Dance to This [kth]

s i x

ミ★
six
❝registrations and invitations❞
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My knuckles are throbbing as they hit against the solid wood of my room door. It's the only sound erupting from the dim-lit, deserted hallways of my resident building. It's late, but I have no choice but to disrupt the quietness of the night. My chest is heaving as I incessantly move my fist against the door. I've forgotten all of my things in the practice room because of how quickly I left.

I stand in a mellow panic of shock as I wait patiently for my roommate to answer my indications. I have no ID to enter my room, nor a cell phone to attempt to contact her. I'm staring blankly at the small name tags on our door to stop myself from becoming overwhelmed in anxiousness.

"Eunha?" Hana's eyes are glossy when the door opens.

It doesn't take her long to notice my appearance. Immediately her face drops and her eyes scan down to my toes; I'm still in my pointe shoes and dance outfit. The elastic ribbon is ripped and falls shapelessly on the floor surrounding my feet. My cheeks are pale, and my breath is staggering— I'm scarred for life.

Her voice is slightly alert now, "are you okay?"

I want to respond, but I'm frozen as usual. My defense mechanism to remain calm is slowly depleting; guilt and fear are climbing up my spine and are begging to be heard.

"What happened?" Hana continues with worry growing in her expression.

Nothing and everything happened. I leaned into my professor, and I kissed him. He didn't reject me; however, he did absolutely nothing. Nothing. His hand at my waist didn't move, his stance didn't change, nor did he push me away. Our lips met, but he wasn't stiff. They were gentle, but my memory is already lacking. Did his lips move? Why did he stare at me as if in contemplation when I pulled away? Every ounce of me is confused, embarrassed, and never wanting to see him again.

The moment I pulled back from his lips, the regret sank in. His wide eyes and blank expression gave me no clear evidence as to what he thought. What is wrong with me? I get so emotionally attached and invested in a performance and I do that? He must think I'm pathetic. What am I doing? I am supposed to be doing what everyone else here is doing— being a student. Why is this concept so hard for me to grasp?

"Eunha?" Hana questions me. I blink at her and snap out of my thoughts.

I breathe in heavily through my nose and squeeze myself into the room to get by her. My nerves are tickling every crevice of my body— they itch for me to make a decision. I need to make this right. Is he going to report me? I didn't give him time to say anything before I practically ran out of the room.