HOBI POV:

The final two days before the performance is a wait, a torment like no other. A wait as that anticipation that had steadily been climbing higher and higher slowly reaches the finishing line. Slowly reaches that peak of it, the climax that would be the dance performance, would be that unveiling of the stunning duet Jimin and (Y/N) had been pouring their efforts into, investing all their energy and time into.

It was a painful wait and torment because it seemed like we barely got to see (Y/N). To suddenly go from seeing her every day, spending time with her, hearing from her to this. To these stolen moments of getting lunch or dinner together after their rehearsals or to pick her up before dropping the two to the studio, stolen moments where they weren't dancers, when they weren't competitors, but just ours, just each other's.

And in these fleeting moments the rest of us began to pick up on small changes in (Y/N). Small changes that anyone else would've passed by unnoticed, unobservant of them.

But we all noticed those lapses into silence. Where in the loud bubble of noise and chatter, she became silent, lost in thought. Where she seemed to drift away, eyes losing focus, drowning with emotions and memories and thoughts, unfocused on the present and lost within her mind.

It happened during lunch once. Happened as Tae moved to steal pasta off her fork, hand clutching at it but not making any move to draw it to her lips and eat it. Nudging her and telling her how he was planning on taking photographs of their performance, for a new project. And it had seemed as if it was a struggle for her to remove herself from that haze, consumed by it but slowly tugged out by Tae's words and soft gaze, by the way his hand had curled around hers, fork lowered down but skin still pressed together. Silently helping her, staying with her with a physical closeness until she focused on it, until her fingers wriggled and twisted to encircle his wrist, moving to feed him with her fork this time.

It happened when she was curled up beside Joon on the couch, head resting on his lap and absently fiddling with the rips in his jeans, fingers teasing and dancing along bare skin in a way that was more fiddly then it was to rile up. But it still had Joon's cheeks pinkening and eyes darkening as her fingers absentmindedly slipped under the denim on his thigh and wriggled, brushed against his skin, head smushed against his thigh, puffy and sweet. At odds with how her touch was a torment too.

And as the final two days trudged by, my curiosity grew. Because it seemed as if her silence tied in to whenever the competition was mentioned. A flash of thought or emotion seeping into her eyes, always so expressive still, before she nodded along. Or murmured how lucky she was to have Jimin as her duet partner, that she couldn't ever have found a better one, one more fitting for this song.

Her flitting expressions gave away that whatever she was thinking about the song, about the dance it was a mixture of past and present merging. It meant that the song held a unique, personal significance to her. Because her eyes became haunted at once but also hopeful. It was a conflicting mixture of good and bad emotions battling, merging. And I knew that this wait wasn't just a torment on us. It was a torment for her too. An agony to wait out the final days in a blur of practices and hidden moments together, sweet fleeting moments that burned themselves across my mind and soul. The sweet press of her lips hastily pressed to mine, sliding away before they could truly linger, before I could coax them closer. The feel of her wrapped up in my embrace, soft warmth that barely curled around me before it vanished, darting for the next figure.

It seemed as if there was an urgency simmering away, bubbling with growing anticipation within her too. And all those thoughts, all those curious, absently drifting questions and musings where answered on the night before the performance. When Yoongi hyung had curled close, had softly murmured that the song had made her cry. He didn't divulge the depth of what had transpired that day at Magic Shop, didn't say what exact state she had been but his low, deep murmurs were enough. Underlined with worry and contemplation, making it clear that it was the very song, or the lyrics were something that tugged at her, called to her. That he knew and connected her recent silence and bouts of internal processing tied in to the song and what it meant to her.

But we only knew what we could see, what she'd told us and what we'd grown to learn about her as a person. Could begin to gather that dance, that this performance was a sort of outlet for those building thoughts and emotions, that just like silence had been her companion, this dance was another form of that. Another form of companionship for her, another form of communicating what words couldn't.

And if the dazed, smitten look Jiminie spoke with everytime he mentioned their duet was anything to go by, I knew he was being blown away by whatever was poured into their dance, whatever (Y/N) was sharing.

And it made that torment heighten. It made the impatience grow.

Because it was no longer a want to see the dance. It was a need. Rising and building, bubbling and simmering, spilling over, hot and heavy as it coursed through my veins.

And the final two days slid by slowly, like wading through heavy thick molasses, sticky and cloying. Time clung and lingered, every second stretching out for eons.

But finally. Finally. The time came.

The time came where we found ourselves in the audience, waiting in a mixture of impatience and growing anticipation for the peak of all that tension, for all that waiting that had bubbled to reach this point.

And as Jimin and (Y/N)'s names were announced, curtains yet to rise to reveal them, I knew that the time to see the rebirth of the black swan had finally arrived.

It was time to hear the swan's song, time to see the tale of rebirth and time to see the swan's wings spread and take flight.

