#𝟏𝟑:𝟎𝟎 |✦| ࿐ ࿔ ⸢𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫: 500+⸥

[lgcjaejin]

☆ — First Steps into the Spotlight"

The One Where Jaejin debuts

Jaejin sat frozen, Insung’s words ringing in his ears like a thunderclap. “Carter Jaejin… You’ll be debuting in Type Zero.” It felt unreal, like a line out of someone else’s story. His heart thudded in his chest, muffling the rest of Insung’s words. He caught snatches of feedback—acting, variety shows, continuing to improve—but they barely registered.

He nodded mechanically, the weight of the announcement pressing down on him. His chest tightened, caught between disbelief and something he couldn’t name. By the time the meeting ended, his legs carried him out of the room without conscious thought. The hallway blurred, and the dorm door felt miles away.

When he finally shut the door behind him, everything crumbled. His knees buckled, and he sank onto the bed, tears spilling out before he could stop them. He didn’t know if they were tears of joy or relief—or something else entirely. All he knew was that the pressure of the past months finally released in overwhelming waves.

Grabbing his phone, he shakily dialed his mom. The phone rang, each second dragging out painfully before her voicemail clicked on. Her cheery tone made his throat close up.

“Mom,” he sobbed, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. “I… It's happening. I don’t even know…” His words trailed off into incoherent babbling as tears overwhelmed him. “I worked so hard, and… it’s happening, but I’m scared. I’m so scared.” His breaths came in shallow gasps, his chest tightening as he tried to find the words. “I just wish you were here to hear this… to tell me I can do it… to tell me I’ll be okay.”

He paused, the silence on the other end of the line amplifying his emotions. His hands shook as he clutched the phone, pressing it closer to his ear as if it would somehow summon her presence. “I don’t know if I can do this, Mom. It’s so big. Everything’s changing, and I’m terrified I’ll let everyone down.” He sniffled, wiping his face with the back of his sleeve, though it didn’t stop the tears from falling. “Please… call me back when you can. I need to hear your voice.”

When he finally hung up, the emptiness of the room settled around him. His body felt heavy, as if all the tension he’d carried for months had suddenly released, leaving him drained and hollow. He stared at the phone in his hand, his reflection blurred in the screen by the sheen of his tears.

Finally, he curled up on his side, letting the weight of the moment wash over him. For the first time in years, he allowed himself to simply feel—everything from relief to fear to a glimmer of pride that he hadn’t dared to acknowledge before. The silence felt comforting now, as if the universe itself had paused to let him catch his breath.

“I did it,” he whispered into the quiet, his voice hoarse but steady. “I actually did it.” The words didn’t feel entirely real yet, but they would eventually.