FOR hyunjin, dancing was a coping mechanism- a way to escape, exchange time for a different reality that captivated him through the twists and turns of his body. maybe it was the freedom to express himself, or the loud music that would drum through his ears and drown his thoughts, but he loved it. and that's how he coped. so when he was awake at the early hours of 1am, moving stealthily through the dorm to venture to the practice room, he was not surprised.
he just couldn't handle it- the heaviness weighing in his chest as the guilt turned him inside out. chan was only trying to help, and all hyunjin did was give a glare and mouth full of spit as he shouted and cursed. god, hyunjin remembered how badly the urge to punch his leader felt.
so as the music drummed behind him at 1:30, and as the mirror reflected the worn out, thinning man, he let it all out; his moves sharp and violent, but swiftly transforming into something so soft and delicate. a lengthy mixture of moves that engaged him so deeply that he could only hear the music- see himself.
somewhere in the back of his mind, somewhere buried under the layer of music, he could hear it. the small spit of a whisper as the voice criticised him, pointing out every jiggle of his body, every scar, pimple, dry patch of skin.
you're only in this group because you're pretty. what use are you if you can't be beautiful?
to hyunjin, the thought was true. he had no use- he couldn't dance like minho or felix, couldn't sing like jeongin or seungmin, couldn't rap like jisung and changbin. gosh, he couldn't even do a quarter of the things chan could. he could only stand their and be somewhat pretty. in his defence, he wasn't even that pretty- just look at every member, each so unique and talented while maintaining a god like presence that it made it hard to believe such people existed. but, as he stood bare in front of the music industry, all he seemed to be known as was the handsome man from skz- the handsome boy with a mole perched beneath his left eye.
with a soft moan, hyunjin stopped, his arms falling to his side as he crouched down, balancing on the balls of his feet as he nestled his head between his knees. he was a deadweight; so useless that he provided no talent to the group as his members exceeded him, each earning a label such as '4th gen vocalists', or '4th gen dancer', marking their significance and defying their worth. none of which hyunjin had.
and as hyunjin kneeled upon the floor, head in his knees, he couldn't help but question; who was hwang hyunjin? a gay idol dancer who yet to declare his sexuality? a fat man who's got a crush on his friend? and his mind seemed to have taken on a voice of its own, echoing into his ears with a soft, 'you're nobody'.
nobody. hyunjin was nobody. and the word raced through his mind, tainted as it pressed deeply in his heart, the weight causing a crack in his heart and puncture to his lung. a puncture that closed his throat and stopped his easy airflow.
hyunjin couldn't breathe. he couldn't and he wasn't sure how to. not with his heart pounding and his knees tipping forward. a panic attack. hyunjin knew what his laboured breathing and closed throat meant- but it doesn't mean that he knew how to stop it, or how to come to terms with it. so on his knees against the dainty floorboards of the practice room, hyunjin entangled his hands in his hair, his eyes blurry as he tried to focus himself on the pain barring through his scalp instead of his pounding heart and escalated wheezes and breaths that passed through his chapped lips. of course, it hadn't worked, not when his head, although fuzzy, strung along with the distant hymn of insults, threading themselves through the wires of his brain like tainted poison; because that's what it was- tainted poison that smeared his soul and painted his new eyesight.
it felt like eternity as the panic started to unleash its full extent: clouding hyunjins eyesight as it prodded him with the threat of passing out, cutting at his joints and making him feel like mere jelly.
he shouldn't fight it. he knew that like he knew H20 meant water, and oxygen came from trees. he knew but he didn't listen. he couldn't risk someone finding him, but the urge to be drowned in the peaceful sea of sleep sounded like a bliss- a treasure that sparkled ravishingly before his eyes. and so he gave in, his eyes slowly falling shut as he was greeted by the darkness, and silence of his mind.
