Jongin's  POV

“Yah! Jongin, took you long enough to get here!” It’s a race to get to the classroom before someone realizes I was Jongin, the dancer they called Kai. I slip into the class and a crowd surrounds me the minute I step in.

Pulling my hood lower, I can feel my waist crack when my bows and my apologies asking them to leave me alone reached an uncountable amount. My muscles protest from the movement, still sore from morning practice.

I finally reach the back of the room where my dear friend Chanyeol sat smirking at my messy clothes and me. I whack him over the head playfully, and I hear cameras snapping when my hood falls off. He rolls his eyes, and opens his mouth, “Ah---the ever famous Kai graces us with his presence.” My eyes narrow at him dangerously, “Why in the world would you announce my name when you see me?” This time, he’s the one who asks the fans to leave.

Finally everyone’s at their seats and everything goes back to normal. No more squealing, no more cameras clicking, no more groping fans. I stretch lazily in my seat, and suddenly the door bangs open. Ah, ---so the ice prince enters the room with a bang today.

A quiet stillness infuses the room--the way his eyes look around him coldly with a slight indent of a frown on his brow. I can’t read what he’s thinking, but I can’t help but admire the charisma and distance he sets around himself. No one approaches him---or rather, they simply cannot.

All the girls squeal among themselves without getting up, and phones click silently as he walks by. He has a slouch, a signature bad boy slink that makes all the girls swoon even more just at the mere thought. He’s rich, he’s got the looks, he has the demeanour, and he’s perfect.

Boys can’t even shove or push him around like they do to me, because they’re either too afraid of his parents and the headmaster---or they find him perfectly appealing too.

The class watches him, everyone sighing quietly at the way his gaze was so untouchably dreamy, and the way his thin arms seems to ripple with every movement revealing the faint contour of his thin chest and back. His hair stood up in the perfect places, slightly messy. He releases his bag onto his desk, and reaches into it.

For a minute, I could sense a fleeting moment of shock emitting from his body language---before it all disappears, as his eyes shifts towards the rest of the class. His gaze shifts down after a while, and he slides into his seat smoothly. The class resumes its boisterous level and everyone stops watching him self-consciously. We can’t be blamed for how he simply had a presence that demanded our attention.

I look towards Chanyeol---his mouth is still left open and he’s blatantly drooling over Baekhyun. I pinch his nose and he struggles back to reality, “Jongin--what the hell are you doing?” I laugh, “Yeollie, don’t forget your dearly beloved twin tower.” He blushes as he remembers his boyfriend and he runs a hand through his messy hair when he thinks about Kris. His deep laugh along his red ears bring a few cameras back out.

The flickering gazes toward the boy across from us in the back are much more obvious, but Baekhyun seemed to have gotten used to it. He looks out the window blankly, his mind anywhere but here. The girls swoon, they giggle, they fantasize with their voices.

One girl accidentally slides her friend’s textbook of her desk. Her friend yells, “Yah! Pick it up!” The girl chuckles, “It’s just a waste of space. Leave it,” but she concedes and bends down. Baekhyun flinches for a minute, but just slouches further into his seat, and I wonder if he likes it or not.

The bell rings, and the math teacher enters the room. No one gives her the excited welcomes that the school celebrities were given. She speaks in a monotone about parabolas and equations---we’ve learnt this stuff a few times already.

As a part of the dance crew, Chanyeol and I get extra lessons just in case our competitions clash with class times. And they do, except our extra lessons have become our normal lessons because of how slow our teacher teaches.

Chanyeol’s face is now buried behind his textbook, his breath evening out. Typical day, he sleeps through every math class. I attempt to take notes, but I get lost somewhere along the second time our teacher explains parabolas again. This class is boring so my gaze drifts around the room.

My eyes rest on Baekhyun and I test out the name on my tongue. Byun Baekhyun. No one knows much about him, except that he was the first son of the founders of Byun conglomerate and that he didn’t go to the prestigious high school that all the wealthy kids went to because something happened. I think it was in the news, but I can’t quite recall what exactly. No wonder everyone called him the ice prince. He was a mystery.

He ended up at our school for the Arts and music. Everyone knows how the headmaster dotes on him---especially with the music course just for this “little genius.”

I accidentally sigh a bit too loudly, my lips curling downward from boredom. The teacher hears it and asks me a question, “Kim Jongin! If you’re so bored, come up here and explain this equation.” I can feel a goofy grin lifting my lips. Finally, something to do at last! ---So I nod and glide up to the front.

