his cool. “I know you had something in mind when you hatched this. You always do.”
Nayeon swallowed and bit her lip. “So you still know me that well, huh?” she asked, smiling shakily. “Okay, fine. I’ll come clean. The musical is my ticket out of this dead town. I need it to be perfect so I can leave.”
He stared at her. “Leave?”
She wrapped her arms around herself, staring out over the treetops to where the lake glittered. The wind was blowing unusually cold today. “There’s nothing here for me. I’m applying for performing schools in Seoul and I need good references. Writing, directing and starring in the school musical would just be the icing on the cake, wouldn’t it? Since I’ve already got awards in other things.”
“What does that have to do with me?” Seungcheol was annoyed all over again. “Sounds like this plan is just about you, isn’t it?”
Nayeon turned to him. He thought he could see a sort of wistfulness behind her eyes. “Haven’t you ever dreamt about leaving this place?” she asked quietly.
He looked past her to the lake, with its serene beauty. To the familiar windows of the buildings and houses beyond the shore. To the mountains, always steadfastly, solidly there. He thought about the bakery with its warm bready scent and his mother’s cheerful smile. His father's big, flour-covered hands. He realized now why he’d never been able to see clearly past high school graduation. It just didn’t seem right to think of a future with none of his home comforts in it. “I like living here,” he said carefully. “Quietly. Without drama. It’s enough for me.”
Nayeon shook her head. “You don’t know how much potential you have, Seungcheol. I’ve watched you all these years, just drifting along without really doing anything. You’re so much better than that. Even when we were kids, I knew you were going to do great things.” She stepped closer to him. “You know, part of me wrote that musical for you, just to show you what you can do when you really put your mind to it. And you’re good. You’re really good. There’s a whole world out there waiting for you, don’t waste it here.”
Her eyes were bright and earnest. Seungcheol swallowed. “Nayeon, I’m grateful. I am. But we’re not the same people we were when we were kids. We’re… we’re different now. We’re barely even friends. You need to accept that.”
He watched Nayeon’s face fill with disappointment. Then her eyes narrowed. “If you have no ambition, Choi Seungcheol, then you should just leave the musical too. Just go back to your normal, boring life and I’ll go back to mine.” He thought her voice wobbled a little, but she turned before he could be sure and stalked off.
“You can’t always win, Nayeon,” he called after her as the sun set behind the mountains. Without its warmth, the wind chilled him to his bones.
“So you’re really not going back, huh?” Footsteps crunched on the pebbly shoreline and Jeonghan squatted down beside him, his shirt collar unbuttoned. The water lapped peacefully at his shoes, and he shuffled backwards a little. “Isn’t the show next week?”
Seungcheol picked out the smoothest pebble he could find and weighed in his hand just so he had a reason to not answer him. He got to his feet and hurled the pebble out into the lake in what should have been a perfect arc. It skipped once, then disappeared into the water with a plop.
“Looks like summer’s already here,” Jeonghan remarked as he threw his own stone into the water. It skimmed 4 times. Smooth as always. Seungcheol already felt the heat already beating at him even though June was barely over. His shirt was sticking uncomfortably to his skin.
“Have you thought about what you’re going to do when we graduate?” he asked brusquely, throwing a pebble up and down in his hand before hurling it out.
Jeonghan hummed. “Probably get a teaching degree or something. Maybe I’ll even come back and teach, I guess? Who knows. I don’t pretend to know what’s going to happen in the future. I don’t even know what I’m having for dinner later.” He skipped another stone, then turned to Seungcheol. “Did something happen between you and Nayeon?” he asked pointedly.
“What makes you think that?” Seungcheol muttered.
“Well, every morning for the past two weeks she’s been hanging around outside our class, but she always runs away when I ask her if she’s looking for you,” Jeonghan said in a matter-of-fact kind of way. “I’m not a complete idiot, you know? There’s a rumour going round that you and Kim Jisoo got into a fight and I know you don’t actually know how to get mad properly so… what actually happened?”
