After Us

Chapter 2

Seven years later...

Stepping off the plane Minho takes one look at the overcast sky outside the airport and sighs. Rain...it figures. His ass is back in Korea for less than two minutes and he's already annoyed. Granted he operates at a standard level of annoyed most days so it shouldn't be any different... but it is. At least on the average day he isn't annoyed AND in Korea. He hates this place, hates the city of Seoul and the memories that live here.

Transferring his weight to his good leg he hobbles down the terminal's off ramp, his cane in his right hand providing support while he rolls his carry-on in his left. He regrets not taking the air stewardess up on her offer to get him a wheelchair. Oh well, it's not the first time his pride has caused him pain. Walking through the airport hundreds of people pass him going about their day, each one focused on themselves and their problems. In the sea of so many his fears and pain feel insignificant.

It's pathetic really. Being scared of a country...a city...a single person. He doesn't want to be here. Seven years and the only other time his feet had touched Korean soil was when he'd briefly returned to complete his military conscription. That was five years ago and he'd been stationed in Gwangyang, far away from the streets of Seoul and the looming specter that haunts him.

Dragging his carry-on through the crowds of people he spots a moving sidewalk and picks up speed trying to reach it. Sweat beads on the back of his neck at the first twinge of pain in his knee. His physical therapist back in Australia would curse at him if he knew he wasn't wearing his brace. Stepping onto the rolling metal sidewalk he gives more weight to his cane...his dancer's soul weeps at the broken state of his body.

It's his own fault, his friends and colleagues had been telling him for years to slow down and give his body time to rest. Dripping in ego he'd brushed their warnings off only to push himself harder. As soon as one tour ended he'd start another. Month after month, year after year he'd raced towards the nameless goal he'd set for himself. After graduating from the Art's Academy he'd made a name for himself in the professional dance community. The gifted dancer from Korea, his potential had been limitless.

Talent finally recognized he'd been showered in attention and applause. He lived for it, lived for the rush of adrenaline that electrified his cells and gave his legs wings. Lived for the looks of pride from his lovers and envy from his haters. He'd grown so dependent on the affections of others that when he'd been named Principal Dancer of the Australian National Ballet it still hadn't been enough. Reaching the pinnacle of his career had left him aching, starving for more.

That was the year he met J-Hope. The viral hip-hop street dancer from Korea at the World Dance Alliance Conference. Like a breath of fresh air, the man had blown into Minho's life, opening his eyes to the world of dance outside of grand halls built from marble and oak. He'd wasted no time in joining the man's dance crew and when he wasn't touring with his ballet company in the spring and winter, he was traveling the world with Hope on the Street. The fire inside of him restored he'd burned through the years, living and breathing only for the rhythm of music in his veins and the sound of cheers from the crowds.

Until one day, time caught up with him. His body...once the instrument used to weave the intricate stories of others, turned on him becoming the tool that ripped him to shreds. Arrogance disguised in the wrappings of passion had pushed him past the boundaries of his human flesh and bones. All dancers are at risk of getting injured. It's a fate he'd thought he'd neatly evaded, until a jump with a twist landing had brought him to his knees, literally and figuratively.

Tearing your ACL is a career setback, a year and a half in recovery and maybe a person can return to their previous condition and dance again...but when you tear your meniscus along with it, bad enough that the surgeon has to remove a large section of the cartilage, now that is a career-ender. For the second time in his life, Minho's heart had been broken, only this time he had nowhere to run.