That's what he was up there by himself on the stage that winter.
He was spectacular. 
And I was proud. And I was happy.
And I was envious. 

I saw no reason to dress up in a fancy outfit. That would only serve to pull attention away from Jongin tonight. Tonight, in which the Winter Spectacular was taking place. All day today, there were festivities around campus celebrating the end of another fall semester.

I spent most of the morning walking around with my roommate. She was going home to Busan this winter vacation. She asked me if I wanted to go as well. I didn’t want to impose so suddenly. But she made me promise we’d go during Spring Break together. To both her home and to mine. More specifically, she threatened to tell my boyfriend all of the dirty secrets that he’d only know if he lived with me if I didn’t go. 

It was enough to make me laugh at her silliness. And it was enough to make me promise to go with her, even though the rotten strawberry incident in August was the only dirty piece of blackmail she had on me.

So, instead of going with her to her parent’s home this winter, and instead of visiting my own parents this winter who had been planning a trip to London for the longest time now, I decided to stay on campus for the upcoming break. I decided to spend my entire day with her until she left this afternoon.

We walked around. We talked. We laughed. We gossiped like the girls we are. And she pestered me continuously about getting a picture with my boyfriend so that she could see how handsome he was. Because I hang out with Kim Jongin so my standards must be high. That’s how she explained her desire to see what Taemin looked like, anyway.

It’s also how she explained her urging for me to change out of the jeans and sweater I was wearing. I should wear a dress. I should curl my hair. I should wear make up. I should try to look pretty for Taemin tonight since it was the last time I would see him until the New Year.

I should do so many things.

But should I really?

Taemin would ask the question of, “Why should I?”

He would ask for a concrete explanation based in factual evidence and testing. He’d ask for a list of pros and cons. Why should I really hurt my feet by wearing high heels? Taemin would call me impractical. Why should I really wear a layer of make up in order to make myself beautiful? He’d question the definition of beauty as he had done in the past.

I should want to look pretty for Taemin. Yes. I should. It’s a logical explanation considering I am his girlfriend. That’s the reasoning behind it. And, to him, it’s undoubtedly solid reasoning. Just as concrete as couples wanting to hold hands so that they can satisfy the need to touch each other, not a single metaphysical feeling or concept driving it in the least.

But I don’t want him to expect that I “should” look pretty for him. I don’t want to prove that black and white thinking of his right. I want him to be surprised by my casualness. I want him to expect the unexpected.

Thus, despite the urging of my roommate, I stayed as I was. I stayed comfortable. I stayed comfortable on the outside while on the inside I trembled with anticipation. Anticipation at seeing Taemin tonight, yes. Sure. But also anticipation at finally seeing with Taemin the dance routine Jongin has worked so hard on.

The one he has refused to rehearse even a bit of while in my presence. The one he was going to have recorded by Chanyeol using the tall Junior’s video camera. The one he was going to show to his parents when he got back home.

He was going to talk to them about majoring in Dance when he did. It wasn’t what his parents would want to hear. It wasn’t going to make his future any more certain. In fact, such a decision would make it even more uncertain. But it’s what he wanted to do. He told me yesterday afternoon, as he walked me to the front of the Performing Arts building, that it was what would make him happy.

It’s why he wanted Taemin, who had originally planned to stay on campus this winter break, to go with him. He needed the support. And I understood him.

And I sent a text to Taemin right after I left Jongin to rehearse, asking him something. It was a selfish question, really. Maybe it was because I wanted to know that there were people out there who were supportive of such a decision. Maybe because I wanted to know he’d be there for me once I made such a decision in the future.

Last night, I asked Taemin, “He’ll be happy, right?”

I didn’t specify the question. I didn’t even expect a reply. But he responded all the same.

He responded with, “I’ll tell you the answer to that five years from now.”

Would Jongin be happy with his decision? Only time would tell. Only after asking him in the future if he is will either of us ever know. Taemin made no promises. No reassurances. But he would be there five years from now to ask Jongin if he’s happy with the decision he’s making today. He would be there for Jongin.

And he would be there for me as well, wouldn’t he? How else would he tell me the answer to my question? 

He would be there for me when I made the same decision Jongin is currently making. And he was. But that’s a bit farther in the future from now.

