The room was small-ish, just enough to fit two single-sized beds and still have enough space to walk around and stuff. It was a typical room shared by two guys, I guess.
"So, this is the room me and Yugyeom share," BamBam said. He pulled me inside, closing the door behind us.
We had gotten back to their dorm and BamBam had wanted to hang out. The others too, but BamBam rejected their offer to go out to the city. So while they were out on an adventure, I was left with BamBam. I would have preferred to just stay in the living room area but he hadn't really given me a choice before dragging me to his room.
"I kinda figured," I muttered under my breath.
"What was that?"
I shook my head. "Nothing."
There were pictures taped to the wall. Family and friends, I guess. A few snapshots of Got7, too, so I guess they're about as close as brothers. One side of the room was obviously BamBam's and the other Yugyeom's.
BamBam sat on one of the beds that were pushed up against e wall of one side of the room -- I assumed was his bed -- and gestured for me to sit down. I did, ever so awkwardly.
"You're a really good dancer," he told me.
I groaned, wishing he hadn't just brought it up. The guys hadn't made it a big deal, just complimented me on my dancing before starting practice again. I watched them dance and sing, which was amusing although part of me wanted to join in with them.
"What? It's true," he said. "Why didn't you tell me you can dance?"
"I don't dance," I said, shaking my head.
"Yah! I saw you and you were good," he said.
"You never should have seen me dance," I told him.
He pouted. "Why not?"
"It's a long story," I said. "You don't want to hear it."
"We have time," he insisted.
I sighed. "Fine."
He suddenly looked really interested, pulling off his Vans and sitting cross-legged as he leaned on the wall. He gestured for me to move closer and I hesitantly did the same as him.
"I used to attend dance lessons," I started. I could feel his eyes on me and I couldn't believe someone was actually interested in my story.
"Every day, I would go to the dance studio in town and then my parents would pick me up aterwards. It was like that until I was twelve. I stopped going to dance lessons."
"Why did you stop? Didn't you like dancing?" he questioned.
A wistful smile made its way to my lips. "I liked dancing, but then my parents started fighting all the time," I said. "Apparently, my dad cheated on my mom when I was, like, a year old. He got the girl pregnant, and they have a son. Everytime he went out on a supposed business trip, he was visiting his other family. I didn't know how to react to that.
"So I started isolating myself, especially from my parents. They kept fighting, though, so I looked for something to tune out their screaming.
"I always loved music, and while I thought dancing couldn't help me I listened to a bunch of bands to help me through all the fighting and tears. I liked tuning them out, and I had my headphones as they finalized their divorce.
"Okay, maybe it's not that long of a story," I realized when I finished.
He was quiet at first, but then he spoke. "Why are you so cold to your mother? Shouldn't it be your father that you're angry at?"
