ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜʀᴛᴀɪɴꜱ| ateez

✭𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄✭

✭𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐍✭

I groaned, the weight of the previous night's decisions pressing down on my temples. The fuzzy memories of laughter, the drinks, and those sharp comments we hurled at the quiet backup dancer, Wooyoung, now felt like heavy chains around my conscience. Jong-ho's glare said it all - disappointment, frustration, and perhaps a bit of concern too. But it wasn't his mood that truly mattered in that moment. It was Wooyoung.

Throughout our practices, I had noticed him - always diligent, always in sync, yet so distant. His silence was a mystery that no one in the group could unravel. And now, knowing that we shared the same building, that proximity made the enigma of Wooyoung even more pronounced.

Sitting up, I took the pills Jong-ho had left, gulping them down with the water. As the cool liquid slid down my throat, so did the weight of realization - I had contributed to the very atmosphere that made Wooyoung retreat further into his shell.

The upcoming performance was crucial for us, but amidst the dance moves and vocal harmonies, my mind kept drifting back to Wooyoung. What had caused his silence? Was it a personal tragedy, a life choice, or the very environment around him? And more importantly, had I become a part of the problem? The weight of that question was something I knew I had to confront sooner rather than later.

The buzz of activity was overwhelming. The energy in the room was a mix of excitement, nerves, and the kind of organized chaos that always accompanied live performances. The pungent aroma of hairspray hung in the air, mingling with the underlying notes of cologne and sweat.

Members chatted in low voices, went over their parts, and did last-minute touch-ups. Amidst all this, Jong-ho's calm demeanor stood out. His voice was a grounding presence amidst the whirlwind, guiding and ensuring everything fell into place.

Catching the bag thrown my way, I felt the weight of responsibility. These live shows were a testament to our hard work, passion, and the dreams we shared. And while the world only saw the glitz and glamour, it was these backstage moments, fraught with anxiety and determination, that truly defined our journey.

The cool water splashed against my face was a momentary reprieve, a short-lived escape from the pressures outside. Drying off and brushing my teeth, I quickly pulled on my outfit, ensuring each piece was in place. The car ride awaited, and with it, the reality of the stage, the lights, and the sea of expectant fans.

The usually noisy group was quiet, the tension palpable. The noticeable absence of Wooyoung added to the unease. Usually, he'd be there, silent but present, a familiar and reassuring figure even if he never uttered a word.

As the car doors slammed shut, each member found their spot, some closing their eyes to mentally prepare, others fidgeting with their attire or devices. The hum of the engine and the city sounds outside formed a low background melody, accompanying our thoughts.

Jong-ho finally broke the silence. "Anyone knows why Wooyoung isn't here?"

There was a shuffle of discomfort, eyes darting, and no immediate response. I could feel the weight of last night pressing down again, heavier this time. Maybe he heard the hurtful comments, or maybe it was something else altogether. Whatever it was, his absence was felt, and it brought an undertone of worry to the already tense atmosphere.

"We'll address it after the performance," said Hongjoong, trying to redirect our focus. "For now, let's focus on giving our best."