You can call me a biased person by saying I’m really only ever fond of people who can appreciate classical miracles such as dance and have a deep connection with it even though it doesn’t necessarily has a good history. I suppose, I am biased. But can you really blame me?

I tipped my head from left to right, releasing all the tension that had piled up brick by brick on my shoulders. Allowing the voice of Jason Derulo combined with his music to coat every fibre of my body with emotions, here I am- prepared to share what I love to those who can appreciate it.

Sehun played out his part as we rehearsed. He strolled in, in a justly pace and I turned to him completely fixed to the given emotion. I am heartbroken, drowning in doubt and anxiety and insecurity as I yell to myself – “You’re not good enough for him!” – as how we both rehearsed it to be.

People like me, people who can’t understand, have to grasp onto our ripest memory of the given emotion. And as for me – who has never once experienced love intimately, let alone pain from the broken intimacy – I have to rely solely on the statements Krystal had openly shared to me of how heartache feels like.

As I allow Sehun to embrace me, I began to think of what he could have potentially done in order to cause me such pain.

“Heartache makes you feel like you’re drowning.”

A tear threatened to escape Krystal’s stubborn eyes while her lips curled into an aching smile. My heart throbbed, but it wasn’t because I was hurt, rather, I was angered. Angered by how her heart of gold was easily thrown away for something less precious- a rock.

“It’s like you’re drowning,” She continues. “The emptiness is drowning you, but it’s not that, that kills you. It’s the fact that you can’t do anything that kills you.”

I pushed Sehun away in the most yearning way I could. Doing it as though I need him, but at the same time he’s the one causing me to deteriorate. The quizzical explanation puzzled itself in my mind. I understood Krystal, for once. I understood why she hurts, though what scares me is that I only what she feels barely mildly.

With heavy breaths, I proceeded onto my following moves: what I would have done if I were to be in this situation – to leave. So, I left. I left with heavy steps, yet I felt emptiness settling itself inside my heart.

Albeit knowing how much of a fool I presently look like, I painted the air with movement. I painted something that I don’t normally show when I don’t dance. I painted such abstract which complemented with Sehun’s. We were creating a masterpiece with our paintings; a painting the eye cannot see.

Clutching my chest, I fell onto my knees. Finally, I gave up on what I thought I could selflessly carry. Well, not exactly carry, but to ignore and at the same time tend to. Breathing was difficult, but I wonder, is breathing even possible during the phase of feeling the pain of heartbreak (that I barely grazed on)?

A pair of strong arms wrapped around me. Like me, Sehun seemingly felt what it was like to play his corresponding role: the one who got away. Despite the stickiness of his arm and the feeling of his damp shirt against my back, I leaned onto him.

I’m not sure how two individuals are supposed to separate after a storm, nor do I know how they function normally. I’m not like them: I don’t know how to live the way they do. I’m not interdependent. But I suppose if love was to ever hit me then…

I’ll lean back and enjoy the ride. I may drown but I know in the end I’ll teach myself how to swim. And if I were to be shattered, then I suppose I’ll just have to be patient and wait until someone is willing enough to sweep my sharp shards and embrace it, no matter how deadly.

I guess that’s love.

I don’t know.

-

“Isn’t G-12 this way?” Minseok asked, pointing to the opposite direction where Jong-in had originally thought G-12 was originally situated.

Undoubtedly, they were lost. Minseok had never once thought about visiting Taemin nor tagging along with the said boy after lectures. They had their own business to mind and errands to run, after all.

“No, hyung,”

“But I’m pretty sure it’s this way.”

Jong-in raked a hand through his hair and tousled it further. Albeit his hair being unruly, the man had a promising divine structure that was above the ordinary. Kim Jong-in was – still is – effortlessly good looking, it was a fact that is not easily missed by many.

“How about you call Taemin”? The younger of the two suggested.

Minseok nodded but as he was supposedly about to call Taemin yet again, the sound of a creaking door alerted the two. Both males snapped their head to the origin of the noise. A booming fraction of Jason Derulo’s song  and a genius wasn’t required to make a hypothesis about that room being the dance studio.

Grinning, Jong-in sipped the last remains of his Frappuccino, a grin forming on his lips. “I told you so.”

“Shut up.”

Minseok was the first to act, purposely bumping on Jong-in’s shoulder before heading to their designated destination: the studio. The latter could only chuckle and shake his head in amusement at the former’s back, and soon he followed as well.

As expected, Minseok was quite shy; thus he was very hesitant on opening the door knowing he would only attract attention. It didn’t take much persuasion for Jong-in to open the door. He didn’t care anyway.

Sure, they did catch attention and Jong-in felt slightly intimidated by the attention they have garnered, even more so for Minseok who peeked behind Jong-in.

Fortunately, they didn’t gather as much attention to the point where they’d feel embarrassed due to the intimidation. It was understandable as many eyes were plastered onto the two dancing partners at the very centre of the studio- their moves scintillatingly harmonizing with the most minimum touch of flaw.

Like Jong-in, Minseok was enthralled. The high level of dancing skills being exhibited wasn’t entirely unusual, but it had its own unique asset that stood out particularly like any other dance pieces. The pair was conveying messages silently, but at the same time boldly as the proximity between the two dancers frequently closed.

However, like every other good thing: performances end. And as theirs ended, cheers erupted after the single wisp of breath that escaped the female’s lips only seconds later when the music faded out.

“Minseok!” A familiar voice hollered above the cheering, immediately harnessing many attentions to the two audiences by the door.

Taemin neared the two with eager steps, obviously excited to have friends around. Minseok finally stepped out from hiding behind Jong-in to respond to Taemin’s call.

“Ah, guys,” Taemin spun around to the whole class behind him. “These people are my friends from the boarding house.”

And amongst the commotion that was triggered by the other students, Sehun’s voice was particularly the loudest.

“Yeong-ah, isn’t that the Jong-in guy you’ve been in love with since forever?”