Tap… Click… Tap… Click

With each step you felt the pressure of the crutches against your arms. The street was nearly empty, despite the early hour of the day. Stark grey clouds loomed overhead, drifting lazily in front of the Sun, threatening to pour any second. You looked up, recalling how few windows there had been at the hospital. This was your first time seeing the daylight in almost two months. Dreary though it may have been, it was a sight much welcomed after the sickly yellow tint of the buzzing florescents in your room.

Although you had only been discharged the other night, you wasted little time in heading towards the studio. Your leg was encased in a brace and you were in no condition to dance, but it didn’t matter. You longed for that old company, that familiar warmth you found upon entering the 24th floor. You yearned for the scent of the faded wax, the view of the Seoul skyline, the feeling of the hard wood floors as you lay upon them, and the silence of those warm lights shining through your eyelids. Just the thought of it soothed your distressed nerves.

You looked to the sky once again. It was hardly past noon, which meant Yixing would likely not be at the studio. You felt your heart sink just slightly at the thought. Although he’d often sent bouquets and cards, you hadn’t seen him in almost a month. After discovering your inability to perform anymore, Yixing had spent nearly every waking second of his time with you. During your entire first week of rehabilitation, there had hardly been a second he’d not been by your side. It wasn’t long, however, before his manager forced him to return to his training. Just as often as he’d come, so often he remained gone. You let out a sigh. You would just have to be patient. There was little you could do. After all, it was his dream he was training for.

As you made your way down the sidewalk, the familiar sight of the old office building came into view. You quickened your pace, anxious to make your way inside. As you approached the large structure, another familiar shape came into view. There, sitting on the curb, was Eunhee. Her back was to the building as she sat, her chin resting in her hands, staring blankly into the nearly vacant street. She looked tired, her normally bright skin grayed and dry. Her clothes, too, seemed thrown together and faded, fitting her loosely. You almost felt sympathy towards her. As you drew closer, you slowed down, hoping to move soundlessly past without her noticing. However, just as you caught sight of her, Eunhee turned, her large dark orbs resting on you. Immediately, the girl hopped to her feet, her pale tresses bouncing up and down.

"Hey!" she shouted, her voice shrill against the silence of the street. "Stop!"

You halted just before the door as she quickened her pace to reach you. Her eyebrows arched in anger yet her eyes held a look of hopeless resignation. She stopped not a foot before you, catching her breath in short gasps.

"You… What are you doing here?"

She looked you up and down, taking notice of the brace wrapped around your calf. “You can’t dance like that.”

You scoffed beneath your breath. “I can’t talk right now. Sorry.”

Eunhee scoffed in return, making sure you heard. “Of course. You’re just going to see him aren’t you?”

She rolled her eyes, blinking rapidly to fight back a film of salty tears forming at her lash lines. She turned her back to you, walking back to the sidewalk. “He’s always so open to talk to you, isn’t he?”

You furrowed your brow in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

"Shut up!" she yelled, a sob escaping . She returned to her seat on the curb, wiping her eyes with the length of her arm. "Stop acting like you’re not here for him. I’m not stupid, ok? I know he knows you. I know he likes you."

She sniffled loudly, repeating, “I’m not stupid.”

Despite yourself, you felt sorry for her. She was, after all, just a fan. No matter how rude she’d been, she had never meant any harm. Perhaps it wasn’t the same, but she loved Yixing as well. You bit your lip.

"He’s probably not here, anyways."

"Yes he is." She replied petulantly.

She looked off to the street as a car passed. “He comes every morning. I see him. He walks past me, every single day.”

Again she mumbled, “I’m not stupid.”

You felt your heart jump. You bit your lip, harder this time, fighting back a ghost of a smile. “He’s here?”

Eunhee turned to you sharply, a menacing look in her reddened eyes. “I don’t believe you.”

She stood up, raising her voice as her anger surged. “Even after everything that happened that day, you’re still so stupid! Do you know the reason I’m the only one here now? The reason all the other fans are gone? The reason they’ll never come back?!”

Hot tears burned her irises as she strode forward. “It’s because of you! After the accident, Lay wouldn’t even look at us! All the fans were hurt, just as much as you! You think we weren’t bruised? Do you think we didn’t fall, and stumble, and bleed? I have scars too! Do you think anyone cares!?”

She stopped to swallow her tears. “I tried talking to Lay, so many times. After the accident. There were  other fans then, too. We waited, everyday for a week and we didn’t see him. Then one day, he finally showed up again, and you know what happened?”

Eunhee breathed in shakily like a child. “He just kept walking. He didn’t even look at me. Even when I called his name. Even when I cried for him.”

The tears began to stream down her cheeks. Quickly, Eunhee wiped them away as she mumbled, “He didn’t even look.”

You felt a sickly writhing within your stomach. Your arms were beginning to feel numb as the crutches stabbed against your underarm. Your hands were cold and clammy.