The teacher watches in utter shock when I begin the equation, my voice broodingly quiet when I explain. However, the class stills and I find many attentive eyes listening to my explanation of the concepts. They nod in understanding without complaint. Crap, the teacher’s going to be mad--I didn’t think this straight.

Chanyeol finally looks up from behind his textbook, and lets out a barking chuckle in his sleepy voice when he finds me standing at the front, slightly mortified as I glance at the teacher’s furious expression. The girls are fanning themselves for some reason. It’s not that hot in here….

Baekhyun is still looking out the window, his eyes blankly gazing outside, his pen already stuffed back in his bag. He stirs, but my attention is drawn back to the teacher. She looks at me impatiently, “Mr. Kim, back to your seat.” Her voice barely conceals her anger, “And thank you.” I bow as she takes her place again, and she huffily requests a homework check.

Groans can be heard in various places throughout the class as girls whine to her. The teacher is unmoved, and she marks them for what they get. She gets to the back row. Her gaze drifts to Baekhyun, but she doesn’t ask for his homework. The ice prince doesn’t even give her a glance, his features not even showing a speck of recognition.

She now faces Chanyeol and me, and holds her hand out expectantly at me. I grin sheepishly, and she thinks I didn’t do my homework. I hand her my completed sheets and she narrows her eyes, but nods an okay. She’s not too bad I guess. She takes one glance at Chanyeol, who had fallen right back to sleep again, and she just sighs and turns away.

I nudge Chanyeol awake, and he opens one questioning eye blearily. Giving up, I shake my head, “Nothing.” He stretches and finally decides to wake up anyway. A loud crack in his shoulder shocks the whole class and giggles erupt. Our dance session in the morning must have taken a toll on the both of us. We really did not want to move, but we laugh along with the class.

The bell rings and the teacher, she dismisses us. We bow and she leaves, as everyone scrambles to pack and head to the next class. I spot Baekhyun slinking out of the class with his bag on, and I wonder if I should try to talk to him. Would he shoot me down, like his cold exterior suggests? Chanyeol has already left me to look for Kris and I’m left with a bunch of girls crowding around me. Great, I’m going to be late…again.

The next class is a bore. Nothing interests me and it’s my turn to fall asleep. By the time the bell rings again, my eyes open blurrily and I hear squeals around me. I look up, and girls’ voices explode in my ears. I flinch at the sound and I look around for the chemistry teacher. Gone---oh no, I’m going to have to learn the content myself now.

I stumble out of the room and a loud yell from the physics classroom across the hall catches my attention. ““RICH JERK! WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FOR?” Heads turn towards the commotion and there was the ice prince, staring blankly at the jock who was making a fuss. Woojin cusses at the shorter man.

“You think you can shove people around since you’re the rich kid the headmaster loves? Huh?” The taller boy pokes Baekhyun in the chest hard. He stumbles backwards without a change in expression. Rather, it got more forlorn and cold---but it seemed like he couldn’t react? I turn to a girl near me, “Hey, what happened?”

Her eyes grew wide when I tapped her on the shoulder, and she stutters out, “Well, Baekhyun was heading out of the classroom when he ran into Woojin.” I nod thoughtfully and thank her. I’m about to step in when a girl from inside the classroom storms out, “Woojin, screw off!” And the whole area bursts into indignant cries for Woojin to leave the poor boy alone. “Woojin-yah! You shouldn’t yell at him like that!”

Amidst all the cries, the prince bends and bows fleetingly before he slouches away quickly. There seemed to be a tinge of red dusting his pale cheeks, but he looked down, eyes rapidly blinking. I edge forward and wink at the girls angrily yelling back and forth with Woojin, “Hey, hey---stop it. Baekhyun-ssi already bowed as an apology. Let’s leave it at that.”

I wrapped an arm around Woojin’s shoulders awkwardly, especially since he’s much taller, and he stares at me like I’m nuts. I shrug, “Hey, nice to meet you. I’m Jongin from the dance department.” He rolls his eyes, “Shut up, Jongin. Who doesn’t know you?” I widen my eyes, “Baekhyun?” He chuckles, and takes my arm off of him. “Funny jerk.” He ruffles my hair oddly for a guy of his build and leaves me standing there cross-eyed.

A faint memory of Baekhyun’s retreating back is imprinted on my mind. I sigh and head to the dance studio in the other section of the school. The dance program here was another “first priority” listing, so dancers had an integrated schedule specifically for half a day of studies and half a day for dance, just like the model and music students. The bell rings again. Shoot me dead, Hyoyeon-noona wasn’t going to be happy, and neither was Taemin-hyung. I was late. Again.

