r e f l e c t i o n | 김 남준

Four

I'll try to fix you.

April 2nd, 2015

Jangmi couldn't help but feel the exhaustion tugging at her eyelids, the pain searing her feet, the ache in her muscles. How long had she been rehearsing? She came into work early and was still there at one in the morning. Director Kim had left long ago, and she was faced with Director Cho.

Director Cho was a cruel woman. Nobody wanted to be on the receiving end of her at all. That's why Jangmi was cursing herself when she'd foolishly practiced that one routine a few times too many because Cho walked in and began correcting her every move.

She wasn't even doing anything wrong. Her form was near perfect, movements fluid and graceful. But Cho took every opportunity to point out small details not visible to the human eye.

So when the literal real Cruella said, "Okay. That's enough. It's not even worth trying" Jangmi felt like crying out of pure happiness. She bowed respectfully and exited the dance room, collapsing on a bench in the changing area.

Her feet felt like they had been strapped to hot coals that burned her flesh black. It wasn't a new feeling and, though it wasn't often she felt it, it was still a bit shocking to see the blood seeping through her tights when she removed her pointe shoes.

"Fuck," she muttered. It wasn't going to be pretty if she took the tights off, so she only took off the other shoe and let her feet breathe. Her eyebrows furrowed at the sharp pain that came with the cold air hitting the wounds through the thin fabric.

Jangmi reached for her purse and pulled out her phone. Dead. She sighed heavily and closed her eyes for a moment as they were drooping heavily.

The harsh click of the door pulled her right out of her rest. She looked up to see Jimin staring back at her with shock, a tray of coffees in one hand. His eyes were fixated on her feet that were bleeding more than they should have been. Behind his facial expression, she could tell that he was tired as well. It was as if he hadn't slept either.

"Jangmi—" He rushed toward her, the tray being completely forgotten as it tipped to the ground, dark liquid splashing all over the carpet. "Are you okay?" Before she could even respond, he ran over to a cabinet near the door and grabbed the first aid kit.

She was still a bit surprised that the handsome intern was there. He should have been at home in bed, tucked in. Probably shirtless. His ab muscles contracting with every breath he took—she shook her head. Those thoughts had been much too many lately.

"Why are you here, Jimin?" she asked, it coming out much more harsh than she intended. He paused where he kneeled beside her, eyes widening. Guilt tripped her and she found herself spouting nonsense in her fog. "I mean—shouldn't you have gone home by now? It's—it's really late."

A small smile pulled at his plump lips, exposing his crooked front tooth that she thought was adorable. "I could say the same to you." She only returned the smile as he looked at her questioningly while gripping the blood-soaked fabric around her ankles. She nodded and he ripped it, exposing her thin feet that were beat up beyond expectation. "Although I should expect this from the best dancer in the company," he muttered, running his small fingers over a few bruises.

"Definitely not the best, but thank you," she mumbled while he found the point of origin. Her heels had horrible bleeding blisters that continued to drip down her foot.

Jimin grimaced and took a hydrogen peroxide pad from the kit. "This is gonna hurt." He tore it open and held out his hand. "You can hold my hand if it's too much."

She narrowed her eyes and smirked. "Thanks, but I can handle a little sting on my—mother fucker!" she swore and gripped his hand tightly as he placed it on her wound.