Jang Hyunseung.

 

The boy who loved dancing, yet hated it.

 

His brows were always furrowed as he danced, his lips tightly pressed together in a determined frown. The unpleasant demeanour he had on whenever he danced had people wonder why he did something he didn’t seem to enjoy doing at all.

I still liked him the best out of the whole dance crew, though.

He wasn’t as theatrically impressive as others, and didn’t command the stage like how some dancers did effortlessly.

But he was good. Really good, in his own way.

 

He was… special, somehow.

 

I hardly got any work done at home, so I always made it a point to stay in school to finish my work. It was nice to be alone in the peace and quiet.

With the silence around me that matched my own voice.

I would only leave when I finished all my work for the day, and only after looking through the window of the dance studio. My feet always took me in the direction of the studio, like a magnet which drew me closer and closer no matter how much I tried to resist it.

Regardless of how late, or how dark it was, Hyunseung would always be there.

 

Alone.

 

Dancing.

 

I often felt ashamed of stealing such secretive glances at him, in doing so perhaps invading his personal space, but I couldn’t help it. It was just so wonderful to see how the music seemed to possess and take over his whole body, building up a seemingly boundless energy that dispersed in both power and fluidity.

He didn’t seem to dance with particular technique or procedure, like everyone else.

 

He danced as if he was the pure definition of movement.

 

I just couldn’t understand why such an amazing dancer, who could fuse his entire being with the music to perform such breath taking dance, looked so sullen and worried with himself whenever he did so.

 

 

It was a usual quiet Friday evening, and as always, I was at my desk scribbling away. The last equation was solved, and I could finally close the book with a contented sigh.

The clock said that I had a little bit of time, and I was happy.

 

Time for a song.

 

I took out my precious music player, not bothering to plug in earpieces for I’d been doing this long enough to know that no one would be nearby. A button was pressed, and I closed my eyes, letting the music seep into me through my ears in echoes of rhythm and melody.

The singer sang her song, and so did I –with my silent one.

Note by note, line by line, I mouthed the words I was never able to speak, delivering them silently with the singer’s voice. I loved it when I had time for this. I treasured these moments so much, these moments when I could pretend to have a voice, a wonderfully melodic and resounding voice that could be heard and enjoyed.

I knew father would chide me for pretending to have something I never could, and I knew mother would easily burst into tears at even the littlest hint of instability in our lives. I remembered how much she cried when I was diagnosed as a little child. I knew better than to do such a thing at home.

Here, alone, I could do – or at least pretend to do – what I wanted to do.

The song soon started to fade away, and I knew it was coming to an end. Once again, silence started to fill the room.

Until the sound of a person clapping his hands interrupted its path.

I opened my eyes, still slightly dazed from my little emotional trance and also from the sudden sound.

Hyunseung’s dark eyes bore into mine, his gaze gentle yet sharp.

My eyes widened, and I felt blush rising to my cheeks.

He saw me. He saw me trying to sing. He’ll make fun of me, just like anyone else will.

 

My head hung down and I started packing my things hastily, trying to avoid eye contact. Some of my stationery decided to fall to the floor and all I could do was bite my lip in frustration. All I wanted was to be away from the school, away from the intimidating Hyunseung, the witness to my ridiculous pretend show.

 

As I bent down to pick up a pen, I saw a pair of long legs striding towards me. They bent down as well. Hyunseung picked up all the remaining stationery on the floor, before passing them into my hands. Again, the pair of deep dark eyes looked into mine, only mere inches away.

 

My cheeks warmed even further, and I could just manage a slight nod of gratitude for his actions before turning away, embarrassed.

I was about to stand up and leave, when he spoke.

 

“It was great.”

 

He settled down into the seat beside me, his eyes never leaving my face.

 

“Your song. It was great.”

 

There was no hint of mockery or ridicule in his voice. It was genuine.

I leaned back into my seat, slowly casting my gaze over to the guy beside me.

 

Jang Hyunseung. The boy who loved dancing, yet hated it.

 

I gave him an inquiring, puzzled look.

 

My song? How… how can a voiceless song ever be great?

 

“I know you. You… You’re the girl… You’re the girl with – without…” He trailed off, as I felt my head starting to droop down once again.

 

Everyone knows.

 

He coughed, and mumbled an apology.

 

“But still… it was good. Really good.”

 

I looked back into his eyes, and I knew he wasn’t lying.

 

“Your emotions. The feeling you gave me… it was…” He paused, struggling with his words. “Indescribable.”

 

My eyes widened for the second time, and he laughed.

 

“Trust me on this, when I say I can judge by emotions more than anything else.”

 

A forlorn smile crept to his lips, more for himself than towards me.

 

 

“I’m deaf.”

 

 

Deaf.

 

The word sunk in like a stone.

 

Hyunseung was deaf.

 

Hyunseung could not hear.

 

He loved dancing, yet he hated it – because he couldn’t hear. He couldn’t hear the wondrous rhythm of the music that matched the depth of his soulful dance.

 

It was no wonder he looked so worried, so anxious, so determinedly focused whenever he danced.

All he could do was to make use of whatever he had.

Dance whatever he felt was right.

 

“Can’t tell huh? I’m pretty good at hiding it, if I may say so myself.” He grinned, and as I looked at him I couldn’t help but agree.

 

His voice was strong and clear, and I guessed he was an excellent lip-reader, judging from how he could converse with people normally. He could manage life so well, so strongly. And he could dance.

 

My admiration was turning to awe.

 

“I can hear low sounds too, so I guess that helps a lot. And vibrations and beats are my best forms of guidance.” He started drifting, drifting into a little world of his own.

 

“Whenever the music comes on, I just follow the vibrations. If they’re slow, I go slow. If they beat faster and faster, I spin and rush faster along with them. If they seem to go higher and higher into the air, so do I. When they seem to crash down low, I collapse with them. It’s all to my imagination.”

 

He quickly caught himself though, and frowned.

 

“Sorry, I couldn’t help it, I was just rambling. It’s just… really nice to tell someone about it for once. I like talking to people, but I get really… afraid, sometimes. I’m afraid they’ll find out, and they’ll judge and gossip and I’ll get kicked out of the crew and-”

 

I couldn’t help myself as I abruptly lifted up my hands, using my fingers to draw an upwards curve towards my cheeks.

 

“S-smile?”

 

I nodded. He mirrored my actions, doing it physically and pulling his lips into a wide smile.

We both laughed, mine a silent giggle and his a light chuckle.

“I’ll… I’ll try. But it’s hard.”

The smile slipped; a familiar troubled expression was working its way to his face again.

“It’s hard to relax and smile and enjoy the world, when your closest friends are just… beats and vibrations and soundless rhythms.”

He sighed, all the sadness of the world in his words.

It pained me to see him like that.

We were so different, yet the same.

And with this, I finally realized why I loved his dance, and why he loved my song.

 

Because his dance, was my song.

 

Before I could help myself, I reached over to wrap my arms around him in a hug.

He was stunned for a moment, but soon returned the hug, with the light touch of love and the understanding I could never have felt from anyone else.

When we pulled away from each other, I held up my hands, interlinking my index fingers one way, then another.

He understood.

 

Friend.

 

I’ll be your friend.

 

And the next time I saw him dancing in the studio, he was smiling.

 

 

The boy had found a complement to his rhythm; the girl had found a voice to her song.