Now before we all begin, y'all see the title of this chapter, right?
Yes. That is, in fact, the title.
And I know what all you little gremlins are thinking with those filthy minds of yours. So calm y'all's tits and dicks. Keep them coochies on airplane mode. Because there will be no nasty nasty in this chapter, capish?
I haven't even watched the whole thing myself.
So no, this ain't that kind of heated rivalry, okay?
...
Good.
Now that we've gotten the horny PSA out of the way, let's begin.
It was a busy morning.
It was finally Friday, which meant it was finally time for the auditions for the lead vocalist of the signal song. It was also evaluation day for the dance sections.
Since the signal song was divided into multiple dance styles, the trainees had to audition for each section they wanted to be part of. The more styles you mastered, the more sections you could potentially join. And the more sections you joined...
Well.
The more screentime.
The more exposure.
The more opportunities to make your mother cry on global television.
Simple math.
Soon enough, every trainee had gathered inside the square colosseum studio.
Some stretched with their eyes closed, silently rehearsing every count in their heads.
Some had their wireless earbuds in, listening to LEAVEN's signal song on loop like their lives depended on it, making sure every note was burned into muscle memory.
Others were busy doing vocal warm-ups.
And then there were the pre-performance rituals.
Some made sense.
Some... really didn't.
One trainee was aggressively rubbing copious amounts of Icy Hot onto his feet like he was seasoning a Thanksgiving turkey.
Another was quietly knitting.
Someone else was standing perfectly still, facing the wall like a child who'd just been sent into timeout by a disappointed kindergarten teacher.
Nobody questioned it.
At this point, everyone was too stressed to judge.
The nerves hanging in the air were so thick you could filet them into sashimi.
Yet no one seemed to mind.
Everyone was locked in.
Everyone...
...except the Kweens.
The Kweens were lounging in one corner like they were waiting for brunch instead of a career-defining evaluation.
Nervousness?
Jitters?
Performance anxiety?
Who's she?
Never met the bitch.
While everyone else looked one deep breath away from throwing up into the nearest trash can, the Kweens were getting ready in their own special way.
And by getting ready...
They were doing their makeup.
Because talent might get you through the audition.
But a flawless face card?
Baby, that's forever.
Foundation.
Concealer.
Setting spray.
Lip gloss.
They blended with the focus of Renaissance painters restoring the Sistine Chapel.
And somehow, despite the massive evaluation waiting just minutes away, they were chatting like they were getting ready for girls' night.
Naturally...
The conversation somehow drifted to Johnny.
Who else?
Their beloved resident boyfailure.
"Is it just me, or does Johnny look... different these days?" Aqua asked, glancing across the room.
Johnny was stretching nearby, wearing an oversized T-shirt with a giant GO JOHNNY! slogan plastered across the front, paired with track pants and sneakers.
"What do you mean, different?" Pink asked.
"I dunno how to explain it." Aqua frowned. "He was a Day One trainee just like us, but I swear he had some kind of glow-up."
Pink nodded.
"Yeah! Back during the first day of the competition, he looked... and I say this with love... like a complete loser."
A beat.
"But now?"
"He has... zing."
"A certain je ne sais quoi."
"You know what I'm saying?"
Kitty, busy applying lipstick with surgical precision, nodded.
"He's giving himbo."
A pause.
"But... not fully."
Pink slowly turned toward them.
"...It's giving but not giving?"
"Girl."
"Make it make sense, bitch."
Javi suddenly gasped.
"No! I actually get what Kitty means!"
Everyone looked at him.
"He's like... a dork."
"But an adorable dork."
"He's kinda cute. Athletic body. Doesn't exactly have a whole lot going on up here..." Javi tapped his temple with the back of his blush brush.
"But his vibes?"
"Immaculate."
"Fun."
"Husky with Wi-Fi."
"The kind of guy that is becomes the life of the party."
Everyone nodded.
"...Also."
Javi continued far too casually.
"I accidentally walked into his room the other day."
Silence.
"He had just gotten out of the shower."
The room became noticeably more interested.
"He was wearing nothing but a towel."
Pink slowly lowered her powder puff.
"...Continue."
"He got so startled when I walked in that his towel slipped."
Another beat.
"And?"
Aqua leaned in.
"And..."
Javi shrugged.
"The boy is packing."
The silence that followed could've been auctioned off.
"I've seen my fair share of dicks."
He spoke with the confidence of a seasoned museum curator.
"And his?"
"Let's just say..."
"It deserves its own postal code."
Aqua whipped around so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash.
"...AND YOU'RE ONLY TELLING US THIS NOW?!"
Javi blinked.
"I..."
"...kinda forgot."
"Hehe."
The collective gasp nearly registered on the Richter scale.
Kitty clasped both hands dramatically.
"He's such a dorky top that desperately needs a power bottom."
"Like yours truly!"
Pink snorted.
"I think Johnny would sprint into traffic if he heard you say that."
"Jealous?" Kitty shot back.
"Oop."
The claws came out.
Perfectly manicured.
Freshly painted.
Bedazzled.
Lethal.
Before someone got acrylics lodged in somebody's forehead, Aqua quickly intervened.
