take a look at me (so you can understand how beautiful you are)
take a look at me (so you can understand how beautiful you are); minseok-centric | g | ~1900w
‘no matter how hard it is, i will always smile like an idiot,’ chanyeol said. minseok thinks he understands.
sometimes minseok thinks he doesn’t know what he’s doing in exo. he doesn’t belong with the dancers, doesn’t belong among sehun yixing and jongin who capture countless hearts through seamless movements and fluid thrusts. he doesn’t belong with the rappers, doesn’t belong among the twin towers kris and chanyeol as well as zitao. they’d overpower him in an instant, tongues twisting and turning and spitting out a hundred syllables a minute without even stopping to take a breath. heck, he doesn’t even belong with the visuals of the group, doesn’t belong with lu han sehun and jongin because apparently he isn’t striking enough, doesn’t have finely chiselled features and toothy smiles bright enough to catch the audience’s eye.
what hurts the most, though, is that he doesn’t belong with the vocalists, doesn’t belong among baekhyun jongdae kyungsoo and even lu han, junmyeon and yixing, whose melodious voices take residence in people’s hearts and ring in their ears. this is more of a stab to the heart than anything else, the snub striking true like an arrow, burying itself shaft-deep into the tattered remnants of his confidence. after all, isn’t that how he got scouted? in a talent show? for singing? then why isn’t he singing? why?
//
“okay, good job guys! you’re dismissed now, remember to hydrate yourselves and sleep early before you fall sick. minseok, can you stay back a while?” the choreographer asks, turning an impassive face to him, and minseok attempts to wipe away the rivulets of sweat rushing down his face before giving up and nodding. it’s been a tiring practice, the choreographer pushing them hard in preparation for their comeback, and minseok can feel his thigh and arm muscles crying out in protest as he drags himself across the tiny practice room. sm should really give them a larger practice room, he gripes to himself. it’s hard enough trying to squeeze twelve boys into one room, let alone make them dance and move around what with the ridiculous growl choreography.
lu han and junmyeon shoot concerned looks at him from across the room and minseok mouths you guys head on back to the dorm first, be back in a bit before waving. it’s only when both boys are out the door than does the choreographer turn gravely to minseok, saying, “you’re not at your best today, are you?” and minseok gapes in surprise. it’s a slap in the face, really, to hear that you’re not exactly as good as you perceived yourself to be.
“s-sorry sir? but i didn’t… where did i go wrong today?” he asks humbly, deciding that it’s best not to argue. after several years of training, you kind of learn when and where to shut up, even if you haven’t done anything wrong in the first place.
the choreographer merely sighs. “you’re lagging behind, minseok. your movements aren’t sharp enough, they’re terribly sluggish and it makes you look like you’re lagging compared to the rest. what are you, sleeping beauty? even chanyeol’s doing better than you right now. look, consult sehun or jongin when you get the chance to, okay? i don’t have time to stay back and personally coach you.” and with that he strides out of the practice room, the door banging shut behind him.
minseok leaves the empty practice room with the bitter taste of unspoken words in his mouth, choking him even as he gathers his things and stares at his haggard reflection in the mirror. i don’t even expect that much, i thought i was doing alright today. not good, no, but i thought i was managing.
mechanically, he reaches out and flips the light switch as he walks out, plunging the whole room into darkness.
//
when management wanted to choose the visuals of the group, they gathered all of exo into one big room and made them sit down facing each other. they chose jongin first - of course - as the boy who’d get more than half of the whole group’s teasers, the boy who danced like he had the world at his feet but smiled like he was thankful for it. blazing charisma onstage, adorable eyesmiles and open-mouthed laughs offstage. perfect formula for capturing hearts, no? they chose sehun next, the pretty flower boy who looked like he was a statue formed perfectly from marble, as cold and untouchable as a distant star but still attractive because of how untouchable he was. they chose lu han last, because of how he was a walking contradiction in so many ways, what with his unblinking eyes that looked like they held the night sky in between quivering long lashes yet at the same time had muscular thighs and toned calves from a decade of soccer and dancing. so delicate, yet at the same time impenetrable as a fortress.
and with that, the roles of visual in exo were decided, and minseok decided not to brood over the way management’s eyes glossed right over him even as he sat in between lu han and jongin. after all, as management had said, ‘don’t worry! you all will still have your own individual fans.’
right?
