And thus — the day of the evaluations arrived.
The island woke up differently. That particular kind of energy in the air that settles into the skin before the brain fully catches up — buzzing, electric, the kind that makes everything feel slightly more vivid than usual. Trainees everywhere squeezing out last minute rehearsals, final touch-ups, desperate polishings of things that were either ready or weren't at this point. The crew moving with purpose in every direction — stage setup, livestream setup, venue setup, the thousand invisible details that have to align perfectly for a show to look effortless from the outside.
Hair done. Makeup done. Costumes on.
The show was about to begin.
The newcomers held their breath collectively, bodies humming with nerves and anticipation and the specific terror of a first time. The OG LEAVEN trainees were slightly more composed — not because the nerves weren't there, but because they had learned, through repeated exposure and survival, how to carry them without showing the full weight.
With, of course, notable exceptions.
Exhibit A: Jeremiah. Our ever-loving, hypersexual, boundary-pushing, confidence-having, borderline-cocky diva. Currently just... chilling. Fully, completely, unbothered chilling — like this was any other Tuesday and not the day of a major evaluation that would determine the trajectory of his entire dream. Unbothered was not a strong enough word. Jeremiah had transcended unbothered.
Exhibit B: Mikko. Our ever-loving, coo-coo-bananas German specimen. Currently in the waiting room. Asleep. The show was minutes away and Mikko was, by all available evidence, having a perfectly pleasant nap. No notes.
And then there was Zen — who was nervous, genuinely, but didn't have the bandwidth to actually feel it right now because his laptop was open and his psychology thesis was not going to write itself and Zen had a mother, and that mother had expectations, and that was frankly more terrifying than any evaluation.
The boy was juggling his dreams and his degree simultaneously, brow furrowed in that adorable concentrated knit that happened when he was fully locked in, one hand on his laptop and the other sliding his phone across to Lemon every time communication was required.
Speaking of which —
As for you, dear reader?
...
How's your workload going?
...
This author would like to formally apologize for that. It was unintentional. Mostly. Either way — this author loves all of you deeply and sincerely and means no harm whatsoever.
Right? 😘
Anyway.
"How," Lemon said, sitting across from Zen with the baffled expression of someone watching something that should not be physically possible, "are you doing school work right now? It's your FIRST evaluation. You're allowed — encouraged, even — to be at least a little bit of a mess right now."
Zen didn't look up. Typed with one hand. Slid the phone across.
Lemon picked it up and read aloud:
"I am nervous, don't get me wrong. It's just that the thought of failing and my mom killing me is significantly scarier. So I'll be nervous for the performance when we're actually about to go on stage. Right now I need to focus on this."
Lemon stared at the phone. Then at Zen. Then back at the phone.
"Fair enough actually," he said, setting it back down with the quiet respect of someone who had just been given a perspective adjustment.
"You better be giving nothing less than a hundred percent the moment you step on that stage," Liam said, from across the room, not looking up.
Zen typed. Slid the phone to Lemon again.
Lemon cleared his throat and read, with full announcement energy:
"Don't worry. I'll give it everything I have."
A beat.
"He said," Lemon added, for accuracy.
****
And so, the evaluations began.
Cat took the stage like she was born on it — which, honestly, was a reasonable hypothesis — gorgeous and composed and carrying the particular energy of someone who knew exactly how to hold a room and enjoyed every second of it.
"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen and everyone in between!" Her voice filled the space with the ease of someone who had never once been intimidated by a microphone. "Welcome to the very first evaluations of the second half of LEAVEN! Are you READY?!"
The livestream erupted.
"Tonight's theme," Cat continued, settling into it, "is 'How to Adapt.' The future is fickle. Unpredictable. And even with the most thorough preparation imaginable, there will always be circumstances that catch us off guard. So what do we do?" She let the question sit for exactly the right amount of time. "We adapt. To the best of our abilities. In real time. With whatever we have."