----

There's a hushed reverent silence that falls on our row, causes us to lean forward unconsciously in our seats with anticipation, following Mi-sun and Habaek's lead and staring at the stage, no more words of excitement murmured, no more glances to the side. All our focus, all our attention was on the stage as the curtains began to rise. And finally revealed the two of them to us.

The two of them are dark silhouettes, shadows curled close, blending together when the curtain rises, forming a joined connected silhouette, blue lighting casting the illusion of water, of the two of them submerged in it with the way it ripples around them, moves even before the song begins to play, before they moved from their intertwined position. From the way their bodies curved towards each other from behind a beautiful mirroring, two halves of the same whole.

The music begins to play, an orchestral piece, powerful and haunting, demanding and captivating as it fills the stage, as it becomes the very piece to guide them, beautiful, elegant twists and sharp precise lines.

My eyes are drawn to the way (Y/N) and Jimin spin, facing away from each other, mirrored versions of themselves as their legs arch out, bodies twisting from where they kneel on the ground, movements stilted, backs arched, faces where we get the rare glimpse of them, shadowed with blue light, agonised and tormented.

And as they move their backs remain pressed together, the low of them always touching it seemed, as if they represented two parts of the same person, the same side of the coin, that couldn't be parted, that couldn't be separated, as if there is a tether that keeps the two touching, moving together in this haunting display of connection. A connection that as the music continued to pour out, was a forceful connection, a compulsion, an inability to move away from each other.

And when they move, it's always connected, always touching in one way or the other. The connection forced, a compulsion, a necessity. Something that the two can't do without, hands reaching out for each other as they twist, the harshness softened by the way their bodies curve close, reaching inwards once more.

And the powerful mixture of violins reach a crescendo, music twisting and changing with the rise and fall of their bodies, as they twist and seem to glide across the stage, swans with the way their bodies are fluid and seamless as they travel. As if delving and cutting through water with the way the blue lighting is cast on them, dark shadows that navigate the consuming blue.

There's a stunning, devastating beauty in the way they dance, as (Y/N) spins away, connection snapping, sharp elegant lines and curves as she twists, the flutter of the loose swathes of black fabric spin and flutter, wings trying to take flight, trying to break free, but those flutters of fabric fall down, settling when Jimin reaches for her, tugs her back, the swan unable to break free from the past, from the connection that forcefully binds them together. A devastating agony in the way the light shadows (Y/N)'s face, reveals torment, blue melting away to reveal their expressions- sharp and poignant, trying to spin away, trying to move but ultimately tugged back. Secured by Jimin.

Spinning on the ground to twist away but her hand is captured by his, his hold spins her back to him, looking down at her with so much feeling, so much pain and hope and need. And when she rises, there's a fire burning in her eyes too, fire that fills her movements as she moves towards him, reflecting what his eyes hold. Tugged this time by emotion and not force. And when her leg extends, Jimin falls to the ground, sinking, breath catching when he grips her thigh, arm banding across her waist as he lists her up, her body arched and trusting, curving back towards him even if their eyes don't meet, bodies calling to one another, her leg bent inwards.

And I don't know contemporary the way they do, don't know the origins and planning and rehearsal that must've gone into that move alone. But I know them. Know that the move they've pulled off is both stunning in execution but also full of so much trust, full of so much chemistry between them and of faith in each other as dancers, as friends, as lovers. There's a hypnotic charm to the way they seem to freeze in that move, how time stills and the blue light no longer laps at them as moving water, stilling as if their connection has caused the current to stop too. The floaty extensions to their fitted costumes flare out, delicate and light. The barest flutter of wings learning to spread and pan out, learning to fly again. And when he lowers her, there's a new tenderness to the touch, as if it softens.

As if their tether becomes one formed out of love and reciprocal need for each other, as if he becomes her strength rather than the weight burdening her down, stopping her from taking flight.

And slowly the orchestra music morphs. Transforms into a lyrical song, a different sort of power in the voices that fill our ears, lyrics that speak and wind themselves around us, elevate the story of the black swan to a newer level, to a newer meaning. And their moves change too. Become a mixture of classical ballet merging with contemporary, more intimate partner work. And when the song pours out, I feel Yoongi hyung start beside me, hand where it had been resting on my leg, squeezing all of a sudden. Sucking in a harsh breath, seeing from my peripheral the way his eyes widen.

"She used...the song I gave her." he mumbles, voice barely filtering in with how softly it is spoken, surprised and breathless. As if his breath has been taken away, enraptured and enamoured.

The song.

A remix of one of the original records, merging with a modern retelling, a modern tale of the black swan. Past and present merging, coming together as one. Transitioning from the voiceless, musical call of the swan song to one that finally has a voice, finally can speak and let her pain be known to the world.

And I realise what hyung means.

