When class was over, Jensen made his way to the Gancu Hall, the address Jamin had given him the other day. He got on the bus, sat by the window, and adjusted his scarf to cover his frozen pinkish ears. A container of toast rustled quietly in his backpack, which he placed on his lap.
The bus was only half full - a few scowling high school students sat in the corners and one couple in love, staring out the window. Exhaling, Jensen flipped through the news feed and scratched his nose.
"Cutting down trees in the square is an act that violates all environmental laws! Why is the government silent?"
"This morning there was an attack on a man returning home. The perpetrator hit him on the head and..."
"Three purebred dogs are missing from the XXX dog shelter..."
The phone screen went out. Jensen stared dejectedly at the frosted window, through which he could see the outlines of the dark streets of Pusan, illuminated by dim lanterns.
Such a gloomy atmosphere was distinctly appropriate for the noir films they used to play in the cinema. Jensen smirked slightly as a spontaneous childish thought occurred to him:
"I wish I could be the hero of some blockbuster movie..."
When the bus pulled up to the correct stop, he quickly paid and pulled his fur-trimmed hood over the back of his head and climbed out of the transport. His face was immediately scorched by the evening winter chill.
He glanced at the navigator and went forward on the snowy road. Snowdrifts crunched loudly beneath his feet. Dense twilight, like a silk canvas, covered the area. On the opposite side of the street a noisy group of young men walked by.
The glasses of their glasses were covered with a light film of ice.
A bright neon Gancu sign glittered overhead. Pulling the strap of his backpack higher, Jensen knocked twice.
"I hope I'm on time."
A few minutes later, footsteps were heard. The door opened, and Jamin's concentrated face came into view. His bangs, tucked up with three thin invisibles, were slightly damp from the sweat running down his forehead. His chest, tightened by an elastic black top, was heaving rapidly. Jensen raised an eyebrow.
"You've been working out?"
"Yeah. Come on in."
Jamin opened the door invitingly and stepped aside, allowing Jensen to squeeze inside the studio. The door slammed shut. Chom Jamin shuddered as the chill the senior brought with him enveloped him from head to toe.
"You can hang your clothes here," he pointed to the closet and, after rummaging a little in the nightstand, pulled out soft white slippers from there. "Put them on and come in."
Jensen was alone. The light in the narrow hallway was a little dim, so it was only on the third attempt that he was able to hang his jacket on the hook. Barely able to pull on his tight slippers, he slung his backpack off his shoulder and headed toward the room from which the dim light emanated. In the center of the training room stood Jamin. Nice rhythmic music played in the background. The room was small-about twenty meters long. Hundreds of purple LED lights burned under the ceiling, faintly reflecting on the smooth floor.
Jamin placed a chair near the horizontal gymnasium support and pointed to it.
"Will you sit here? I'll get the camera now."
Jensen, surprised by his impatience, obediently dropped into the stiff chair and dropped his heavy backpack beside him. The textbooks inside it slammed loudly against each other. Relaxing the buttons at his throat, he rolled down slightly, inhaling the luscious scent floating around the room.
Some kind of sweet perfume?
Jamin went back and handed him a video camera that looked brand new. Jensen twisted it in his hands doubtfully and looked at the boy with a chuckle:
"I hope you didn't buy it yesterday?"
Jamin, frozen, averted his eyes.
"Oh dear. So we'll treat it like a rarity," Jensen exhaled. He lifted his eyes and stared intently at the young man looming over him. "How long have you been here?"
Chom Jamin straightened and arched an eyebrow.
"I skip class on Fridays and come here to practice."
He picked up the phone lying on the windowsill and turned up the volume. The music speaker on the floor rumbled.
"Since this morning?" asked Jensen with surprise, raising his elbows and turning on the camera.
Jamin looked at him vaguely and, loosening the light, froze in his pose. His lips parted softly, uttering a faintly audible "yes".
"And you're a hell of a hard worker," Jensen whispered, and his voice was drowned out by the music.
The smooth movements, like a glacier melting under the hot sun, made Jensen tear his eyes away from the camera and take a live look.
A black shadow moved through the hall in an almost weightless dance, leaving a fluttering silk in the air behind it.
A bird flapping its wings was not as elegant and light as Jamin gliding across the hall. The tension in the air grew with each movement. Jensen felt the heat scorch his face as Jamin dashed very close, as if trying to touch his face.
"Is this a training session? More like a live performance..." - the guy thought, feeling the drops of sweat begin to protrude under his shirt.
The room heated up in an instant.
