After two weeks, your brace was removed, deeming your crutches unnecessary. You continued to visit the studio everyday. Although your condition still didn’t allow for much dancing, you longed for the sanctuary of the 24th floor, the safe haven away from the glaring eyes of the people, the blaring sounds of their careless lives, the way they all seemed to look at you with pity, as if they knew the guilt that had been haunting you. It had gotten to a point at which you could barely stand to be anywhere else. You figured this must have been the way Yixing felt, the first time he’d entered the quiet floor. The feeling of escape, of having found a place where he could hide from everyone and everything breathing down his neck, a place where he could close his eyes without worrying someone might be there to wake him up.

Your thoughts lingered on Yixing as you made your way down the cracked sidewalk, like you’d done so many times before. The young boy did not frequent the studio as often as before. With his debut only a few months away now, he spent more and more time away from you. Although you’d missed him, you would sometimes feel a sense of relief upon finding the studio empty. Yixing had grown increasingly quiet about himself, barely saying a word about his life away from the 24th floor. You never questioned it, knowing him well enough to know an interrogation would be useless. However, the silence did occasionally burden the atmosphere around the two of you. You thought back to the first few months you’d met him. Even with the awkwardness of a fresh relationship, you’d grown so close, so comfortable with each other so quickly. You recalled all the nights together, dancing, talking, staring at the dull florescents of the studio in silence. You felt a pang in your chest, longing deeply for that warmth once more.

A low rumble from above disrupted your reminiscing. You looked up at the heavens, releasing a heavy sigh. A valley of ashen clouds slithered through the sky. For weeks, these clouds had migrated through the winds, quivering with the burden of showers held just within their grasp. The gloomy overcast had begun to take a toll on your patience. Why couldn’t they just let go? Why couldn’t they just unburden themselves of the rain? Couldn’t they realize it was bound to happen eventually, that holding on was futile? Even the gods could not hold back such chaos.

Through the  thick mist of clouds, you caught sight of the old office building. You followed its sleek build downwards, your eyes resting upon a familiar silhouette by the front door. As you drew closer, however, the shape took upon a clearer form. Eunhee was bent down, crouching upon the sidewalk, her arm extended towards the floor, scratching furiously against the rough cement. You quickened your pace, your curiosity rising. What was she doing?

As you neared the building, your steps slowed, catching sight of the work the young girl had produced. There, spread across the sidewalk, was a message, scrawled in bright blue chalk. Your eyes ran over the inscription, “Good Bye, Zhang Yixing”

You cautiously approached Eunhee, watching as she colored over the already thick lines. She didn’t turn, or speak, apparently unaware of your presence. You stood by her side as you questioned, “What is this?”

She didn’t answer for a moment. You read over the message once more in confusion. “Eunhee?”

"What does it look like?" she said, her back still crouched over the sidewalk.

You bit your lip. “Are you leaving?”

Eunhee stopped for a moment, sitting completely still, her arm still stretched out before her. “Did you ever say anything to Lay that day?”

You furrowed your brow, not understanding the question. She dropped the chalk and pulled herself up, turning around to meet your eye. Her cheeks seemed almost sunken, even more so than before. The look of resignation that had filled her irises for so long was now faded, replaced with a cold apathy. Her pallor was grayed and lifeless. She opened like a puppet, her voice  distant.

"I was a fan of Lay for a long time. Before he even came here. Before he was even signed to his company."

She looked away, her porcelain eyes gazing off into the street behind you. “I always thought, ‘this guy must be really great. He’s so funny and kind, and hardworking. I can’t wait to meet him… I can’t wait to tell him how much I admire him.’”

Her eyes began to water. She looked down at the floor, her tears falling upon the blue chalk. “I stood here for months, waiting for a hello or a smile or a nod- something. But I never even got a look at him. And after what happened-”

You felt your throat tighten as you recalled that day, the raucous screaming, the anxiety, the two bright lights drawing closer and closer. You took a deep breath. Eunhee continued, “I’m sorry for what happened to you. I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt. No one did.”

She knit her brows together, clearing as the sounds of a sob tried to fight their way through. Her words came in intervals as she breathed laboriously, “But how can I ever ask him to forgive me… for what I did… if he never even looks my way?”

"I was his fan for so long… I loved him… I idolized him.” She let out a cry, her little body quivering as she fought for composure. “But he’s so cold.”

You felt yourself frozen at the spot. Your heart clenched in sympathy, her words resonating through you. What were you to say? How could you make her feel better? She was, after all, just a fan. Before you could say anything, she wiped her tears, the same stone-like look returning to her features.

"But it doesn’t matter anymore." She gasped a breath, "I won’t bother with him."

"Have you ever met a singer who hates his fans so much?" She let out an empty laugh. "I think I’ve wasted enough time idolizing him."

She looked down at the words she’d written. Her shoulders had stopped quivering, her sobs subsided. “Even though he doesn’t deserve it, I thought I should say goodbye, at least.”

