when sehun was seven his father demanded he start tang soo do lessons at the local community center.

'he needs to learn what's inside his blood,' he had overheard the deep ocean of his father's voice flooding in the kitchen one night as his mother hovered over the stove.

it was so easy for sehun to understand the words, the hangul characters melding effortlessly in his mind, and translated them to the heavy syllables of the land he had only ever known in his mind, it was a game he playedwith  himself, practice for when he spoke in public.  korean for home and family and secrets, english for school and grocery stores and friends.  sehun hardly had an accent, whispered every word he read so the next time his mother was berated by the man at the market he could speak up for her.

at seven, sehun only had to worry about bullies calling him 'yellow monkey' or 'chink' or 'chinaman', even though he was none of those.  he knew what was in his blood already, years of saving so his parents could cross an ocean to move into a modest apartment in the middle class section of a city that was filled with every color of the rainbow faces.  they all wanted the same thing his mother had called a 'miracle dream'.  sometimes he wondered if everyone else knew that no matter what was in his blood, he still bled red crimson.

after his third tuesday night practice, sehun had stopped in the middle of the hallway with his mother attached to his hand tenderly.  he stared into the adjoining room of the rec center and wanted something for the first time in his life.

his mother had let him pull her over the threshold and translated in excitement rough words that his tang soo do lesson dues could easily be transferred to allow him to attend the jazz and tap lessons instead.  her eyes had glimmered at the sight of her son bouncing on his toes and with a faint 'thank you' had accepted that maybe sehun was more like her than she had ever imagined.  even if she could understand every fifth word as he animatedly chattered with the dance instructor.

she also knew her husband.

his mother covered up the lessons with lies of omission.  she counted time in korean in the kitchen on nights his father worked late at the factory across town.  they hid the truth by walking around it on cloth covered tips of tap shoes.

they lasted three months until his father became irate at the fact he hadn't farther excelled to a yellow belt from his basic white.  it was the day before his recital.

when sehun looked down from the makeshift stage his eyes instantly gravitated to the nervous smile on his mother's face and beside her to the taut brow of his father.  he danced in his all black ensemble and specially sown toe shoes.  he got to dance.

he memorized each childish step at seven without knowing that ten years later the choreography would be the only thing holding his bones together on the bad days.

-.-.-.-

a month passes.

february had melted into march winds that still bit with a chill that kept gloves and scarves lingering even as buds started forming green waves amid a sea of bare bark branches.

sehun hadn't seen yixing again, hadn't visited the dance room or the address he had memoried by the time the ink  decided to fade on the near translucent canvas of his arm.  the bruises from the three upperclassmen had faded as well and since then he had been left alone except for the spare hissed insult when grades were posted on the department's bulletin board.

his chemistry professor has considered allowing him to exam out early and enter an upperlevel lecture instead even though two months of classes have already passed.  all of his courses are below his level with a blatant obviousness that had him called into the dean's office with it's intimating dark wood panelling covered in diplomas and certificates and awards.

he really had nothing to worry about, except for the fact that the dean is apparently quite knowledgable about his personal affairs and matters.  his scholarship is increased to not only cover tuition but a moderately generous housing fund that exactly covers his monthly rent.  the dean doesn't smile but his expression softens at the shocked look on sehun's face when he finishes the meeting by also offering a job to tutor his own middle school daughter at an absurdly high hourly rate.

sehun is leaving the office building, crossing the back of campus to go and thank a handful of his professors, when he stumbles upon two of the upperclassmen that had been plaguing him in early february.

one passes him with a clearly audible 'ing fatass', while the other shoves his shoulder hard enough in passing that his book satchel falls suddenly.  his notes scatter in the breeze and he huffs out of breath to chase them all down.  somehow he ends up on the edge of a soccer pitch and groans quietly as he retrieves his final stray paper from a cleat dug mud hole.  half of his equations smudged wet and undecipherable smeared ink.