"Okay, okay! Break it up."
Then, in a desperate attempt to redirect the conversation...
"What about Porsche?"
"He's also a Day One trainee."
"What do y'all think of him?"
Kitty's face twisted in absolute disgust.
"First of all..."
"Ew."
"Second of all..."
"Ewwww."
"And thirdly..."
"EWWWWWWWW."
"Well damn," Aqua muttered.
Pink nodded solemnly.
"I actually agree with the bitch."
"Johnny is one thing."
"But that beefcake?"
"That's a whole different conversation."
"Have you seen him?"
"He's got muscles for brains."
"And that's genuinely the nicest thing I can say."
Javi shrugged.
"Yeah..."
"He's kinda dumb."
"But..."
He glanced toward Porsche across the room.
"...he is beefy."
"And y'all already know."
"I do enjoy my meat."
****
Hearing this, Kitty dramatically gagged.
Like, not just figuratively.
They quite literally gagged.
"Eurghhh! Keep your nasty Puerto Rican ass to yourself," Kitty groaned before clutching their nonexistent pearls.
"We love kinky shit around here, but there is a line that should never be crossed."
"And sleeping with a guy who named himself after a luxury car?"
"That's where I draw it."
"The man radiates microscopic dick energy."
"When I say microscopic..."
"I mean his dick is so tiny you'd need a stethoscope to find it."
Javi blinked.
"...Don't you mean a microscope?"
"Same thing."
Kitty dismissed the correction with a flick of their wrist.
"Anyway."
"Stay away from that man."
"You know what he did."
"I know, damn. Don't get your thong in a twist," Javi sighed. "I wouldn't go near him even if he were the last man on Earth."
Now, you might be wondering why Kitty reacted so violently to the mere mention of Porsche.
Well...
Remember those trainees from the earlier chapters?
The homophobic ones.
The walking Reddit comment sections.
The incels cosplaying as human beings.
Yeah.
Porsche was part of that lovely little friend group.
Now, to be fair, he never actually joined in on the insults himself.
He mostly kept things... professional whenever he interacted with the Kweens.
But he also never once stopped his friends.
Never defended them.
Never called them out.
He simply stood there.
Silent.
Watching.
And sometimes silence speaks louder than slurs.
So while Porsche wasn't exactly the loudest bigot in the room...
He certainly wasn't innocent either.
"Hooo, child..." Pink dramatically fanned herself.
"Why are we even talking about that man?"
Kitty pointed a perfectly manicured finger at Aqua.
"Blame that bitch."
"Hey!" Aqua gasped.
"In my defense, you two were about three seconds away from giving the cameras an entirely different reality show."
"And this ain't Keeping Up with the Kardashians."
"Desperate times call for desperate measures."
They went right back to perfecting their razor-sharp eyeliner like they hadn't just accused their friends of nearly throwing paws on live television.
"Where's Jeremiah when you need the bitch?" Pink asked.
Javi snorted.
"Oh, he's probably somewhere with Toma eating each other's faces."
"Those two haven't been able to keep their hands off each other ever since they made up."
As if summoned by the sheer force of gossip...
Jeremiah appeared.
"Yo."
He looked around at the group.
"Why do y'all look like someone cancelled brunch?"
"What's with the funeral atmosphere?"
He looked...
Very satisfied.
Satisfied from what?
I'll leave that to your imagination.
Go feral.
"Bitch, don't start," Pink deadpanned.
"Anyway," Aqua said.
"I thought you and Toma were supposed to have this whole rivalry thing going."
"So why are y'all making out every chance you get?"
Jeremiah shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Who says rivals can't kiss?"
"All is fair in love and war."
The four of them stared at him.
Slowly.
Judgmentally.
Like he had just confessed to eating cereal with orange juice.
"You sicken me," Kitty declared before returning to what was quickly becoming a masterpiece of makeup artistry.
Time continued to crawl forward as everyone finished their preparations.
The tension only grew thicker.
Then...
One trainee suddenly bolted toward the nearest trash bin.
A second later...
Blegh.
Breakfast made its grand return.
"Welp..." Corsair winced.
"There goes that guy's breakfast."
Yone immediately stood up.
"Unc, where you going?" Ryu called after him, barely hiding the grin on his face.
"I'm going to help him."
Yone shot both Ryu and Corsair a glare after noticing the pair snickering like two children who had just discovered the word 'butt.'
"You two really think it's funny calling me old?"
"I'm thirty."
"Thirty."
"Is thirty old now?"
He pointed a finger at both of them.
"Remember this day."
Then he walked away.
The amusement instantly evaporated from Ryu and Corsair's faces.
Knowing Yone...
That tone meant consequences.
"Ojisan...!"
Ryu froze.
"...No, wait! That made it worse!"
"Yone-nii! I'm sorry!"
But Yone didn't even acknowledge him.
He just kept walking.
Corsair immediately pointed at Ryu with absolutely zero hesitation.
"Why am I getting punished?"
"He's the one who called you 'Unc'!"
"Don't drag me into your crimes!"
Ryu whipped around.
"Traitor!"
"I prefer the term survivor," Corsair replied without missing a beat.
And just like that...
The preparations continued.