Jongin woke up as soon as the early morning sun rays attacked his slumber. He rolled his eyes when his eyes found the culprit, the moth-eaten curtains flapping against the light breeze.

His eyebrows creased with frustration as he jerked the blanket over his face wanting just a bit more time to sleep.

A few minutes later a faint sound was heard by Jongin from underneath the thick blanket.
“Kim Jongin! Wake up,” his father commanded.

 

Jongin grunted in annoyance and pushed his blanket off immediately. He shuddered at the thought if his father suddenly came in to see him still asleep.

 

Sudden violent thoughts interrupted his mind to the time back in his early years of being a teenager. His father had asked Jongin to wake up at sun rise, off course no kid would want to leave precious sleep at the satin bed sheets of warmth. Jongin thought he could get away with it just once and maybe his father would let him sleep for another half hour. Boy was Jongin wrong about that, if there was one thing a parent hated it was definitely disobedience. Few parents would be lenient enough about it but not Jongin’s father. Unexpectedly as soon as the icy water pierced his face like a thousand knives stabbing him at once, Jongin understood that he could never and would not ever dare to question his father’s leniency.

 

Jongin’s father was a typical strict asian parent, only last week his father had bought him a laptop paying half of the payment, after weeks and weeks of a begging Jongin. His final examinations were coming up soon, and the modern world zooming faster than his father could manage to crack a smile, used online notes for exam preparations.

All the kids had laptops, Iphone’s or Samsung Galaxy’s, trendy school bags, latest kicks, and what did Jongin have? Good health, a bed, an mp3 player and a new laptop; what he treasured the most.

Living in a city with fast developing technology Jongin like most teenagers had a deep interest in the new gadgets, but he always felt left behind, almost like he missed the train, heck he hadn’t even reached the train station yet. But with the new laptop he definitely felt as if he arrived, piling inside with the cool modern people while he didn’t feel so ancient anymore.

 

After washing up Jongin made his way into the kitchen. He found his dad sipping on a cup of coffee whilst reading the newspaper.

“How are your studies going?” his father questioned Jongin immediately. He could see his dad’s eyebrows visible from above the slightly crinkled newspaper furrowed deeply as the kitchen dawned on the silence.

“Uh yeah they’re fine,” Jongin tried to reply as calm and collected as possible. Why was he nervous? Oh that’s right his grades were crashing to its pitiful death.

His father gently put down the newspaper, Jongin could feel the tension seep into his father’s already agitated mood. His eyes flickered onto Jongin and replied with a grim expression, “That was not what I heard from your teacher,” as if he expected an obvious excuse.

 

Well Jongin certainly did not expect that. He never knew what to expect from his father, always like an owl keeping a watchful lookout. Since last week his father had stopped pestering Jongin so much, giving Jongin a sense of relief, as he thought he was in the clear. He felt motivated enough to not give a damn if he failed the test.

 

“I’ll take extra tutoring after school,” Jongin suggested at once, hoping to ease off the anger that threatened to spill over the kitchen table. He was in need of a new excuse.

 

His father stared at Jongin for a few seconds. Within those seconds beads of sweat were already forming into Jongin’s palms as he gulped nervously. He prayed silently that his father would give in.

 

“Good,” his father replied sternly.

 

---

 

Jongin remembered the first time he walked down the eerie street, which was five blocks to the left and turned into a gravel pathway. He was nervous to start this but in his mind played the familiar verse that he only had one human life.

 

The door creaked open and Lu Han invited him inside. It had been a few weeks since he’d been lying to his father.

 

In those few weeks he felt as if a new rose had blossomed into his life, a seed of passion which grew drop after drop of effort, slowly its roots clawing deep in Jongin’s heart, it attached firmly and took over him.

 

His mind abruptly, unpleasantly, travelled back to his childhood when all was serene and content, the days where he could dance in the kitchen while his mother cooked pancakes for breakfast. When his grandfather entered the house after his morning walk with grandmother, and they would smile at him with adoration. His grandmother often requested Jongin to dance her favourite type of modern dance even though he had never learnt how. But he desperately did not want to turn down his beautiful grandmother who showered love without a second thought. Jongin left to his small knowledge of dancing would often just let go and dance crazily in front of his grandparents as they clapped merrily for him. He never knew how well he danced even if he had only thrashed his arms around wildly and amazingly in rhythm, and jumped around the room doing crazy routines, which he would have been embarrassed of if he had watched 10 year old Jongin right now. But he did it all for the love he received from his grandparents and his parents. He always felt a rush of happiness envelope him when the four people he loved the most in his life looked at him with absolute delight.

