A row of lights in the back were the only ones on, hi-lighting a lone, angry silhouette dancing with music blasting in his ears. Pink hair was matted down from sweat, clothes damp from the salty release of moving, and dripped down a slender jaw to the floor.

Dark brown orbs flashed with anger which fueled his tight spins, his dips as he crouched, how his hips sensually rolled without exaggeration. He was tired of being called feminine with his slender frame, never being called a man. 

This male placed a hand on his crotch, the other hand tipping the bill of his hat lower as he did a square squat, ferocity igniting inside as he rolled his hips again to the music before ing into the air. He was sick and tired of being called girly!

With an angry shout, the pink haired male dropped to the floor, hands splaying and toes supporting his body like a push-up; however, he made a show of rolling his whole body as if a woman was underneath him, charisma exuding his usually calm and collected demeanor.

His hatred when his fans called him feminine was overwhelming. His bandmates called him feminine. People in the industry called him feminine. He hated them all!

Luhan stood, twirling on his left heel, his right foot tucked neatly against the inside of his knee before stopping and s his arms out in a wave then ended with his shoulders curling, arms closely following like the flap of a bird's wings.

As he jumped, he held his arms crossed his chest and spun tightly and landed again. Luhan stared at himself in the mirror, eyes dark and ominous. The spark in his heart ignited into an inferno, heating his sweaty body. 

Luhan misjudged his step and ended up stumbling to the floor. He didn't get back up. His chest heaved to get oxygen, body trembling from over expense. A quiet sob was heard from him, soon to be followed by his shoulders shaking.

He pushed himself up to a kneeling position, a wretched cry coming from his sore throat, choked and full of frustration. Luhan tightened his arms around himself and cried out again, curling into himself. His sobs steadily rose until he was hoarsely shouting his depression and anger in unintelligible babble. 

Warm hands took his shoulders then he was pulled into an embrace, lips pressing to the top of his head to soothe him, but wasn't going to tell him to stop. 

"Hyung, you'll always be a man to me." A soft voice whispered, knowing exactly why Luhan was crying.

"S-Sehun!" He cried into the younger's chest, now clutching at the back of his sweater. Sehun was always there to cheer Luhan on, not once criticizing or judging what he did or how he did. 

Sehun accepted Luhan for what he was and never asked for anything else.