I might not see you.

october 6th, 2020: convex’s last don’t wanna cry stage at mtv show. 

it feels weirdly symbolic for their last stage to be the same show on which they received this comeback’s first win. he knows it’s all a healthy mix of coincidence and the determination of consta that had things work out this way but he still lets the notion energise him for the best goodbye stage he can muster. he feels like a broken record, reminding himself constantly to do everything he can, to give everything his all, but by the end of a promotion cycle, he truthfully needs it. 

they only perform ‘don’t wanna cry’ this time, have been for the past three weeks. his knees feel numb from all the kneeling for the choreography, though he had believed he’d become accustomed to it during the practice stage. maybe it’s the added fatigue from everything else — the television show appearances, the radio shows, the long days sitting in waiting rooms and going through constant make-up retouches. exhaustion is always deeply settled into his bones, but promoting is a different type of tiredness. he spends most of his time backstage yawning, longing for a nap but knowing he’ll have difficulty drifting off with so many people around. 

he can never tell if the last day goes faster or slower than all the others. they’ve been promoting for four weeks but it feels like four days with how the days all blur into one. some of the day feels like a hundred hours long, yet at others, the minutes pass with each single blink. 

goodbye stages are never as sad as he’d expected them to be. it probably should be bittersweet, but all he can think of is all the rest they’ll soon be able to get. after all, it’s not as if this is the end. they’ll perform each comeback’s title again, probably consistently at concerts and special stages for the rest of their career, and they’ll release another new album or single in due time. it’s a goodbye for now, not forever. he does get a little emotional as they bow to everyone who’s looked after them for their promotion weeks, but he wouldn’t be him if he didn’t. 

it’s a relief to finally wipe off the make-up and change out of the more formal stage clothes and into his pyjamas after a well deserved ( but admittedly short; it’s hard sharing only a handful of bathrooms between so many people ) shower. it’s a relief to be done with another round of promotions without a hitch. it’s been two years almost, but he still fears the worst deep in the back of his mind after the wet stage at their debut. he still fears the worst after losing members almost every album. but now he can finally breathe again, let out a sigh of relief as his head hits the pillow and he’s out like a light. 

on the same frequency.

september 9th, 2020: convex on kiss the radio. & september 12th, 2020: convex on idol radio.

radio shows should be easier, but with twelve of them cramming into tiny studios, seungcheol feels a little like sardines lined up in their tins. they often crowd around a limited number of microphones, half the group behind the other, almost unintentionally discouraged from speaking up. idol radio is a little different especially; with all that extra space for cover dances and performances, he feels like he can really breathe. 

one benefit of a lot of members, however, is that there’s almost no pressure on him, as someone who isn’t as confident in the variety setting, to hold the show together. the hosts and the other convex boys always do their best to include the quieter members, but there’s a difference between asking him what he thinks of their new song and asking him to entertain an audience of who knows how many for an hour straight. seungcheol doesn’t think he could even entertain himself for that long these days, not unless it was the first half of a star wars movie. 

( does practice count as ‘entertainment’? he doesn’t think so. he loves performing, but it is still technically work. ) 

since his first solo appearance, though, he’s gotten a little more outspoken. it’s terrifying standing on stage by yourself, but the nod to his roots had been an immense comfort. settling in slowly but surely, he’s able to build his confidence as he goes, rather than throwing himself in at the deep end — and hopefully his stint on ‘king of masked singer’ ( which he’s also asked about on both occasions and happily and readily rambles about for a couple minutes each time, stutter almost entirely absent ) and more recently, his time with seonghwa on ‘hello counsellor’ are a sign of more good things to come, a sign that sphere believes in him a little more to hold himself without eleven brothers at his side. 

performing their own songs, especially in a more relaxed environment, is always a delight, though. he can comfortably say he hasn’t disliked a convex song thus far, even if their current one is the furthest from his usual taste. the important thing for him is that he likes his lines, because as long as he can pull those off ( and the choreography but he’s long since accepted that he’s always going to have a love-hate relationship with dancing ) then he’s set. they’re a team — everyone brings their best for their role and responsibilities and all together, it falls into place. the pressure stretches across all their shoulders. 

the only drawback is how it busies up more days on their promotion schedule, though he’ll surely make up for it with how fast he’ll drift off when his head hits the pillow later each night. 

“life isn’t easy.”

september 5th, 2020: seungcheol & seonghwa visit ‘hello counsellor’.  first concern, ‘my sister is evil’: full episode to air september 21st. 

TW SUICIDAL THOUGHTS IN VIDEO AND REFERENCED BELOW

there’s a lot of inner turmoil when his appearance on the show is first revealed to him. on one hand, he’s reminded of all the times he’s listened sincerely to the other members, or to changkyun and sehun even before convex. he’s, by textbook definition, a ‘good listener’, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s a good advice-giver. keeping an open ear and a shoulder clear to cry on is a lot more manageable than articulating his usually jumbled up thoughts into sentences that could affect another person’s life. it’s easier to let someone know they’re not alone than to tell them what you might do, or what you think they could do, in a situation you aren’t experiencing. 

but on the other, he thinks the one thing he’s always prided himself on, always thought was his biggest ( and perhaps at times only ) merit, is his gentle heart. 

who better to give advice than someone who makes every decision as to make everyone around him comfortable and safe? who better to give advice than someone who rarely ever gets into fights because he keeps his patience well? it obviously can and does happen, but once every so often versus every month or every week is a stark difference. he doesn’t know what concerns they’ll have for the episode he’s on, maybe he won’t be able to relate to any of it, but the least he can do is try — show love and care and sympathy. as terrible as it sounds, he supposes no one’s expecting an idol to be a king of advice. they’re performers at the end of the day, but beneath that, they are still, of course, human. 

after a brief introduction, they settle down for the first of the three concerns. it’s a letter from a little girl, only eleven, and before they even get into it, he already feels his heart clench. at that age, no one should feel so troubled to write into a show like this. her little sister drives her crazy with stress and it’s easy to think initially that it’s just sibling rivalry. he’s an only child but he’s seen it before with friends, how they’ll scrap with one another even in their adolescence or, worse, adulthood. however, as the host continues to read, he wonders if there’s more to it than that. 

jiyun is so cute that he can’t help but coo when she comes down the slide and into the ball pit. she tells her stories with so much hurry that even when the other hosts chuckle at her choice of words, his eyes soften. he tries to remind himself that there’s two sides to every story but the things she says, the way she’s so fired up already makes him side with her immediately, but he sits quietly as the other guests ask her questions, what surprised her the most or upset her the most when her sister changed. 