"It’s all your fault." Eunhee continued, her eyes piercing your own. "The accident, Lay’s fans, that stupid thing on your leg, it’s all your fault! If you weren’t so selfish with him, it wouldn’t have happened! And now, now you’re ruining his career. His debut, everything! He doesn’t show up for half his schedule, he never talks to any of his fans anymore, or what’s left of them, he probably doesn’t even sleep!”

Eunhee took a deep breath, exhaling shakily. “What gives you the right to keep him to yourself, huh?”

You felt your heart sink. Your arms were beginning to shake with the lack of circulation. There were those words again. You tried to look Eunhee in the eye as she spoke, but your vision blurred as a thick film of tears coated your irises. You felt a lump in your throat, constricting your breathing. You opened your mouth to respond to her derision, yet you found yourself unable to speak.

"What?" Eunhee asked sharply. "What is it that makes you think you deserve him?  You think you’re doing him some big favor being in his life? You think you’re protecting him from crazy saesangs with all your lies? You think you’re the only person he can rely on? The only person he can confide it? You’re like poison! Numbing him so he doesn’t even realize it! You’re gonna be the ruin of Lay! Everything he’s worked for, all his training, all his hard work, you’re going to ruin it! You’re going to make him forget his dream!! And then what? He’ll have nothing! He’ll be NOTHING!!”

You felt your cheeks flushing, cold and pallid. You managed to choke out a few words as you pushed the door open, letting yourself inside.

"I have to go."

You could hear Eunhee yell after you, but she did not follow through the door. Without looking back, you rushed past the security guard and into the elevator, pressing down as hard as you could on the silver button illuminated “24”

You cleared your throat as you wiped your tears away. Your breathing came in short gasps. Eunhee’s words continued to ring in your mind. The same phrase over and over, “What gives you the right to keep him to yourself?”

You recalled the way it had echoed in your mind the day before your accident. Your breathing became shallower as you attempted to compose yourself. The small ding of the elevator rang against the cold metal walls, opening to the narrow corrodor of the 24th floor. A gust of wind blew against your cheeks as the doors seperated. The faint sound of music could be heard from the private studio. You listened silently, the slow guitar of the melody acting as an anesthetic to your raw nerves. You dragged your legs across the floor, the click clack of your crutches slightly muted by the thick carpet. With one last deep breath, you slid the door open.

Yixing stood facing the window, unable to hear the door over the sound of his music. His arms moved in a steady, calculated manner, balancing with his footwork. His eyes were closed as he danced, his brows knit close together, as if to express frustration towards the imperfection of the melody in comparison to his choreography. His movements were flawless, precise as a knife cutting through air. You felt your voice catch in your throat at the sight of him.  Dancing by his side was  an experience, but to see him dance alone, truly alone, with no audience, no call to impress, was breathtaking to behold. Had the music not faded away, you were sure he would have never known of your presence, so immersed was he in the ebb and flow of the melody.

The song slowly ended. Yixing’s arms fell limp against his sides. He let out a deep sigh, letting his head fall back. As he made his way towards the dock, he noticed you standing by the door. Yixing glanced for a moment before turning back to you again in shock. You felt your heart freeze as your eyes met. For a split second, neither of you spoke. You diverted your gaze from his, staring awkwardly at the floor. Your felt your eyes redden as the familiar taste of salty tears returned. Yixing broke the silence.

”_____-ah?!!” His voice was unbelieving, unsteady,  shaking so much it was hard to believe it belonged to the same man who’d been moving with such calculation earlier. Yixing quickly made his way to you, his arms immediately finding their place around your waist, his lips immediately finding their place against your own. You felt a tear roll down your cheek as you involuntarily let out a sob. Yixing’s lips curved into a small smile as he reached for your cheek, wiping the tear with his thumb, another one replacing it only seconds later. You felt your joints growing unsteady beneath your weight. Yet even as your lungs began to tremble, Yixing did not let go of your lips. He kissed you with an urgency, his lips pressing themselves desperately against yours, as if to mold himself to you completely. You felt your knees give out beneath you. Yixing’s arms held you up securely, pulling you closer. His lips hesitantly seperated from your own, just enough to allow you to breathe. You could still feel his breath against your cheek.

"Are you out for good?" he asked, his eyes shifting between each of yours

You nodded. “I was discharged last night.”

He breathed a short laugh, before a look of realization altered his features. “What am I doing? You’re still hurt. Do you wanna sit down?”

He moved away from you, looking around for a chair. You couldn’t help but smile. “It’s ok, I don’t mind standing.”

Yixing moved to your side, holding your arm as he helped you to the floor. “Come on.”

