Jongin loved nights like these. He loved to lean against the window and stare out into the blank darkness that made him blind to the outside. He loved to press his ear up against the window and hear the soft pitter patter of water droplets hitting the windows. He loved it all. On nights like these, he would close his eyes and keep his ear pressed against the window and take a short nap. Although his position was awkward, and there was no wall against his back to support him,  he’s been doing this type of thing for so many nights. But his sleep was suddenly disturbed. Jongin opened his eyes wide with shock when he heard the sound of the door of the ballet room he was in creak open. He looked at the tall figure standing at the doorsill, gulping as he saw his mouth open slightly, frozen. The man spoke as if he saw Jongin holding a knife in his hand, hovering over his victim. The man’s words were dripping with anger. And the man whispered, and even though he was far away from where Jongin was standing, Jongin knew he could hear him very clearly.

“Why are you wearing a tutu?”