#( ff the proportions of the grpahic are prob off

[yutark]

★  TRC TRIPLE THREAT AUDITIONS place: stage, yongsan district performance:  1:30-3:25 (dance, center; light coloured shirt)

                               ( noona … )                                     ★ originally by, owol                                                               - - - - -

Carefully the beanie was pulled down further, attempting to hide the bandage that was stuck across his eyebrow and his jacket sleeves were pulled down to length to hide the bruising that was still apparent in his skin. Two weeks since the accident, and there was still pain. More after he forcefully cut at the plaster, cracking it open against his sisters annoyance and the sound of his brother-in-laws voice on the phone telling him to wait. Three days of practice, of bandages and swelling when he got frustrated at the lack of ability to move. Pain medication had been swallowed down prior, hoping to take the edge off the pain as he stretched out his body. There were still twinges of pain, still reminders, and Yuta was doing his best to smother them out. No one was going to stop him auditioning, not to his dream company and not when he knew he had the best chance.

His tongue darted out over his bottom lip when he heard his name, lifting his head to see them looking for him and he cleared his lungs of the tension; that concern that he was going to mess up because of his injuries. A bruise to his confidence that he covered up like everything else, moving forward and smiling as he climbed up onto the stage in front of everyone.

“Hey, I’m Nakamoto Yuta. TRC’s future Triple Threat,” he greeted with smile, confident and proclaiming; like he already knew it was his. That’s who he was, what he did. Bowing forward, he shifted his weight as he pulled up every ounce of his skill at acting; he wasn’t injured, he was going to do this perfectly, he was going to blow them away and get signed. “I’m going to be performing ‘Noona, by Owol’. Please take care of me.” 

One step back into position, loosening up his shoulders, lowering his head and closing his eyes for that second to focus himself; ignore the ache in his arm and the twinge in his neck and shoulders. Lifting his hand, and beginning to move with the steps he had practice; starting off slowly. The most difficult thing was to sing without his voice being affected and without sounding like something was wrong, especially as he danced. He was thankful that the beginning moves weren’t strenuous on his arm, but he could tell his arm did not move half as smooth as he wanted it. At least the focus was on his foot work, able to step and roll, without needing as much concentration. 

To be honest Noona, when you went to the bathroom I saw your texts 14 missed calls An overflow of all kinds of models, singers and actors

Noona, please stop flirting with me I know you have a lot of guys Again, leaning in with your pretty face Why do you act like I’m the only one?

Noona, please stop flirting with me I know you have a lot of guys Again, leaning in with your pretty face Oh. Why do you act like I’m the only one? Tempting, tempting why?

There was a moment to breathe before the rap, the steps breaking more in the beginning and Yuta felt more confident to move for the start. Confident movements forward towards the front of the stage, the TRC staff watching, owning as much of his place as he could. But even he knew his mind was elsewhere as he performed--he was off--struggling to ignore the jars of pain. The sleeve of his jumper slipping, at the sharp pauses and his breath a little heavy as he had to dance and rap in the same moment. Steps smoothed back into place, finding the right beat to slip into; or at least he hoped he had, with the light-headedness that he had to shake off. The only thing he could do was grasp onto the lyrics, onto the movements he knew that he knew, and keep getting through the song; he’d deal with the pain after, he’d deal with everything after.

Noona, please stop flirting I get that you have a lot of guys But if you approacj me in this way, things could get problematic Baby stop, enough Looking at it now, I think I’m starting to feel a little bit tipsy Oh stop, before we start something we’ll regret tomorrow I know it too You just wanna drive beside me in my range rover Grabbing my hand and coming to my side You want to get closer But I’ve run into noonas of this style before It’s like the same shit but different girl I’m just sick of it all now

That was his resolution as he clear his lungs of the sting; he wanted them to notice him, he wanted to get signed more than anything. He wanted to show them that they would be missing out if they didn’t hand him a contract. A rise in his confidence, a boost in his ego, a flush of extra charisma to get him through. And for a while, he couldn’t feel that pain. The Japanese boy filling the stage as much as his one body could, making eye contact at the practice moments and wearing the emotion like it was his own; like his mother had taught him when he acted. Pretend it’s him, pretend he’s someone else, pretend every word is his own. Throw himself into the stinging cold of the water and hold his breath there until it was over; drown in it.

How dare you act innocent to me? How can you not blink even once? Please, don’t act clueless Those hyungs and I know each other..

Noona, I think you’re pretty unbelievable Stealing men’s heart I guess it’s nothing to you This is too unfair, you know

Noona, please stop flirting with me I know you have a lot of guys Again, leaning in with your pretty face Why do you act like I’m the only one?

Everything was centered on the judges as he finished up the last verses of the song, for a moment, feeling like himself; untouchable. That was why he liked performing, why he liked hiphop, why he wanted to be in TRC. They were untouchable, no one competed or was equal; everyone who heard the name would know he was the best. 

‘I am Nakamoto Yuta, TRC’s future Triple Threat’ -- that was his to take and he would take it.

Breathless, sweat shined on his skin, and as soon as the song ended, his hand went to his arm. That first throb of hot pain, one eye nearly squinted shut and he lowered his head to hide the cringe; remove it from his face. He didn’t want them to know he was in pain or that he was injured--’if they know, they might be less harsh and realise you’re not at your best,’ his sister had said--but he didn’t want that asterisks. 

Once again, he dipped forward, bowing and wearing a smile--tired and worn; satisfied. 

“Thank you--” puffed out, stepping back and turning around; only daring to bring his arm up to his chest and let the expression crinkle with pain once he was out of sight. His fingers tight around his arm, and his hasty direction towards the bathroom in hopes of finding something to ease the pain.