[Heawon POV]

I yawn and stretch out my arms as I face the mirror in the dance studio. Seungri groans behind me and I watch YoungBae ruffle his hair through the mirror. Both of them yawn as well.

“Heawon-ah,” YoungBae calls me. I meet his gaze through the mirror, raising my eyebrow. “It’s already two in the morning. We’ve been at this for a whole day. How about we call it a night?”

I shake my head slowly. “You guys can go, but I’ll stay here.”

“Are you sure?”

I nod and start stretching my arms. I’ve been sleeping late these past few days anyway. It’s no wonder why I’m developing dark circles.

“Alright. Come on, Seungri.”

“No,” Seungri replies softly. I turn around to face him in surprise. He’s really tired; it’s pretty obvious since he yawns almost every minute. “I’ll stay with Heawon.”

I shake my head and roll my eyes. “Just take the boy away, YoungBae. Look at him. He’s about to pass out here and now.” I meet Seungri’s eyes. “Get some rest.” I say gently.

Seungri pouts childishly as YoungBae pulls him out the dance studio. After standing a few moments in silence, I let out a deep sigh. I rub my eyes and glance at the clock. I know I should try to get some sleep, considering how I need it these upcoming days, but I don’t think I can rest until I put together something extra into the boys’ routine. Thanks to Chansung’s stolen idea, I’m getting frustrated by the hour. I glance at the clock once more. I stand right in the middle of the room and close my eyes.

“One, two, three…” I murmur softly under my breath.

I lock my body and bring my arms up over my head. Slowly, ily, I lift my right leg up high. Keeping the same position, I twist and place one hand on the ground; doing a handstand. I place my other hand down on the ground and push myself up in the air. Instantly, my forearms make contact with the ground harshly as I spin. I sharp sting vibrates throughout my arms, making me hiss.

I fall on my back, cursing under my breath at the harsh pain. I rub both of my arms and inspect them. A little red, but it isn’t bleeding. Strongly, I stand back up redo my first position. Once I’m back on the handstand, I think of a different sequence quickly. My arm starts to shake and I wing it by landing one foot on the ground and doing another flip. I let out a huff as I smile at my reflection in the mirror. Let’s do that again, shall we?

I repeat the whole sequence again; making sure it all flows with ease. Once I land my second flip, I my hips, locking my body with every push. I want the audience to assume the boys are going to start dancing to hip-hop. Suddenly, I move my arms in a fluid motion, as if I’m portraying the wind blowing. I move my feet as well, moon-walking. Swiftly, I move over the right side of the room and quickly do a back flip without using my hands.

Bam!

“Aish!” I yell as my slams on the floor. I fight off an up-coming yawn. I need to at least make a first sequence before I call it a night. I stand back up and stride back to the middle of the floor. I repeat. Arms up, lock the body, slowly bring the leg up, handstand, one foot down, flip, , lock, , lock, fluid arms, moon-walk, move over, I chant the sequence in my head as I follow. Back flip!

I hear a satisfying thud as I land the flip. Rapidly, I powerfully turn my head left and right as I move my feet with ease, making my hair flip epically. I distinctly hear my neck crack from the force of my turns, but I don’t mind it, as I don’t stop. I add in a quick yet y body wave and do a b-boy stunt. Running, I go over to the other side of the room, doing another flip. Once I reach the spot I wanted to land, I quickly do another flip to go to the center.

Hot white pain shoots up and down my spine as it bangs against the floor in the middle of the room. “Ah…” I hiss under my heavy breaths. I gulp, my throat feeling dry. I stare up at the stupid ceiling and entangle my fingers through my sweaty hair. I mentally growl in frustration and desperation. Why can’t I get this right? My eyesight turns hazy as I remember the stunt 2PM did. They did it with such ease… Chansung did it with so much ease.

I remember when both of us couldn’t get it right on the first few tries. Hell, we probably could’ve messed up if Chansung and I performed it back then. I scoff, if. How is it possible that those guys did it so freely when I struggled? Can you believe it? I couldn’t even do my own stunt. I’m stupid. I’m a fool. I’m an idiot. Why did I show him that stunt? I know very damn well that I dance well and I’m sure as hell that if 2PM does that stunt in the competition, they’ll win for sure.

I clench up hands in fists tightly, making my other hand grab a fistful of my hair. I pound the ground furiously. I push myself back up, suddenly determined as anger rushes through my veins. I mentally sigh a deep sigh as I inspect my body through the mirror, saying a silent apology to my body in advance. I’m pretty sure I’m going to have bruises by tomorrow. Heck, they’ll probably start forming in a few hours once I’m done.

I repeat my routine, but I try to do the handstand/spin again. I clench my teeth in pain as I spin. I fall to the ground in pain. I curse softly and repeat it again. There’s something in the back of my mind telling me that I need this move in the routine. I just need to make a few adjustments. I bite my bottom lip hard and I rub my red, stinging arms.

“I just need to make a few sacrifices.” I murmur ever so softly. A cold shiver runs through me despite all the sweat covering my body. With the room filled with nothing other than my movements, it’s dead quiet in the dance studio. It makes my words scarier and heavier than I ever intend it to be.