With one last glance, Eunhee nodded you farewell, turning on her heel and walking away, her frail silhouette disappearing through the thickening mist. As you watched her leave, you felt cold. Your nose, your fingers, your chest. Everything felt ice cold. You looked down at the large letters glaring in their neon blue. How did this happen? You were only here to dance. You hadn’t meant to run into Yixing. You hadn’t meant to develop any feelings for him. You hadn’t meant to hurt anyone. You turned numbly, pulling the door of the building ajar. The loll of distant thunder hummed through the wind as the thick glass shut behind you.

******************************************

The elevator slid open. A gust of wind blew against your cheeks, the stray strands of your hair blowing backwards. The 24th floor, no matter the weather, had always been heavily air conditioned. Yet how was it you’d never felt the iciness until now?

You folded your arms, keeping whatever warmth you had from escaping your skin. You made your way to the private studio, your feet grazing against the gray carpet. You could hear the faint sound of music from behind the thin wood. You quietly opened the door, your heart heavy with the memory of what had happened outside. Yixing was turned away from you, dancing as he looked out upon the Seoul skyline. Could he see the words on the cement from here? What would he think, were he to spot the bright chalk glaring up at him? You wished silently you might have scrubbed it away before making your way up.

 As you gingerly entered the room, you watched him dance with bated breath, reveling in the sight of his graceful frame, moving elegantly across the room, the same power exuding from his limbs as you’d seen so many times before. Yixing had become increasingly careful not to dance when you were present, and so it was only on these rare occasions you could catch a glimpse of his passion. Although he’d brush it off, blaming it on his own laziness, you would often catch him looking down at your leg, as if to see through the skin and flesh into the heavy steel inside. You sighed heavily.

Yixing stopped mid-turn. You shut the door behind you, and met his eyes.

”______-ah.” he said, the same look of guilt you’d seen for weeks plastered upon his features. “I didn’t see you come in.”

His arms fell to his sides limply, still swaying subtly to the music.

"You don’t have to stop dancing." you mumbled.

He shrugged, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. “I was done anyways. I-“

”Yixing,” you interrupted, surprised by the tremble in your voice. You cleared your throat, muttering beneath your breath, “stop.”

He dropped his words, his eyes widened in surprise. The dark haired boy made his way to you, a look of concern clouding his eyes. “Is something wrong?”

You shook your head. He drew his brows together in concern, his hands finding their way to your arms, holding you gently. “Are you… hurt?”

He glanced down at your leg. You sighed. “I’m fine.” you looked to the floor. “I’ve been fine for a while.”

His hands slid down to your own, sheltering them within his palm. He met your gaze, observing you intently. “What’s wrong then?”

"It’s nothing." You pressed reassuringly into his hands. "I’m just tired."

"Are you sure?" He said, the doubt clear in his voice. You nodded vigorously.

 ”Do you wanna sit down? I can get a chair.”

You shook your head. “Can we just sit on the floor?”

Yixing nodded, leading you to the center of the studio. He collapsed upon the floor, holding your hand to help you down. You curled your legs up to your neck, resting your chin on your knees. Yixing sat cross legged beside you. You remained quiet for a moment, listening to the gentle melody of the music. You closed your eyes, searching for Yixing’s breathing. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. You followed the steady rythm, synchronizing your breath to his. Yixing’s arms brushed against yours, his knee resting against your own.  The cold air of the studio had dissipated, your body now radiating with warmth.

"I miss this." you mumbled.

"Miss what?"

"Just sitting here. With you."

"It is nice." he sighed, shifting a bit to stretch out his leg. "I missed you."

You opened your eyes warily to look at him. He leaned upon his arms, looking down at the folds of his shirt. A pale blush colored his cheeks. You curled your lip inwards, waiting for him to continue.

"I can’t sleep at night anymore."

You chuckled softly. “You never could.”

He nodded. “But not like this.”

He leaned forward, crossing his legs once more, his hands resting in his lap. You gazed absentmindedly at his slender fingers, fidgeting nervously with the hem of his undershirt. “Are you scared?”

He didn’t answer, but glanced at you. His deep chocolate eyes darkened with anxiety. You turned your head, resting your temple upon your knee in order to look at him. “I’ve never seen anyone dance like you.” You chewed your lip. ” You’ll do fine, Yixing.”

He scoffed softly. Your lips quivered at the corners, a smile just barely making it’s way through. For a moment, it felt like normal. For a moment, everything was still, frozen in an instant you wished would never pass. The moment, however, quickly passed, as the roll of thunder hummed through the window, the storm arriving ever closer. Yixing turned to glance out the window.

"You used to dance better than me." he said.

Your throat felt dry as his words rung through the room. You gripped your knees tightly. When had the cold returned? You arms were shivering in the icy air. Your cleared your throat nervously. A moment of silence filled the air. The image of the chalk inscription flashed through your mind.

"Eunhee already apologized." you replied, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

He copied you, pulling his legs up to his chin, resting his head upon his arms. He stared at the laces of his shoes. He didn’t respond. You attempted to catch his gaze. “She’s still your fan, Yixing.”

