GIRL GROUP | jjk

Chapter 17

At exactly six pm, the lights on the stage dim, and the fans come alive. Their screams pierce my eardrums, even more so than the beginning chords of "Weavers."

I start off the song, low and wispy notes about a fate that feels lost. It's always nerve wracking, setting off the tone of the performance and making sure not to miss my cue. Once Nabi comes in with her deep voice, building up to higher notes in the pre chorus, I begin to relax. Once Jesstina takes control of the chorus, I allow myself to completely lose myself. The movements, the harmonies that I have to hit—they all come naturally.

Jungkook bursts forward as the second verse comes around, filling the stage with a melodic rap that turns rapid fire toward the end. He flips his hair, showing off his extensions—blue this time to match our ensemble that resembles the mystical ocean.

I allow myself to feel every aspect of the stage. There's a part in Jungkook's rap where I kneel and just support Jungkook as he leans backward. At this moment, I take in the glamor of the stage. The place is decked out in glass, from vases to ornaments that hang down like orb-like clouds. Inspired by the music video, a giant spool of thread lies in the back center, along with two giant needles crossed in front like an off-center X.

I rise again, as I float forward to take control of the pre chorus. The members come by my side as we lean to the left in a domino effect, and a lock of Jungkook's hair spills onto my shoulder. I almost break concentration, but continuing on without a hitch is my specialty. Both Heart and Caren Seonsaengnim praise my level headedness. It's one of the main reasons I was chosen as leader.

Jesstina and Nabi trade off on the chorus, and Jungkook's voice pierces through as we approach the bridge. His high and buttery tone controls the first half, and then I come in with a low harmony. With my eyes on him, I don't have to worry about finding the camera. Something like a gale enters my stomach, as his eyes find mine and we share our own little moment. I breathe in, and my lungs squeeze—like suddenly they're too small. The lyrics resound in my head, as if I'm hearing them for the first time.

I thought my fate was standstill.

I never believed that I could control it.

Now I'm holding the knife, cutting every rope that held me back.

A second-long pause breaks up the bridge from the final chorus. It's a second of complete stillness as Nabi and Jesstina join me and Jungkook in a straight line. As we twirl, my right hand juts out, raising diagonally just like how we practiced.

My hand catches.

I hold back a yelp as I stumble, almost careening right off the stage. I recover, just barely, in time to join the last burst of choreography. I notice from the corner of my eye, Jungkook wobbles a bit, just a fraction where no one would notice unless studying him closely.

My hand caught in his hair. That could have been disastrous, if I actually fell off. I imagine how much of a fool I looked like, like a spinning top that almost flipped over. Shame burns my cheeks, even as I finish off the last of the choreo and strike my final pose—the four members of the Fates leaning toward an invisible center line.

We don't have much time to say hello to the fans, but I wave especially at the ones who seem like our fans—the ones that are jumping and shouting the loudest. It's a testament to their own grit, knowing that they've been waiting for hours for us to perform. The Fates started off the show, but there are many groups to come, each with their own dedicated fanbase in the audience. When Jungkook waves, the crowd almost combusts. I think he could've showed up alone and the audience would still be as loud.

As I follow Nabi and Jesstina off the stage, coldness grips the nape of my neck. I'm dreading the apology, but I bite on it quickly once we reach the green room. I tug the flowing sleeve of Jungkook's shirt, which is almost like a blouse with its seafoam blue frills. "Jungkook," I say. "I'm sorry for messing up."

I expect him to blow up a little bit. I know he's a perfectionist, and he stumbled as well thanks to my mistake. He loves a perfect performance, and it was because of me that our debut will forever be marked by "The Time Karma and Jungkook Almost Ended Up in a Pile on Stage." I open my mouth again, ready to apologize a second time.

Jungkook quirks a brow. "It was a mistake that you couldn't control. It's not your fault that I have the most perfect, lion's mane hair ever."

It's so ridiculous, the lion's mane part, that I burst out into laughter. Relief floods into my stomach, and my tunnel vision clears. I notice Nabi and Jesstina, and the rest of the protocol team, were watching our exchange. If Jungkook put up a fight, we would've etched some drama into the group—and we haven't even been an official group for that long.

And I realize—Jungkook knew all of that, and he responded in the fashion that would build us all up. I thought that maybe, he would want to tear me down—repay me for the ramyeon incident, or for treating him without much care during our month of training. I was wrong. Maybe Jungkook is different from the boys who ridiculed me and made me feel like nothing.

Dinner is ready in the green room. We'll eat quickly and then wrap up the longest-day-ever with an interview. Spicy pork dances on my tongue, its aroma filling the space and probably making everyone within a thirty yard vicinity desperately hungry.

Jungkook reenacts the incident on stage, pretending that someone is tugging on his head. His wry expression makes me forget all about the near-disaster. I eat while Nabi silently glows—she must be happy with how the day played out. Jesstina, on the other hand, is much more vocal. She squeals multiple times when Kristine checks in with us and asks how our debut week is going so far.

Jungkook continues to joke about the mishap, and I find my laugh coming more and more easily. I chew and savor the flavors of a dinner after a long day. I rest my hand on my knee and try to avoid the temptation to reach out and push Jungkook—like I would do with Yuna whenever she teased me.

I control myself. But only just barely.

A/N: I'm reminded of the 3Js practicing the choreography for the "Butter" remix. They're such amazing perfectionists and I wanted to reflect that here.

Do you also consider yourself a perfectionist? I think over time, I learned to give myself more grace. I can't count all my mistakes, and beating myself up over things never leads to anything good.