Once upon a Pirouette - Lee Sungyeol

He didn’t like watching people move. He didn’t like seeing them run around, jump, spin, leap, or even walk. It pained him, everytime someone ran by laughing as though without a care in the world. It hurt him, looking at those ballerinas dancing with such ease, like shredded paper flying amongst the winds. It killed him, knowing that what he wanted was beyond reach, impossible.

The memories flooded whenever he was alone. They tore him apart, the fairytale and the reality. It was pure insanity, the attacks from his long-gone past. He didn’t want to remember, but they didn’t want to leave. Every single day, those voices echoed around in his empty room, trapping him in the middle of that whirlpool. They came from all directions, invisible vines creeping past his hands and reaching his mind.

Once upon a time, he was happy.

Once upon a time, he was a dancer.

Once upon a time, he was in love.

Once upon a time…but there were no ‘once upon a time’s. They were merely beautiful untruths spun by the deluded ones, that was all.

She didn’t know he was always there. She didn’t see the boy watching through the glass windows. She never saw the conflicted expressions he wore, the slight smile on his lips, the pride and agony in his eyes, the longing that threatened to overwhelm him each and every time.

She was perfect, beautiful in every way. There were no flaws, none at all. It brought him back to those days when perfection was nothing but a distant dream, a sacred promise that he never knew she would keep. Her tears and cries. Her frustration and tempers. Her downcasted eyes and tired face. Her falls and bruises. Her pride and determination. Her smiles and laughter.

Her first, perfect pirouette.

He was happy for her when she enrolled into that prestigious school. After years and years of waiting, she was finally one step closer to that dream. Closer to reaching his world. That night, he took her out for a spin and they ended up by the white-capped tides, where they left footprints in the soft white sand. Footprints, washed away so effortlessly by the blue waves.

He remembered the scene clearly. The shouting and sobbing was utterly unbearable. Her tear-streaked face tortured him, knowing he could do nothing but watch through the iron gates. Her crumpled form lay on the ground, shaking as the rain sliced through the air and beat down relentlessly. When she was finally let out, he held her close and covered them both with an umbrella, attempting to block out the hurt coming at her from all directions. He took out a single rose, handing it to her. She grasped onto the stalk tightly, as though letting go would cost her something dear. He bent down and met her lips tenderly, locking his arms around her waist.

Her grip loosened, the harsh wind tossing his rose onto the road. When she noticed, she broke away and ran towards it, picking it up and carressing the petals gently, momentarily forgetting about the man standing on the sidewalk. She didn’t see his eyes fill with terror. She didn’t see him sprinting towards her. She only saw the pool of red and the man she loved lying in his own blood, eyes closed.

She turned to the window, seeing the silhouette of a boy outlined by the evening sun. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly. He looked familiar. His head lifted and their eyes met.

“Concentrate.”

When the last pirouette had been completed, all she saw was a wheelchair trundling into the distance, and the back view of a broken boy she once knew.