“‘I’m in a bad mood’, where did you learn to say that?” 

when jiyun laughs, he can’t help but join. she adds, “my mum always says that,” and it strikes a familiar chord in him, his hand coming up to cover his laughter. only seconds later, they meet her little sister, who boldly admits it’s all true, that she knows it’s wrong. he wonders momentarily how someone could already be so shameless at such a young age, but she cuts his thoughts off with a confession that she has started fights herself before, too. he’s already getting emotional by the time her little sister is starting to tear up, but again, it feels like a rollercoaster as her insistence that something in her older sister that has changed is how she acts cute now. 

( is that such a crime? ) 

he can’t relate to the informality issue, but the second he hears her wish to be an only child, that she feels like dying, that she’s lonely, his heart shatters. the host jokes that it’s menopause, but he can’t even crack a smile because no one, let alone a child that young, should feel that way. it almost makes him angry, but he reserves it until they can speak to the parents, at least. he doesn’t have much of a full picture yet, as much as he can feel that something is wrong. 

“did you know it was this serious between the girls?” they ask, and in a show of true colours, the parents laugh as their father admits he had no idea. seungcheol’s parents, much like most parents, hadn’t always had all the time in the world for him growing up. they worked full time jobs, both before and after they opened the music store, even if the latter did mean they were always close to home. however, they had always made a conscious and careful effort to know his feelings and thoughts. if he was struggling, they would notice. if he was happy, they would see it in his eyes. but the way their father says it is so nonchalant, like it’s normal to just let your kids fight and never wonder why or what you could do to help. there’s a moment of retribution when he says he tries not to take sides, but their mother immediately ruins it by reinforcing what jiyun had already told everyone — that that simply isn’t true, that she physically bumps their heads together to discipline them, that she’s grown used to letting them fight. 

“can someone please host the show?” the host asks when she begins to cry, and seungcheol almost gets up to offer, just to wrap the little girl in his arms for comfort. it’s hard, when they ask her again about her darkest thoughts. he finally cracks, but thankfully if anyone notices, it isn’t pointed out, because he doesn’t want any attention to shift to him at all. this is a conversation that needs to be had between jiyun and her parents, even if unfortunately, it has to happen on television. 

( he can almost guarantee the cameras will show it, though, because a tear from anyone is a heartstring pulled in the hearts of those sitting on their sofas watching at home. ) 

it’s all going well until he hears what the other mothers she’d sought advice from told her to do — and worse, that she’d actually done it. rightfully, the other guests speak up, say it’s too harsh, act in disbelief, and seungcheol can’t help but add in a gasped, “that’s a-abhorrent,” before she continues. when he can get a word in edgeways, he throws in his two cents even if he’s typically more timid. what surprises him most, though he only realises it when he’s done, is that he doesn’t stutter once. 

“but telling her that to scare her into not saying it again doesn’t mean that she won’t feel it again. it’s not about it making you sad hearing it; she’s sad feeling it and that feeling is obviously still there, just now you’ll never know about it and won’t be able to give her the support she needs to get through it.” it’s no wonder she feels so lonely with a mother around that seems so unwilling to understand. his own mother had never been that great at sympathising with anyone. she thrives on the balance of cool and collected, every tiny aspect of her life organised to stay in control. but when seungcheol came to her crying ( when he was younger and now, he’s never been shy to admit he’s a crybaby ), she would offer a warm embrace and stroke his hair until he calmed down or fell asleep against her shoulder. his mother isn’t perfect, no one’s parents are, but there’s a difference between those who try and those who don’t. 

the icing on the cake is their parents’ gaming habits. they’re shameless about it, laugh when their eleven year old says it makes her feel lonely, argue when she says she has to work to her mother’s gaming schedule to get to talk to her about her struggles. he almost wishes he were on the show alone so he could cut in whenever he wants, but he holds back whilst jiyun raises another of her concerns and an older guest, lee hyejung, scolds them in far more understanding words than he could have ever mustered together. 

she reveals an event that’s stayed with her her whole life, traumatised her almost, and the same older guest tells a heartfelt story about her own daughter with a similar experience. the entire time, he nods along, thinks about how wise the woman had been so far and how it’s only proof of what he already knew. even those who seem perfect aren’t, even those who seem to have the kindest hearts can make mistakes, but it’s those who try to fix them that truly grow. 

when she’s done, understandably emotional, he silently asks with a raise of a hand if he can add a short story himself. with the go ahead, he starts. “I-I’m an only child, but when I was growing up, it was hard for my parents and I to connect, too. when you’re really young, it’s a bit easier; they would take me to parks to play on the swings, and my father taught me to play the piano with him, but as mrs lee said earlier, kids grow up so, so quickly, and their interests shift and their experiences shape who they become.” he pauses for just a second. “my father was a violinist with kbs orchestra and he and I have always connected over classical music. but as I got older, I became interested in rap, too, in becoming an idol, and it created a gap between us that we’d never felt before. for a long time, we didn’t really know what to talk to each other about anymore. I felt like he was disappointed in me.” he sucks in a shaky breath, eyes watery. “but just like mrs lee, as a parent, he wanted to learn about the things that made me happy. he taught himself pop songs I liked on the piano and would help me record covers in our store’s studio. when I was little and he was still playing with the orchestra, sometimes he could be home for just an hour or so with me and that’d be all for days, but he would use that time to read to me or to play me a new song we could learn together. every parent around the world does housework and raises their children, that’s in the job description. when you have a child, you agree to share your time with them, to care for them and love them. the time for yourself can easily be fit into the hours after they go to bed, or when they’re out with friends at the weekends. my mother,” he chuckles, “would send me to bed already pouring herself a glass of wine,” he feels a sense of pride when the audience laughs, too, “but it worked, because the all the hours before bedtime, we spent together and every moment was precious. even as I grew older, we respected each other’s need for time alone, but the option was always there to spend it together. my mother always says she has no regrets with the time we spent together when I was younger now that I don’t have as much time to see them.” 