And, I was right. They yelled at me for five minutes straight and in two minutes, I was nearly publicly changed into loose sweats and a cut-off tee, ready for their hellish training. Chanyeol is laughing with Kris who popped by during his spare period. They see me and they start laughing. I walk over, my eyes narrowing on Chanyeol, who squeals and cracks in his low voice and hides behind Kris.

“Jesus, Chanyeol---haven’t you heard enough squealing from those girls for a lifetime?” The lanky elfish friend of mine peeks out from behind Kris. The two of them take one look at each other, and they burst into laughter again.

Kris had this dorky, gummy smile on his face that made him look completely opposite of his usual chiselled doll look. Chanyeol’s twitching from his laughing, and I can’t help but look at the two of them and laugh along. Hyoyeon calls us over a few seconds later, and begins the warm-ups. Kris leaves after pecking his boyfriend on the cheek, leaving him flaming red.

Two hours pass in a blink and Hyoyeon yells for us to gather around for lunch: Pizza on delivery. Chanyeol protests at having lunch in the studio again, “Noona,” he whines, “Please, please, please, can we go to the cafeteria?” Hyoyeon glares at him and slaps his curly head lightly, “Not a chance. The last time I let you go, we couldn’t tear you away from Kris afterwards.” He juts out his chin and our dance leader rolled her eyes.

Taemin makes fun of Key and being the diva that he is, Key sasses him right back up. Hyoyeon separates the two before their argument trashes the food. The room bursts with laughter, the cheerful close-knit family ties appearing stronger than ever.

We’re all busy scarfing down all the food, and the pizza is all gone in 10 minutes flat. I stretch my muscles properly, patting my stomach in satisfaction with the good food. Chanyeol pokes my arm, “Ehhh---Jonginnie, when did you get these?” He pokes at my biceps that somehow grew since the beginning of the year. Blame the intense dance practices.

They gather around me, “Oooh, Jongin, flex your arm.” Hyoyeon’s voice was amusingly excited. I squirm when I feel their hands all over me, poking and tickling me playfully. Lunchtime ends, and somehow, I’m more exhausted now than I was from dancing. Hyoyeon laughs at me, but mercilessly orders practice to resume. We groan as our joints and muscles creak sadly.

Her hellish demands take a toll on us, and young Sehun in the corner just sits down as the day ends, not a muscle willing to move. Buckets of sweat pouring of our bodies make the ground slippery and both Chanyeol and Taemin slip more than once. When even Hyoyeon finally crashes down in exhaustion, she ends our practice.

I can feel my legs shake when I stand to grab my ringing phone. Checking the caller ID, I yell, “See ya guys tomorrow! I’m crashing home first.” They all nod exhaustedly; barely able to even raise their heads from their positions sprawled out on the ground. Chanyeol stands up with me but I shake my head. “Yeollie, go home with Kris after a break--I know you guys want to spend some time alone.” He blushes lightly and thanks me, smiling.

The phone rings insistently, and I finally answer nervously with a deep breath, “Mum?” Her voice is light but I can tell she is slightly irritated, “Jongin, dinner time.” She hangs up abruptly, and I know she’s mad. Both my parents support my love for dancing, but my mom gets very irritated when I’m late for dinner.

Well, if she’s mad already---I stumble blindly in the dark halls, not trying to loiter nor hasten my steps. Frowning, I look through my bag. I forgot my math binder in my locker. Sending a brief glance up at the dimly lit signs in the halls, I sigh and head towards the opposite side of the school. My locker has to be on the opposite side of the dance studio.

I’m walking towards my locker, but with every step, I can hear the sound of someone singing. I rub my eyes tiredly. Am I hallucinating or is it real? The softest, most angelic voice I ever heard finally permeates my senses clearly. It is real.

I can feel my curiosity spiking and gliding silently nearer towards the unknown door from which the sound was coming from, I lean my ear on the door. Who---? With my weight pressing on the door, it opens without a sound, and when I finally see who it is, my face freezes without a minute to spare. My jaw slackens like there’s no tomorrow.

“Baby don’t cry tonight eodumi geochigo namyeon

Baby don’t cry tonight eobseotdeon iri doel geoya

Mulgeopumi doeneun geoseun nega aniya kkeutnae mollaya haetdeon

So baby don’t cry cry nae sarangi neol jikil teni.