"The greatest example I can offer is our very own LEAVEN and their performance at the Golden Disk Awards. By every reasonable measure, it was a miracle that they finished that performance at all — and yet they did, every mishap and all, and they delivered something people are still talking about. Because they adapted." A smile. "As the saying goes — when life gives you lemons? You make lemonade."
The livestream was fully invested.
@Rumi: YASS QUEEN! One lemonade please! 🍋🍋🍋
@OverCaffeinated: Cat is giving Shakespeare and I LIVE for every second of it!!!
@Godiva: such wise words. truly.
"Now — each team has drawn a number from a bag. That number corresponds to a specific stage mishap that will occur during their performance. The challenge is simple: will they adapt — or will they fall?"
The waiting room detonated.
"WAIT." The voice came from somewhere in the middle of the collective chaos. "I thought the challenge WAS preparing a second performance in the middle of the week. That wasn't the actual challenge?!"
"I think," Taylor said slowly, with the frown of a man reassessing everything, "they're really committing to the adapt theme."
"May the odds be ever in our favor," someone said, in the solemn tone of a man making peace with his circumstances.
"It's kind of like cheerleading, right?" Jeremiah said, with the calm philosophical ease of someone who had simply arrived at a conclusion and was sharing it. "Sometimes you're at the top of the pyramid. Sometimes you're at the bottom. The best performers know how to handle both."
Everyone in the vicinity turned to look at him.
"Knowing you," Louie said, studying Jeremiah's face with genuine uncertainty, "and your general energy as a person — why does that sound like it has absolutely nothing to do with cheerleading?"
Jeremiah smiled. Said nothing further. Which was somehow worse.
@Corn⭐: Jeremiah is bringing the tea piping hot and I am burning my tongue and I don't even care.
@LegalEagleKween: I mean. A truly considerate partner is always attentive to preferences and adaptable to circumstance. If we are allegedly discussing what I think we are allegedly discussing.
@MileyCircus: oh he is ABSOLUTELY talking about that 👀👀👀
"Without further ado," Cat announced, bright and certain, "let's get this show on the road!"
The livestream erupted in cheers.
Up first — a group containing three OG trainees, plus three faces worth noting specifically.
Jeremiah. Our beloved hypersexual, boundary-optional, unbothered diva who had spent pre-show minutes simply chilling while lesser mortals panicked around him.
Louie. Italian. A returnee — someone who had been part of the original LEAVEN journey, had to step away for health reasons, and had come back with the particular quiet determination of a person who knows exactly what it cost them to be here and isn't wasting a second of it.
And Yen. Zen's twin. His voice in every room, his pillar, the other half of a whole — standing on a stage without his brother for the first time, in his own right, carrying his own name.
Their song for the male artist performance?
🥁 Drum roll, please 🥁
Here's Your Perfect — Jamie Miller.
****
PS —
Okay guys, first of all, I am SO sorry for not being able to update yesterday! 😭
For those of you that don't know, I'm currently living in a place where the weather has apparently decided that it personally has something against me. It is HELLA hot right now. Like, unreasonably, criminally, what-did-I-do-to-deserve-this hot. The kind of hot that makes sleeping basically a fever dream — pun very much intended — and yours truly ended up sleep deprived with a killer headache to match. So yeah, that happened. Nature said no updates for you today and I had absolutely zero say in the matter.
BUT.
I just want to say — from the very bottom of this overcaffeinated, slightly unhinged, perpetually fried little heart of mine — thank you. Genuinely, sincerely, whole heartedly THANK YOU for sticking with me and this story. You guys have no idea how much it means, like actually means, to this author who is just out here doing their best while simultaneously melting in this ungodly heat. 😭🥹
Y'all are the real ones. The patrons of this little bakery of mine. 🥖✨
Now let me go drink some water before I actually combust.
Your beloved, slightly coco-bananas, currently sweaty author. 😘