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The room tilts on its axis as Hyunjin spins, feet extended, toes pointed, each ligament in his lithe body pulled taut with exertion.
He can handle this much, his doctor said so herself. Those three hours he spent crying tears of joy at the prospect of being able to dance again aren’t ones that he’ll forget anytime soon, the headache he dealt with for days after make sure of that.
A stab of pain pricks through his spine as he moves from 2nd to 4th position, but he endures it, ending the turn sequence on a dime.
He can handle this much. He has to.
He is the music, his body the instrument as he arches his back, leaning to the side to perform an attitude, with all the aplomb of a dancer of his status.
For a few moments, there is bliss.
For a few sweet sweet moments he is able to pretend he is on a stage, finally performing again after nearly a year of pain, hospital visits and physical therapy, and not in a practice room within the studio where he feels like a tiger in captivity.
At first, he can’t pick out anyone in the crowd. Hwang Hyunjin, chronic loner, with not a single friend or decent family member who can go and watch him perform. It doesn’t phase him, not in the slightest. He can handle the solitude, and the multitude of faces albeit unfamiliar that beam at him and his impressive figure is almost enough to drown it out completely. Almost.
Then, like a polaroid photo just starting to develop in the hushed quiet of a darkroom, faces appear. One by one, he sees friends, that are not yet his own, but could probably be if he allowed them be. And he will. It wont come quickly, but he’s trying.
He sees Chan, and Minho, the two graduates of the ragtag group he has started to feel like himself around, first. Next comes Changbin and then Felix, and finally the two youngest, Seungmin and Jeongin. They’re all smiling proudly at him, and he almost cowers at the pure, open adoration in their eyes. He doesn’t though, because there’s someone beside him. He doesn’t even have to look to the side to see Jisung, he’s just there, a constant reassurance by his side, and he’s looking at him too.
Its beautiful, and if this stillness, paired with the slightly painful feeling of his muscles working in tandem in order to hold this position, is what it takes for him to feel such genuine euphoria, then Hyunjin will never move again.
Then, he wobbles, and much like everything else he has come to love, that lovely facade is torn to shreds right before his eyes.
He is no longer on stage, and nobody is looking at him but himself, in the reflection of the too big mirror that shows him all the parts of himself that he doesn’t want to see.
Resigned, he lowers his leg, but his balance has been interrupted, and it feels as though every move he makes from here on out is addled with tremors that only he can see, much less feel.
He tries hard to regain the balance he has allowed to slip from his grasp, and tries hard not to stare at his stomach in the mirror, and the way it seems to bulge and create a pouch just below the waistband of his dance tights.
He can lie. He can go to his next therapy session and be all eye smiles and open expressions and lie straight through his teeth and be damn good at it, but it wont change anything. It wont change the fact that even months after he’s been discharged he still looks at himself and feels disgust, still feels like the hopeless, shameful excuse of a man he had been when he had been stupid enough to get admitted.
He feels the warmth of a hand on his waist, steadying him. It’s a touch that he does not need, but appreciates.
He knows who it is, so there’s no need for him to turn around. Instead, he leans backward onto Jisungs right arm, with the faith a blind man has in his cane. He knows Jisung will catch him, and he does. He bites back the feeling bubbling in his chest.
Sweet sweet Jisung, who is here past midnight, practicing with him. Holding him, guiding him through movements that should be, that used to be, a piece of cake for him.
The gratitude he feels towards the slightly younger man is suffocating, and he wants to thank him for so much that he finds he can’t thank him for anything at all.
Thank you for being here. Thank you for helping me. Thank you for being born.
These are things he wants to say, but can’t. The words die in his throat time and time again, and the mere thought of forcing them out makes him sick to his stomach.
He breathes out a sigh, of what he doesn’t know. Is it Relief? Anger? Disappointment? All are reasonable explanations, but he knows that none are accurate. He knows it’s something more, he knows that the rush of feelings that are too big to be contained that consume him as he meets Jisung’s eyes in the mirror doesn’t just stem from his gratitude towards the other male, no. It’s something much, much deeper than that.
He thinks that maybe, maybe, if the circumstances were different and things hadn’t worked out the way they did, he could love Jisung.
Jisung, who for the first three months of their partnership refused to utter a word to Hyunjin outside of practice, and would criticize his every move until he got it down to a T.
Jisung who’s eyes always lingered on Hyunjin for a second too long whenever they met in the mirror.
Jisung, who invited him to sit with him and his group of friends for lunch, every single day until Hyunjin had finally given in.
Jisung, who noticed his sudden weight loss before anyone else, and took him aside during one of their many group rehearsals to ask him if everything was okay.
Jisung who said nothing as he caught sight of that dreadfully scarred expanse of skin hidden behind his shirt sleeve, and said nothing yet again as he helped Hyunjin shuffle out of the shirt damp with tears and blood, and dabbed gently at his wrist until the pain of the wounds he had created of his own accord faded into the depths of his mind, and all he could focus on was the tuneless melody of whatever song he was humming.
