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[ before all of this (all of that? jongin doesn't really know how to classify it now), dancing had always been the one thing that he could rely on to get through pretty much anything. like he had said more than once, it wasn't just something that he was good at; it was something that he enjoyed. it was cathartic, completing. it made jongin feel and not think (because once upon a time he used to think too much and feel too little and by the gods wouldn't he love those days back again) and let him exist in the rifts and crescendos of somewhere else. dancing was something he loved and it was something safe.
now? now jongin isn't quite sure if dancing is safe. not because of the possibility of physical injury, oh no (he had already done that, bore the hurts and pains of strained muscles and twisted tendons, he could weather those well). the problem now wasn't that; now the trouble with dancing was that he felt too much and thought too much and it just--
jongin exhaled heavily, the rapid beating of his heart echoing in his ears as he focused on the freakishly pristine ceiling above him. there weren't even any cracks for him to count (this place too new and too bright to have something as interesting as flaws), so he settled for counting his breaths. in out in out in--. he needed to focus on something, anything other than the sweaty body next to his that had also decided that the floor was the best place to sprawl at the end of an intense practice that left him both worn out and wired all in one go. he never thought he would see the day where he wanted to curse dance.
then again, he didn't ever think that he would meet someone that could move like lee taemin, so he can probably be forgive for his oversight.
it takes another eight count of the still playing music and a few more deep breathes on jongin's part before he thinks that he can manage to move without wanting to fall back over. and then another heartbeat (or five) before he thinks that he can look at his best friend without being any more obvious than he is sure he already is. when he finally thinks he might be put together (or at least as put together as he can get, these days) jongin props himself up on his elbows and gives taemin a small and somewhat crooked grin.]
I'm impressed, for such an old man, you managed to keep up.
[ he says this as if he isn't exhausted and wrung out and probably going to be regretting that last dance through quite a bit in class tomorrow because fuck his back was already twinging more than he would like it to be. but it was still so totally worth it.
pulling himself into a cross legged position with a bit more effort than usually necessary, jongin cast a glance at the clock on the wall before looking back to taemin.]
So, because I totally think I danced better this time, you should buy me dinner. How does that sound?
[ oh look, it's his most charming grin. which is slightly less effective with sweat messed hair and exhaustion writ into the lines on his face, but whatever. ]
now? now jongin isn't quite sure if dancing is safe. not because of the possibility of physical injury, oh no (he had already done that, bore the hurts and pains of strained muscles and twisted tendons, he could weather those well). the problem now wasn't that; now the trouble with dancing was that he felt too much and thought too much and it just--
jongin exhaled heavily, the rapid beating of his heart echoing in his ears as he focused on the freakishly pristine ceiling above him. there weren't even any cracks for him to count (this place too new and too bright to have something as interesting as flaws), so he settled for counting his breaths. in out in out in--. he needed to focus on something, anything other than the sweaty body next to his that had also decided that the floor was the best place to sprawl at the end of an intense practice that left him both worn out and wired all in one go. he never thought he would see the day where he wanted to curse dance.
then again, he didn't ever think that he would meet someone that could move like lee taemin, so he can probably be forgive for his oversight.
it takes another eight count of the still playing music and a few more deep breathes on jongin's part before he thinks that he can manage to move without wanting to fall back over. and then another heartbeat (or five) before he thinks that he can look at his best friend without being any more obvious than he is sure he already is. when he finally thinks he might be put together (or at least as put together as he can get, these days) jongin props himself up on his elbows and gives taemin a small and somewhat crooked grin.]
I'm impressed, for such an old man, you managed to keep up.
[ he says this as if he isn't exhausted and wrung out and probably going to be regretting that last dance through quite a bit in class tomorrow because fuck his back was already twinging more than he would like it to be. but it was still so totally worth it.
pulling himself into a cross legged position with a bit more effort than usually necessary, jongin cast a glance at the clock on the wall before looking back to taemin.]
So, because I totally think I danced better this time, you should buy me dinner. How does that sound?
[ oh look, it's his most charming grin. which is slightly less effective with sweat messed hair and exhaustion writ into the lines on his face, but whatever. ]