he thinks he’s talked too much when he finally stops, but everyone seems to be nodding in agreement and understanding, moves on to asking eleven year old jiyun another question and he feels a weight lift from his heart. it’s hard to be so honest when everyone’s eyes are on you, but it had flowed so naturally because even though it was a story of his own experiences, it didn’t feel like it was about him. it was about jiyun and making her parents see that their excuses aren’t up to scratch. he doesn’t feel entirely satisfied by the ending of the first concern, jiyun hugging each of her parents, but he’s more comfortable than when he started, at least. all he can hope for is the best, and that the rest of their topics for the day aren’t so sad. 

tears well up, it’s getting blurrier.

september 15th, 2020: convex’s first win with ‘don’t wanna cry’ at mtv the show.

they’ve been promoting just less than a week when it happens. their nomination is mostly a blur in his ears, like it’s real but it’s not quite real — possible, but just outside of reach. a nomination doesn’t mean they’ll actually win, not until they do and he’s thrown headfirst into the realisation that convex, and more importantly, consta who vote and stream for them, are growing to become a force to be reckoned with. 

in all honesty, it feels like a dream. it isn’t the first time they’ve won ( it’s actually the ninth, which is mostly surreal but also a little weird that he remembers solely because he keeps count with every time he texts his mother the news as if she won’t have been watching at home ), but every time feels as surprising as if it were. part of him seems to forget that the only way is up, that each comeback they’re going to draw in more people, even if only a few, and build upon the foundations they’ve already established. one of his favourite things about convex is how everything feels fresh every time they return to the stage — be it a new genre or style like ‘boom boom’ and ‘don’t wanna cry’, or a rejuvenated youthfulness for their seemingly annual spring comebacks. even when they stick to making a song that’ll make you feel warm and happy inside, it’s balanced by an emotional ballad as its b-side or highlighted by a point dance that gets everyone on their feet. considering the run they’ve had so far, with members coming and going almost in the blink of an eye, he knows that convex will at least always have their refreshing discography to fall back on. even if they remain a group you love to hear over the mall speakers rather than one you camp outside music shows to see, he’d be happy to see the hard work they put in to bringing their songs to life recognised. 

that’s what winning on a music show feels like — recognition. 

he cries every time they win, and his mother points it out in her replies to his updated count. she notes that his eyes get all red despite the fact that he’s smiling and jumping around to the beat, but he’s more embarrassed that everyone sees him wiggling his butt in celebration completely off time to ‘don’t wanna cry’s bassline. six days is barely any time at all, and it’s only the beginning of their promotions. ‘pretty u’ had won five times in its run and though he hates to get his hopes up, perhaps ‘don’t wanna cry’ will surpass it. perhaps they’ll win six. is it too ambitious to ask for seven? maybe their next comeback will only take five days to see a win. everything is a maybe or a what if but not his usual questions. they’re happy and hopeful and they make falling asleep in the car on the way home so easy because he’s so at peace thinking that convex is doing alright — that as obstacles do their best to knock them off course, they come back stronger every time. 

me after you.

august 18th, 2020: flowering silky fowl singing ‘me after you’ on king of masked singer. episode to air september 6th, 2020 ahead of convex’s comeback.

this has been his dream since before convex was even imagined, before he even signed to sphere. perhaps it had started in the days when he would encompass the very concept of the show, hiding his identity from his viewers on youtube. the moment he hears the news, he can feel the tears building in the corner of his eyes. he hasn’t had much chance to sing with convex so far, and he would be content with these couple lines here and there being the extent of it being able to do this. even just one round... it’s a dream come true. 

he’s so nervous behind the scenes, before beginning filming. the staff have already been through everything with him a million times, but his heart is pounding regardless. will he give himself away? will consta recognise his mannerisms or the tone of his voice? he always sees idol panelists on this show pick out other idols in moments from the way they present themselves, will he give himself away a little like that, too? but he already knows it isn’t worth worrying too much about his hidden identity. today is about his vocals, about his love of singing and getting that little bit of recognition for it that would make his heart swell larger than his chest can handle. 

his song for today, his duet for the first round, had been chosen for him, but he doesn’t have a single complaint. since the release of heartz’ ‘let me in’, he’d been listening to almost exclusively ballads alongside convex’s upcoming album. paul kim’s ‘me after you’ is a beautiful choice and the more he thinks about it, he knows he wouldn’t have found anything himself that would feel as natural. if he picked himself for this first appearance, he would have spent more time worrying that it wasn’t the best choice than actually practising it. 

when he’s up on stage, the lights feel warm. he’s covered almost head to toe, mask over his head and body somewhat disguised just in case. there’s some fans out there that can tell their favourite group’s members by the slope of their shoulders, the location of their moles, or something equally as ridiculous, so though he isn’t too used to the slightly more formal shirt and blazer they have him in, he supposes it’s better to be safe than sorry. but all of that is in the back of his mind when the piano intro begins, because he starts the song with a gentle low tone and his eyes are fluttering closed and all of this is so very real and totally not a dream despite how high above the clouds his heart feels. 

너를 만난 그 이후로 사소한 변화��에 행복해져 눈이 부시게 빛 나는 아침 너를 떠올리며 눈 뜨는 하루

his partner, or technically competition, is so incredibly talented, too. seungcheol feels so honoured to be here without factoring in that he’s getting to share the stage with such a beautiful voice, sing with them, even. what warms his heart most is that neither of them sound as if they’re attempting to out-sing the other despite a looming elimination. 

별것 아닌 일에 맘이 통할 때면 익숙해진 서로가 놀라웠어 널 사랑해

for now, they only go back and forth between portions of the verses or the chorus. it’s a slightly different vibe to the original, starts a bit more powerful. seungcheol, again, can’t complain, because as much as he loves the soft tones of the original, he feels more confident making it a little his own. even when he used to post covers on youtube, before and after signing to sphere, he would remake his instrumentals to shift tones, paces and pitches to more closely match his style and strengths. he isn’t one to stay within his comfort zone ( at least musically ), but to him, there’s as much talent in making a sing your own as there is in matching the intended and initial emotion when it’s not your usual style. not to mention, there’s two of them in this cover — two people’s vocals to let shine, perhaps this had been the middle ground the producers felt would fit them both best. after all, a good show is one where you just can’t pick who to root for. 