 

On one of those days when Jongin performed a routine for his friends, he realised that he had also felt that same happiness that he had come to yearn for when Lu Han had also looked at him with that same delight. He found out later that Lu Han had been purposely watching him in secret after he was convinced to join Lu Han.

 

Jongin never liked to remind himself of the happy days, it bothered him that things could never be the same, but along his road of memories he found that ray of sunshine which kept him happy from all the contempt and sadness that grasped him as soon as he stepped inside his home.

 

When he feathered on the vinyl floor, prancing around the room, the familiar feeling of soaring towards his dreams and bursting a passion that strained his body, took hold of him. He knew he was in love with that feeling and he also knew that it would be too late to turn back.

 

Too late to turn back and leave the dance studio, too late to leave his dreams in which the mirrors reflected each second, too late to leave his growing seed of passion at the door, too late to leave the warmth that seeped into his heart when he had learnt a new routine. To leave and step into his cold house, leave his incoherent lying at the tip of his shoes and kick them far away, greet his less than a burst of flavour of an attitude father, and open his books of useless knowledge to succeed ‘appropriately’ in life.

 

Jongin remembers briefly the conversation that brought out a new string of friendship between Lu Han and him. Panting he leant against the railing and suddenly blurted to a surprised Lu Han, “Do you think dreams come true?”

 

“I don’t know what context you’re asking this in?” Lu Han questioned.

 

“A dream achieved by working with effort?” Jongin asked nervously.

 

“Maybe, if destiny is in favour of you’re sorry ,” Lu Han laughed.

 

Jongin smacked him hard.

 

Later that night when his thoughts haunted him he hoped destiny was not against him.

 

It had been a few weeks and Jongin had learned Lu Han was also a sob story. He felt grateful knowing that he wasn’t alone, knowing there was a Chinese boy who ran away from home to the nearest country to get away from his strict life. There was someone in this huge world that fought for their dreams and succeeded as Jongin aspired to do.

 

Jongin admired Lu Han greatly with no money and only the strength to dance; Lu Han was surprisingly rich at only 23 years of age. At first glance Jongin wouldn’t have considered baby-faced-23 year-old to be older than him let alone being well off. Jongin once joked that Lu Han lived off his face that was why he was so wealthy, that day Lu Han made him dance until his legs gave out.

 

Jongin and Lu Han never had a relationship outside the dance studio. Their relationship didn’t have the chance to flower but nevertheless Jongin considered him as a close friend. He knew Lu Han was lonely just as much as Jongin was, possibly even more considering that Lu Han lived with himself all day. Lu Han’s only entertainment was Jongin at precisely 3.15pm when Jongin arrives at the dance studio. Lu Han always treated Jongin like his little brother possibly because of their age differences but Jongin never saw age as a problem. He would even talk informally but Lu Han was not so forgiving for he knew how language worked especially in Korea.

 

---

 

Dance. According to the dictionary dance was to move the feet and body rhythmically in time to music. It wasn’t wrong at all every word and every letter breathed the truth, Jongin wondered if he could breathe the truth to his father.

 

Jongin was casually browsing the internet wanting more than ever to procrastinate as much as possible; not having the heart to study. He doesn’t think he ever had since there was no inspiration in reading words; a bunch of sentences that didn’t make sense and that was all it was.  Not an ounce of inspiration could be found in the depths of a 457 page book about the history of the Korean War. Who cared anyway about the past? What’s done was done. Jongin planned to scribble these thoughts down in the exam paper.

 

If anyone else thought of these pointless thoughts one would have believed they were lying to themselves that history had no part in the future. One must know the past in order to develop the future. Jongin couldn’t argue with that, after all his past was the driving force to what could be his future.

