Last Girl Alive | Bangtan

96: Park Jimin's Past

His heart was pounding so fast he could barely breathe. The adrenaline had begun pumping through his veins rising the panic and nervousness in his body. He was already sweating in the air conditioned room. It didn't make sense either. He'd done this so many times before.

And he hadn't even begun to dance yet.

Perhaps it was the way they were all staring at him. Waiting for him to make the first move just as he was waiting for the music to start. The milky cloth held in his hand suddenly felt too white, drawing too much attention to him. Maybe it was because the spotlight was on him and all eyes as well. He loved it but at the same time it terrified him.

He tried to remain emotionless as he looked straight ahead of him. All about him, a black ocean was lit up stars of lights, reminding him that there were people out there watching his every move, waiting with his as much anticipation. They were here, they'd come so far, so he'd donate every inch of his energy into creating the best performance they'd seen.

The music struck his ears out of the blue, scaring him a little. His heart instantly began to beat faster and he took a deep breath attempting to calm it down. It was like a wild creature, caged behind his ribs, ready to break free at any secrets. He had a big heart and he was very sensitive. He knew no matter how serious he would act he was always swirling with emotions. Jealousy, envy, love, passion, desire...they consumed him in so many marvelous ways he was a concoctions of nature's most beautiful child. There were many reasons he became a dancer. And the first was that he was absolutely made and born for it.

The beats thumped in sync with his heart as he took a step forward. Toes flexed and pointed at once as he hands went out, outstretching like wings. One, two, three, four...his body counted naturally as he danced, limbs moving like water. He was just a figure in the moment, gliding across this stage like it was an ice rink. His feet drew circular patterns on the stage and his leg kicked the air in such a graceful, gentle way. His entire body embraced the space around him.

It was limitless. The stage was expansive and contained no horizons. He ran across it's entire surface as light as a feather, it was like he floating. He was dancing spirit, hands caressing the white cloth that hugged his body as he moved and twisted and raised his head to the sky, eyes soaking in the music and the movement as they closed shut. A small smile traversed his lips as he grew to enjoy himself. His head whipped back in pleasure as he moved his body, twirling around on his feet and leaping through the air. He was so soft, the curves of his body turning into silver linings from the spotlight. He was elegant as black swan. 

He doesn't remember how long he danced but it felt like his fifteen-minute performance had dissolved into mere seconds. Each stylish step, each bend of his body, each turn of his head seemed to count and he was so engrossed in himself he could hardly notice those watching him. The music enchanted him, guiding him; he was just the water flowing through the channel. The cloth danced above him, falling in such beautiful light giving him the space to breathe. His lungs expanded with each breath and he gulped the air like he'd never tasted anything so rewarding.

Then it came. The fateful jump. He felt it it approach and his heart begun to writhe in it's cage stirring all his doubts and fears and uncertainties. His feet pounded with blood preparing for anti-gravity. He needed to fly, to fling, to flip. His legs spread apart, ready for the perfect forty-five degree angle as the unseen his muscles in his arms composed themselves for the weight of his entire body. The muscles in his stomach, abs that were draped in this almost transparent cloth, heaved as his center of balance was about to turn upside-down. Here it was, a push to the side, a momentary pause. His arm glued to his side as he took three cautious steps backwards and then-

Jimin threw himself backward. The world spun, his legs outstretched above him as his head ducked down inches away from the flower. Every muscle in his body pulled and he hung in the air for elapsed seconds. It was like slow-motion. He spun like a wheel, hair flying back in the gush of air. Every limp held in point, every finger and toe poised, the light tracing his figure.

He felt his right foot land upon the floor. The other foot joined it soon and he stood upright, head staring straight forward. The cloth furled in between his fingers and he pulled at it to brush it across his face.

The sound of cloth tearing tore through the music, like nails on a blackboard. The white silk in front of him ripped apart, shattering his heart. His ribs broke loose and his heart ran out inside of him, the lioness growling triumphant.

The hushed awed crowd exploded into a symphony of claps and cheers. His eyes were shut close, head lowering in shame. A tear escaped through his eyes, as he lifted his head to greet his audience. His mesmerizing world of art burst and he looked at his teacher in front of him.

Disappointment was evident on her face. Her eyes fell onto the torn cloth which he held in his hand. Jimin gulped, as another tear trickled down the same cheek. He closed his eyes, cursing himself. Stop crying, stop crying, stop it heart. He could hardly speak as he began to breath faster and faster. This was no stage, no performance.

The classroom walls all around him crashed onto him as the disappointment and guilt struck the beast within him. His heart heaved with the pressure. He'd done it, he had been so close to perfection and he had...ruined it. The music cut short as if to amplify his failure.

Jimin's lip trembles as he could hardly face the students in front of him. He pressed them shut, wanting to erase everything to turn back the time. Why? The pain of his own soul consumed him harder than the ache in his legs, the dizziness in his head and his lack of breath.

He hated myself more than anything. In this moment he no longer had the energy to compare himself, to work himself until he fainted, to starve himself...he was absolutely done. He'd tried everything. He'd worked so hard to be successful. Dancing wasn't a career, his father had made that clear and he hated himself for not listening. His damn heart always pursued what it wanted but in the end...he could never keep up.

"Your movements are too sharp," an unimpressed, robotic voice declares as his broken eyes meet those of the teacher. "You must be the edge of the knife, the surface... not the tip."

Panting, Jimin averts his eyes looking away. He drags himself off the floor, hating how it all turned out. He knew it was all wrong and that he'd made a terrible mistake. He'd messed up right when it was over. The cloth feel to pieces in front of him as he moved away unable to face himself. He hated it. He hated how things always turned out. Nothing he seemed to do was ever right. He never had the right filters for what he wanted to do and that killed him.

Would he ever achieve anything?