The very same Jisung, who rushed Hyunjin to the hospital the fateful day his body gave up on him, so deprived of fuel and sustenance that it could no longer support him.
He could love the way he stands by him regardless, matches his pace to the letter, and knows exactly when to support, but not guide.
The way he pays special attention to Hyunjin’s eating habits, but never guilts or forces him to do anything, to eat anything, on the days he feels like he is suffocating in his own skin.
The way that even through all his assholery, he feeds Hyunjin the best parts of his kimchi, the flat crunchy pieces that Hyunjin insists are heaven sent, and takes the leafier, softer cuts of the kimchi for himself, despite them not being as good.
There’s also the fact that his body responds to Jisung. A simple touch to the back of the knee is enough to force his hamstrings into submission, extending his legs up behind him to form the arabesque he is always so eagerly praised for.
He knows it is not just because they have trained together for so long: Jisung has been his partner for just over 2 years, and he isn't the longest or even second longest time period Hyunjin has trained with.
He knows how Jisung feels about him too. Yeah, he has made some stupid decisions and I’ll probably make more, and yeah it was the height of stupidity itself that brought him to where he is today, but Hyunjin is not stupid.
He sees it in the way Jisung talks about him to his friends even when he himself is sat right there, as though he is some sort of trophy. The way he easily boasted to Felix that Hyunjin could take him in a handstand battle, even high off of different medicines and in his weakened state.
Of course, Felix, ever the competitor had taken him up on it, and they had battled it out right there in his too small hospital room. He can still remember the exact shade of red his doctor had turned from her anger.
And like this, in this intimate position with his partner’s strong arms supporting his waist, he realizes that no.
He can’t love Jisung, He already loves Jisung, with his heart, his body, and everything in between, but his mind is a captor that holds him hostage, and he is powerless to its confines. The realisation is like a kick to the gut.
The song ends, and Jisung sinks to the ground, grinning at him lazily. Sweat beads at the nape of his neck, and the rest of his skin is damp with it, bathing him in a glow that renders Hyunjin thoughtless. Jisung is something out of this world, not meant for undeserving boys like Hyunjin. He doesn’t deserve him, and Hyunjin simply isn’t selfish enough to cling to something that doesn’t deserve to be his.
Perhaps he says something, and perhaps Hyunjin wants to respond,, but the words are lost on him as he shoulders his bag.
As he leaves the studio, he takes a deep breath for the first time in what feels like years. His lungs expand to breathe in air that isn’t stale with antiseptic, and he breathes in the oxygen like a starved man. Well, he supposes, that isn’t entirely inaccurate.
“Think of this as your second chance. Not many people are granted second chances. “
That was what his doctor had said to him after he had woken up from his coma,
weak and weighing less than a halfway packed suitcase.
At the time, he had scoffed. Second chances were only meant for people who deserved them, and if you asked Hyunjin, he was about the least deserving a person could get.
But now, as he breathes in the crisp night air, he is grateful. He is grateful for this chance to try again, and he is determined to make it count.
He will, for Chan Minho Changbin and Felix who are sure to include him in everything they do, and for Jeongin and Seungmin who despite being a little busier, always check on him to see how’s he’s doing, and talk his ear off about whatever it is that they find interesting at that moment, as though he is their friend.
He will, for Jisung, who loved him even when he didn’t love himself, and for Jisung who loves him still, now that he’s trying to.
He will, most importantly, for himself. He owes it to his heart, and to his body, after what he’s put them through.
The studio won’t disappear. Regardless of how he does in the upcoming evaluation, with the special consideration granted to him he will have a place at this Academy regardless of whether he likes it or not, and though a part of him hates to admit it, this studio is his home.
Jisung won’t disappear. Though Hyunjin can’t give him what he wants right now, what they both want, he's doing all he can, and Jisung never fails to assure him that just this much is okay.
And as for Hyunjin? Though there are still days where he feels as though all the world is crashing down on him in rivulets of pain and sorrow, and even more days where he feels like cutting himself open and taking a syringe to his cells and sucking up all the things that make him gross, there are also days where he’s overcome with such happiness that he doesn’t know what to do with it all, and for once in his life, the good is beginning to outweigh the bad.
He still builds walls around himself sometimes, and at times feels like the only way to cope with the darkness that engulfs him is to block everyone out, but Jisung has taught him that they don't need to be big gnarly walls made of steel and bone to be effective, and that just a little shelter to keep the rain out is okay.
With the love that Jisung, along with all his friends, easily provide him with day by day, Hyunjin is healing. Both his body and his mind, and he prepares himself for the day where the sun shines through the clouds in the form of a Doctors note, permitting him to fully resume physical activity, no limitations, and no restraints.
Hyunjin used to think he was a quitter, but not anymore.
Not anymore, because he has people there for him now, people there to help shoulder the pain of his past.
Hwang Hyunjin is not a quitter, and when given the chance,
he will dance again.