 

If survivors of the Korean War could learn from their past and develop their future, could this term apply to his father? Could his father move on from his ordeal and melt the metal locks that bound his heart into hot liquid?

 

The death of his wife along with his parents impressed a cold father to Jongin’s sorry fate. Had his father felt all alone, causing him to lock his emotions, and solely concentrate on carrying on the family pride, carelessly dumping the weights of pressures onto his only heir, Kim Jongin.

 

Jongin felt nor gained any inspiration from that, if his father was inspired to grab his father’s cane (Jongin’s grandfather) and force 13 year old Jongin to memorise his grandfather’s historical legacy of generation passed down to generation pride, what inspiration could Jongin possibly receive? All he knew was that inspiration wasn’t memorised or abused into his brain, it came from a tiny thought in the mind and managed to sprout warmth into his veins giving the fuel it needed to stimulate every vein of certainty.

 

Dance was just a hobby, an activity, he heard his father say. After that day, Jongin kept his dancing too himself.

 

 

---

 

As soon as the school bell rang Jongin bid goodbye to his friends and ran out the door in his sweats. Instead of staying at the library for tutoring he arrived at a small building, which he considered should be his actual tutoring.

 

Lu Han greeted him as usual with the same old enthusiastic grin and lead him inside. The dance studio was quite large with two walls facing each other made up of reflective glass, while the remaining walls were lined with railings and a few broken stereos.

 

Jongin pulled off his hood and stood before his reflection ready to learn more dance moves. As a part of revision from the last lesson he started off with the routine he had been aiming to perfect. Lu Han wasted no time and pressed play.

 

----

 

 

Jongin ran as fast as he could, he was panting already, his thighs hurt every time he took another abrupt step on the smooth concrete. He reached for his pocket as he ran into the sunset and pulled out his watch. 5.56pm

Jongin cursed himself for being so careless about his time. In a few minutes he should be entering his doorstep yet here he was sprinting for his life. He had told his father his supposed tuition ends at 5.30pm and by the time he would arrive at home it would be 6pm. His father always expected him to be punctual, he would say that this skill would come to be of great importance in daily life. You could say Jongin understood very well the concept of this. He cursed himself again and prayed that his father would not find out what he was really doing.
 

Jongin stopped abruptly for some oxygen as he huffed and puffed. He was sweating even more at the fact that his father would somehow suddenly claim that Jongin had been dancing instead of studying, that’s when he mentally slapped himself for being so delusional.

 

A while later Jongin barged in through the door, he did his best to smother his harsh breathing with a smile as he pressed his lips together. His father was nowhere to be seen. Instinctively his eyes glanced up to the large clock on the wall above the television set. 6.05pm

 

He grinned despite how angry his father might be, he reached a record and all because of he was afraid. Funny how fear could be helpful, Jongin mused.

 

“Oh you’re here,” his father said blankly.  Jongin’s head turned towards his father’s voice that was halfway down the stairs.  
 

“Um yeah,” Jongin smiled nervously. His breathing was still ragged as he swallowed forcefully.

 

His father only nodded and retrieved back up the stairs leaving a bewildered Jongin.

 

At that moment he couldn’t believe his luck. His father hadn’t even questioned as to why he was a few minutes late. Now that he thought about it, wouldn’t it be delirious if his father really did question him? Wouldn’t that be asking a bit too much of him, to arrive exactly at 6.00pm. Off course if his father couldn’t let a few minutes slide off than there would be a problem, but to Jongin the fact that his father had let it slide off was a problem.

 

He didn’t know what to think of it so he decided to shrug the matter off.

 

---

 

Jongin woke up bright and early in the morning with a disturbing feeling in his stomach as he processed the quiet house. He stepped out and searched the whole house but his father had already left. Jongin’s eyebrow arched at the uncertainty of the whole situation, he didn’t know what to make of it, in the end he decided once again to shrug the whole matter off.

 

It was another boring day at school as Jongin scrunched paper and threw it across the room to pass the time. These days all the teachers talked about was the importance of the upcoming exams and it bored the hell out of Jongin. During class he had often drilled holes into his books and especially the whiteboard as he struggled to comprehend all those letters. He thought it a waste of space, all these desks was a waste of space, why if he could get rid of it all he would use the space to dance.