너를 만나 참 행복했어 나 이토록 사랑할 수 있었던 건 아직 어리고 모자란 내 맘 따뜻한 이해로 다 안아줘서

his heart is still pounding half way through, his palms sweaty against the mic. however, he sings with passion, with all the excitement he’s held over the many years he’s hoped to do this, with all the joy singing brings him. he’ll always love rap and he’ll always be proud to be a rapper, for convex and otherwise, but singing had been his childhood love; one of the things that helped bring him and his father closer together. it’ll always hold a special place in his heart and though the love song they’re singing today is for a human lover, he thinks of all of that warmth and happiness as he performs. he thinks of convex, of how proud they’d been of him hearing his practised songs to help him along the way — of his parents, that won’t know he’s here until the episode airs and his voice fills their living room again for the first time in a while. 

불안한 지금이라도 영원하고 싶다고 너를 바라보다 생각했어

the bridge comes around so fast; it feels too soon for all of this to end. the song is a healthy five minutes almost, but he feels like he’s only been here thirty seconds despite the intro alone being half of that already. the back and forth of the lines, joining for the spectacular finish of the verse is his second favourite of the entire performance. 

뜨거웠던 여름 지나

he glances at his duet partner. 

하나 둘 수줍어 또 얼굴 붉히면

then, turns completely towards him as he falls into the higher pitch for their harmony. he faces forward again for his final chorus immediately after, giving it everything he possibly can to go out with pride and passion. perhaps it’s cliche to say so, but he loves every second, feels every second. this moment feels like everything so far had been worth it, like he finally belongs on a stage, can finally stand beside his group with his head held high. if he can do this, he can do anything. if he can go home today having made everyone proud, he can stand with convex next month for their comeback knowing that he’s proved, most importantly to himself, that he deserves to. 

우리 함께 걸어가기로 해

still, it’s bittersweet that it’s ending so soon. but, who says this is the end? even if he’s eliminated after this, he still gets to sing a goodbye solo. he’ll still sing again. his heart feels light, happy. 

나를 만나 너도 행복하니 못 해준 게 더 많아서 미안해 이기적이고 불안한 내가 너에게만은 잘하고 싶었어

maybe it’s a good thing no one can see him, see the tears catching once again in the corners of his eyes. 

너를 만나

like lightning.

july 24th, 2020: convex’s 'call me baby’ stage at music bank’s summer special concert.

it could certainly be worse. in all honesty, ‘call me baby’ is one of his favourite unit black songs, and it thankfully also isn’t among the hardest choreographies in their discography, but it doesn’t exactly scream summer to seungcheol either. the song had originally released at the end of march, for one thing — not to mention the leather jackets that aren’t the smartest idea in the scorching heat. he’s faced the samsung group’s limit test under the sun twice now, but even he doesn’t need that to know anything other than a light t-shirt and shorts is a bad idea when the temperature is at it’s highest. thankfully, again, they’d be wearing suit-style outfits — still warm, but he isn’t sweating buckets before they even get on stage, so he’ll take it. 

practice goes as smoothly as he can expect trying to balance new songs of their own and the special stage, and he knows that as the date of the concert hits, their schedule is packed for the next few days. studio recordings, hair appointments, this— then a merciful few days until another party he will inevitably stand awkwardly at the side for the duration of, not knowing how to talk to anyone he doesn’t already live with and see every day. 

he brushes down his jacket, straightening where it had gotten caught in the waistband of his trousers. strangely, he’s not as nervous as he had been in practice. when they’re staring at their reflections, he can’t help but think about how they have such big shoes to fill, such a legacy to live up to and honour. unit black in their early days especially took the world by storm; convex aren’t not popular by any means but he still feels like an insignificant speck of dust in a wide, expansive universe. there’s so many groups, so many big names they’ll always be starry eyed to, it’s difficult for him to recognise his own impact. but all he can do is give it his best and that’s what he reminds himself in the dark of their bedroom at night when his mind works overtime to convince him of anything else. as a unit leader, he keeps it all in, takes a deep breath each time and hopes the sinking feeling in his stomach will be gone by morning. 

( it usually is; it’s the loneliness and endlessness of the quiet of their room that lets his mind wander. when he’s busy urging changkyun out of bed and making himself look somewhat presentable, he doesn’t have time to think about anything else. ) 

however, standing here now about to go out, he isn’t sure how to describe how he feels but he recognises, at the very least, that there’s none of his usual nervousness. his fingers aren’t fidgeting in his pockets, his foot not ( yet? ) tapping against the floor. it’s possible that it’s just because they’ve already been there to perform two of their own songs, but he doubts it. that doesn’t usually stop him from letting the pressure dance along the borderline of overwhelming him. 

rather than question it, though, he tries to embrace it. he might not understand why he’s feeling this way ( whatever ‘this way’ might be, he still can’t put a finger on it — not confident, but not not... almost a neutral, but not quite ), but he can admit that it’s undoubtedly better than overthinking and missing a beat, especially with a dance he’s only known for the duration of the month so far and not one of their own he could do in his sleep by now. 

his rap is towards the end, but he makes sure to take it a little easier when they reach it so his voice can remain stable. he’s grateful for almost all his lines being bulked together; that way he can focus on dancing correctly for the rest of the time — and more importantly, not succumbing to the increasing warmth. he’ll be more grateful when he can get home later and take a relaxing shower and wash all the sweat off, he’s sure. 

don’t play around.

introducing convex’s next comeback, ‘don’t wanna cry’. june 6th, 2020: line distribution, & june 22nd, 2020: choreography.

things seem to move a lot quicker now that they’re back up to a full roster. the scared, lonely part of him says it’s to make sure they get more comebacks in before someone else leaves, but the logical reminds him of ‘pretty u’s success. the song had won them five trophies, more than ‘boomboom’ and ‘very nice’ had gotten them between both of them. making good use of their slowly rising popularity would be the smartest play here business-wise, even if it’ll tire out the idols faster. first the samsung station song, now another comeback — not to mention all the members’ individual activities like dramas and variety appearances. convex are busier than they’ve ever been, from what he can tell, and truthfully, he doesn’t hate it. it’s stressful, already having another sheet of lyrics to learn ( and inevitably, another choreography ), but equally so, it feels good not to be left in the dark — to not have idle time where he can speculate too wildly on what the future might hold. 

