[oceans] | a txt imagines book

[beomgyu] • senior

It was 1:13 am.

The night was deep and cold. There were barely any stars that you could see.

You were on the roof deck of the Hybe building. You go there alone to release whatever weight wishes to remain in your heart. It was your haven. The only place that felt welcoming enough to cry.

Being a trainee is hard. Especially when you are about to debut and you are the leader of the group. You have to keep your head high and keep everything together.

Today was probably one of the hardest training sequences that you and your group went through. You couldn't complain. You shouldn't complain. You all wanted to be there and you promised to do everything in your power to debut successfully. But the thing is, your work doesn't end there.

When your members cry, you owe it to yourself to be the one who they could rely on. You made sure that you would never show them when you're at your weakest. You wanted to show them the best parts of you, the parts that will always be there if they wanted someone to talk to.

But the thing is, you are only human.

No matter how hard you try and stop it. Your feelings will not always be within your control.

It's tiring to try and keep everything together. It's tiring to keep being fine when you know you're not.

Your instructors were quite strict today. They didn't allow you all to eat until you perfected the choreography thrice.

And when the time came that you were supposed to eat, your first instinct was not to feed yourself but to make sure that your members were eating well.

You were so hungry. You still are, but despite being so hungry, you did not have the appetite to eat anything. The mood wasn't there even if you could feel your stomach constantly begging for it.

You're so high up, gazing at the scenery of the lights below. Everything around you was quite dark as no one hung out by the roof deck at this time.

As you were watching a few cars pass by in the streets, you just kept hearing that stick that your instructor was hitting on the table. That same stick that she was using to make sure that you all followed the rhythm of the music.

It irritated you and bothered your mind, and as it kept on hitting that very table, it was pushing tears out of your eyes.

You breathed in continuously. Your eyes were wet and runny but they still felt so dry. Instead of comforting tears leaving your eyes, the gasps of air that came out of you were more expressive of the burden and pain you carried today.

You questioned everything.

Why am I here?

Why did I put myself through this?

Why am I weak?

What is the purpose of this?

This was your dream, but sometimes you can't help but think about giving up.

It's really difficult, spending your whole childhood in a building where you train, not knowing how your future will turn out.