#... not really.

“You can blame Sherlock AND Achilles.”

Dance was an escape.

From as young as she remembered, Hara loved to dance. Before she enrolled into a dance academy, her childish limbs attempted to emulate the gracefulness portrayed by the ballerinas on the television, toes imitating the way the ballerinas pointed them and mirroring the positions of their arms; she’d hear a tune from the radio or just from someone whistling and she’d find her head bobbing along, her sneakered feet tapping gently on the ground as if her legs were itching to dance. And then she began her dance classes, and then she realized her true escape was, and would always be, dancing.

So when she announced to her manager that she wouldn’t be showing up for the schedules this afternoon (just more meetings on the future of KARA; they could manage without her for a few hours), she already had a place in mind where she’d go. Swiping her car keys off the counter, she stepped outside the house, hands slipped into the pockets of her sweatshirt and breath coming out in faint wisps, appearing to almost solidify for a second before the translucency faded, and she glanced around, eyebrows drawn together in thought as she tried to remember where she had parked her car.

Pressing the panic button on the remote due to her lazy nature and not wanting to waste more time, she jogged towards the direction of the siren, drawing attention from her neighbors and Hara flashed them an apologetic smile as she got to her car, unlocking it and silencing the alarm before opening the door, slipping in and closing the door, inhaling deeply and how frigidly cold the leather seats were. She leaned forward, elbows bending to press her forearms against the steering wheel before pressing the heels of her palms to her eyes before drawing away, slightly surprised to feel the warm tears wet against her skin, shaking her head slowly before leaning forward again, drawing a ragged breath, shuddering as she exhaled before forcing herself upright once more, fingertips brushing underneath her eyes to wipe away the tears, determined not to cry anymore because she’d cried too much last night, the night before, the week before. Inhaling deeply once more, Hara turned on the car, the low rumbling of the car masking her soft sniffles.

As she made her way towards the building where the dance room was held, she drew her upper lip in between her teeth, her eyebrows tugging together slightly as she tried to stop the urge to cry again, small hands gripping tightly at the steering wheel as she blinked rapidly to clear the tears, eyelashes fluttering as she tilted her head back at a red light, pink lips quirking into a wry smile as she recalled that quote – ah, what was it? Something about holding your head high when you feel like crying, so tears won’t fall that way. Snapping out of her thoughts, she glanced back down, lifting her foot off the brake and stepping on the pedal, going a few more streets before turning into an underground parking lot, the tip of her tongue trapped in between her lips as she focused on backing into a spot, careful not to damage the other car or her own (despite what Jessica unni said about her on broadcast, she could park). Settling back against the comfortable bucket seat for a moment, her eyes sliding shut again and fingers stilled in her lap, she inhaled and exhaled once more before getting out of the car, a quiet curse escaping her lips as she almost scraped her door against the concrete wall.

As she made her way upstairs towards the practice room, she passed by Jaekyung (who was technically her unni, but at the same time, her hoobae … ah, none of this made sense.), flashing a small smile to the older woman before brushing past her into the dance room, raising her hand to offer a lazy wave to Woori. “Practicing hard?” she inquired, the other girl only nodding before offering her another smile, hurrying out of the room and leaving Hara alone in the dance practice room, the room bare save one mirrored wall and a few short benches at the back beside the door. Tugging the sweatshirt over her head and setting it carefully on the bench, she stretched one leg out, the other bending at the knee as she prepared herself, closing her eyes as she began to feel the muscles strain ever so slightly, switching to the other side before stretching her arms above her head, fingers interlocking together and palms facing out as if she was pressing upwards against some unknown force. She straightened up, bouncing gently on the balls of her feet, bending the thin material of her sneakers as she stepped forward, her pointed foot perpendicular to the glossy surface of the hardwood floor before bending slightly, resting her weight slightly against the top of her foot, fingers raising to comb through the strands of hair, shaking her hair out slightly before shifting over to the sound board to plug her phone in.

As she fumbled with the auxiliary cable, the speakers making a loud crackling sound as she pushed it in, she drew her eyebrows together, trying to think of something to dance to; this wasn’t the right time to dance to any of the KARA songs, as her members were not here and the simple thought that they would never perform the songs as five again would cast her into the state of unhappiness once more, and the whole purpose of her getting away to this dance room was to block out those thoughts, wasn’t it? Her thumb drawing across the screen to unlock her phone, she scrolled absentmindedly through her music playlist before pressing the shuffle button, Danity Kane’s ‘Damaged’ blaring through the speakers and Hara felt her lips curve up slightly in a smile at the memory of performing to this song at one of the Gayo Daejuns back in 2012. Leaning her head back against the wall as she listened to the song, she found herself mouthing along to the words, the words that she didn’t really know the meaning to (she vaguely understood it; she was no Nicole, but it didn’t take too much effort to understand what ‘my heart is damaged’ meant) , fingers tapping gently to the beat on her thigh before pressing her back against the wall to straighten herself up.

“But the one before you left me so damaged, damaged …”

Restarting the song before standing in the middle of the room, legs parted to shoulder width and hands resting on her waist, eyes closed as she envisioned the rest of the backup dancers with her, mentally reviewing the dance steps before allowing the music to jerk her body to the beat; her legs moving as if on their own accord and torso rolling in the same fluid manner as it had a little over a year ago, her lips still parted to form the lyrics. And she burned the rest of the afternoon away like this, losing herself in her escape as she replaced the previous, seemingly unending flow of tears with sweat soaking through the back of her wifebeater instead, the ache in her heart replaced by the physical ache of her muscles.

“Get to it, munchkin.” It felt like it had been awhile since he had called her that. He had to admit - it felt nice to let the nickname roll off his tongue - but, It felt even better to see her.

How long had it been since she'd heard the nickname? Really, it felt like it was too long; much too long. The ravenette looked up at the man who towered over her so greatly, her lips curling up into a smile as she placed her hands on her hips. "You know better than I do that I've already gone and fulfilled that promise, Nii-nii."