with a song in his hands, it’s pretty clear that a comeback is what is in their upcoming months, maybe even sooner than he thinks. it’s hard to feel uncertain when the plan, albeit without a schedule, is laid out in front of him, sticky notes in almost every corner and highlighted lines messily overrunning past where the text ends. he sits with his legs outstretched in one of the practice rooms that night, alone to the point that his voice echoes around the room as if he were in a cavern rather than trapped between three stuffy plain walls and a full-length mirror. he taps his fingertips against the ground to the beat, rapping out his opening lines. he isn’t quite the first to sing, but the first real verse, so he doesn’t have to get too far into the demo when he uses it as a guide. worryingly, he thinks the focus may be more on choreography this comeback, as the lyrics fit almost on one single page. ( and with thirteen members, it’s even harder to evenly distribute less lines than usual, so he just feels grateful to have what he does. it’s more than most and more than he possibly deserves, but he tries to reason with himself that he wouldn’t have been picked for them if they didn’t want him to do them — didn’t believe he could. ) 

unfortunately, when june 22nd rolls around and he’s first introduced to the accompanying dance, he finds out with a bittersweet taste on his tongue that he was right — the choreography is likely the main focus, or at least it feels as such with the wild arm movements he knows will ache as he desperately tries to master them and the concerning amount of time they spend kneeling. ( should they have knee pads for this? ) he thinks he’ll probably pop his shoulder before he gets the angles right in the last chorus, and maybe even break someone’s toe standing on them in the formation changes in the latter half of the first verse, but hopefully they have ample time to perfect it ( or at least be ‘good enough’ to let loose on the general public in his case ) before they reach their currently still mystery comeback date. 

but most importantly, hopefully he can have the patience with himself that he needs to get prepared. too often does he punish himself for being slower than everyone else, pushing just that little too far the time he and changkyun fought, but there’s always the chance to learn from his mistakes. he reminds himself each night on the way home that the only way is up, that he’s getting better at his own pace, and then he curls into a ball in his bed after a refreshing shower to let the worries of the day go the best he can. each day is a new one, and each day is another step closer to his destination. 

on one fine day.

may 30th, 2020: convex’s ‘pretty u’ performance & point-dance tutorial at speak up! 

he’s not sure he’s really qualified to be teaching any kind of dance, even just the point-dance of their latest track, but he’s well learnt by now not to question any of sphere or samsung’s decisions — no matter how easy it may be to do so. he’s in a big group, so perhaps it’s easier to shuffle weaker dancers like him to the back and it’s not like ‘pretty u’s signature move is that complicated, but he’d feel pretty belittled if someone with no experience in rapping tried to teach him a verse. regardless, it feels kind of impersonal all the way up here rather than a small class or one-to-one, so perhaps that’s the beauty of it — it doesn’t matter if he isn’t the smoothest, because this isn’t serious at all, this isn’t important in the grand scheme of things. he thinks back to the time a few idols featured as guest coaches on the mgas. that would have been embarrassing and almost sad for the contestants; their futures would rest on seungcheol’s ability to help them with a skill he only recently learnt himself, but he doubts anyone is going to use what they’ve learnt today anywhere outside of a karaoke room. 

it hasn’t been long since they finished their promotional run so the choreography for ‘pretty u’ is still fresh in his mind. he’s already getting a little rusty with their earlier tracks like mansae and very nice, but a few run-throughs in the practice room usually sorts him out and it’s not like sphere would ever let them perform them without going over them a hundred times beforehand. he’s all the excitement without all the fatigue this time, though, better rested and warmed by the late spring, early summer sun. they’re only there for an hour and he doesn’t really think it’s the most logical schedule they’ve ever had but their audience seem to enjoy it ( and convex, a large group with plenty of banter and bickering ) so he can’t complain. 

in fact, it’s a welcome break from an otherwise hectic yet repetitive routine. 

he’s not sure he wants to do it again any time soon, though. he’s certainly better but dancing still terrifies him, not that it takes too much. 

the answer is so obvious.

may 16th, 2020: s-pop saturday live station recoring, q&a by convex & h.lee. 

it feels so good to be here, better than he’d expected. 

the beauty of convex has always been their size. with so many members, there’s always going to be at least one you can connect with, more charms to fall for and talents to gush about. but in a smaller unit like this, with just the three of them ( and h.lee, even if she had only taken part in the song itself thus far ), seungcheol feels validated— worthy. and he feels silly. trust him, he does — for placing so much of his self worth on being picked out of their line-up to feature in this, but he can’t help the warm feeling that spreads through his chest. he has never and never will be one to push others out of the spotlight to allow himself to shine, so being chosen feels better than he can imagine. sitting here with two of his closest friends in the group, proudly showing off something they recorded and released— he’s on top of the clouds; above them, even. who knew that scaredy cat choi seungcheol, with his strange yet shy, boyish charm, would be good enough to be here, one of three instead of one of thirteen, excitedly recalling the filming of their music video. 

it is admittedly a little difficult to be the only leader present, though. he’s expected to talk a lot more than he is in convex’s complete line-up, called upon when the other members don’t know what to say or the question seems more geared towards the organisational side of things. ( though he’s not sure why they ask him; he hadn’t been the one writing the schedule, after all. ) 

he stutters like he always does, but it’s less apparent when the atmosphere feels a little more intimate, when he’s so excited about the track and getting to perform it live later in filming. he doesn’t worry so much about picking the perfect words when his happiness is so overflowing that it must surely be impossible to give off any other impression. he’s so full of joy and admiration — for the final product and all the work that had gone into it from his members and the staff involved. getting an idea from pen and paper to a perfected song, layered and complete, a high profile collaboration of two different artists from different labels ( especially what feels like so early in convex’s career ), a music video and promotional teasers in such a short amount of time... he will always be pleasantly surprised and endlessly honoured by the amount of effort and the sheer number of staff that work behind the scenes to make their dreams come true. 

“it was an h-honour. e-entirely an honour.” he insists, at the question of how it felt to work with a well-respected senior. “I didn’t think w-we’d get to do anything like this for a l-long time, so we’re really grateful that n-not only did samsung see promise in us to m-make this song, but also that h.lee could take time out of her busy s-schedule to make it with us. the b-balance of her vocals with ours makes the song really fun and vibrant, p-personally!” 

when the time comes, it’s even easier to see how much he adores this project in the way he raps, eyes sparkling and grin wide. he watches jinwook and sehun with a fond gaze, chimes in with his adlibs where needed and taps his foot to the beat. he radiates so much positivity that he almost fears the crash after all this is over. after all, it isn’t a traditional promotional cycle; this is the only ‘schedule’ for it and the release hype will only last so long before the next track in the project is teased, but for now, he enjoys every second of it. he’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it — or stumbles over it, more likely. 

got me singing like—

( BACKDATED ! APRIL 2020 )

On April 15th, you and two of your other members are pulled out of your comeback practice by your manager to be taken to a meeting room. If asked, he’ll confirm they aren’t in trouble, and that the details will be given soon enough. 