//
“okay guys! we’re almost done with practicing for the new album, go take a short water break. we’ll start again in ten minutes, okay? minseok, come see me for a bit,” the vocal coach tacks on the last sentence and minseok trudges over with trepidation in his heart. it’d been a bad practice, his voice going haywire and jumping notes, going terribly off-key, making him seem as if he were a mere rookie coming to vocal practice for the first time. jongdae passes by and claps him on the back, offering silent encouragement, and for that minseok is grateful. not so much about the physical contact, but more of the fact that somebody actually noticed his growing disappointment and made an effort to reassure him. coming to a stop in front of his vocal coach, he bows his head and waits for the acerbic words to fall. and sure enough, they do.
“kim minseok, what is wrong with you today? i’m just going to be honest here - you are terrible today. if you don’t improve by the end of the session, you’re just going to drag the whole group down with you and i’m quite sure you don’t want that.” his vocal coach rants and minseok winces as flecks of spit fly out from the coach’s mouth and land on his shirt. trying for a tentative smile, he says humbly, “i’m sorry, i’ll do better next time. please forgive me for my mistakes this time.”
his coach, however, merely snorts and at this point of time, minseok has a sudden moment of clarity and he realises that things are going to get ugly, the whole of exo is going to see him get butchered in front of this grouchy old man who is going to slaughter him with his words and leave his self-confidence cut up into so many tiny pieces he can’t even fathom how he’s going to put himself back together. ah, a great team-building exercise, this is.
“why are you smiling like that? you think it’s funny? well let me tell you something, kim minseok. you’re not hungry enough, you don’t desire things enough and if you don’t get the drive soon, you’re going to be stuck in this rut forever. your choice,” the instructor fumes before striding back to the front of the room, yelling for the other eleven members to gather while ‘minseok-sshi practices his lines by himself’.
//
it’s pretty disappointing to discover you’re bad at something. what’s going to make you feel even worse, though, is realising that you’re inadequate at something you love. and that’s the only thing going through minseok’s mind right now, making him wonder why sm even bothered debuting him with exo when everyone is infinitely more talented than he is, when he’s just going to be the weak link in an unbreakable chain.
(when he practices his lines, the effort of keeping his tears in makes his voice waver even more. minseok can see his vocal coach shaking his head resignedly at him even when they’re on opposite sides of the room.)
//
the van ride back to the dorm is noisy and cheerful, as always, all the exo members laughing at each other’s jokes or complaining about the early schedules they have the next morning. minseok’s grateful for the clamor, because it means that he can stay holed up in his little corner of the van, staring aimlessly out at the cityscape whipping by. maybe if he doesn’t think about what an abysmal day it’s been, he won’t feel like someone just scraped him out hollow, took out his vital organs with only a skeleton left.
what he doesn’t expect, though, is for yixing to tap on his arm and smile at him comfortingly, saying, “we all have the occasional bad day sometimes. you’re still amazing, though, minseokkie-hyung.”
minseok doesn’t know whether to cry or smile because yixing is so desperately earnest, so openly transparent about wanting him to believe that it’s just been an off-day when in actual fact there has always been that niggling feeling of not being on par with the group, of feeling like he’s the member with no specific role and nowhere to go. instead, he settles for a choked up ‘thanks’ and yixing’s beam as he turns to the backseat to yell at baekhyun and jongdae to shut up.
//
somehow, a few weeks later, chanyeol and minseok end up as the only members with a schedule. minseok likes chanyeol, sure, because he’s always cheery and optimistic and lightens the atmosphere as easily as breathing. as they’re on the van heading to the radio station for their talk show, minseok breaks the silence.
“how are you always so happy all the time?”
chanyeol is silent for a while, ruminating, but his eventual answer takes minseok aback. “it’s not so much happiness as it is smiling, isn’t it? i once said that no matter how hard it gets, i will always smile like an idiot. but it’s not because i’m optimistic, it’s because when i smile it gets easier to hold the tears in and pretend i’m not about to fall apart any second.” that’s when chanyeol stops, looks sharply over at minseok and continues, “you know a lot about that too, hyung. don’t you?”
minseok merely smiles in response, lips thinned out and pressed firmly together and chanyeol nods sadly in understanding.
//
when minseok is on stage and the lights are flashing in his eyes, there is a certain surge of happiness and contentment at having made it this far, standing on an endless stage chasing dreams that suddenly don’t seem so far. that maybe he could, for once, smile genuinely without using it as a form of defence.
(what he doesn’t tell anyone, though, is that the dreams dissipate into vapour when the lights blink off and they remove the gaudy stage makeup, leaving nothing but vulnerable boys scrubbed clean and stripped bare. the only makeup he can’t remove, however, is the gaudily false smile he wears everywhere nowadays.
after all, it’s become a permanent part of him, hasn’t it?)
fin.
