𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐬 | Jikook

1: The Death Of An Illusion

"𝐻𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓈 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀. 𝒴𝑒𝓈, 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓈 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀. 𝒮𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒𝓈 𝐼 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒷𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒾𝒻 𝓌𝑒 𝒹𝒾𝑒𝒹 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝒹𝒾𝒹, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓌𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉."

-𝒮𝓉𝑒𝓅𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒦𝒾𝓃𝑔

***

Jimin

"That's good, good...keep going," he yelled from across the hall of middle-schoolers, who were currently stumbling upon attempting an arabesque despite their grasp of the barre, and despite their teacher's repetitive and ongoing advice.

Jimin sighed as he ran his fingers through his roots once again, maybe for the fifth time that evening, and then he caught the attention of one of the girls who pleaded from across the room with wide, wet eyes. "Mr Park! I can't...!"

"Ha Rin...you can!" Jimin exhorted, the taste of the false positivity upon his tongue revolting him to the point of psychological pain. "Just make sure you hold the barre firmly, then stretch out your other arm in front of you-"

"I keep trying, but I don't look anything like the ballerina's when they do it," she interrupted, her pout signifying her slump as well as the fold of her delicate arms against her chest.

"Just..." Jimin's patience was wearing, and everyday he found resisting his internalised exasperation more and more difficult. Especially with over-achievers like the girl in front of him. "Here. Stand up straight," he continued, his hand planted firmly on Ha Rin's shoulder with his other gently adjusting her lower back, "posture is one of the most important aspects of ballet, because it grants you balance. When I count to three, I want you to perform an arabesque-"

"But, Mr Park-"

"I'll hold your front so you don't fall! Don't worry. Okay. One, two three," Jimin counted, before he moved his hands to Ha Rin's waist as her leg came up and brushed his side. Then, whilst leaning over her smaller body, Jimin raised her free arm and elevated her already lifted leg so that her limbs became aligned. The other students who were practicing behind them had stopped, and were crowding around them amongst wrangled chatter and whispers. "See? You can do it. Look at the reflection," Jimin announced, as he took a step back.

Ha Rin's head zipped around to her right, and the smile on her face was almost large enough to split those cheeks into two, so fairly she beamed up at her teacher. "I did it! I look like Kang Sue-Jin!"

"Pfffft, no way Rin!"

"Yeah, we're only middle schoolers, she's professional-"

"Was professional! Don't you practice your theory?"

"Yah-"

"Alright, alright," Jimin clapped, before eyeing the clock face and dragging a palm across his own. "Lesson's over, everybody go and change so that you're ready for when your parents come to pick you up. And make sure always to stretch-"

"But Mr Park, we still have five minutes! Can't you dance for us?"

Like a bullet through his stomach, a surge of dread, somewhat hysteria, washed over his body and the man felt the rigidity of his lower limbs spread upwards. "N-no, there's not enough time."

"But you always say that!"

"Yeah!"

The ongoing chorus of whines and shrills encased Jimin into a gradually declining box, and the rising uneasiness along with the rapid thumping of his chest was making it harder to reply. That was, reply normally. Kids would be kids, and if any one of these were to figure out that something was actually very wrong with their ballet instructor they'd blab to someone who'd be able to do something unfavourable about it. And so, with as much will as he could muster through uneven breaths, Jimin only shook his head with clenched and sweaty fists, his smile haggard but still apparent. "I-I know, but there's just never any time. Go on, go get changed."