Baby don’t cry tonight after the darkness passes

Baby don’t cry tonight it’ll become as if it never happened

You’re not the one to disappear into foam, something you never should’ve known

So Baby don’t cry cry my love will protect you.”

He’s beautiful, that is to be expected, but the voice that no one ever hears is otherworldly. It does not belong to this world, but to a higher dimension. All I can do is gape at him in the centre of the room blankly, sparks rushing through my veins. He’s standing straight while his voice soars through the school. The song ends, and I think I let out too loud a breath. His head turns sharply and he sees the door ajar with me on the threshold, and his small hands grip the mic tightly. His eyes are wide. My nerves sparkle with a desire to dance to his voice.

My brain has short-circuited upon discovering his presence in the secluded music room, the one room that was “forbidden” for any other students other than him, as the principal had designated. My voice is lost within a sea of awe, and the other boy’s words are incoherent to me. I try to grab my voice back from the unknowns, but to no avail. No one has ever rendered me speechless before, but he is a first.

His stance shifts around nervously, and his back curves forward, hiding himself. I want to protest, to tell him to show his own self to the world like he should, like he usually seems to do, but my voice is caught. I can only watch deafly as he scrambles to switch off everything and then come towards me. Invisible chains tie me down from helping him as he stumbles. I saw the catch in his step, but still, I stood in the doorway.

My eyes drift along his bare arms, unable to take my eyes off the flawless curve of lightly toned muscle and the snowy skin. I felt a yank on my own shirt, and my heart is pounding away from his never-before acute nearness. I can feel the warmth from his hand fluttering where my shirt was being gently tugged. My half-lidded gaze meets his eyes for a minute and I’m lost.

He turns his gaze down and I wish I could bring it back up. I want to reach out and straighten that back once more, but his soft voice freezes me in my place once again. “P-please, I won’t do it again. I promise. I-I’m s-s-sorry.” His voice goes even lower, “Don’t tell---please.” My finger twitches to try to catch him, but sleeker and faster than wind, he disappears like a ghost.

The only impression I am left with is pure shock, and utter, complete, drop dead interest. The remnants of his voice echo in the room, now cold without its former shining presence. It’s the first time I had ever seen that side to him.

The Ice Prince, Byun Baekhyun. Is it queer to feel special, that I was the only one who heard his voice? That I was the single person who knew his secret? I can finally feel my brain again, numb from awe, and numb from the sheer sound of hearing his voice for once.

I can feel my body once again, and the soreness of my muscles drifts back to me. Baekhyun’s presence from before when he was here lifted it, but now all I want to do is splat on the ground and never move again until he comes back. My thoughts resurface on my mind and I can think again, yet somewhere in the back, Baekhyun’s face and his voice still lingers there.

My phone suddenly vibrates and shocks me out of nowhere. Should I pick up and risk getting yelled at? Nope. I decide to postpone getting yelled at and instead, at least leave the school with a light heart after getting such a nice surprise today. I stroll out of the school after having grabbed all my books and stuff from my locker. I’m supposed to run home today, but I think time is quite urgent now.

It’s late, nearing 7:15 at night and my mom is already quite worked up. I finally hail a taxi in hopes of getting home earlier. Thank the lord I did, because as soon as I got in, the rain starts to pour down in bucket loads. The pitter patter of the raindrops hitting the window makes me shiver. Wiping my hand on the window to clear up the condensation, I manage to catch a glimpse of the angel that disappeared on me. It seems I have run into him quite a number of times today.

I want to tell the driver to pick him up too, but the car flashes by too quickly, and all I am left with is a memory and a retreating image of Baekhyun. The image of him with his eyes closed as he stands in the rain, facing the sky; one of the rare times where his face is peaceful. He’s beautiful, although my mind wonders if he catches a cold, who will take care of him? The rain slides off of him, but still, the water droplets reflect the little light from behind him. It makes him glow---exactly like the angel he is.

I’m slightly jealous of not being the kids standing behind him, admiring him. I could see their eyes sliding up and down his slender form with his cut-off tee drenched and stuck to his body. I wish I could tell him, wish he would talk to me once again. My eyelids droop down with my thoughts lingering about the Byun Prince. How I wish I had tried talking to him before---maybe tomorrow.

The car jerks to a stop and I feel nervousness entering my body in preparation of facing my angry mother. I quickly pay the taxi fare and rush out into the rain. I reach the door, but before I even step on the first step of stairs leading to my front door, the door itself is yanked open harshly. Crap.

