There was just something about him. Something about the fluidity of his movements, swiftness of motion, a mix of poise, swagger and elegance that blended together into a beautiful, resounding masterpiece. There was something artistic about him, how his long, lanky form seemed to flow freely with the music; the way he seemed to give himself completely to the wondrous melody.  

 

She didn’t know when she started watching him. Maybe it was after the school’s talent show, where he displayed his prowess for the first time on stage, intriguing her because she had never thought of him as anything more than an aimless degenerate, a hopeless delinquent.

 

More than that, it was his gaze, his haunting gaze that seemed to penetrate every fibre of her being, the darkness of his obsidian orbs, how his whole aura seemed to change when he started dancing. It was as though a switch had been flicked in his body, a spark had been ignited in his soul as soon as the music started playing.

 

Maybe it was the way his body, his eyes, his soul seemed to burn with passion, with the pure exhilaration of doing something he loved. She herself could never understand that passion; having been brought up never to be fit for anything else but studying, attaining outstanding results, and topping the cohort year after year. The only thing that burned within her was exhaustion and lifelessness, and even those were threatening to die out. She was afraid, undoubtedly; afraid of becoming an empty shell, afraid of forever living without passion, without being able to experience the unadulterated joy of doing what she loved.

 

She’d been watching him for several days now, after she finished studying for the night. She was usually the last to leave, as finals were coming up and she forced herself to push herself more, to maintain her stellar standard. She’d take a longer route than usual, deliberately passing by the practice room just to catch a glimpse of him.

 

Like her, he practised late into the night, long after dance class ended and the janitor even tried chasing him out several times. He was tempted to just ask for the keys to the practice room to keep the old man off his back.

 

It took several nights before he noticed her presence. A girl, short and insignificant in stature, standing outside the dance practice room, peeping gingerly through the frosted glass windows. She wasn’t the type to turn heads or catch his eye, no, she certainly wasn’t his type. He was curious indeed; he was used to having his fair share of female admirers, most lusting after his god-given features. Usually, they were forward and came right out with what they wanted- his number. But instead, the way the girl watched him quietly every night, seemingly without desire to approach him, content with simply watching from afar, intrigued him.

 

Tonight, as usual, she passes by the room, her tired eyes in need of a sight prettier than math formulas and chemistry equations. However, when she peeps through the windows, as is her customary habit, she sees no one inside; the lights are on, but there isn’t a soul.

 

Slightly disappointed, she turns around and prepares to walk back, but then she freezes abruptly in her tracks.

 

She comes face-to-face with a tall, gangly male figure. It’s him, she realizes with a pang. The dancer she had been watching for weeks.

 

Now that she has the opportunity to see him up close, she studies his features carefully. Small yet strangely attractive eyes, dark hair swept over his forehead, and a metal ring on the left corner of his lower lip. His whole aura reeked of darkness and mystery.

 

“Who are you?” He speaks, his voice cold and guarded. “Why do you keep watching me like some crazy stalker? I have a girlfriend, you know.”

 

She, at first slightly afraid of this tall man and his intimidating tone and stature, becomes rather amused at his last statement. Bold of him to assume that she was even vaguely romantically interested in him.

 

“That’s nice to know, but that’s not what I’m here for,” she says softly, arousing his curiosity in ways that no else ever had before.

 

“Then what the hell did you come here for?”

 

She expected to be disarmed under his penetrating gaze, his threatening tone. But instead, it seems like newfound confidence has swelled in her chest, and she says truthfully, earnestly,

 

“I came to watch you dance. You’re an amazing dancer.”

 

He is dumbstruck by her words, suddenly unable to formulate any of his own.

 

 

---

 

 

Since young, Hwang Hyunjin had never been the center of attention.

 

It was only after he glowed up and felt the aftereffects of puberty. Girls constantly swarming towards him like a flock of birds to grain, texts and calls from random numbers which he never bothered replying to, his mother’s friends gasping, “This is your Hyunjin? Oh my, he’s so handsome now! He’s really grown up, hasn’t he? I have a daughter his age who would love to meet him…”

 

Hyunjin, who was still grappling with his newfound physical beauty, slowly began to resent it. It seemed that all people ever saw him was a striking visual; they never asked him about his dreams, his aspirations, his talents, his passion. It seemed that all that mattered was his looks, not the long, grueling hours he’d spent inside dance practice rooms, the countless sleepless nights he’d faced wondering if he would ever be good enough. Soon, he viewed his good looks as nothing more than a crutch, a crippling burden that hindered his passion, stifled his personality.

 

So it came as an utter shock when she, a complete stranger, someone he had never seen before in the school, said she wanted to see him because of his dancing. Wasn’t it always his face that drew the crowds?