 

“Pssst!” his classmate, Lee Taemin, disturbed his moment of peace. Jongin looked at him with a bored expression while the other grinned showing off his pearly whites.
 

“You look bored,” Taemin said cheekily.
 

“Is it that obvious?” Jongin said sarcastically leaving Taemin in giggles.

 

The teacher turned around and immediately met eyes with Jongin. She scowled dangerously before turning back around.

 

----

 

When the school bell rang Jongin waved goodbye to whomever and walked towards the highlight of his day, the dance studio. 

 

He ran through the door and threw his school bag across the room, to which Lu Han laughed at his eager behaviour.

 

“No greetings dancing machine?” Lu Han questioned with sarcasm.

 

“Since when did we stick to formalities,” Jongin replied with a smirk.

 

Lu Han sighed and shrugged, he reached for the button and pressed play.

The cheesy music began grasping the eager boy immediately while Lu Han watched in admiration from the railing.

 

Jongin started with mild gestures that showed barely suppressed tension. As his arms motioned the rhythm he pulled a swift 180 degree whirl. The moves flowed out easily for him feeling his hard work had come to pay off. Slightly leaning he lifted his head and glanced at the reflection in the mirror. He immediately caught sight of a very familiar figure with arms crossed in fury.

To his surprise it was his father.

His father began marching towards him, and Jongin could see the utter shock and anger that plastered his father’s face. How his father even found him was beyond his imagination. But this time he knew he was a goner. His face lined with confusion and a heart pounding fear and at that moment he could only hope things wouldn’t turn out too ugly.

 

His father bellowed, “Kim Jongin, how dare you disobey me! I am your father, do you have any respect for me?!”

 

Jongin was at a loss of words, he thought he had been careful enough, he felt he could continue with the lies, but deep down he knew all good things came to an end one day.

 

He did feel at fault for deliberately lying to his father, but the one thing he excelled in, his father had refused to give him a chance. He couldn’t take it anymore. His heart began pounding against his lungs wanting to burst into a million pieces. He wanted to say something, anything that could convince his father, but what could he say? He had no idea, his emotions over swept him and he could no longer think. His heart and mind became frigid with worry as he realised that he had been caught and now it was going all end.

 

“I do respect you but I wish you would respect me,” Jongin trembled silently.

 

Jongin swallowed a lump of fear as his father blinked in shock. For a second, he thought his father could have been contemplating what he had just said but that was only wishful thinking. His father’s face ridiculed in disdain, he grabbed Jongin’s wrist and dragged him down pulling him away.

 

“Now I know why you’ve been failing school,” his father said in a dangerous voice.

Jongin’s eyes were filled with a distressing fear and anxiety as he struggled. He clung to the bare ground helplessly knowing that his dreams were about to be broken into a million pieces. Shattered in a single moment and there he was on the ground begging for mercy.

 

When Jongin thought he was done for Lu Han sprang into view and managed to stop the tugging and screaming. His father glared dangerously and Lu Han nearly backed away from the contempt in Jongin’s father’s eyes.

 

Lu Han tried to speak some sense into Jongin’s father. He tried to explain how exceptional Jongin really is and his talent should not be wasted. If he continued he could have a financially stable career. He could even become a star if he stepped into the entertainment industry. He would earn a comfortable living and enjoy a cosy lifestyle. But his father seemed horrified by the whole idea of it and did not wait any longer to hear more of Lu Han’s incessant babbling.

 

Jongin felt as if his whole life was going to collapse and there was nothing in his power to stop it. He was as helpless as a man framed for a crime, and in that moment there was nothing he could say or do to defend himself.

 

Dancing had become way too important and obviously took its toll on his grades, but it’s not like he took his education seriously. He couldn’t anymore because it was something that didn’t come naturally to him. Only with effort could he attain the level of an average student and frankly he became tired of it, ever since he realised how much better he was at dancing.

 

All those times his father had clapped for him when he landed a perfect twirl. His father leaving a smile of pride on his face after Jongin performed for his grandparents, when his father attended his performances during his school functions, what had that all meant? Was it a smile of content or was it a forced smile of disgust. Jongin couldn’t tell anymore, had he been lied to this whole time by a mere smile?