Kim Jongin knows nothing but dance, and he wouldn't have it any other way. For years, fans, top choereographers, and judges all have said he was made to dance, he was given a gift. But was it by mistake? Because why else would it be taken away now? Jongin doesn't understand and he finds himself unable to bear it. It's unfair. What did he do wrong? Why is he being punished? Can he ever adapt? Perhaps with the help of one who doesn't utter a word...
I maaaaaaajorly at writing descriptions. So yeah, sorry~? ^^ I don't think this will be a very long fic, but who knows, it may be able to be stretched out if I decide to include more things, etc; Look forward to it~!
He took a deep breath to ease his mind and pressed play. Music flowed out of the speakers in the room and he swayed to the slow beat. A symbol clash with the nod of his head and he opened his mouth to sing along, but stopped himself by biting down on his lower lip. The man's voice was beautiful, it had a bit of edge but was still fitting the gentle flow of the song just right. The higher notes were hit uncharacteristically delicately, sounding as if they were a struggle to reach them, when the artist clrealy had no trouble hitting higher notes. The song was different from his usual stuff, not even close to the R&B style that was his genre.
The man in the room bowed his head as a tear broke free from his eyes and ran down his cheek. He wanted to yell, scream, beat something up. The pain inside him was boiling and was threatening to overflow and burst out of his heart. More tears fell down when he realised even if he tried to scream there wouldn't be a sound. He quickly stopped the song, deciding he was just torturing himself by it. Curling up on the couch next to him, he silently cried himself to sleep.
It was the only record of his he hadn't burned.