There's a tension in the silence that settles, heavy like a blanket over the room. Jihye knows she should do something as the leader, but frankly, she isn't completely convinced she'll be able to say anything suitable for broadcast to Jimin in this moment. Jimin, who's flitting about the room with a water bottle and excuses as to why she's unable to do what's expected of her, aegyo cloying.
"Yep." She chimes, keeps it as light as she can; nevermind her expressions for the past 30 minutes have looked like someone's shit in her salad. Jimin apologises to her with a pout and a blubbered explanation as she squeezes by. Mindful of the cameras still recording, Jihye smiles sagely and pats her on the back, telling her to rest and go over her parts.
Once inside the booth, Jihye straightens her lyric paper out. It's been through the wringer, having been scribbled on with her notes over the past week of preparing for it and acting as her stress ball, crumpled in her fist during Jimin's arduously long recording. She makes eye contact with the camera, and smiles awkwardly as she fits the headphones over her head.
"Ahhhhh... Okay, I'm ready." A quick warm-up, and she shows a double thumbs up to show she's ready to go. She doesn't plan on spending half as long in the booth as Jimin had, even though her parts were twice that of hers. "Do you want me to start from anywhere in particular?"
he gets it. it's an idol survival show. talent isn't really a prerequisite or even a consideration unless the superior qualities of looks and an endearing personality are missing. but there are still supposed to be limits to a human's ability to be simultaneously off-beat and unable to read the lyrics she's got right in front of her.
he's been patient, he swears. he's gone over the rhythm and delivery of each line over and over again, insisting she repeat it back to him before they even waste the time of actually recording it. it's clear she's just not cut out for the already simple job she's been given.
"okay," jaw clenched, he tries not to sound nearly as exasperated with all of the time that's been wasted as he is. "jimin — let's take a break. get some water or a snack and look over the verse some more and we'll come back to you."
his chair is on the verge of tipping over with the force with which he leans back into it as he all but gives up. the cameras still shooting only serve to sour his mood further, and he's well past the point of wondering why he'd taken this job offer in the first place. he's got deep blue now; maybe he should have just focused on that for the time being.
papers are flipped and rearranged as he draws circles and strikes through text, and then buttons are pushed and mouses clicked as his unhappy silence settles over the room. it's broken only when he looks over the shoulder of his chair, meeting eyes with the girl who'd seemed to be struggling with sitting through jimin's attempts just as much as he had been. "huh jihye, can you get in the booth?" it's not really a question with how thin his patience has been worn, but he tries to keep it friendly. it's not her fault half of the people on this godforsaken show need to be pursuing a different career.
Jihye's been told she has a vivid imagination.
Today it seems more overactive than anything.
She eyes the wide-eyed girl with hands on both cheeks in embarrassment as she profusely apologises to the entire studio for the nth time for making a mistake. Really, wasting everyone's time, but Jihye digresses.
They'd gone over it all of last night, and while she doesn't think Jimin would be on SMTM anytime soon, she'd thought the other girl had at least gotten the verse down. If it's a ploy to get more screentime, Jihye would get it. Respect it, even. It seems more genuine incompetence than anything, though, and Jihye wants to shove the other girl's head through the glass of the recording booth.
She's visited her happy place so many times during the survival show it's been struggling with overtourism, and right now, it's just not cutting it. Her lyric sheet's crumpled with the amount of times she's tightened her fist around it every time Jimin fucks up, and as she takes a glance around the studio, everyone seems similarly tired.
She sighs involuntarily, because she might scream if she doesn't. It's louder than she means it to be, though, and she locks eyes with their producer, who looks like he's in a similarly frustrated boat.
IT'S NICE TO HAVE A FRIEND. with ♡, for @ofgreyskies' ash.