Taeyong's POV
The practice room buzzed with anticipation as we prepared to refine the choreography for our new song, "Fact Check." The rhythmic beats of the music filled the air, and the dance floor became a canvas for our collective creativity. However, what should have been a harmonious collaboration took an unexpected turn.
Our choreography teacher, known for his exacting standards, approached with an air of disdain. As his eyes fell upon me, a shadow of disdain crossed his face. The room, once vibrant with creative energy, is now crackled with an unspoken tension.
"You there, Taeyong. What's with that lackluster performance? Are you even trying?" he sneered, his words laced with a cruelty that cut through the melody of the music.
His words stung, a barrage of verbal blows that I hadn't anticipated. The room seemed to shrink, and the eyes of the members fixed upon me as the teacher's harsh critique continued.
"You're dragging the entire group down. Can't you get anything right? Maybe you're not cut out for this," he added, each word a pointed dagger aimed directly at my confidence.
The weight of his words bore down on me, and the echoes of his cruelty reverberated through the practice room. A sense of inadequacy gnawed at the edges of my resolve, threatening to unravel the intricate threads of self-assurance that had been carefully woven.
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In the midst of the teacher's ruthless comments, the room became a crucible of emotions. My shoulders slumped under the weight of his words, and a somberness settled over the dance floor. The members, my companions in this artistic journey, exchanged concerned glances, their expressions a reflection of the shared dismay that permeated the room.
The music, once a source of inspiration, now played against a dissonant backdrop of negativity. As the teacher's critique persisted, a growing sense of sadness enveloped me, eclipsing the vibrant energy that had characterized our practice sessions.
Fighting back the welling emotions, I continued to dance, the movements no longer a celebration of creativity but a desperate attempt to meet the exacting standards imposed upon me.
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As the routine progressed, the teacher's harsh remarks escalated. He singled me out repeatedly, criticizing every nuance of my performance. The once-fluid movements now felt like a choreographed dance of humiliation.
The atmosphere in the room shifted from camaraderie to tension, the members grappling with the discomfort of witnessing the targeted attacks. Their support, usually an unspoken foundation, now seemed distant, overshadowed by the oppressive cloud of the teacher's disdain.
Unable to bear the weight of the verbal onslaught any longer, I excused myself from the formation and made my way towards the exit. The dance floor, once a realm of creativity, transformed into a battleground where my confidence waned with every disparaging word.
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In the corridor outside the practice room, I sought refuge from the suffocating atmosphere within. The walls seemed to close in on me, and the echoes of the teacher's criticisms lingered like an indelible stain.
The members, sensing my distress, followed me out, their expressions a mix of worry and empathy. Johnny, with a reassuring touch on my shoulder, said, "Taeyong, don't let his words get to you. You're an integral part of this group, and we believe in you."
Their words, though comforting, couldn't entirely dispel the lingering sadness that clung to me. The practice room, now a distant space, bore witness to a fracture in the harmony that had defined our collective journey.
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As the members offered words of encouragement, the teacher's abrasive voice still echoed in my mind. The realization that my efforts were deemed inadequate cast a shadow over the joy I had derived from dancing.
Doyoung, with a compassionate gaze, said, "We know your worth, Taeyong. One person's opinion doesn't define your talent or dedication."
The corridor, usually a pathway to shared moments, became a space of introspection. The weight of the teacher's criticisms lingered, leaving behind a residue of self-doubt that threatened to overshadow the camaraderie we had built as a group.
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The practice continued, but the vibrant energy that once fueled our collective creativity had dimmed. The teacher's words had cast a pall over the dance floor, and the routine felt like a mechanical exercise rather than an expression of artistic collaboration.
As we navigated the intricate choreography, I struggled to shake off the haunting echoes of his cruelty. Each step felt like a battle against the doubts that now festered within me.
The members, aware of the emotional toll, attempted to infuse positivity into the room. Yet, the teacher's words lingered, an unwelcome guest at the dance of creativity that unfolded.
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As the practice session neared its end, the strain on my emotions became palpable. The routine, once a testament to our collective artistry, now bore the scars of the teacher's unwarranted criticisms.
The members, sensing the toll it had taken on me, approached with a shared concern. Yuta, with a gentle demeanor, said, "Taeyong, take a moment for yourself. We'll be here for you."
Leaving the practice room, I sought solace in the quiet corridors. The dance floor, now devoid of the rhythmic beats that had once invigorated me, seemed to mirror the internal discord that raged within.
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The echoes of the teacher's cruelty reverberated through my mind as I found a secluded space to gather my thoughts. The practice session, instead of being a celebration of our collective talent, had become a battleground where my confidence faced a relentless assault.
The members, their camaraderie, a source of comfort, joined me in the quiet corridor. Doyoung, understanding the emotional toll, spoke with a reassuring tone, "Taeyong, we're here for you. Don't let one person's negativity overshadow the support you have from all of us."
In that shared moment, the bonds within NCT emerged as a beacon of resilience. The teacher's words, though cruel, couldn't erase the foundation of camaraderie that had been nurtured over the course of our journey together.
Time skip💃
As we regrouped, the determination to overcome the negativity in the room became palpable. The dance floor, though scarred by the teacher's harsh criticisms, bore witness to a collective resolve to rise above the shadows that sought to cast a pall over our shared creativity.
The routine, now infused with renewed determination, became a testament to the strength derived from unity. The members, understanding the gravity of the situation, rallied around me, their unwavering support a potent antidote to the lingering effects of the teacher's cruelty.
Time skip 💃
The day, though marred by the teacher's cruelty, drew to a close. The practice room, now silent after the echoes of music, had faded, bore witness to a journey marked by both challenges and resilience.
The members, aware of the emotional toll, gathered for a moment of shared reflection. Johnny, with a solemn expression, said, "Tomorrow is a new day. We'll face the challenges together, and your talent will shine through despite the shadows cast upon it today."
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secrets (little taeyong)
General Fictiontaeyong is keeping a secret, and that is that he's a little, and he wants to keep this secret so he won't ruin the group what happens when someone finds this out I'm bad writing description 😭 I might have errors, so tell me if you find any