He led you to the window. You allowed him to help you, seating yourself carefully against the icy glass. You crossed your good leg inwards, letting the other rest before you. Yixing collapsed beside you, facing the window. He drew his legs up, resting his arms on his knees. His fingers unconsciously found their way to your own. For the first time since entering the studio, you were able to get a good look at him. His skin was pasty, his eyes tired and dark with sleeplessness. He looked as if he’d been drained of life. You felt your heart ache at the sight. There was but one sign of vivacity on his face; his lips, fresh and reddened from your kiss smiled contentedly. He caught your gaze, the smile slightly widening. Yet no matter how bright the grin, the light never seemed to reach his eyes.

"How are you feeling?"

"Alright, I guess. It doesn’t hurt so bad anymore." You replied, touching the cold steel brace on your leg. "It’s just getting used to the metal inside…"

You let your voice fade away. Yixing’s hand pressed yours reassuringly. “At least you’re here now.”

 You smiled, looking up at the calm flourescents. “Your hands are always cold.”

Yixing laughed softly, looking to the floor shyly. “Are they?”

You nodded, bringing his hand up to your cheek. “Isn’t that strange? But they’re still comfortable.”

Yixing didn’t respond. You let go his hand, yet it remained grazing your cheek. You gave him a small smile. “I like them better this way.”

Yixing sighed happily, resting his chin on his knees. His hand lazily ran down your neck, your shoulder, your arm, before falling softly to the floor. “It doesn’t matter, I guess. As long as you like it.”

You grinned, your lips unused to the feeling. You felt your cheeks grow hot with a blush. You hadn’t noticed until now, the music playing through the stereo. Had it been on this entire time? You’d barely heard it. Yixing too, seemed to become aware of the melody, tapping his feet to the tempo.

"Why don’t you dance?" you asked, lightly pushing his shoulder.

Yixing chewed his bottom lip. “It’s alright.”  He adjusted his position, sitting up and crossing his legs.

"Why not?" you inquired with a soft chuckle. Yixing shrugged. His gaze fell on the metal brace of your calf. His smile faltered.

"I just don’t want to."

You followed his eyes, your grin steadily fading. You didn’t respond. You began to feel sick, as if you were going to vomit. Silence filled the air, the music suddenly seeming out of place. You began to fidget with your fingers, avoiding his eyes. Your heart felt heavy, sinking like an anchor to your stomach.

"I bumped into Eunhee outside." you mumbled awkwardly.

The atmosphere grew thick. Yixing’s body tensed. You noticed his hands curl into fists, the tendons of his arm flexing with force. He didn’t respond. You bit your lip. Should you continue? You hadn’t seen him in so long. You didn’t want to mention the accident, or Eunhee, or your leg. All you wanted was him, by your side. All you yearned for was to lie with him, quietly listening to the beating of his heart, to talk to him the way you had before, teasing him about his nervous habits, hearing his anxious confessions and comforting him. Yet the air was too sickly. You’d felt it the moment you’d stepped into the room. There was too much unsaid. You knew he’d seen the redness in your eyes. You knew he’d tasted the salt of your tears. You’d seen it in him as well.

"Yixing-ah." You reached for his hand. He looked up at you. You felt your voice catch in your throat.

"Why do you wanna talk about her?"

You swallowed, wishing you hadn’t brought up the subject. “You haven’t spoken to her.”

Yixing’s eyes shifted to the window. A thick mist drifted through the peaks of the skyscrapers. Thousands of miniscule drops of dew trickled down the foggy glass. The clouds seemed overburdened with the weight of the rain, yet continued to hold the water just barely within it’s grasp.

"Have you been ignoring her since the accident?"

"I haven’t been ignoring her."

You bit your lip. “But you don’t answer her when she calls you.”

Yixing sighed. “What am I supposed to say?”

You looked down at your brace. “What about the other girls?”

Yixing bit his lip, a dimple creasing his smooth cheek. His eyes fell to the floor like a boy shamed before his mother.  “They didn’t say anything either, when I walked by. So I didn’t ignore them. Technically.”

You didn’t respond. Yixing’s eyes hesitantly met yours, his brows coming together in a pleading expression. “I can’t just act like nothing happened.”

His gaze wandered to your brace again, his features faltering once more. You bit your lip. “Sometimes that’s all you can do. They’re still your fans, Yixing.”

He sighed in frustration. “That doesn’t  give them the right to do what they did. It’s not like I’m going to stop living my life just because they don’t like the way I’m doing it. They’re my fans. They should care more about my music than my life. How am I supposed to smile and wave and take pictures with them like nothing happened, then come up here everyday and see that thing on your leg? Is that what it means to be an idol?”

You felt your throat tighten. He fell back, lying flat on the floor, staring at the ceiling. He breathed in shakily. Under his breath you could hear him mumble, “If that’s how it’s going to be I’d rather be nothing.”

You didn’t respond. Silence filled the room. The music echoed against the walls cacophonously. You closed your eyes. The clouds rumbled with a soft thunder, yet still, not a single drop fell.