“Hwayoung what are you doing?” Our choreographer yelled. “Do it again!” The other members groaned and cast irritated glances at me as we positioned for cue music. I know you’re all tired, but I’m tired too. And sick. We’ve been repeating over and over and over again just because I can’t do a simple move. Aish.

“Come on do it again! And one two three four. Hwayoung sway your hips more!” He looked at me like I’m some sort of animal he would butcher. Just a little more push and I would nail this step down. Just wait for it. “Okay! And jump and down and up again and turn and…”

Thud.

I fell during the turn. Guess I twirled one revolution more than the required.

“Hwayoung, only one turn and then the hand movements! Why can’t you get that? You’ve been doing two circles all this time. Why are you making the dance so hard for yourself?” he reprimanded for the nth time. Every time he scolds me, his nostrils flare and trajectory spit goes out of his mouth I just had to look sideways and mentally plug my ears. I’m so bored of this- him chastising me about my dancing skills (moving my fingers to make quotation marks on the dancing skills). I get told off all the time, ALL THE ING TIME, I already memorized his lines. Okay Hwayoung wrong move! Do this then that and tut tut tut. Next comes his wonderful tirade, saying how perfect of a dancer I am, how my turns are so accurate, how graceful my jumps are blah blah blah.

“Are you even listening to me?!” I broke off in my reverie as I felt strong hands grasp my shoulders, ready to give me a shake. Oh, he does that too, every time, since I always, all freaking ways, zone out on his diatribes. Wait, I think I forgot something. Oh, here it is!

“I don’t even fathom how you got in here! You think you’re good enough, huh? My god, are you sure you are twins with Hyoyoung? Look at you! Look at how you move!  You’re already less prettier than her and the way you dance is despicable! Do you think you’ll go anywhere Hwayoung?” Spit is now all over my face. I could feel the droplets partying on every pore on my body. They enjoy mocking me, neh?

Sometimes his speech would go longer, insulting me even more. Sometimes he’d go straight to the point- I am not deserving to be Hyoyoung’s identical twin (because our faces aren’t so identical I am ugly, what about our moves?). But they all end up the same. He would shake his head, look at me as if I am the filthiest creature with all sorts of unimaginable diseases, and call it a day. Of course, I always wanted to go out of the hellish rehearsals first, however, he would pull me in a corner and lecture me some more, as if his previous outburst wasn’t enough to embarrass me into the afterlife.

My life .

Sigh.

As I walk back to our dorm, I heard heavy footsteps behind me. When I looked behind to check, someone slung his ultra heavy arm around my shoulders. There was a slight struggle as he did not want to let me go. “Taewoon oppa are you trying to kill me?” I breathed. I thought he went back home with s.

“You’re an ogre. How can I kill you?” He grinned, draping his right arm on me again. “Let’s go to some underground club and have a rap battle.”

“Are you crazy?!” I was taken aback. What was wrong with hyung? I mean oppa. “Choreo-nim told us to be early tomorrow, remember? I have to show him my awesomeness on the dance floor.”

“Sardonic Hwayoung is sardonic,” Taewoon oppa ruffled my hair and started to walk, leaving me behind. “There are those days that I want to rip the lyrics I’m reading into pieces when I hear my brother rap. ity ,” he sang, bobbing his head left and right. “It , right?” He looked back at me.

Oh, oppa you remembered I was alive! I thought you were so absorbed in your monologue! Aish. I want to bow down to the ground and beg for it to swallow me now. It’s now or never, Ground! Open up and take me into the abyss! Minus one crappy crappy life on the surface of this perfect planet.

“Hwayoung what are you doing?!” He ran back and prevented me from smashing my head on the concrete for the second time.

“I’m so fine, oppa,” I looked up, blood squirting from my nose and forehead. He looked alarmed, thinking I cracked my skull or something. For a few seconds, which felt like light years, he just stared at me. It was pure comic relief, actually. The one you read on mangas. Taewoon oppa didn’t know what to do. Then he remembered he had a hanky and put it on my head. He was searching for a magical stopper to appear out of nowhere. Guess what?

He found none. So he covered my nostrils with his index and middle fingers. Tomorrow, my nostrils will be bigger than Choreo-nim when he scolds me. I might as well sniff him in.

It was stupid of me to become trainees with my twin, knowing that she is the beautiful one, the talented one, the smart one. I had no chance since the moment she came out of our mother’s womb first. This is stupid. This is a person giving his leg for rabid dogs to devour. This is very much Hwayoung.

When we were young, I thought that we were a mirror of each other. The same shoulder-length hair, the same clothes, the same body structure, the same everything no one could tell us apart. But Hyoyoung grew up prettier and a whole lot better than me. It was like the day the Lord showered all things bright and beautiful, Hyoyoung was carrying a gigantic basin while I only had a water bottle cap.

That’s how it had always been. I’ve become a mere shadow of my sister. A defective copy. The crack on the mirror, the awful stain on a white cloth. Taewoon oppa is like me, too. Overshadowed by his little brother who’s better in rap, in looks, in popularity, in everything.

This . ity , as Taewoon oppa would say.

Will people see us as ourselves? As separate beings from our siblings? As stars in our own, hard-earned light? I mean, we’re all humans, right? And everyone is entitled to make mistakes. Just because our siblings are perfect doesn’t mean we are, too. Will people give us a chance to have our own identity? Aiiishhh.

I jerked my head back as I felt a cold sensation in my head. My eyes fluttered open to see Taewoon oppa hovering inches above my face, holding an ice pack. “You had your little monoloque Hwayoung,” he grinned, pressing the ice pack on my forehead.

“What?!” I immediately got up, afraid that he heard whatever I let slip out of my stupid mouth. He pushed me back to bed (since when have I gotten into bed?!) and winked.

“You passed out after worshipping the ground,” he smiled at me then stood up, ready to leave my room. “I think stain on white cloth is pretty.” He winked at me again as he closed the door.