Jongin was only 6 when he met his first love.
It wasn’t really new for him actually, because his mother had took him to her studio couple of times and much little Jongin had been familiar with all the movements and the stern repetitive commands from the foreigner teacher. He had this funny crooked nose and a very light colored hair, he was very tall and lean and always wore the funny fitted stocking-like clothing. His mother was one of the senior student in the academy, Jongin noticed and as he spread his gaze to the all-around mirrored room, he could see most of the noona were so thin, and they also wore those funny shoes.
“It’s pointe shoes, Jongin ah. Ballerina must wear the shoes to be able to perform their dance.” His mother explains with a smile on her pretty lips. Jongin tilted his head.
“Me too?” he asked, eyes widened and his little mouth form an adorable O shape.
“Do you want to?” a teasing glint was clear in the mother’s eyes and Jongin shook his head. The woman laughed and ruffled his son’s hair. “Then you won’t wear it alright. They are for the girls, Jongin ah.”
It only took two days for the little boy to join the academy, his mother didn’t even have to ask him. He knew he was in love the moment he saw the metal railing in front of the huge mirrors, and how the line of the poise ballerinas did their routine. He was the only boy in their group but it didn’t matter. Monsieur Francis was a man too and he could do incredible moves Jongin never knew a man can do. He managed to present Fouetté en tournant better than any other noona in the room, while he had a hard time to struggle just to maintain his Plié. His mother however watched him with pride in her eyes and applied an ointment at night when his feet were too hurt. An extra kiss was always given in the end of massage session.
It was one day when Jongin stayed in the studio longer than usual, practicing his messed up piroutte when his mother gestured him to go near her. With her famous secretive smirk, he fished out two tickets to watched a ballet recital in town. A renowned ballet academy from Rusia was coming and they were supposed to perform The Nutcracker that weekend. Jongin gasped and jumped in excitement because he finally get a chance to watched the real show. He remembered not sleeping at all the day before the show, too nervous to closed his eyes and too eager for the morning to come. He dressed in the best suit he had, saying goodbye merrily to his father and grabbed his mother’s hand to go to the town hall where the show was hold.
And that day he met his first love.
He was so in love with the story, it captivated him in an instant because this was like a dream came true. He fell in love with the lightings in different acts, he fell in love with the wonderfulu costumes, they were so colorful and so wonderful. But most of all, he fell in love with the ballet itself. How every bend and every move by the dancers beautifully formed and tied one another, sealed by the symphony from the orchestra. His heart thumped along with every steps the ballerinas and the danseurs took, he unconsciouly clutched at his mother’s hand and he cried when it finally finished. He sobbed as the line of dancers bowed to the spectators and he knew he would never fall in love like that again because ballet was to beautiful there was nothing that would replace it.
He made a promise that night that he someday will had a chance to perform also, to dance on the stage in front of hundreds, no millions of people. Showed them his powerful moves, imprisoned their attentions with his expressions and gave them the taste of what it feels to be enchanted. The most of all, he wanted to make his mother proud of him because she was the one who introduced him to the wonders of the dance.
He was only 10 when she left their house. He felt the hollow in his heart as his mother who he loved so much walked out their front door after giving him a long kiss on his forehead, just like when he was a small child. Jongin spent the rest of the day folding his knees to his chest, sitting near the window and stared at nothing on their yard. The old wrinkled poster from the very first ballet recital he ever saw was on the floor, lying poorly on the cold surface. His ankle was still hurting from the day’s long practice but the pain was nothing compared to the cut on his chest.
Jongin hid his face on top of his hand, curled up to protect his own from the loneliness and the betrayed feelings. For the first time since it was starting, Jongin was doubting his choice. One most important thing he treasured the most now became his alien. He had lost in hope for ballet, his first love. Jongin let out a sob free as he buried his face deeper, his old mother’s pointe shoes lied lifelessly on his bed.
The ribbon had been torn, just like Jongin’s dream had been drifted far and far away from him.
***