+ i have had a shit day pls excuse. i do not mean this. i love minseok. rly.
‘no matter how hard it is, i will always smile like an idiot,’ chanyeol said. minseok thinks he understands.
sometimes minseok thinks he doesn’t know what he’s doing in exo. he doesn’t belong with the dancers, doesn’t belong among sehun yixing and jongin who capture countless hearts through seamless movements and fluid thrusts. he doesn’t belong with the rappers, doesn’t belong among the twin towers kris and chanyeol as well as zitao. they’d overpower him in an instant, tongues twisting and turning and spitting out a hundred syllables a minute without even stopping to take a breath. heck, he doesn’t even belong with the visuals of the group, doesn’t belong with lu han sehun and jongin because apparently he isn’t striking enough, doesn’t have finely chiselled features and toothy smiles bright enough to catch the audience’s eye.
what hurts the most, though, is that he doesn’t belong with the vocalists, doesn’t belong among baekhyun jongdae kyungsoo and even lu han, junmyeon and yixing, whose melodious voices take residence in people’s hearts and ring in their ears. this is more of a stab to the heart than anything else, the snub striking true like an arrow, burying itself shaft-deep into the tattered remnants of his confidence. after all, isn’t that how he got scouted? in a talent show? for singing? then why isn’t he singing? why?
//
“okay, good job guys! you’re dismissed now, remember to hydrate yourselves and sleep early before you fall sick. minseok, can you stay back a while?” the choreographer asks, turning an impassive face to him, and minseok attempts to wipe away the rivulets of sweat rushing down his face before giving up and nodding. it’s been a tiring practice, the choreographer pushing them hard in preparation for their comeback, and minseok can feel his thigh and arm muscles crying out in protest as he drags himself across the tiny practice room. sm should really give them a larger practice room, he gripes to himself. it’s hard enough trying to squeeze twelve boys into one room, let alone make them dance and move around what with the ridiculous growl choreography.
lu han and junmyeon shoot concerned looks at him from across the room and minseok mouths you guys head on back to the dorm first, be back in a bit before waving. it’s only when both boys are out the door than does the choreographer turn gravely to minseok, saying, “you’re not at your best today, are you?” and minseok gapes in surprise. it’s a slap in the face, really, to hear that you’re not exactly as good as you perceived yourself to be.
“s-sorry sir? but i didn’t… where did i go wrong today?” he asks humbly, deciding that it’s best not to argue. after several years of training, you kind of learn when and where to shut up, even if you haven’t done anything wrong in the first place.
the choreographer merely sighs. “you’re lagging behind, minseok. your movements aren’t sharp enough, they’re terribly sluggish and it makes you look like you’re lagging compared to the rest. what are you, sleeping beauty? even chanyeol’s doing better than you right now. look, consult sehun or jongin when you get the chance to, okay? i don’t have time to stay back and personally coach you.” and with that he strides out of the practice room, the door banging shut behind him.
minseok leaves the empty practice room with the bitter taste of unspoken words in his mouth, choking him even as he gathers his things and stares at his haggard reflection in the mirror. i don’t even expect that much, i thought i was doing alright today. not good, no, but i thought i was managing.
mechanically, he reaches out and flips the light switch as he walks out, plunging the whole room into darkness.
//
when management wanted to choose the visuals of the group, they gathered all of exo into one big room and made them sit down facing each other. they chose jongin first - of course - as the boy who’d get more than half of the whole group’s teasers, the boy who danced like he had the world at his feet but smiled like he was thankful for it. blazing charisma onstage, adorable eyesmiles and open-mouthed laughs offstage. perfect formula for capturing hearts, no? they chose sehun next, the pretty flower boy who looked like he was a statue formed perfectly from marble, as cold and untouchable as a distant star but still attractive because of how untouchable he was. they chose lu han last, because of how he was a walking contradiction in so many ways, what with his unblinking eyes that looked like they held the night sky in between quivering long lashes yet at the same time had muscular thighs and toned calves from a decade of soccer and dancing. so delicate, yet at the same time impenetrable as a fortress.
and with that, the roles of visual in exo were decided, and minseok decided not to brood over the way management’s eyes glossed right over him even as he sat in between lu han and jongin. after all, as management had said, ‘don’t worry! you all will still have your own individual fans.’
right?
