From Thug to Idol: Transmigrating to a Survival Show - #84 - 84 What It Really Means



June nodded. Being the sub-vocalist 1 meant he would have more lines to sing. Most of the lines he liked were under this part too. 

“Shall we practice again?” Yuri asked. 

The team was about to stand up when June spoke. 

“We have to take into mind that I’m not the only one singing this song,” he said. 

His teammates looked at him before sitting back down, intrigued by his statement. 

“What do you mean, brother?” Jisung asked. 

“This song,” June started. “What do you think is the most important aspect of it?”

“A better choreography,” Leo said. 

“Impressive vocals,” Yuri chimed. 

Zeth scratched the back of his neck. “Maybe…emotions?”

“Exactly,” June said. “It’s a song built around the emotions, and I believe that’s what Hwan wanted to tell us when he criticized our performance.”

Jisung sighed. “It’s hard to do that, brother. Especially when I haven’t even fallen in love.”

Yuri chuckled, ruffling Jisung’s hair. “I agree,” he said. “Besides, even if we’ve experienced loved before, we haven’t experienced that type of love—the lying one.”

June frowned. “What do you think this song really means?”

June thought it was pretty obvious, but it seemed like these kids really didn’t know what the song meant.

“It’s confusing,” Lin Zhi answered. “The guy is contradicting himself. Why is he telling lies to the girl he loves? And why does he keep telling her to leave, only to end up regretting it in the end? I think the song means that the guy didn’t love the girl deep enough.”

“Yeah,” Yuri said. “But honestly, who’s ever had that kind of love? It’s like something out of a movie,” he chuckled. 

“What about you?” June asked Zeth. 

Zeth shrugged, looking a bit down. “I don’t know..whatever you guys said, I guess. Oh, and maybe it’s teaching people to be more truthful in their relationships?”

The group nodded in agreement, and a hint of frustration settled within June. It was clear they felt disconnected from the song’s emotional depth, which reflected on their performance a while ago. 

As they discussed the song’s emotions, a shadow flickered across June’s eyes, a distant memory resurfacing. He hesitated for a moment but eventually concluded that it would be for the betterment of the team if he shared what he thought. 

“Then, let me tell you what I think it really means,” June said.

His teammates turned to him, paying attention. 

“I’m sure we’ve all had moments where we had to put on a facade, a brave face, where we tell ourselves that everything’s fine even when things are falling apart.”

Silence settled over the group, the weight of June’s words hanging in the air. “The song we’re singing, ‘I Love You, Leave; I Don’t Love You, Don’t Leave,” is not just about romantic love.”

June remembered Mei Ling’s innocent face. 

Oh, how he missed that little rascal. If he had known that they weren’t going to be seeing each other for a long time, then June should have bought her that concert ticket. Now, all he could do was regret. 

June sighed before continuing. “It’s about the kind of love where you hold onto hope, where you pretend you’re okay because that’s the only way to keep moving forward.”

He glanced around and saw a mixture of emotions on their faces, so he decided to bring up something that they could all relate in. 

“It’s like the life of a trainee, where everything is uncertain. We don’t know when we’ll debut,” he chuckled bitterly. “We don’t know if we’d even debut after all. But we tell ourselves we’re okay because this is our dream, and we’ve already sacrificed a lot for this dream,” he glanced at Lin Zhi, whose face suddenly twisted into regret. 

“Not only that,” June continued. “But our loved ones have also invested a lot in this dream, and as much as we try to deny it, I’m sure they’re expecting something…anything that would signify that we’ve fulfilled it. So, when they call, we tell them that we’re okay, even when we’re struggling inside. I’m okay, but I’m not. I love you, leave.” 

June’s words hung in the air, leaving his teammates in silence. He finally snapped out of his emotional state to observe their faces. 

*Sniff.*

He was surprised when Jisung suddenly started tearing up, looking at him with wide eyes. “That was…that was beautiful, brother. Now I think I know what you mean.”

Yuri, too, had teary eyes. However, he quickly blinked his eyes to get rid of them. “Yeah,” he softly said. “I get it now.”

Leo swallowed the lump in his throat before nodding. 

“I was mistaken, I guess,” Lin Zhi quickly said. 

Zeth still seemed to be deep in thought, so he let him be for a while. 

Then, June stood up and clapped his hands. “Now that we’ve got the emotions down let’s start with practice.” 

As they practiced the song with their newfound perspectives, each note seemed to carry a deeper meaning. 

June nodded in approval as they finished. Their performance was already a hundred times better than what they had performed earlier. 

It somehow created a domino effect as the three choreographers huddled together, discussing the routine and how to make it more cohesive. They had made the dance routine simpler, but it was somehow more impressive. Their movements seemed to flow seamlessly, with each member expressing the song’s emotions through their gestures. It was as if everything had finally fallen into place, and the energy in the room was much brighter. 

“I think that’s it for today,” Zeth said. “Good job to us, guys. We worked really hard today. Have a good rest. We’ll meet here tomorrow. Same time.”

“Ugh, finally,” Lin Zhi groaned, stretching his body. “I’m starving.”

With that, the team members left one by one. 

However, June couldn’t shake off the feeling that not everything was okay. He turned back around to look a Zeth, who was still sitting down on the floor, appearing to be deep in thought. 

June cleared his throat. “Are ya okay?” he casually asked. 

Zeth turned to him, surprised. Then, he nodded. “Yeah, everything’s fine.”