Inside the meeting room are a couple of other people they might have already seen before or not walking around either the Sphere building or the Seocho complex. “Good morning,” one of them states. “We’re here in the name of Samsung Station. It’s a project I’m sure you’ve all heard about and have been following its releases. After all, every release so far has given us good feedback from the public. A lot of your seniors have had their songs in this project and we decided to reach out to you to feature in one of our future releases.”

Jinwook, Prhyme, and Sehun were chosen to take part in the release of ‘Q&A’ alongside an NPC senior artist, H.Lee. Jinwook will have Woozi’s lines, Prhyme will have S.Coups’s, and Sehun will have Vernon’s. They’ll receive the lyrics and audio file once the meeting is over. They are told to practice for this release alongside their comeback practices. They’ll get to meet up with H.Lee on April 18th to chat and practice the song together. The song will be recorded on April 25th.

They’ll also get to record a music video for the song. H.Lee won’t be present for the recording and they’ll act things out with the NPC actress Hong Hyuna. The MV will be filmed on May 4th in the middle of their promotion cycle. Their parts in the video will be distributed the same way as their lines were. The song will be officially released on May 22nd. On May 23rd, they’ll attend the live recording of ‘Live Station’ for the S-POP Channel.

They’re all told to keep their participation in the project a secret until the song teaser is officially released by Samsung.

APRIL 15TH, 2020 // despite their manager’s insistence, seungcheol didn’t feel entirely comforted by being pulled out of practice. sure, he’s never been removed for any bad reason before but there’s a first time for everything. and yes, he’s with jinwook and sehun and it’s just as unlikely that they’d be in trouble, too, especially all at the same time, but he wouldn’t be seungcheol if he didn’t spend the entire walk to the meeting room thinking of every possible outcome. 

somehow, he didn’t think of this. not that he was in any way entitled to an opportunity like this, or that he felt he’d be chosen for it if it arose, but because it’s something he’d wanted to do since convex debuted. 

when the samsung station concept was revealed, he’d hoped in the back of his mind ( where it’s safe to, without getting too attached to a goal he has no control over, no way to feasibly achieve ) that convex would be granted the chance to release something. being part of a small sub-unit of convex to do so is another step up, one he didn’t consider prior but now that he’s here in the meeting with two of his closest friends, he thinks it’s pretty perfect how things have worked out. for him, at the very least, and whilst he feels a little selfish, it’s not often that he does. his mother is always telling him to want things for himself every now and then, to put himself forward instead of always standing back, but it’s not in his nature. it’s for the best that it’s happily forced upon him; if he had a choice, perhaps he’d say something crazy like someone else deserves this as if he doesn’t, too. 

arguably his favourite part of the whole opportunity, however, is the song itself. sure, he’s not blown away by the school concept ( though he loves the small twist on it, with it not being a traditional uniforms and classroom setting, especially after they’d already done that for their debut ), but the tune is almost everything he looks for in a mood booster — funky, fresh and all that’s in between. it’s got a bit of energy to it without being overwhelming, but it isn’t a slow ballad that can’t easily get stuck in listener’s heads either. to put it simply, he’s excited. for the first time in a while, he’s all the good without any of the bad — the nerves or the uncertainty. he’d been chosen for a reason, right? and he is definitely going to make it worth their while. 

APRIL 25TH, 2020 // though they had met the week before, spending time with their senior in the studio is almost surreal. it’s strange to think that for the time being, they’re on even playing fields — collaborators, equal parts of the final piece, rather than a long-time respected senior and their still fairly new junior. h.lee had been polite and encouraging, politely tried to make them feel at home but seungcheol is still a little stiff until his time in the booth comes around. it’s cliche but when the door closes behind him, his worries seem to be locked on the other side. perhaps it’s all the long hours over his life that he’s spent surrounded by this familiar feeling, or his confidence in his ability to work hard and perform well. perhaps it’s just one of those things he’ll never fully understand but always be grateful for, but regardless, the tension seeps out of his shoulders in moments. he raps like this is his only chance to get this right, like they’re live in front of an audience he doesn’t want to disappoint but without all the blinding lights that make him sweat before he even starts to dance. he raps like he’s having the time of his life because he is and all that’s left when they bow goodbye at the end of the session is to film the music video, release the final product and watch in awe that all of this is still real. he’s in a samsung station song. choi seungcheol, sopa’s easiest target, sphere’s scaredy cat, convex’s rap leader and now, q&a’s honoured collaborator. 

amongst the comeback. 

so maybe he’s a little stressed about it all happening at once, but who would he be if he didn’t worry just a little? 

the spring to your smile.

april 28th, 2020: convex’s first 'pretty u’ and ‘smile flower’ stages.

seungcheol doesn’t think he’s loved performing any of convex’s songs as much as he loves smile flower and maybe someone could argue that’s because he doesn’t have to dance ( and he’d tell them that’s a fair observation ) but truthfully, it’s everything. he doesn’t have to worry about vocal stability if he isn’t kicking his leg back and forth like in ‘mansae’. it’s a beautiful ballad in its own right, without the added emotion of the lyrics. he gets to sing, even if only briefly, and hear everyone else’s sweet voices, too. it contrasts perfectly with the bright pop masterpiece ‘pretty u’ that they’re promoting as their title track. what is there not to love? 

they’ll only be performing it alongside the title for the first week, but seungcheol vows to enjoy each and every one of them. it won’t be often that he gets a chance like this, so why waste it? he’s never been this enthusiastic to get up at the crack of dawn. this comeback era is his favourite so far, from its songs to its schedules and it’s put a spring in his step— in his smile that seems to stretch to his eyes and flash his gums far more now than it ever has in the past. 

when they perform ‘pretty u’, he’s the picture of vibrant youth, a blooming flower. he’s got a bright grin, a sunny disposition that is relentlessly honest and true. he’d said back in february that this would be his favourite comeback yet and he hadn’t been wrong. he’s always been so concerned about shining, about standing out enough for people to feel he’s worthy of his position in convex without taking any of the spotlight away from his members, but this comeback, it doesn’t cross his mind nearly as often — rarely in comparison. he’s so blissfully happy despite the same exhaustion, despite the same busy routines. he glows without having to remind himself because he’s so overjoyed that it bursts from him like sunshine. he’s gentle as ever but bouncing on his heels; he’s comfortable and confident and it’s beautiful. 

