The Ice in my Heart (K/DA x Male Reader)

55 | Her Happiness

Kai'sa POV

When did it happen? Where along the path did I forget? And why after so long, was it so difficult to reach the answer?

After my father passed away, I ended up moving from my small home town. I hadn't really the slightest idea as to what I would do next, so I ended up drifting around for a while, working in various jobs from city to city. Eventually, with the money I accumulated, I still had a frugal mindset carved in by me and my father's poor upbringing, but I decided to spend a little bit on myself, joining a dance studio that I always wanted to as a kid. Surely, this would count as fulfilling our promise.

As always, I found dance to be something I enjoyed. It was cathartic in a way that nothing else managed. Moving my body allowed me to express all the hidden words I never could say aloud. Yet, for all the work I did, I never seemed complete. Yes, of course, I loved dancing, but I didn't notice back then that particular sense of missing something.

It all started a couple months after I joined the dance studio. Because I danced a lot as a kid, the others knew I wasn't a beginner, and as such, I quickly became good enough to join the competition team.

It was certainly a different experience than what I was used to. With competition came a closer sense of solidarity, yet it felt like there was this strange barrier between me and the team. All I knew was how to push myself further. Like back when I was trying to support me and my father, I found it difficult to simply relax. Combined with a lack of socialization growing up, it was often difficult for me to connect with the team. When they would party together after practice, I stayed behind to perfect the choreography for a few more hours.

I remember vividly standing alone in the deserted studio one night before a dance competition. Out of breath and sweat rolling down my forehead, I looked at myself in the mirror. As if magnetized, I drew closer and closer, slowly putting forth a hand to meet the reflection on the other side.

It was cold.

For the first time, I asked myself—what was I doing?

It was a question that came even as a surprise to myself, but one that was gnawing at the back of my mind for a while. I took up dancing to please my father, but now that he was gone, what truly drove me to continue? Passion? Enthusiasm?

I sighed, not knowing the answer, and returned back to practicing the footwork of our choreography.

The next day at the competition, I delivered the dance alongside my teammates, just as we practiced. I didn't think too much of it, and really, it was quite an easy first place. Yet, the memory of watching with subdued amusement the euphoria in their faces when we were presented with the trophy was incontrovertibly engraved in my mind.

I smiled, knowing that if they were this happy after winning competitions, maybe that was reason in itself to continue. 

The next day at practice, our coach came up to me, offering me advice.

"Kai'sa, you're a really good dancer. You have the footwork, the mobility, the mechanics...your fundamentals are extremely solid, but it lacks feeling. It's weird to say, but your dancing is so perfect, it feels almost robotic."

I nodded meekly, absorbing those words like a thirsty plant in the rain. I knew it was because I didn't have a purpose in my steps. I simply just presented whatever we rehearsed without question, but remembering those smiles on the team brought me relief that I was ever so slightly inching towards whatever that 'purpose' could be.

For a long while, it continued just like that. We practiced and practiced and competed and competed. Locally, our dance studio grew a small reputation for our consistent high placing in competitions. I took to heart the advice my coach gave me, and bit by bit, I found myself 'feeling' the dance more, imbuing it with an indescribable sense of self.