My mom’s angry frown fills my face up in a second but she yanks me in before she starts yelling at me. I can see my dad behind her, simply sitting at the table. “Kim Jongin, young man, where have you been?” she yells at me. My dad stares past me at the table without a word. I look down and I see what he sees.

The food was cold. My mom must have put a lot of hard work into making dinner for me tonight. It’s all my favourites and I feel guilt rushing through me. I feel my own spine bending forward into a bow of apology. I put my dancing, my school, and my interests before my parents. Tears are forming behind my mom’s eyes, as she finally calms down. I feel her arms around me as her voice lowers into a whisper beside me ear.

Shakily, she encompasses me in a tight hug, “Jongin-ah, I was just worried. What if you couldn’t come home because of the rain?” Father clears his throat and looks the other way as he runs his hand through his thinning hair before finally saying, “Son, just understand that we do worry that you overwork yourself sometimes, you know? We’ll always be proud, but you need to take care of yourself too.”  My mom blinks carefully and stands up again.

She ruffles my hair before sitting down at the table. I drop all my things in my room before running back down to sit at the table, ignoring the groans and creaks of my legs. It’s a relief when I finally sit down at the table with my parents again and we dig in. Although the food is cold, it tastes like the most excellent dish I ever had, simply because I can taste the affection my mom put in it. It melts on my tongue.

We finish in less than half an hour and I get up to help my mom with the dishes. She slaps me cheerfully on the like when I was younger and I let out a yelp, “MUM!” My father laughs warmly. She laughs and shoos me up the stairs into my room, “Go shower first. You stink! AND don’t forget to do your homework! You have morning practice again tomorrow, so finish and sleep early.” I send her a grateful smile and hug her before climbing up the stairs like an old man from sheer exhaustion.

Gratitude permeates my mind when I think of my parents. My mind suddenly flashes Baekhyun’s slender form through my head, and I wonder if he ever feels the same warmth. Shrugging, I gently push the thought out of my head; he probably has nice parents too. He seems like the type. The hot water from the shower relaxes my muscles and it makes me look forward to the next morning.

Finally, the silence of my room calms me down when I come back out. I grab a pair of glasses and change into a set of comfy clothes. Racing through my homework, I’m done in two hours. Should I study? Nope. I decide to watch the hottest dance videos of the day, until I realize I’m not watching them with my usual interest. I shut off the laptop and throw myself on the inviting bed.

Something was wrong with me, because every time I close my eyes, my newfound worries flood my mind. I remember the way Baekhyun slouches. No longer do I think it’s because he’s got the bad boy swag. No longer do I think of him of that icy figure reigning over the hearts of students. No longer is simply he the rich guy in the corner that everyone admires from afar. He is way more complicated than that, and I knew something about him that no one else did though.

I wanted to reach out and straighten him up, because he was so beautiful, the world should be able to see it and compliment it as well. He doesn’t see it himself, but everyone else does. That much I understood and I want to make him see it.

 I remember the way he sang alone, his voice vibrant. I wanted to show the world his talent. But then, I remember his shaky stutters, his nervous glances, and his terrified expression facing me when I heard him. My question is why? Was it his past, or something else? My curiosity explodes and my rapid stretching in bed makes me fall off the bed.

My blankets tumble off with me, and I find myself tangled in a knot of bed sheets and clothes. With hurried steps forthcoming, my mom peeks in with a slightly worried look before bursting out into laughter. She pulls out her phone and snaps a picture before I can even protest blankly. I sigh as she helps me up gently. She flips the lights off as she tucks me in like a baby and whispers, “Yah—Jongin, can you hurry up and get a date?”

My eyes fly open in the dark as she giggles uncharacteristically. “Why?” my shocked voice echoes. It is too out of the blue. She responds, “I really need to show someone the collection of pictures I have of you.”  The door closes and I sigh apologetically. She knows that dance was on my mind too much.

The thought crosses my mind a second too quickly, because I’m reminded of the ice prince again—something other than dance. I bury my face deeper into my pillow. His face still roams my mind like a song on replay. Byun Baekhyun, I’m going to crack the ice around you one day. I swear I’ll talk to you when tomorrow comes along---I swear.

Swirling dreams begin to drag me under, until I remember the rain. Crap, I hope he’s not sick. Baekhyun…Baekhyun…Baekaslkk…bacon----asldkflk.

“I can show you the world

Shining, shimmering, splendid

Tell me, princess, now when did

You last let your heart decide?

I can open your eyes

Take you wonder by wonder

Over, sideways and under

On a magic carpet ride

A whole new world

A new fantastic point of view---”

---“A Whole New World”, Aladdin.