//
“okay guys! we’re almost done with practicing for the new album, go take a short water break. we’ll start again in ten minutes, okay? minseok, come see me for a bit,” the vocal coach tacks on the last sentence and minseok trudges over with trepidation in his heart. it’d been a bad practice, his voice going haywire and jumping notes, going terribly off-key, making him seem as if he were a mere rookie coming to vocal practice for the first time. jongdae passes by and claps him on the back, offering silent encouragement, and for that minseok is grateful. not so much about the physical contact, but more of the fact that somebody actually noticed his growing disappointment and made an effort to reassure him. coming to a stop in front of his vocal coach, he bows his head and waits for the acerbic words to fall. and sure enough, they do.
“kim minseok, what is wrong with you today? i’m just going to be honest here - you are terrible today. if you don’t improve by the end of the session, you’re just going to drag the whole group down with you and i’m quite sure you don’t want that.” his vocal coach rants and minseok winces as flecks of spit fly out from the coach’s mouth and land on his shirt. trying for a tentative smile, he says humbly, “i’m sorry, i’ll do better next time. please forgive me for my mistakes this time.”
his coach, however, merely snorts and at this point of time, minseok has a sudden moment of clarity and he realises that things are going to get ugly, the whole of exo is going to see him get butchered in front of this grouchy old man who is going to slaughter him with his words and leave his self-confidence cut up into so many tiny pieces he can’t even fathom how he’s going to put himself back together. ah, a great team-building exercise, this is.
“why are you smiling like that? you think it’s funny? well let me tell you something, kim minseok. you’re not hungry enough, you don’t desire things enough and if you don’t get the drive soon, you’re going to be stuck in this rut forever. your choice,” the instructor fumes before striding back to the front of the room, yelling for the other eleven members to gather while ‘minseok-sshi practices his lines by himself’.
//
it’s pretty disappointing to discover you’re bad at something. what’s going to make you feel even worse, though, is realising that you’re inadequate at something you love. and that’s the only thing going through minseok’s mind right now, making him wonder why sm even bothered debuting him with exo when everyone is infinitely more talented than he is, when he’s just going to be the weak link in an unbreakable chain.
(when he practices his lines, the effort of keeping his tears in makes his voice waver even more. minseok can see his vocal coach shaking his head resignedly at him even when they’re on opposite sides of the room.)
//
the van ride back to the dorm is noisy and cheerful, as always, all the exo members laughing at each other’s jokes or complaining about the early schedules they have the next morning. minseok’s grateful for the clamor, because it means that he can stay holed up in his little corner of the van, staring aimlessly out at the cityscape whipping by. maybe if he doesn’t think about what an abysmal day it’s been, he won’t feel like someone just scraped him out hollow, took out his vital organs with only a skeleton left.
what he doesn’t expect, though, is for yixing to tap on his arm and smile at him comfortingly, saying, “we all have the occasional bad day sometimes. you’re still amazing, though, minseokkie-hyung.”
minseok doesn’t know whether to cry or smile because yixing is so desperately earnest, so openly transparent about wanting him to believe that it’s just been an off-day when in actual fact there has always been that niggling feeling of not being on par with the group, of feeling like he’s the member with no specific role and nowhere to go. instead, he settles for a choked up ‘thanks’ and yixing’s beam as he turns to the backseat to yell at baekhyun and jongdae to shut up.
//
somehow, a few weeks later, chanyeol and minseok end up as the only members with a schedule. minseok likes chanyeol, sure, because he’s always cheery and optimistic and lightens the atmosphere as easily as breathing. as they’re on the van heading to the radio station for their talk show, minseok breaks the silence.
“how are you always so happy all the time?”
chanyeol is silent for a while, ruminating, but his eventual answer takes minseok aback. “it’s not so much happiness as it is smiling, isn’t it? i once said that no matter how hard it gets, i will always smile like an idiot. but it’s not because i’m optimistic, it’s because when i smile it gets easier to hold the tears in and pretend i’m not about to fall apart any second.” that’s when chanyeol stops, looks sharply over at minseok and continues, “you know a lot about that too, hyung. don’t you?”
minseok merely smiles in response, lips thinned out and pressed firmly together and chanyeol nods sadly in understanding.
//
when minseok is on stage and the lights are flashing in his eyes, there is a certain surge of happiness and contentment at having made it this far, standing on an endless stage chasing dreams that suddenly don’t seem so far. that maybe he could, for once, smile genuinely without using it as a form of defence.
(what he doesn’t tell anyone, though, is that the dreams dissipate into vapour when the lights blink off and they remove the gaudy stage makeup, leaving nothing but vulnerable boys scrubbed clean and stripped bare. the only makeup he can’t remove, however, is the gaudily false smile he wears everywhere nowadays.
after all, it’s become a permanent part of him, hasn’t it?)
fin.
+ i have had a shit day pls excuse. i do not mean this. i love minseok. rly.