 

“W-Watch me dance?” Hyunjin stutters in disbelief. The girl simply nods her head once, eyes large and unblinking behind her round, thickly-framed glasses. “I’m sorry if this comes across as creepy,” she says sheepishly, looking down, “but I’ve just been really stressed lately and watching you dance helps me forget my stress for a while.”

 

It is then that Hyunjin notices the dark circles round her eyes, and the bags under them. Typical, he thinks. She was probably one of those students on the honor roll, goody-two-shoes, burning the midnight oil just for finals. Hyunjin couldn’t relate— studying had never been his forte or interest.

 

“Well, sorry to disturb you. I’ll get going now,” she says, her voice soft in the darkness of the night.

 

“Wait.” He doesn’t know what compelled him to stop her; all he knows is that he wants to get to know her better. “You can come in and watch, if you want. I don’t think it’s very comfortable standing outside all the time. Plus, you don’t get a very good view.”

 

He watches as her eyes light up at his offer, and, nodding shyly, she says, “Yes, if you don’t mind, I’d like that.”

 

And that was how it all began.

 

That was how she found herself in the routine of opening the door to the practice room every night, carefully and gently so as not to disturb Hyunjin. Usually there would be no greeting, conversation, niceties, small talk, whatever— heck, she wasn’t even sure if he was aware of her presence— she would just slip quietly into a corner of the room, set her bag down and sit down cross-legged on the floor, then watch the performance unfold before her.

 

It was equally fascinating every single time. His movements, fluid and smooth yet sharp and precise all at the same time, always left her enraptured. The way he was so absorbed in the rhythm mesmerized her, the way he seemed to pour forth all his emotions into his dance captivated her. She wondered what it must be like to love something so much, to feel a fire burning within you whenever you did it. She had now seen it in Hwang Hyunjin, and she was slightly envious of him having found something he could hold onto for his whole life.

 

“So, what do you think of my dancing?”

 

She is surprised when he suddenly asks one day as he sits down on the space next to her, leaning his back against the wall. He stretches his long legs out and takes a swig from a plastic bottle of water.

 

“I don’t think I’m fit to critique you on your skills; I can’t dance to save my life,” she responds, chuckling softly.

 

Hyunjin smiles slightly too at hearing her laugh for the first time. It’s not the typical high-pitched squeak of the giggly girls who often flirted with him to get his attention; rather, it sounded light and airy and genuine all at once.

 

“I don’t mean that. I mean, what is it about my dancing that attracts you so much?”

 

She is silent for a moment, wondering how to put it all into words.

 

“I don’t know. I think it’s the way your body seems to follow your heart when you dance, and the way your whole body seems to be alive with passion. I can tell you really put your soul into your dance, and I can really feel your passion for it. That’s really special, you know— you have a gift. I can tell you love dancing, and you’re so talented. I honestly admire you a lot for that.”

 

He watches her eyes light up as she speaks, as though she is truly fascinated by him. Her words strike a resounding chord in his heart, because they are the words he’d never heard before but had always been dying to hear. To have someone finally recognize his talent, his passion, left his core tingling with a sort of unacquainted sweetness.

 

“So you don’t think I’m just a talentless, good-for-nothing pretty face?”

 

At this, she scrunches her nose and furrows her eyebrows. “A pretty face? Wow, Hwang Hyunjin, I didn’t think you were a narcissist. You’re not that pretty.”

 

This time, it is he who erupts into full-blown laughter. This girl sure is refreshing.

 

“But no, you’re definitely not just an empty pretty face. You’re so much more than that.”

 

Silence ensues for a moment as he drinks in her words. Then,

 

“Thank you,” he says quietly to her, fiddling with the rings on his fingers, unsure of where else to look, “that means a lot to me.”

 

 

---

 

 

Hyunjin gets accustomed to performing in front of his silent audience. He rather likes her presence, and with time, he finds himself looking forward to hearing the soft click of the door, the quiet shuffling of her footsteps as she pads gently into the room, trying her hardest not to disturb him.

 

She turns up regularly every night without fail, and as time passes he finds herself taking her presence for granted, so much so that when she doesn’t turn up one night, he is surprised, shocked even.

 

He tells herself that maybe she isn’t free, maybe she forgot, maybe she’s studying late into the night. After all, finals are drawing close.

 

But he finds himself unable to concentrate on his dance steps, unable to soak in the rhythm and absorb the melody like he normally does.

 

Something just doesn’t feel right.

 

Sighing in frustration, he decides to go out for a while to take a breather. Perhaps a little walk will help to clear his head.

 

As he walks down the darkened hallway he thinks of her, wondering what she’s doing, whether she’s okay, why she hasn’t come to see him.

 

Then, as he turns the corner he hears soft muffled sounds, like heavy breathing. He walks deeper into the hallway, following the source of the sound, hoping the rumors about the hallways being haunted at night were false.

