Give me an answer     

            


Jongin stares into the blackness that is his plain cup of coffee. Sitting alone in the busy café across the street from school, he finds himself drifting. Thinking of things here nor there. The workshops are soon. Which means he has little time to perfect his routine. He should be practicing. He wants to practice. After all, even though the workshop isn’t a showcase, like the Head of Admissions said, it gives them all a chance to spread their voice. It gives them a platform, in which major companies and industry insiders visit to get a look at the up and coming talent. It’s a good thing. It gets him a step closer to where he needs to be.


Jongin sighs and takes a sip of the bitter liquid in his cup, cringing as it curls around his tongue and slides down his throat. At least it’s warm, he supposes.


“You want some sugar?” Xiumin asks with a chuckle, seeing the young dancer struggling across the counter from him.


Jongin shakes his head.


Xiumin eyes the younger. He only knows that Jongin is the friend of his friend Luhan and that he attends the Performing Arts school across the street, as many of his patrons do. He assumes from the black tights, that he’s a dancer of some sort. And while, Xiumin thinks some of Jongin’s choice in friends are questionable, there’s something different about him than the regular teen he sees day in and day out. Jongin’s quite serious, or perhaps mature for his age? He can’t really tell. But judging by the altercation he witnessed the other day between Jongin and another boy, he guesses the young dancer has a lot going on. Still, Xiumin struggles to understand the relationship between Taemin and Jongin. They seem friendly, but. . . “Hope you’re not waiting for Taeminnie. He’s got the day off today.”


Startled, Jongin looks up. “Taemin-nie?”


Xiumin just stares back expectantly until he realizes. “Oh, hah. Habit, I guess.”


“Taemin-nie . . .” Jongin repeats, letting it roll off his tongue. He chuckles. “It’s cute. It suits him.” Except . . . it sounds weird coming from Xiumin’s mouth. He frowns and shakes his head. “No, I’m not waiting for him.”


Xiumin purses his lips together and gives a little nod of understanding, not really knowing how to further the conversation. Luckily, he doesn’t need to, but he gets slightly alarmed when the boy from the other day walks through the door and makes his way up to the counter.


“Hey.” D.O. greets Jongin before ordering a black coffee as well. “So, how are you?”


Jongin smirks. “Honestly? I felt better before you walked through the door.”


D.O. ignores the statement and gives Jongin a once over. His eyes are ringed and swollen. “You shouldn’t practice so much. You look like .”


Jongin snorts. “Thanks.”


“The body’s like a rubber band, you know. You can stretch it and stretch it, but it will eventually break if pulled too hard.”


“I’m sure you’ve said that a lot.”


D.O stares back, unwavering in his gaze. “Maybe not enough.”


Jongin shrugs. “Well, I guess you know where my work ethic comes from. She was never satisfied with second place. Something I always admired. No matter how hard it got, she never quit."


“And for what?” D.O. asks.


Confused by the question, Jongin straightens. “For what?” He repeats.


“Why did she push herself so far for something she didn’t even love?”


Jongin frowns as his head starts shaking back and forth. He stares into his coffee again, anywhere really to avoid those big dark eyes, but unfortunately, he can’t escape. For D.O’s eyes seem to almost match the black shade of liquid in the cup. So dark, it would seem bottomless, but just because it appears that way, doesn’t make it so. “That’s not true. She loved ballet.”


“Did she?” He quickly counters.


Jongin looks over with a glare. “She never told me otherwise.” He says accusingly.


“Why would she? Why would she discourage you after building you up so high?”


Jongin scoffs. “That just doesn’t make sense. If she stopped loving it, it’s only because someone made her stop.”


D.O. leans back a little on the stool, trying to take in the answers from the other. He’s not really trying to test Jongin, merely trying to understand where his head is at exactly. Because just like the body, you can’t push people too far too quickly. You have to stretch them out a bit, first. “Well then, what about you? Do you think someone could make you stop loving Ballet?”


Jongin stops short. The question slithers through the air like a snake. It wraps around Jongin’s body, starting from his hands, to his arms, to his chest, causing everything to freeze in terror. Because the very idea of not doing Ballet feels like he’s about to get bitten and it makes his stomach clench painfully. But it’s not the coffee and it’s not the question that makes Jongin sick. It’s the fact that he hesitates on the answer. For if someone were to make him stop loving Ballet, they would have to possess the most poisonous venom on the planet.


So when the vibration of Jongin’s phone goes off, he jumps off his stool out of shock. After a deep breath and a hand over his thumping heart, he answers the sudden call. “Hello?”

“Where are you.” Sehun demands.

Jongin’s taken aback by the tone. “At the café?”

“Come back to the dorm. Now.”

"What? Why?”

"Your brother’s here!”

Jongin pales. “My brother?!”

Taesun didn't feel very well. His stomach had started hurting about an hour ago, from who knows what, so he regretfully had to leave work early. The convenience store was actually located in between Taemin's high school and their house, so it took a mere five minutes to reach his front door.



He paused once he got inside and bent down to take off his shoes. "Mom! Do we have any stomach medicine?" He called out.



He lined his sneakers up next to his mother’s heels and his father’s loafers, the latter making his lip curl just by looking at them. He sighed when he got no answer. "Mom!" He called again as he made his way down the hall towards his parent’s room.


But it took approximately ten steps for Taesun to discer