The Siren's Song

Chapter 80- dancing into my heart

HOBI POV:

With every bit of happiness came a bit of sorrow. With time we spent with (Y/N) I became painfully aware that she was hurting so, so much and trying to endure, trying to survive and trying to overcome. It was painful because it made me wonder whether I'd been spending time with her this entire time with my eyes shut, made me question and debate whether behind each smile had there been tears, had there been struggles?

And had I been so painfully oblivious to her hurting when it seemed clear the others were attuned to it? Where Jin hyung seemed to in both measures joke and tease but also fret and fuss over her, over her eating, over her trying to help. Where Yoongi hyung didn't say anything save for the fact he was taking (Y/N) out for some fresh air, face blotchy with dried tearstains and lips that were swollen. Where Joon seemed to be lost in thought a lot of the time, far more than his usual wandering, drifting mind- it looked like he was always turning questions over in his mind, the same set of questions and struggling because he couldn't solve them, couldn't find answers to them. I saw the way he looked at her, with equal parts longing and equal parts pain as if he harboured guilt for something. It made me wonder if there had always been blatant signs and clues and I'd been painfully ignorant of them. 

But even as those doubts and insecurities came to mind I couldn't help but think of that time in the dance studio. The sight of her dancing, pushing herself more and more, to dance again and again, trapped in a vicious cycle of her mind and thoughts, dancing as if her body was controlled by a puppeteer- no regards for how broken and battered her soul was, how much she was screaming and crying inside even if she never expressed it.

I couldn't forget that. Couldn't forget that painful instance of realisation that she hurt far more than she'd ever said and that decision I'd made at the moment, to help her. Not to open up if that's not what she wanted but to heal internally, to be able to break free of whatever control had her suffering and silent and alone.

And somewhere deep inside, my mind whispered that we'd all known to some extent she was hurting, that her silence came about from trauma, had hoped that one day she'd be free from it. And if there was anything I could do to help her, to ease her pain even in the slightest I'd do it.

Though when I entered the dance studio early, it was to get together ideas for upcoming competitions, to sort through songs and make rough ideas for choreo and concepts. And come to a stop when I push open the door and find it already occupied, music filling the soundproof walls as she dances, running through songs we'd choregraphed together. But there isn't that overwhelming passion and emotion that radiates out of each move, out of that beautiful power she holds over the observer, this time it's different. This time her dancing is agonising to watch, something that holds my eyes to her but because there's an ache, an agony in her eyes as she dances, eyes fixed to her reflection as she moves, jaw clenched and face tight, deep in thought. 

And this time it doesn't feel right to walk away. To pretend I didn't see. It feels different to the last time I'd seen her dance. Each move isn't full of a deep anguish, nor is it a fresh wound. It's as if she's dancing to forget her worries, to push them aside, to try and banish them from mind. And this time my feelings are clear and sorted. This time I can't walk away from the sight of our girl hurting.

I close the door behind me, every bit or urgency gone as I slowly walk into the studio, closer to her.

And the moment the song comes to an end, I'm reaching over for the remote to pause the next song from starting, pausing the endless loops she'd been trapped in.

And she starts.

Truly not having even realised someone had entered, her body turning to face me, the stiffness melting away to surprise and a small smile- that sparks warmth with how it cracks through the bustle of her mind to greet me.