Seungcheol dug the toe of his shoe into the ground, glancing out over the water. Dark, rumbling clouds were already starting to gather over the mountains, like they had every afternoon for the past month. He told Jeonghan about Nayeon’s ridiculous scheme, but it didn’t make him feel any better. If anything, it only made him feel worse.
“Well, you already knew she was like that,” Jeonghan pointed out after listening intently. “To me it doesn’t sound so different to how she usually is. Kind of self-centered, totally oblivious to anyone else’s feelings, stubborn as an old cow… that’s what you called her last time, didn’t you?”
That only seemed like a half-truth of what Nayeon was really like. “Maybe,” Seungcheol said uncomfortably. “I mean, she can be like that sometimes. But she’s also really encouraging, and she’s warm, and… she tried to help me. I think. In a really roundabout kind of way. And she has big dreams. Isn’t it better to have dreams rather than being like me, with no idea what I want to do with the rest of my life?” He moodily dropped the pebble he was holding back on to the shore.
“The way I see it,” Jeonghan said carefully, trying to hide a secret smile, “you can do whatever the hell you want with your life, anytime you want to. I mean, didn’t you get the lead in a musical without any experience? I don’t think it matters if you stay or if you leave. If you leave, you can always come back. And if you stay, you can always leave. Nothing’s really set in concrete, so I don't think it hurts to just dream a little, if you can. That’s what I think anyway.”
Seungcheol almost felt something unwrap itself from its shoulders and take flight. That was true. He’d been so fixated on the question of whether to stay or leave that he’d forgotten the most important thing: there was always somewhere he could return to. The town would always be here, no matter what he chose. He picked up a pebble and threw it out in the water. It skipped 7 times. He watched the ripples spread themselves into nothing, then turned to Jeonghan with a grin. “Basketball?”
“You’re going to be a decent teacher, I guess,” he commented later on the way to the court.
“Shut up,” Jeonghan grizzled.
That night, as he helped his father portion out flour and eggs for the next morning’s bake, Seungcheol fished a flyer out of his pocket and laid it in the middle of the floury workbench.
“What’s that?” his mother asked, looking up from counting the day’s earnings.
“It’s this semester’s musical,” Seungcheol said, in what he hoped was a casual tone. “I’m… I’m the lead actor. Or I was the lead actor.” He waited for his parents’ sounds of disbelief, but none came. They just grinned mischievously and exchanged glances, his father dusting flour off his hands in large clouds.
“We already know,” his mother smiled. His father gingerly picked up the flyer. “You kept humming and dancing around the shop on the weekends so it wasn’t that hard to guess.”
Before Seungcheol could react to that his father added, “And Nayeon already told us last month.”
Seungcheol rolled his eyes to the ceiling, even though he couldn’t stop the grin rising on his face. “Of course she did,” he said. He really had to stop letting her win one of these days.
He hadn’t really planned on gatecrashing the musical he’d abandoned. It all just sort of happened.
The gym had been transformed into a pseudo auditorium. The sides of the gym were hidden behind long, black floor to ceiling curtains, and the bleachers themselves were pulled into the middle to function as seats. It felt smaller like that. Seungcheol was skulking backstage looking for Nayeon to wish her good luck when he ran into Dowoon. Dressed top to toe in black and a blazer that looked like it had seen better days, Dowoon suddenly seemed a little more dignified.
“Aren’t you a little late?” Dowoon asked, like he expected him to be there. Then he burst into a wide grin and grabbed on to his arm. “Better late than never, I guess. But I guess it’s just like you actors to be fashionably late. You guys must like the attention.” He started dragging Seungcheol behind the curtains, where a flurry of activity indicated where the real backstage was.
“What are you talking about?” Seungcheol protested, but Dowoon tugged him to an area with racks of costumes. Johnny was sitting on a plastic chair, his head in his hands. His face was, once again, the colour of slightly off milk. He looked up when Seungcheol appeared, and fairly leapt out of the chair.
