--

I always wanted to be a dancer. 
It was another form of expression, a way for me to communicate to the world what I couldn't with words.

I'd never learnt dance properly, I was never allowed.
Impractical, my parents found it. I'd been allowed to join a dance club, at school, but that was all, and even then, it was only because joining a club was mandatory.

"Kibum, it's a waste of time. I know you're good at it, but isn't the club enough?" 

It wasn't enough. There were expressions that couldn't be conveyed through verbal conversation, emotions that couldn't be understood without the movement of the body. 

With words, I found that I was unable to express feelings. Despite a sharp, glib tongue, I couldn't show happiness, sadness, terror or the deepest despair.

I would mention that it was a form of expression, only to meet with words such as "You talk enough to express yourself, I'm sure. That's what a mouth is for, and vocal cords."

Without speech, dancing has become my only form of expression. Perhaps that is why I don't speak.

They can't stop me from dancing now.

--
I wake to find myself lying on Jinki hyung's mattress, his coverlet thrown over my legs.

Hyung himself sits beside the bed, on Minho's bunk, reading a book. He glances up as my eyes flicker open.

Instead of attacking me with questions and expecting me to answer them right away, hyung slowly comes a little closer