Now, I’m standing in front of the Eclipse Auditorium in a sweater, jeans, and a heavy winter jacket. That kind that’s “god-awful” for a woman’s figure, according to my roommate. But it was warm. I felt warm as a tall, camera-bag-totting Junior stumbled up the steps that led to the front entrance of the auditorium. I curled my fingers deeper into my jacket pockets, pursing my lips as he gave me a double take. As though he didn’t recognize me.

But, then, with a large smile, he laughed. White condensation flowed from his lips as he stood more than five feet away from me, laughing. Was it that uncharacteristic of me to wear such a jacket? Was it that funny to see my legs sticking out of the bottom of what looked like a large, blue, therapeutic mattress?

It apparently was.

And the very sound of his honest reaction in the form of deep laughter was refreshing to say the least. Like encountering the sudden taste of mint in your cup of green tea. Because tea proverbs seem to match the tall, lanky, head of curls that was Park Chanyeol so aptly.

As his laughing fit came to a regrettable end, he uncovered his mouth and pursed his lips, holding back the smile and the laughter that surely tried to escape him once more, “Hey.”

It was a simple greeting. A simple greeting I returned, “Hey.”

And that was that. Nothing more, nothing less. And something told me, as we walked side by side through the auditorium’s double doors, that this upcoming winter break wasn’t going to be as uneventful as I thought it would be.

“Sorry I’m late.” Baekhyun tore off his scarf and quickly balled it into a disorderly bunch before plopping down into the theater chair Chanyeol had saved for him one seat down from me. He looked to the empty seat between us which held an empty camera bag before posing to me an inquisitive question, “Where’s Chanyeol?”

I deafly pointed past him, causing his eyes to follow the direction of my gesture. When his eyes landed on Chanyeol who was checking the video camera’s status for the fourth time since we arrived together an hour earlier, the both of us having been asked by Jongin to do so in order to make sure the camera got set up before the crowd settled in, he nodded. He glanced back at both me and the person at my side, giving us a small wave, before departing from his seat. I watched as he walked down the aisle and approached Chanyeol who was near the front of the stage.

I’ve never been a fan of watching a show from up front. Neither was Jongin. It was the other, unspoken reason he had for wanting me to show up early. The middle of the audience in the middle of the row. That’s where we would always look when we performed. That’s where we always talked to each other about having our parents sit should they ever come to see us perform. The lights may have been dim, but the middle was the best seat in the house.

That’s where he’d be looking tonight. So that’s where he wanted me to save seats for myself, Chanyeol, Baekhyun, and the person who now sat by my side tonight – Taemin.

“I’m sure you’ll find something to preoccupy yourself with during this upcoming break.” Taemin continued from where we had left off in our conversation. A conversation that entailed me explaining to him my lack of things I had planned for the weeks that followed. I truly had no idea. He gave me suggestions ranging from the more believable, “read a book,” to the more comedic, “get a dog.” Dogs are not exactly allowed in the dorms. He knew that though, I’m sure he did. So then, he was being excessively absurd for me.

He was “being” for me.

Taemin was trying to be funny since this was the last day we’d see each other for a long while. At least, I hoped that was why.

“What do you mean by that?” I questioned his words in a teasing tone, playing along with him. Because it felt good. It felt good to joke around with my boyfriend.

He shrugged his shoulders in response, the action causing his sweater covered shoulder to rub against my own. We were matching, you could say. In fact, he said it as soon as he saw me. We were both wearing beige colored sweaters. His was coupled with a light blue collared shirt underneath, a pair of dark colored jeans, and those coffee brown rimmed glasses of his. His contacts get dry when it’s cold out. A little factoid, a snippet of information, I’ve learned about him through our interactions.

“You’re resourceful.” He quipped right back, turning to face me, his entire body shifting towards me, as a smile lit his face. “You’ll think of something.” His smile faded then, his lips pursing forward instead as he seemed to contemplate his own statement for a single second. “Probably.” He concluded and only when a laugh left my lips did his smile return.

Or again, maybe that’s just my hopeful thinking getting the best of me.

“Nothing is a certainty.” He added, as if in passing.

And my laughter faded, my smile still there yet the vigor behind it gone. I looked on at him as he turned towards the stage again, dark brown eyes gleaming behind glass lenses as the lights began to dim slowly. The Winter Spectacular was starting. Yet why did it feel as though so many things were ending?