Jamin bent down in time with the music, tracing the skin of his legs with his long fingers and collecting moisture from it. When he threw his head up, strands of bangs were strewn across his face. The camera couldn't capture the palette of emotion on Jamin's face, but it picked up his every move, following his heels like a predator targeting its prey.
It took her breath away.
Suddenly the light in the room turned dark purple, and only the blinding LED lights allowed Jensen to see the outline of a moving figure.
About fifteen more minutes passed at this pace. Barely taking his eyes off Jamin, Jensen felt a cramping pain in his forearm muscles. The camera, which he had held throughout, shook slightly.
Jamin's hoarse sighs could be heard through the energetic music.
It was as if he was panting, but he kept dancing.
More. More. More.
It seemed a little abnormal. It was as if he was immersed in the dance and not aware of it, just moving and moving and moving.
It was both mesmerizing and frightening at the same time.
Looking up again at the incessantly dancing young man, Jensen kneaded his vocal cords and gave a low squeeze:
"Stop."
Without hearing his voice, Jamin continued.
He was like a violent mad hurricane, sweeping away everything in its path.
Turning off the camera, Jensen struggled to rise from his chair, feeling tremendous pressure to land back up, and said in a humming, demanding tone:
"Stop."
The music, shrilling like a violin string, broke off abruptly. Jamin, breathing feverishly, bent down with his hands on his knees and stared at the floor with wide-open eyes.
There was an oppressive silence.
Jensen picked up his backpack from the floor and shook it in the air. When Jamin unfolded with an unreadable expression on his face, Jensen's lips parted, and he dropped it indulgently:
"You need to rest. Let's get something to eat."
Chom Jamin was stunned when he heard these words. His frantically heaving chest was moving as fast as if his heart was desperately trying to leap out of his chest.
EL approached the boy and pulled him insistently to the floor.
"When did you eat today?"
Jamin, landing gently with his buttocks on the warm floor, shook his head stunned. The eyes that dug into Jensen, taking a container of toast and a bottle of water out of his backpack, were like hard teeth biting fiercely into his skin.
Jamin never answered his question, so Jensen silently shoved juicy toast into his hand and took a bite of his own, closing his eyelids with pleasure. His stomach immediately grumbled happily.
He turned his head and looked questioningly at the still immovable schoolboy, whose mouth was frozen with the creamy cheese oozing toast.
A slight chuckle escaped the boy.
"Eat it already. I made them myself. They taste good till they're blue in the face."
"I..." came a husky, thin voice into the silence of the hall. "I have to practice..."
Jensen shook his head negatively.
"You don't have to."
Jamin shuddered as if a golden bell had fallen on the back of his head.
Don't...have to...?
"What are you...?" his fingers clenched the toast harder. The mouthwatering smell permeated his nose, sending uncontrollable shivers through his body.
Jensen put the container of food between them and moved a bottle of fresh water to him.
His voice sounded quiet and unusually intimate.
"You don't need to wear yourself out like that."
"What?"
After chewing the crisp bread, Jensen nonchalantly reached for another toast, crossing his legs at the same time. The light from the lamps fell on the left side of his face, highlighting his black eyelashes and a tiny mole. Jamin couldn't take his eyes off him.
"You can tell by every movement that you put your soul into it. You're a beautiful dancer. But is that worth sacrificing your fortune for?" taking a big bite of toast, Jensen felt the bitterness of kimchi burning his tongue. He licked the sauce from the corner of his mouth and smiled slightly, out of the corner of his eye noticing Jamin's interest in what he was saying. He still continued to sit in a stupor, holding the toast to his lips without even trying to taste it. Tearing the cap off the bottle, Jensen took a few large sips and continued. "Hard work is bound to pay off, but you don't have to score on yourself. You can always go back to dancing, but you can't get your health back. It's better to take care of yourself. Get some rest."
Tired of staring at the wretched sandwich, he reached over and pressed his hand to Jamin's chin, pushing it to his mouth with his other hand. Chubby reddish lips circled around the piece of soaked bread, and his jaw moved slowly, starting to chew thoroughly.
Jamin's round eyes unhooked from the guy sitting at the side and ducked into the delicious toast.
The atmosphere eased.
Falling onto his back, Jensen patted Chom Jamin lightly on the thigh.
"You're just a high school kid, come on! You've never had a beer before, have you? I'll buy you a drink sometime."
He put his hands behind his head and looked up at the dark ceiling and then at the hunched black figure.
He pondered, and then said quietly:
"You did well."
Jamin's shoulders stiffened. Crumbs of bread crumbled to the floor as the dancer's long fingers trembled under the onslaught of someone else's words.
Comments (0)
See all