“cheol, your new song is so good! you looked so handsome performing tonight. I sent the clip to all my friends—” his father’s laughter cuts his mother off mid-sentence, their faces beaming through his phone screen the night after their first stages. “the ballad song you did, too... I wish you could have had more lines, but it’s not fair on the other members if you always outshine them, right?” if it were any other time, he’d insist only a mother would say something so embarrassing ( and so untrue; he never outshines, only fits in because that’s all he ever wants, to deserve to stand together with so much raw talent ) but today, he just laughs. 

“you looked so happy up there, cheol. we’re so proud of you; always. congrats on the comeback!” 

“thanks, dad.” he grins, eyeing the way his mother scowls. 

she tuts, “where’s my thanks! he barely said anything!” 

“can you forward me that clip you took?” 

an astonished, “choi seungcheol!” can barely be heard over his giggles. 

just seaweed and rice.

april 22nd, 2020: convex’s first appearance on knowing brothers. 

it isn’t until they’re all lined up behind the desk that he realises quite how big convex is, and quite how empty it had felt when they didn’t have a full 13-member line-up. their introduction would already take long enough without the added mystery and as they get into guessing the leader, seungcheol knows they’re in for a long ride, but every second is vibrant. there’s never a quiet moment with convex, anyway, but with the hosts of this particular show, he thinks his ears might still be ringing when he lies down to sleep later.

he doesn’t say much, but when he does, he’s polite. it’s easy to expect the worst so when he naturally stutters, he braces for the bursts of ‘how can you be an idol who stutters!’ and exclamations that he definitely can’t be the leader ( but maybe it’s a trick to confuse them? ). he’s endlessly professional, though, answers their questions in such a serious way that it leaves them scratching their heads. he is grateful, however, that they don’t seem to spend much time on him, not just because his cheeks are still red with embarrassment but because this is the new members first major appearance and he wants each of them to have the most time to shine. fans must already know a lot about him, but some of them might be seeing their new members’ charms for the first time. 

each game they play, he does his best to be entertaining enough. he tries hard and it probably shows, but he thinks he’d rather be known as someone who gives everything 110% than someone who constantly sabotages their team’s success in the mini games. 

( he likes the vocal game most because he gets to show off a little of his vocals and love of ballads. rapping might be his role and his strongest talent, but rhyming for the hip-hop test certainly isn’t. he does enjoy the teasing that it’s in his name and yet he’s one of the first out, though. ) 

what surprises him most is that through it all, he doesn’t think about his image. he doesn’t think about the ‘record high’ number of cameras on them or the way he still stutters two hours into the recording or his gums always being on show. he just has fun. it’s just friends hanging out, playing harmless ( but slightly competitive ) games, teasing each other and laughing. he hasn’t laughed this much in a while. 

maybe it’s selfish, but he hopes convex can come back here after every comeback from now on. 

pretty words.

introducing convex’s next comeback, ‘pretty u’. february 12th, 2020: line distribution, & february 22nd, 2020: choreography.

now, this — this is seungcheol’s favourite comeback yet. 

with just the line distribution and the demo in his hands, he’s already loving the vibes of their newest track. the staff had mentioned a spring comeback and honestly, seungcheol felt like the song was perfect for the season, even early summer if there were any unexpected circumstances to factor in. it felt like their debut song, like their anniversary song, but better, more vibrant, more refined. not to mention he wholeheartedly loved his parts, the rap in the rough middle of the song and the rap team’s combined outro. he even attempts woohyun’s three-part high note after the bridge a few times for fun and imagines there’ll be plenty of people at home that won’t be able to resist doing the same ( and will likely do it better than him, too, though now he’s determined to master it despite probably never actually needing to ). 

later, when they add the choreography, for the first time in a while, it doesn’t seem to matter how difficult it is for him at first. there’s so many layers to it, so many props and quirks and silly little things that make it so uniquely convex and so fun that he forgets to berate himself, forgets that he can’t actually dance that well. how can he dwell on such negativity when he’s hiding behind a couch? when he’s bouncing around, stomping his foot, playing on the sofa with the other rap unit members, how can he think about anything other than how cute all of this is? everything about ‘pretty u’ is feel good and it rubs off on him. 

as always, he learns his own lines first and then moves on to everyone else’s. over time, listening to the track on repeat, it’d come naturally anyway but he likes to make a point of it just in case he ever needs to know any other lines. sometimes hosts ask members to sing bits of their new titles; he’d hate to be that idol that can’t even remember the chorus to his own song. he’ll embarrass himself in some way, he’s sure, but he won’t let it be this. 

what gets him most excited once everything starts to come together, though, is the potential. an upbeat song like this can surely only have a similarly toned concept. bright yet soft colours, perhaps, and a cute love story for the music video? he expects styling to be more subtle than their bold looks in ‘boom boom’. maybe he’ll go back to a natural colour, his hair down more so than up. lots of denim? he’s far from knowledgeable in anything related to fashion or visual concepts but his imagination runs wild regardless. maybe sphere will surprise him, but he’s sure whatever it is, he’ll love it regardless. 

he thinks it’s the best song to introduce their new members, too, not because it particularly highlights them any more than anyone else ( part of him wonders if that’d be worse, to have so much attention drawn to you immediately rather than seamlessly settling in, like you were always destined to be there ), but because it’s so fun. he doesn’t find it as hard to approach the others to practice together, or feel so nervous in group practices messing up in front of them. he feels light, like the world is ready for convex to come back strong despite everything that had unfolded over their first year or so together — like convex can still shine brighter and brighter with every comeback. 

maybe he’ll even shine brighter this time, too, if he can continue to grow into himself; into the leader and performer he dreams of being. maybe. 

a little time.

january 10th, 2020 and onwards: introducing convex’s new line-up. 