'sehun?'

he looks up to see yixing flapping his arms in a mockery of a greeting as he is paused midfield with a group of guys still actively playing around him, the soccer ball making a resounding thud as it is booted down the field towards  a goal being manned by a clearly confident girl that flits back and forth in tense anticipation.

sehun's arms are full and he doesn't even really know if he actually wants to wave back because his shirt would probably embarrassingly flash his flab, so he settles for silently blinking before he forces himself to nod in acknowledgement.  in the background he can hear thte delighted giggle of the girl as she makes a nearly impossible save in sehun's peripheral.  the excitement dies down and attention begins to slowly turn to him because ing yixing is jogging toward the sideline now.

sehun belatedly realizes that the dancer coming towards him most likely means he will have to actually communicate with the man and he panics.  he tries to bolt, his body seizing up on him mid turn just as the wind pulls the muddy paper from his hand to plaster over his face so he can't possibly see the hole he is about to step in.

'xing, do you know hi-'

'watch out, seh-'

'shi-'

he is used to embarrassment, anticipates it on a daily basis, and expects for everyone to just stand by and laugh.  he doesn't expect for yixing to try and stop him from falling face first into the wet grass, for gasps close to what sounds like conern to echo from the field.  yixing isn't close to being able to catch him, or likely strong enough he subconsciously thinks, but he is close enough to somehow twist his body at the last second and cradle sehun's fall. atleast this is what sehun assumes happens because the paper is stil blinding him but he lands on sharp bone angles hard enough to knock the air out of his lungs.

hands softly grasp at his sides when he instantly struggles to roll away.  the paper flutters away.  dark fathomless eyes look up at him with amusement tinged worry and sehun wants so bad to just sink through the mud until he is swallowed whole.  maybe then he wouldn't have to suffer through the knowledge of the injury he has undoubtedly caused yixing by body slamming him to the ground.

'sorry.  . why-  sorry.  i'm so sor-'

'are you alright then,' yixing cuts off the steady flow of apologies.

'what? yeah, of course, but you-'

'then mission acomplished,' yixing smirks until his dimple flairs and interrupts sehun yet again. this time he thinks he might be speechless.

a sudden burst of rapid mandarin comes from above them and, as yixing rolls his eyes before replying, sehun takes the advantage to disentangle himself before scurrying in an awkward flurry of limbs to stand up.  a hand materializes before his face just when he needs it and yesterday sehun wouldn't have taken the offer, but today he clasps the offered palm.  as he straightens his sweater, sehun notices the mandarin speaker was the one who had helped him and that the man is absolutely too good looking to be covered in his own share of mud smeared soccer kit as he leans over to jab roughly at yixing's side.

sehun looks over to notice that while everyone is still on the pitch, they are all staring on curiously as yixing is wrenched off the ground and the chinese speaking man fusses over him before showing equal concern to sehun even as he subtly pushes him away from reaching past his forearms.

'stop, luhan!  you are creeping him out,' yixing sighes as he catches the so-called luhan in a headlock.

'shove off,' luhan bites back before smiling up at sehun.  'are you okay?'

sehun nods and clutches his bag, muddy paper stuffed inside, like a life line.  'i am fine, thank you.  sorry but i have to go, i'm late.'

before they could say anything else he sprinted away, this time minus the falling fiasco.  a flush crawls up his neck, the heat flaring along his collar.  all he can think about is how crushed yixing must have felt, how his rounded torso had pressed to the jaunting planes of the obvious dancer body, and that was worse than being called names or shoved around or simply ignored.

'wait, sehun,' yixing yelled into the breeze behind him.

he didn't wait.  he didn't stop, not until he was seated stickily and dirty on the bus stop bench.

that evening he finished all of his work for the week even though it was only tuesday, tucked it away neatly before he the small radio on his living room bookshelf.  the song was too familiar, one his mother used to hum as she washed dishes, and he took a deep breath because three years hadn't even made a dent in the pain he felt when he thought of her.

he barely stops the grief from pressing in on him.

when he finally falls alseep, it is only after he wonders what she would have thought of him as he was now.  he guesses at how his father would look at him.

when he finally falls asleep, it is only after he thinks of 'miracle dreams' and the closest secrets he holds in his heart and steady limbs cradling him and the tone of praise in the dean's voice.

a/n: hello, my lovelies.  whoa, i did not expect such an immediate response to this story.  thank you all so very much for believing in my writing.  i have most of this story written out so i will be posting fairly frequently, although i make no promises.  i would love to hear what you think of the story so far, so leave me a comment if you have a spare moment.  

if you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask.  

much love, jay.