Okay the thing is with the Williams decision is that it's obviously so horrendously shit at a personal level. Logan should NOT be having to pay for someone else's mistakes, let alone this severely. And because of this whole situation, there's an insane amount of pressure on Alex to perform well now too.
But they don't have the luxury of looking at it solely on a personal level, because the whole reason they're in this mess is because of funding (and their lack thereof). As insane as it might seem that they're doing this so early in the season since we don't even know what place they might be fighting for later and whether this would make a difference, that's exactly why they have to do it. Placing higher in constructors means they get more money, which improves their chances in the future. Sure, this might not amount to anything later, but it also might be what gets them that extra place and extra money.
Objectively, putting Alex in the car is the best decision for the team.
Should they have been in this situation at all? Of course not. Is it fair that Logan is taking the consequences of everyone else's mistakes? Of course not. But they don't have the luxury of ignoring what's best for the team right now, however much it completely sucks
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┈─ 𖧷 THE GOLDEN GIRL’S SLOW DECENT INTO MADNESS ﹕ A PRE - DEBUT EXCERPT. set during the STRAY KIDS survival show. genre, angst, mild sadness & indications of low self esteem. ( if i close my eyes long enough, the pain is only momentary for as long as i can bear it. )
THE STAGE LIGHTS ARE BLINDING AGAINST HER EYES, but cléo can barely register the faint searing against her retinas. spotting will probably appear in her vision later on, but that’s the least of her concerns now. static fills her ears to the brim with noise, her heartbeat thrumming against her skin after a hectic performance. the clothes on her body feel heavy with each breath she takes. in, out. in, out.
disappointment radiates off the panel like the sweltering heat of a sun. in, out. she stands rooted to her spot like a stray planet caught in the way of a gas giant, unable to withstand the blistering heat. in, out. her resolve crumbles with each passing second. if she focused hard enough, she can hear the others catching their breaths, too. the music fades into nothingness, and she briefly closes her eyes to will her heart into calmness. in, out. the microphone clenched in her shaking hand is the only thing anchoring her to earth.
the faintest hitch in her breath escapes her lips when she tries her best to exhale around her nerves. she pretends not to notice the brief look of concern chan throws her way as their unit lines back up for feedback. the faint brushing of his hand against her back only makes her skin crawl.
she blinks once, twice. dry eyes burn against bright lights.
“— and your vocal support is lacking,” a voice pushes through the haze, making her jolt back into reality. “how am i supposed to believe a singer has a dream to sing when she gets too nervous to perform to her full potential? nerves aren’t an excuse for a lackluster performance.”
breathe. in,
she couldn’t count on her own two hands how many mistakes she’d made. a missed cue here, a vocal strain there, and the constant tremble that just couldn’t seem to disappear when she needed it to. it was almost laughable how easy he’d been able to see it — meaning she was sloppy. sloppiness couldn’t fly in an industry like this, too cutthroat for mistakes of any kind.
“—afford to make any mistakes. you lack in confidence and skill. how can you be an idol without either?”
she sees a hand twitch in her peripheral. her throat runs dry.
“due to your many mistakes, i’m going to have to eliminate you from this round. please step off the stage.”
breathe. out.
cléo feels the moment the world draws to a deafening halt. the loud screech of brass door draw shut, unmoving at the sight of her outstretched arms. the stage is quiet at the sound of the man’s finality in his words. hyunjin stiffens beside her in barely concealed shock.
they bow, or thank him for his time, or something like that. the static returns tenfold, cold water dumped unforgivingly on her body, and she doesn’t realize she’s trembling once against until she’s pulled into a corner away from the camera’s prying eyes. someone tells her to breathe, in and out and in and out again, but she can’t stop shaking.
“i couldn’t do it.” a shuddering breath claws its way out of her chest, morphing into a pained exhale. tears sting at her eyes. “i couldn’t do it.”
“hey.” his voice cuts through her ocean of pity with surprising clarity, causing her to sniffle and look up. fear, concern, and desperation mix a cocktail too unnerving to be plastered on his face. because of her, her mistakes, her nerves, her lackluster performance—
“cléo.” the girl utters a broken sound in response and arms pull her in for a hug, her fingers digging into fabric as she cries. “where you go, i go. i meant it when i said we’re doing this together.”
“don’t be ridiculous,” cléo shakes her head, her voice hoarse. “those were just jokes. this is real. he eliminated me because i wasn’t good enough—”
“i don’t care.”
she laughs something warbled and rests her head on his shoulder, her quiet sniffling filling the air for a moment. “you’re so stubborn. i hate it.”
hyunjin makes an short sound of indifference, which makes her laugh again. “too bad. you’re the one who decided you wanted to be my friend. deal with it.” his voice then softens, making her heart tighten painfully. “i don’t want to get on that stage without you. this is your dream as much as it is mine.”
“stop saying heartfelt things like i’m going to die,” cléo huffs, though she wipes her tears. “should have gone into acting. they’d have loved you there.”
“but it wouldn’t be with you.” stubbornness masked as something else. determination, maybe. but she lets herself briefly imagine a world where she’s given a second chance, where the two of them debut together like they’ve been talking about for years. her bones ache. “we just have to try harder.”
“if i don’t debut—let me finish,” cléo grouches haltingly, her own fear masked with her own flavor of stubbornness. hyunjin cracks an attempt at a grin anyway. “if i don’t debut with you.. with chan, with the rest. promise you’ll find me anyway.”
she sniffles once, fingers wrapped around his tightly. “don’t be a stranger when you get famous. though i guess i’ll finally have peace without you blowing up my phone every ten minutes.”
hyunjin’s smile morphs into something a little more genuine, squeezing her hands just as tight. “i’m not making any promises we both know i won’t keep.”
“can you just—”
“no.” said with as much finality as the panelists, and it makes her jolt once again. “you’re here as a product of your own hard work. remember what you told me when i was too nervous to perform during the talent show? you said i deserved to have a spot on that stage as much as anyone else did.” hyunjin’s gaze is sharp, definite. “that goes for you, too.”
pin drop silence. cléo stares at him for a moment, in shock, then a clipped laugh slips from her lips, exhausted.
“hearing my own words from your face makes you sound so much wiser than you really are, you know.” his expression morphs into exasperation, shoving at her gently until she laughs, and together they rise to join the others in the practice room. her thanks goes unspoken in the gentle squeeze her gives to their still connected hands, and her hand receives one in return.
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