 

The sounds transition into louder, slightly more audible sobs. Hyunjin’s muscles tense up slightly, but he edges forward with a sort of morbid curiosity.

 

Finally, he sees it. Or rather, her.

 

A girl with a familiar-looking backpack strapped onto her back, sitting on the bench next to the water cooler, her head in her hands as her shoulders shake profusely. Her long black hair spills over the side of her face across her shoulder, obscuring her face.

 

Hyunjin moves closer to her and the sound of his footsteps startle her. She looks up from her hands, eyes red-rimmed and moist through her thick glasses. It’s her. The girl who was supposed to come watch him dance.

 

“Hey,” Hyunjin says worriedly, relieved that it wasn’t a ghost yet concerned about his friend. He sits down beside her. “What’s wrong?”

 

She sniffs rapidly, bringing her hand to her cheek and wiping it harshly, with the stubborn air of a sulky child. “N-Nothing. I’m fine. S-Sorry I can’t go tonight. I have to go now,” she says in choppy sentences, nothing like her usual eloquent, flowy manner of speech.

 

She stands up from the bench and turns to leave but Hyunjin grabs her wrist and pulls her into his arms, fuelled by an overwhelming desire to comfort her.

 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me. But you don’t have to deal with it alone.”

 

Hyunjin’s gentle tone, combined with the way he’s soothingly her back, embracing her tightly, causes her facade to crumble. She lets her tears flow freely again as she cries into his chest, holding tightly onto his jacket.

 

After what seems like an eternity, she pulls away from him and reaches down to hold his hand. “I want to tell you. I feel like you’ll understand.”

 

She sinks back down onto the bench, still holding onto Hyunjin’s hand as though it is her only pillar of support.

 

“Actually, it’s nothing much. It’s just exam anxiety. I’ll always have a breakdown before every exam, especially major ones. I feel better after crying it all out.”

 

Hyunjin frowns. “I feel nervous before dance performances or competitions too but not to that extent. It must be something else, isn’t it?”

 

She sighs at Hyunjin having called out her bluff. Biting her lower lip in unease she picks up the courage to find the words.

 

“It’s just, I have to do well for every exam. To prove that I’m good at something. That I’m capable. That I can do something, you know. All I can do is study. It’s all I’ve ever known. I have no other talents or gifts. I’m not special, and the only way I can make my parents proud, make myself proud, is by doing well. That’s the only way I can stand out. If I’m not good at even studying, then I’m truly useless. I wouldn’t have any other reason to… exist.”

 

Hyunjin suddenly feels angry at her words, angry that she could even think so poorly of herself. Angry because this girl right here unknowingly began to hold a special place in his heart, and seeing her beat herself up like that makes him so mad.

 

He grips both her hands tightly in his and kneels down so that he is eye level with her.

 

“Listen to me,” he says, voice thick with conviction, “you are not useless, not at all. Getting good results doesn’t prove your worth. Do you remember what you said to me, about me being way more than just a pretty face? Well, you’re so much more than just a grade on a result slip, okay? So don’t demean yourself like that. I won’t allow it.”

 

She smiles and shakes her head sadly. “Hyunjin… you don’t understand. You’re different. You have a talent, a passion, a skill, something you can always fall back on. A constant. You’re so good at it that it’s already been ingrained in you. Lots of people can study, but not a lot of people can dance as well as you do. And if I can’t even study well enough to beat those people, then what am I even capable of?”

 

Hyunjin’s heart breaks at her words. Impulsively he takes her face in his hands. “You’re so amazing. Why can’t you see that?”

 

She smiles sadly. “I wish I were as amazing as you, Hwang Hyunjin.”

 

And at that moment, he kisses her.

 

It is a short pressing of his lips against hers, but it is more than enough to take her breath away.

 

Startled, her eyes widen to comical extremes, the first thing that comes to her mind is, “I-I thought you said you had a girlfriend.”

 

Hyunjin raises an eyebrow, evidently having long forgotten his claim. “It was a lie. Just a tactic to ward off unwanted attention. But now I guess I can turn that lie into truth?”

 

“Wha-,”

 

And he kisses her again, more deeply this time, closing his eyes and letting himself be guided by the electricity flowing through his body, hoping it would transmit over to her.

 

“If you’ll let me, I want to show you just how amazing you are,” Hyunjin says earnestly, breaking away from the kiss and playing with her fingers.

 

“Thank you, Hwang Hyunjin. Yes, I think I’d like that,” she says, and Hyunjin is glad to see the familiar sparkle pop back in her eyes. Giddy with elation, he takes her hand and intertwines his fingers with hers.

 

They stare at each other in quiet awe, feeling the stars dance and cross paths, showers of starlight pouring forth within their souls.