Chapter 5

 

The first time I saw him, I was running late. My mom dropped me off in front of the building. He was leaning against one of pillars by the steps of the entrance. He was scrolling on his phone possibly waiting for someone from his training group. I didn't see much of his face so nothing really registered. 

When I finally met him, I felt uncomfortable with the way I singularly focused on his physical attributes. I thought he was ethereal. Elfin in appearance. His face was small, thick eyebrows and dark eyes. Not menacing but mostly intent. Serious and observant. His hair was long, shaggy like that of a husky's, with wisps escaping the haphazard ponytail at the back of his head. I thought he looked very young, which was a surprising reaction considering I've seen trainees younger than him. It was his face, effeminate and fresh, not a speck of blemish on his skin. He's not aloof per se, just very serious. Back then, he looked at me like a star-struck child. He was always watching the way I move, the way I talk. He hung on to my words as if I gave the answers to all the questions in his universe. Which made sense because I was the leader, so he made sure he was following and learning from me. 

I miss those days.

He was the last one to join us, an addition to our group of mostly teenagers embarking on a trip that's going to be long and uncertain; exciting and terrifying. I've been curious about him as a member and as someone I'm inexplicably drawn to. This boy whose training accounted for all of a little over a year. How will he keep up? From what I've known about him, he was musically inclined, sure. But he lacked the training for choreography and voice. Can he even sing? Ahn Geonho told me he modelled all his young life, and have acted on the side. But again, can he sing?

So I watched his audition tape. To be honest, I didn't find anything mind-blowing about it. He sang Slow Dancing. So what? When I met with the execs about finally forming a group, they told me something that I kept in mind while finding the right guys to join, that auditions only account for a person's potential. Those that make it has to train to be the artists that the public will eventually see. The casting team only asks if you can sing, you don't have to be great at it. Your vocal talent can be enhanced by practice, lessons, and repeated performance, so they weren't at all concern about it. They look at your overall appeal. And Juhoon has it in spades. 

Now, though, his voice has dramatically improved. Deeper, and there's something about it that scratches my brain. Face of an angel, with the voice of an incubus. It's his laugh that gets me the most. I'm always looking forward to hearing it. It's a quiet hymn, vibrating from the depths of his soul. 

Keonho told me the story of how he met Juhoon. At the time, becoming an idol was not even something he considered. Aside from being musically talented, he was both an academic and an athlete. He was on the crossroads of choosing how his future landscape was going to look like. 

There was some backroom dealings between Keonho and the casting director. It was shady as all get out, but they really wanted him so they set a trap. He was to befriend Juhoon, make him feel comfortable. It was easy enough, because Keonho has the charm and the looks to cast a sticky web. He's a trickster as well, so the casting director sent the perfect person for the job. He succeeded, of course, and it's one of the things that annoy me about Keonho. He likes rubbing it in my face. It's the way Juhoon was comfortable around him and the way he could touch him anytime he likes. It's the way Juhoon does not move away or flinch...the way he does with me. 

Honestly, I've been trying my best to get closer to him. For the most part, he's fine talking  and opening up to me, that is, as much as a stoic Juhoon could open up to a person. Sean once described him as an onion with layers but one who does not open up easily. You have to wait until he's given you his trust, then and only then will he shed his outer layers for you. I've seen him cry at least four times. Once, when it was just the two of us in the practice room. We haven't debuted yet but he was overcome with fear and insecurity. Second was when we debuted and he saw our billboards plastered across the company building. Third was on our 100-Day-Anniversary, and then fourth was today. He cried out of anger on my behalf. 

Despite having the least amount of training amongst us, he works the hardest. In some ways, I think it's what drives him. He has a lot to prove, not to us, but to himself. I envy his drive and determination. When he messes up a choreo, it takes him a while before he stops beating himself up. James was always the one who makes sure he knows he's doing great, but Juhoon is harder on himself than the rest of us. He's very stubborn on his goals but oddly malleable with his methods. 

Some nights, I find him watching our recorded practice sessions, studying all the ways he could improve until he falls asleep with the video on a loop. In the living room where he lay under our lit Christmas tree, on the cold couch that he hates; I've even caught him in the room designated as our walk-in closet. He hides there sometimes when the 'noisy trio' becomes a quartet, with James joining the melee. Like James, he can fall asleep anywhere and while I find James' character trait funny, l find Juhoon's quite endearing. 

He tires easily but no one can ever accuse him of being a slacker. He's always trying, always working, always making sure he contributes. He writes, he tried his hand on mixing and creating beats. He saves his energy for important activities but he was always game for content creation. Besides James, I think Juhoon is the most serious about this job. It's one of the things I admire about him. I wish he would talk more though. He's the most reserved person I know, and it's frustrating sometimes. I've called him out on it a number times, a stupid argument where I spoke the most while he sat there with his stoic expression, all calm and even more aggravating. 

On our downtime, he picks up his book and read for hours on end. It doesn't matter where, inconvenient places be damn. Then, he'll drop like a fly. A deep sleeper, a quiet snorer. He dreams like a puppy chasing cars and fetching sticks. He twitches a lot when he sleeps. Honestly, it's the cutest freaking thing. 

And I'm obsessed. Sometimes, I find myself sitting on my hands to stop them from involuntarily attacking his face; the type of aggression brought on by a severe impulse to pinch his cheeks, or just to feel his skin that looks like unblemished porcelain. 

Everyday, it's my cross to bear. A struggle I keep fighting fruitlessly. 

No one knows though, and I'd like to keep it that way.