“Thank God you’re here!” he exclaimed, clinging to the front of Seungcheol’s shirt. “You were wrong. I can’t do it. I just can’t. I can’t go first. Tomorrow night, maybe, but not opening night! There’s nothing as terrifying as that in the world!” He let Seungcheol go and fell back on to the chair
Seungcheol turned to Dowoon, who shrugged. “He’s been like this all week. We kept thinking you might come back, but when you didn’t I think that’s when the panic really set in.” He looked at the two girls who just entered the area. “You’ve still got Seungcheol’s costumes right?” They nodded and immediately started sorting through the racks.
“Wait, I didn’t say I’d do it,” Seungcheol said indignantly. “I haven’t even been practicing -,” he started, but stopped. Because he had been practicing, sort of. He’d been singing all his parts in the shower every day. And his feet never seemed to let him forget any of the steps.
“You’ll be fine,” Dowoon patted him on the shoulder. “You’re the only one who really connected with Nayeon. Johnny was just a poor imitation. No offence,” he added to Johnny, who only shook his head and flapped a weak hand at him. “You’re the only one who can do this, Seungcheol!” he said, looking at his watch like he suddenly remembered something. “We’re all counting on you!” And he hurried off.
“What’s Dowoon doing now?” Seungcheol asked one of the girls, who shoved a bundle of clothing into his arms. “Is he coordinator or something?”
“No,” the girl replied, looking amused. “He became the new songwriter. He’s actually better than Jisoo.”
As Seungcheol stood in the wings, waiting for the rest to take their places and thinking this was absolute insanity, he looked across the stage and found Nayeon staring back at him. If he had to star in the opening night of a musical every night for the rest of his life completely unprepared, seeing the dumbfounded look on her face made it absolutely worth it. He cracked a grin, and waggled his fingers at her. At the moment the lights dimmed. Seungcheol couldn’t see if she was smiling, but he had a feeling that through the darkness, a beam of sunlight was shining down on him.
In the end, only a miracle really saved the musical from being a complete disaster. Only a miracle could have helped him remember all his lines and songs, and only a miracle could have been the reason why he danced every sequence perfectly - even the one that made him quit. Or maybe it was just fact that everything Nayeon touched was always going to be a success. In this case, he was glad some of her luck had rubbed off on him too.
The stage closed with Nayeon lying dead in his arms, because only Nayeon would write something as melodramatic as the heroine dying in the end. Seungcheol suspected it was mostly so she could get some experience with dying scenes.
As the curtain went down, a huge crash of applause almost made him jump out of his skin. Nayeon immediately jumped to her feet and pulled him along with her, her eyes sparkling. “Listen to that,” she whispered, exultant. Sweat was running down the side of her face. Her ears were more than a little pink.
“That’s you they’re clapping for,” he told her, and meant it.
But she shook her head. “They’re clapping for you.”
“Everyone get ready for curtain call!” Mr. Jo whispered, running down the length of the stage. The other team members lined themselves up along Seungcheol and Nayeon, with much rustling and jostling.
“Seungcheol,” Nayeon breathed as everyone settled down. He looked down at her. Her hand found his between them, and her fingers were warm as they wrapped around his. The words tumbled out of her mouth in a sort of rapid fire whisper. “I’m sorry. About everything. I was being selfish. We’re still friends, aren’t we?”
He was glad it was dark enough behind the curtain for her to not see the way his face reddened. “Of course we are,” he whispered hurriedly as someone shushed him from the back. He grinned. “Were you surprised to see me?”
The spotlights suddenly swung on them. As the curtain started rising, Nayeon had time to aim a bright, dazzling smile at him, sunlight spilling across her face until she glowed. “Totally shocked,” she laughed. “You actually beat me at something.” Seungcheol was keenly aware of the feel of her hand in his as she turned back to the audience and lifted their arms into the air. He decided to hold off from telling her he was considering applying to a school in Seoul too, if it meant being able to see her smile that way again.
They swept into a low, perfect bow amidst whistles and cheers and the thunderous sound of applause. When Seungcheol lifted his head, his own smile threatening to split his face in half, the lights were blinding.