A/N: So this story is kind of a connection to my other story, but you don’t have to read that one to know what’s happening in this one.  They are both written in this “universe” which is reality.  B.A.P is a group, all the members are present and I try to write including real things they experience like their real appearances on variety TV, travels for shows, etc.

I really debated whether or not to write this one.  My other story is a Banghim but I really wanted to write something from Jongup’s perspective.  And I just honestly can’t ship him with any of the members… so yes, this is a fic with a female OC (the kind of story I usually avoid), but I hope you give it a chance.  Because although there will be some romance (and probably some ) primarily this is a story about Jongup the Silent Observer.

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She walks around with her head and shoulders down, her hair covering her face.  I do that too sometimes.  My hair doesn’t give much coverage, though.  And she doesn’t talk much but then neither do I.  I think she’s perfect for me.

Her clothes are big, sometimes bigger than mine; they hide her body and look sloppy.  I’ve seen her shirt fly up with complicated dance moves though, and caught glimpses of her slender waist and flat tummy.  I’ve spent many nights since then thinking about it, imagining the softness of her skin and the firmness of the abs she formed from dancing.  I wanted to touch it, all of her really, but especially her tanned toned stomach.

In our dance studio she is the only female break-dancer but she blended so well I don’t know if anyone noticed.  The other trainees didn’t pay much attention to her otherwise but when she danced she was the only person in the room and no one could look away. 

I sometimes fantasized about joining her in perfect synchronization like in a dance movie, ending in a kiss… but I’m an Observer, that’s my role in life. 

In this world there were two types of men: the Doers and the Observers.  As an Observer I would spend my life fantasizing and silently watching the Doers take action.  I think our roles are chosen at birth.  I’ve defied that role by becoming an idol but it didn’t change who I was at the core. So, instead of jumping from my seat and joining her on the choreography I’d memorized in one enthralled viewing, I just hid in the back of the room wide-eyed, with a hoodie covering the bright blonde mop of hair that separated me from the trainees I was once a part of. 

When you debut as an idol there’s a wall, I don’t know who puts it up but relationships aren’t the same anymore and the more successful you get, the more strained it becomes.  There has always been a wall between me and her, me being an Observer and all, but I think we were meant for each other. 

I didn’t come to the dance studio for fun much anymore because of the wall that made my old friends treat me like an alien (and the hectic promotion schedule) but it was my first vacation since I debuted as a member of B.A.P and I just wanted to watch her dance. 

Honestly, I should have gone home.  My hometown was only three hours by bus, which was a luxury my group-mates Daehyun and Junhong would have loved.  I could have gone home and ate my mother’s cooking, seen friends I’d left years ago… but the thing I missed most since debut was watching her dance. And maybe, I was ready to claim her. Observer men get girlfriends too… some of them… my father had; I just had to figure out how.

I’d survived ten months of continuous practices, rehearsals, interviews, performances, photo-shoots and international travel, how hard could it be to pursue a girl if you knew she was destined for you?

“Dizzy, you’re up,” the instructor called.  Today was end of the month observations, where each trainee performed to be graded and evaluated.  She slinked across the room like a cat, swaying to the music. 

I didn’t even know her real name.  I could have asked someone and they would have told me but that would mean taking a risk and Observers are not risk takers by nature.  Besides, ‘Dizzy’ was fitting.  I looked it up as soon as she came.  At first I thought she was called Digi like the Digimon I liked as a kid, but when I saw the proper spelling on her locker (and the definition on the internet) I didn’t need to know her real name.

Dizzy (adjective): the sensation of spinning or losing balance.

She gave me that feeling as I watched her dance, popping and locking before turning into a graceful twirl.  There were about a dozen pretty girls training for a spot in the next girl group and honestly she wasn’t one of them; her face was plain and her skin was deeply tanned but I didn’t want anyone else.  I think this is what love is but it’s hard to say, us Observers are not too skilled in that area, but if she would have me I would stay loyally at her side for life, just for the chance to see her dance only for me.