Dance to This [kth]

f o u r

"Today our subject is Eunha," Professor gestures towards me.

No, no, no, no. He walks closer to me and clicks a flashlight on, shining it in my face. I squint my eyes and raise my hand to stop the light from blinding me. I feel so nauseous. I'm temporarily blinded until he drops it.

"Light is very important to a photograph; it sets the mood, tone, feeling, aura..." he trails off into a list of synonyms, "most importantly, it emphasizes your focal point— the subject of the piece."

I don't know where he is going with his demonstration. All I know is that the flashlight has now become my worst nightmare because whatever coconut stuff I drank last night is making its way up my throat.

I'm holding my breath as he approaches me again. My mind is elsewhere in thoughts, and I must not be responding to his silent cues because I feel the strong grip of his fingertips at my shoulders. I make an audible sound of surprise and he moves me, forcing my body to face the side of the classroom. I feel as though I will collapse when he releases me and takes a step backwards.

He shines the flashlight at me again. I'm feeling an array of emotions— mostly consisting of confusion as to why I'm gawking at the roughness of his touch. I must still be drunk.

"Look at the shadow," he is talking to everyone except me now.

I can't see them, but I know every student in this classroom is staring now at my side profile.  Not only them, but he is staring at me also. The flashlight is hot on my face and I can feel my cheek starting to heat.

"You can manipulate the light," he continues. I can see from my peripheral vision as he moves, "and it changes the shadow. This is basic information that can easily be forgotten."

A few moments go by of him fiddling with the stupid flashlight that is garnering the worst headache out of me. This is his answer to me being late I suppose. It could be worse; he could've kicked me out of class.

"Face the class," he tells me.

I do as I'm told silently, because I can't talk. The small upward tug of his lips tells me that he is pleased with my obedience. Our eyes are locked on each other's for a second before I close my eyes when the flashlight hits my face again.

"Notice how the features of her face change when the light is above, and when it is below her."

I flinch back from his fingertip when I feel it at my jaw. His touch is lingering and gentle. He moves my face only slightly, the burning sensation of the flashlight still hot on my face. With my eyes closed I feel lost in my thoughts.

My presumably still drunk mind is imagining lips on mine. I'm thankful that Namjoon was willing to deal with my inexperience, but it's painful to remember. He might never want to talk to me again after that.

The lips I'm imagining right now, however, aren't as timid and stiff as what I experienced at the party. Honestly, anything that I'm thinking right now isn't making much sense. I should be sleeping, but I'm here.

I open my eyes when I hear the click of the flashlight. Professor Kim is looking at me with furrowed eyebrows.

"Eunha?" he asks softly. I can't see anyone else in the class because he is standing ahead of me.  I almost have to tilt my head back to look at him.