"I already told you,” he began, frustration and remorse contorting his gentle features, “If that’s what it means to an idol, I don’t want it.”

Your voice strained to remain steady as you replied, “But that’s not it. This is your dream, Yixing. You need those fans. They’re going to be your pillars when you debut. They’re going to be your comfort when you leave. When I can’t be there…”

He sighed heavily, his voice threatening with a restrained anger. “How can they be? They’ve destroyed everything in my life that matters. How can a person like that be a part of my life? How can I accept them when they’ve hurt you so much?”

"You’re doing the same thing to them!" you cried, your voice shaking, unable to hold back any longer. "They haven’t even heard your music, Yixing. They don’t even know what you have to offer yet, and you’re already pushing them away. They look up to you. They admire you, just as much as I do. And you need them, just as much as you might think you need me. That feeling you’re going to get, being on stage, showing the world your talent, your passion, that’s your dream. And its worth a lot more than what you’re fighting for right now.”

You blinked rapidly, holding back your tears as you hung your head.

”_______-ah?” Yixing called, “What’s wrong?”

He swallowed anxiously. “What are you saying, _______-ah?”

Your heart felt heavy as you looked around you, taking in the studio in a desperate attempt to hold onto it, to absorb everything; the silent florescents, the fresh waxed wood, the old stereo, the memories of months you couldn’t believe you’d even lived, the moments you yearned to return to. “Its worth a lot more than some stupid girl you met in a studio one day.”

You stood up, wiping your tears.

“Wait,” Yixing followed your steps, “Where are you going?”

You gasped for breath. The thunder struck again, louder, closer. The pitter patter of a thousand miniscule drops of rain slowly collided with the window, increasing in force rapidly. Yixing grabbed a hold of your hand, turning you to face him. His eyes shifted between your own, searching with desperation for an answer. You tried to speak, but failed miserably as you struggled for air. Yixing pulled you against his chest, his hand clutching at your back. You could feel his shoulders shuddering.

”________-ah?” his voice shook.

You buried your face in his shirt, letting out a single heart shattering cry. How did this happen? You were only here to dance. You hadn’t meant to run into Yixing. You hadn’t meant to develop any feelings for him. You hadn’t meant to hurt anyone. You didn’t want to do this. Yixing held you tighter, kissing your head anxiously. You bit down on your lip with force, fighting for composure. Your sobs subsided for the moment, your breathing still erratic. You spoke quietly, your voice quivering with each word.

"Remember that time you told me about your debut? Your birthday… When we both found out you would be leaving." You pursed your lips, holding back another cry. "That day… do you remember what I said?"

He didn’t answer, but gripped tighter, as if you might vanish from his grasp. His hands trembled.

"I said" You took a deep shuddering breath, "We’d both have to leave eventually… Right?"

You gently pulled away from his arms. He caught your hands, holding them securely. You met his eyes, barely able to speak at the sight of them, reddened and cloudy with a film of tears. He looked at you pleadingly. “Don’t, please.”

"But it’s ok." you whispered, "Because you’ll be living your dream, Yixing. And the studio…" You looked around once more, barely able to see through the salty tears. "The studio will always be here, right?"

"No, stop that." Yixing shook his head desperately, his eyes never leaving your own, for fear they might not be there when he looked again.

 ”Its just one small sacrifice for a lifetime of happiness, right?” You smiled weakly. “You won’t even notice it’s gone.”

Yixing held relentlessly onto your hand, not letting you slip away. You put your hand over his, smiling at his cool touch. You gently removed his fingers from your own, letting his hand fall by his side.

"I’m sorry." he said, the tears falling like crystals from his eyes, crashing upon the floor. You felt your heart tear at the sight of them. You longed to return to his arms, to comfort him, to tell him how much you liked him. How much you loved him. Yet your arms remained at your sides. Your feet could not turn his way. This was the only way you could truly comfort him. The only way you could  truly show him how much you loved him. You had to let him go, for his own sake, for the sake of his dream, his happiness. After all, what right had you to keep him to yourself?

You leaned towards him, pressing your lips against his cheek, tasting the stream of his delicate tears. You pulled away hesitantly.

"Me too." you mumbled. He breathed in shakily. You your heel, exiting the studio, sliding the old wooden door into place one last time.

You gasped for breath as your tears came unrelentingly. As the elevator opened into the main hall, you wiped them away with your arm, sniffling like a child. Your heart ached with an unfathomable pain. You felt as if with one touch, it would surely shatter, crumbling into a million little pieces within your chest. Numbly, you made your way to the exit. You pushed the old glass door open, the rain immediately drenching your hair and clothes, your tears masked beneath the droplets.  The showers had begun to fall with full force now, crashing down upon the earth. As you dragged yourself onto the sidewalk, you looked down at the floor.  The farewell message was distorted, the blue chalk running down the street into the gutter, never to be seen by anyone again. You looked up at the clouds, unburdening themselves at last. Chaos? No. This was not chaos.

This was cleansing.