( tw !! anxiety )

change has never been too hard on seungcheol. flipping his whole life upside down when he signed to sphere, and then making the jump to idol when convex debuted almost two years later, he’d adjusted pretty smoothly given that he didn’t really have a choice in the matter — being forced to follow new routines day in, day out, meant that it didn’t take long for him to accept them as the new norm, so it isn’t new members that has seungcheol so torn apart. 

it’s what it means for the ones who have left. 

losing more of his family isn’t easy. he’s not foolish enough to think this is an easy decision for anyone involved, that no one would agree to this unless they felt it was best for them, but feeling the empty space grow over the past year tears irreparable wounds in his heart. when does it stop? where is the line drawn? will he be the last original member standing? will even jihoon leave him one day soon? being alone fills him with dread. 

he’s embarrassed by it, admitting that saying goodbye makes his body tremble with more than tears. the dull ache in his chest isn’t just because he misses what was, but because he fears what will be. he can’t be left alone, and he’s sure it must drive everyone else crazy to have him lingering around constantly, but keeping someone in sight is the only way he feels confident that he isn’t the only one left. he doesn’t even like to practice alone. he convinces himself this won’t last, that once he adjusts once again, all these feelings will fade away. 

he puts the effort in to make sure the new members don’t feel intimidated by him, but he also doesn’t approach them all straight away. his own unit’s new addition is the member he sees the most, but having to deal with and integrate with eight established members all at the same time must be overwhelming. maybe he’s just still too shy, a true introvert at heart, but he’d appreciate someone slowly increasing their presence in his life, patiently taking their time with him and breaking down his walls. he’s polite and warm in the mean time, offering gummy smiles as always and advice when asked or convenient. the last thing he wants is for everything new to come crashing down before any of them can get used to the changes. 

they’re experiencing the opportunity of a lifetime, one he’d been lucky enough to have just over a year ago, and he doesn’t want to take that from them. debuting is an incredibly fulfilling feeling; one member being sour and distant could easily dampen that. he looks forward to seeing what they bring to the group, but perhaps the wounds were just still a little too fresh to try fixing things already. he wishes they’d given them a little more time to come to terms with losing more brothers before adding more, or at least a warning before they met them. sphere will always do what they feel is best, though, and seungcheol knows and accepts that, but that doesn’t mean he can’t acknowledge that sometimes what’s best for convex from a business standpoint isn’t the same as what’s best for them or for him specifically from a human standpoint. 

he takes a deep breath and glances over at the other members gathered for a late night meal. his chest feels tight, but as each that make eye contact give him a warm, reassuring smile, he thinks there’s definitely still hope there, burning bright in the depths of his heart. he just needs a little time. 

holding on.

october 30th, 2019: ‘adore u’ special stage on show champion. 

though ‘adore u’ wouldn’t be traditionally promoted, he’s so grateful they get at least one chance to perform it around their anniversary. no doubt it’ll crop up in the future, in mash-ups or at their own concerts ( which seems like forever away, but he’s hopeful ), getting the chance to perform it now when it’s still fresh and new and exciting is a different feeling entirely. 

how long the day becomes when they’re on music shows, however, is not something he enjoys, or missed at all since their last promotional period. 

he’s tired by the time the show starts, but, as cliche as it feels, he finds a new spark in the cheers of fans in the audience. there may be no one here for them, but he can still hear passionate people out there and that’s enough for him to feel a new lease of life to put on the best performance he can. there’s a lot of buzz surrounding them lately with all the line-up changes over the past year and their anniversary passing yesterday, so his priority right now is to take advantage of that attention and show the world why they should give convex the time of day — why they should keep watching and supporting them despite the uncertainty of the group. 

‘adore u’s funky beat booms through the venue and seungcheol is reminded how easy it is to lose himself in the music when he performs. even though their struggles lately are plain to see in the slight emptiness of the stage, ‘adore u’ is still a song of celebration and love and he intends to keep it that way. he doesn’t want to go the rest of their careers, their lives associating it with loss and pain. it’s just so hard. 

otherwise, it’s just like any other music show performance. he puts his all into it because that’s what everyone, himself included, deserves, and he enjoys every second for the same reason. each move is executed with a precision that is good enough for seungcheol, for where he’s at with the choreography changes and the skill in general. 

( and he doesn’t drop woohyun, which is really the most important part of the entire performance. safety comes first above all, and it’s easily his favourite aspect of this ‘comeback’, too. if he can perfect that, it should be a job well done, even if he knows that he’d kick himself if he made a mistake anywhere. there isn’t room for mistakes, especially right now. ) 

when the time comes, he bows deeply to the fans and staff, offers gummy smiles to anyone who meets his eyes. he’s tired, ready to sleep and avoid his good mood being spoiled. he sucks in a deep breath. for now, it’s still okay. he’s still okay. holding on. 

momentary peace.

october 20th, 2019: recording ‘adore u’ dance practice. 

making all the changes a mere two weeks ago and already filming the dance practice, everything feels quite rushed but he supposes that’s all they can do with everything happening lately. at least they still have another week or so until the anniversary and release of their song, though seungcheol is starting to wonder if that’s really a good thing or not. the past year has proved to him that a lot can change in a week, after all. 

but even if this is painful and everything about this month that is supposed to be endlessly joyful and exciting just hurts all over, the fans don’t deserve the negativity. he knows and has always believed that putting on a front all the time isn’t healthy for anyone. fans deserve to know when their idols are struggling, and pretending doesn’t do said idol any favours either. no one is alone and he’s always wanted to follow that mindset as someone in his position, but in times like this, he thinks it’s just safer to plaster on a smile. it isn’t entirely dishonest, really — he’s incredibly excited to have gotten to their first anniversary and he adores the song. it’s just difficult that there’s so many that should be singing it with him that can’t. 

but everyone knows this is hard on them; he doesn’t have to hide that or pretend it isn’t. he just has to show the world that despite the hardships, despite the pain, it will get better and there is hope for their future. because there is. those members wouldn’t have left if it wasn’t what they felt was best for them even if it isn’t always the best for the rest of the group and he admires that. it takes a lot of courage to give something like this up even if it’s clearly the best decision. they’re brothers, they’re family — it’s hard to walk away from family. 

so, he dances with an energy he hasn’t really had over the past few weeks. it likely won’t last past the final ‘cut!’ from the staff, but for the time being, it’s almost like he isn’t falling apart. it feels good to just celebrate convex instead of worrying about them. regardless of his initial difficulties with the choreography, he’s enjoying each and every move — he even gets to lift woohyun in the bridge in a cute touch to join with the lyrics. everything feels cosy and warm inside and he knows the cold will settle back in as soon as he stops but it’s enough for now. 

even for a little while, it’s nice to be okay. it’ll be okay.