Stage
STAGE (hanho)
There’s too much distance between Japan and China, too many unbrigeable miles between them. Oceans and schedules and borders and plane tickets. Too many unspoken words and too few spoken ones. He knew how Yunho must be feeling right now, how his heart must be breaking from the fractures in his family and how he must be hiding it all behind a smiling face and a bravado and confidence everyone but himself believed in. Hankyung knew because he would do exactly the same.
He couldn’t do anythng, not when he was already waging a war for his own family. Against the media and the expectations and the language barrier, to help them settle, to comfort and sooth when they are missing home and to lead them to success. Even though he knows how much comfort Yunho needed right now, he couldn’t offer it, not when he too was already caught in a silent battle with the company, not for more money or even fairer rights, but just for one less show to film tomorrow and a little bit more sleep each night. So even though he can almost hear Yunho’s silent cry for help, Hankyung doesn’t run to the other’s side. He stays exactly where he is.
Each time Hankyung hears a rumour or speculation, his heart tightens that bit more, because he can almost see the darkening of those eyes and the slant of that body as the other hides clenched fists behind his back, away from the hungry cameras. The images are so vivid behind his eyelids and the pain that shoots through his heart so strong, that Hankyung has to stop himself from ditching whatever show they’re doing and jump on a plane. He can’t afford that. None of them can.
Hankyung doesn’t say anything nor does he do anything, but the others doesn’t fail to notice the small winces that escape when the Chinese man bump into something and the tentative way he moves around. And they certainly don’t miss the white bandages around his shoulder and the tape around his ankles. He tells them he’s working hard to present the best image at their fanmeeting. They don’t buy it, he could tell by the way their eyes lingered on him, but because he was Hankyung, they don’t question his lie. They don’t say that they knew that the company had ordered him to replace Yunho as their main dancer. And he doesn’t say a word either.
When he finally showcases the dance, it’s all sharp movements and rapid turns and jarring impact. Gone are the luxurious spins and rolling waves and cascading dips that are his usual dances, replaced instead by a powerful, hardbeating routine. Something that had Yunho written in every movement. The screams of the fans tells him that they like the change and that the company would like the change too. Hankyung couldn’t care less about what they thought, had stopped caring when they had just flippantly told him to replace his friend, to agree to what amounted to a death sentence for Dongbangshinki, or maybe long before that. He danced like this, like Yunho, because he wanted to, a tribute, a promise and the only way to show the other how much he cares. Hankyung dances his own share and the other’s share, light up the stage as bright as if the two of them were dancing besides each other.
He dances for Yunho, until the day they can share the same stage once more.
There’s too much distance between Japan and China, too many unbrigeable miles between them. Oceans and schedules and borders and plane tickets. Too many unspoken words and too few spoken ones. He knew how Yunho must be feeling right now, how his heart must be breaking from the fractures in his family and how he must be hiding it all behind a smiling face and a bravado and confidence everyone but himself believed in. Hankyung knew because he would do exactly the same.
He couldn’t do anythng, not when he was already waging a war for his own family. Against the media and the expectations and the language barrier, to help them settle, to comfort and sooth when they are missing home and to lead them to success. Even though he knows how much comfort Yunho needed right now, he couldn’t offer it, not when he too was already caught in a silent battle with the company, not for more money or even fairer rights, but just for one less show to film tomorrow and a little bit more sleep each night. So even though he can almost hear Yunho’s silent cry for help, Hankyung doesn’t run to the other’s side. He stays exactly where he is.
Each time Hankyung hears a rumour or speculation, his heart tightens that bit more, because he can almost see the darkening of those eyes and the slant of that body as the other hides clenched fists behind his back, away from the hungry cameras. The images are so vivid behind his eyelids and the pain that shoots through his heart so strong, that Hankyung has to stop himself from ditching whatever show they’re doing and jump on a plane. He can’t afford that. None of them can.
Hankyung doesn’t say anything nor does he do anything, but the others doesn’t fail to notice the small winces that escape when the Chinese man bump into something and the tentative way he moves around. And they certainly don’t miss the white bandages around his shoulder and the tape around his ankles. He tells them he’s working hard to present the best image at their fanmeeting. They don’t buy it, he could tell by the way their eyes lingered on him, but because he was Hankyung, they don’t question his lie. They don’t say that they knew that the company had ordered him to replace Yunho as their main dancer. And he doesn’t say a word either.
When he finally showcases the dance, it’s all sharp movements and rapid turns and jarring impact. Gone are the luxurious spins and rolling waves and cascading dips that are his usual dances, replaced instead by a powerful, hardbeating routine. Something that had Yunho written in every movement. The screams of the fans tells him that they like the change and that the company would like the change too. Hankyung couldn’t care less about what they thought, had stopped caring when they had just flippantly told him to replace his friend, to agree to what amounted to a death sentence for Dongbangshinki, or maybe long before that. He danced like this, like Yunho, because he wanted to, a tribute, a promise and the only way to show the other how much he cares. Hankyung dances his own share and the other’s share, light up the stage as bright as if the two of them were dancing besides each other.
He dances for Yunho, until the day they can share the same stage once more.