Krystal dashed into a random practice room and hid herself in a closet, sobbing her eyes out. 

 

She couldn't take it anymore. 

 

She was just thirteen, did they really expect her to do all this? Did they expect her to wake up at five am everyday, did they expect her to keep missing all her outings with her friends just so she could train, did they expect her to be some kind of superwoman? 

 

Krystal didn't know how long she sat in that small closet, crying for everything that she was missing out on, everything that she felt she had lost when she had joined SM. But when she finally did, she heard music. Shuffling. Feet tapping rhythmically against the floor. 

 

She peeked out. 

 

There he was, Choi Minho. He was practicing that jazz combination they had learned this morning, she realized. Every now and then he would stop as a step escaped his mind, but after he a moment he would restart and continue as resolutely as ever. His face was stoic and concentrated: she could see it in his eyes that he was wanting it. Not like her, who was crying over everything she was losing, instead of everything she had to gain. 

 

Immediately, she felt guilty. While she was sobbing over not getting enough free time, he was working harder than ever. She stepped quietly out of the closet and began joining him. 

 

He stopped and looked at her, an inquiring look on his face. Krystal cleared and chose to ignore the silent question. 

 

"Oppa, when you do the jump, you'll want to keep your arms straight and bend your-" 

 

"Please don't tell on me," Minho cut in pleadingly. 

 

"Wh-why would I tell on you?" 

 

He sighed. "Because I'm using this practice room. This room. . . it's only supposed to be for the sunbaes who've already debuted." 

 

Krystal looked around the room for the first time. Indeed, it was different from the other practice rooms. 

 

"Please." He averted his eyes for a second, then looked back at her. "I really want to debut, Krystal. If it means I'm going to have to kill myself working for how many years, then I'm going to. I got a chance like this so I'm going to take it, and if I'm find out that I've been using the practice room, well. . . " He trailed off, not sure anymore of what to say. 

 

"I- I won't tell," Krystal stammered. 

 

His face lit up with that smile, that smile that Krystal loved so much, that smile that had changed her life. Krystal felt herself shiver at the beauty of the sight before her, and she felt herself grow even more elated as Minho suddenly took her hand and shook it with both of his. 

 

"Thank you so so much, Krystal," he said, and Krystal could see that he meant it.  

 

"I-it wasn't a problem," she heard herself stammer (at the moment she felt as though she was floating in the clouds and had no control of her body). 

 

They stood there for a few moments, neither one knowing what to say. 

 

Finally, Minho spoke up. "We should get going now," he told her, the ghost of his smile still etched on his face. "You know, wouldn't wanna get caught." 

 

"Y-yeah, we should." 

 

Minho smiled (did he really have to smile so much? Again Krystal felt her legs weaken). "I should walk you to your dorm. I owe you that much," he told her. 

 

Was promising not to tell on him really such a big deal, Krystal thought? Then she smiled inwardly, knowing that only Minho would have been so grateful for such a small favor. 

 

They walked to her dorm in silence, and Krystal was about to open the door when she suddenly heard him speak. 

 

"Hey, wait." She turned, and saw him dig his hands in his pockets, looking for something. He took out a small pink rubber band. 

 

"A, uh,  small token of my appreciation." Minho pronounced formally, handing her the rubber band. 

 

Krystal could do nothing but stare at him. 

 

"I'm sorry it isn't more useful," Minho laughed, smiling ruefully (did Krystal really have to mention that her legs were weakening yet again?). "But it was the best I could find in my pocket." 

 

"No!" The words escaped Krystal's mouth in a panic. "It's- it's beautiful, really." 

 

Minho laughed. "Beautiful. Sure. Thanks, though." 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

From that day on, Krystal's days were brightened, more than ever, by Minho's smiles. He would wave at her during practices, smile at her when their eyes would meet in the crowd. Whenever they happened to be near each other in the line at the canteen, he would chat with her, tell her about all his favorite foods and which salads tasted better with soy sauce. 

 

And so that hope that had lit up inside of her, that hope that had surfaced during that game of Truth or Dare. . . that hope shone more brightly than ever. I have hope, Krystal told herself.

 

Maybe one day. . .  Choi Minho can be mine. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A/N:

 

OMYFREAKINGGOODNESSYOUGUISE. I'm so sorry for not updating in like. . . ages. o_e 

 

 

Anyway, here's a random excerpt. I don't know where I'm going to put this particular part (or even if I'm going to use this at all, lol) , but I was just sitting around and thinking about the plot and this came up! XD

 

 

As she sat alone in her dorm room, crying her eyes out, she realized something. That sometimes what hurts more than a tragic love story is never having had a love story at all. 

 

And that painful, painful knowledge that there could have been one.