There was a reason I hadn’t a need to save Sehun a seat with us. The reason being that he was up there, on stage, after many a dancer, musician, singer, and actor took the floor. Sehun was up there, on stage, assisting in Jongin’s routine.

As though he couldn’t even see the audience whose eyes so intently watched his every move, he walked across the gray surface. Multiple chairs were strewn out in the background whose backdrop was a dark blue colored drape. In the center of the stage stood a single chair accompanying a wooden desk, a phone and a few pieces of paper covering the surface. Across from that stood a copper male torso beside a standing mirror and a low nightstand with more sheets of indiscernible slips of paper.

It was a simple setting. It only took moments to set up. Which was good, as I could feel my anticipation growing as soon as the act before Jongin had ended and the curtains closed, the voice of the host announcing him but a drowned out murmur in the background.

And there Sehun went, crisp white jacket adorning his shoulders, beige fedora tipped down on his head, as he walked with a slight limp. As though returning home after an exhausting day at work. He rolled his shoulders back, his jacket slipping from them with a single tug on each sleeve by either of his hands.

Wordlessly, he placed it on the outstretched hand of a mannequin whose back faced the entire mystified audience. And a slight sigh escaped him as he plucked his hat from his head and set it open the other outstretched hand of that same mannequin whose arms were positioned as though showing off a magic trick just performed.

And like a magic trick, as soon as Sehun exited the stage, the music started. A single beam of light shone down onto the mannequin. Onto Jongin. He spun on his heel, revealing himself to all of us who watched on. Even from so far away, I could see the change in his facial musculature. The faint hitch of his lips upwards, just the left corner. This is where his stage began.

He lifted his arm, placing the fedora atop his head as though it was meant to be there all along. His feet sashayed across the stage with a still, quiet grace before he came to a stop in front of the standing mirror, one hand pressing the jacket to his torso while the other ran down it, a shared gasp running through the audience in response. It was an expected response.

That’s what his dancing did. It fed off of the gasps it caused in its onlookers. That’s what it continued to do as he turned towards us all, his eyes trained dead center. And he danced. He danced with the jacket as though it were his one and only partner. It was brilliant really, utilizing the fact that he was alone in such a way. Each move was simply executed. Each flick of his wrist was to the beat of the music. Each slide of his foot across the floor had a practiced polish that made it look almost natural.

Natural talent.

That’s what Kim Jongin had.  

Then, he discarded the white jacket on the wooden desk, leaving me lost. Leaving me feeling a sense of loss. And he began to dance on his own. His movements were bigger. His range of motion extended outwards and his confidence peaked, bursting as the music hit a high pitch. And as I knew all along, he didn’t need a partner.

He traipsed across the stage once more, resuming his still mannequin-like state with only hat in hand. That’s when Sehun joined him on the stage, looking quizzically at the jacket in its new position as he slipped on the beige fedora. He grabbed the jacket, exiting stage right, and Jongin was in motion again, a hand extending outwards as though it pitied the ending of such a moment as much as the audience did. And with single roll that traveled down his body as he retracted that same hand towards himself, he turned towards the audience once more.

And he smiled.

And I was left stunned.

I was left awestruck as he rece more to that mannequin like state. The lights went dim, the curtains closing so that the stage could be cleared for the next act that then began to be announced by the host of the night.

As I said before, it was simple, his routine. It fit the five-minute limit with more than enough time to spare because frankly, he needed no more time than that. He had dazzled the audience that began to echo like phrases of praise amongst the claps that reverberated through the large space.

There was no prize for the Winter Spectacular. It was simply a showing of what the performing arts department had to offer. Of the students who excelled at the art of their choosing.

And dancing was Jongin’s art. It’s what he was best at. It’s his element.

Dancing is Kim Jongin.

And there was something about it, about this particular routine of his, that made me feel as though he was calling me to dance with him.

A call that, in that moment, I was more than willing to answer. 

A/N: Yes, I used that teaser with the song "What is Love" by EXO-K. It fit the story well so I used it (though I had been planning to use it since first coming up with the idea of this story). I hope you all enjoyed my interpretation of it as well as the chapter itself. Also, guess what? There are over 100 of you now! Wow! I can't even...no words can express how grateful I am. So many of you are reading and enjoying and I thank you for that. So, really, thank you. I'll see you all not next but the following Sunday!