That this song, the music that now guides and winds around their dance, elevates it and merges with it, is a song that he has mixed for them, he has created a new style on. This is his song because he'd been the one to combine the two records, to work so meticulously on them that the transition reflects perfectly how the black swan's rebirth begins.

Because the black swan, as (Y/N) moves curved towards Jimin, reaching out for him and drawing him close, has finally begun its rebirth, has escaped the final chords of the orchestra, of its past and begun to move forward, begun to move to take a new step, to step away from what had caused it to become a flightless bird.

And now. Now their dance is an intimate merging, it's sweet decadent beauty of souls merging and winding together in an eternal embrace, it's arms reaching out for one another as they twist, the black of their costumes merging them together into one body, one unified being. And behind them, attached to their backs and to their wrists, the gauzy flutter of black fabric flares, fully splayed at last, wings rising and fluttering, flapping as the black swan regains their flight, regains that power and when Jimin lifts her, hands firm and solid on her waist as they turn, those swathes of fabric flutter to brush against his face, hide it. In that moment he and (Y/N) are joined. Are one.

By the end of the dance, there isn't a tale of agony and pain but the story of healing, of growing, of bearing scars but wearing them like armour.

At the end of the song, at the end of their dance my throat is thick and heavy with emotion, tears prickling my eyes, filling them and clinging to lashes as their bodies arch, twist to form wings. And when they come to still, finally at rest with each other, with themselves, I feel the tears trickle down, hot against my cheeks, breath rushing out as if I've finally remembered how to breathe. As if during the entirety of the performance I'd forgotten to, forgotten how to exhale after my lungs had been full of the haunting music, body consumed by it.

Because that right there was more than a performance. It was a raw, agonising, vulnerable telling of a story. And as I watch the two of them rise, arms still clutching each other close, chests rising and falling with deep breaths, I know that hidden within that song, within that dance was a part of her. In that dance there was a part of (Y/N), within that song and the music and melody, there was a piece of her soul in it.

This performance was her.

She'd shown us her rawest, most vulnerable part in one of the most bared and exposed way.

And I felt myself swept up by it, lost within it.

Lost within her.

(Y/N) POV:

I give one final glance to my costume, smile at myself. A small curve to my lips as I take in the fitted black costume, the sheer black outlining my body, the glimpses it gives to it, smile at the embroidered patterning around the bust. Mi-sun unnie had really gone above and beyond to get it designed for me, smiled at how much thought and effort she'd invested into recreating the original black swan costume.

It was incredible just how similar it was to the original costume I'd performed in, how much it felt like I was adorning the costume for the first time. How when I was tugging the fitted sleeves up to rest low on my shoulders, I looked in the mirror and saw a different room behind me, saw dim lighting, saw a bare face instead this time and saw the mask sitting in front of me. The black ornate mask which would cover my face, cover my identity from the world. How this time I fiddled with the zipper alone, coming to rest on the low of my back, when once it had been Habaek oppa and Mi-sun unnie's careful hands helping the costume fit snug, them who had helped transform me into the black swan before I stepped out for the first time onto that stage and danced to the song, to the tale that I myself had helped craft, had weaved vits and pieces of my fragmented soul into.

But this time it was different, this time, even as my eyes flooded with memories of endless hours tirelessly practicing, of pouring my anguish and torment into musical notes, into choreography, of moments when no matter how hard I had danced it had felt lacking, it had felt like I'd been holding back from myself, fearful of what I'd find. This time it wasn't anguish and torment poured into the choreography, it was hope, bright and bold, coursing and shattering through the darkness. This time it wasn't alone I was going to dance, this time I gave it my all, poured every bit of me into this duet.

This time, I had people waiting for me at the end of it, I had people who I was dancing for. This time my duet partner was the very one who was cradling a fragment of my heart within the same hands that spun and tugged me back. This time when I stepped onto the stage, it was without a mask, without me hiding who I was. This time I was going to lay myself bare in front of the ones who mattered most to me, who had given me happiness and joy and love but also purpose, also a meaning to finally and truly to start living.

And so I did.

I gave my everything to the dance, to Jimin, to the eyes I knew were watching me from the audience, the only eyes that mattered.

This time when that anguish and pain seeped into the moves of tearing myself away, I remembered all those times and instances I had ran from my happiness, remembered stolen, precious moments of tenderness and intimacy, fleeting and brief, melting away with the endless cycle of existing. As I spun and moved away from Jimin, bodies connected, touching in some way I saw streams of memories blurring and merging, of connections, of touches I wanted nothing more to lose and tear myself away from, remembered the part of me that was always connected, always tethered to the Ocean, captive to it. But I also remembered connections I wanted to cherish, to hold onto, remembered the ghost of a smile pressed against skin, of a low voice murmuring of love as hands cradled me close. I remembered what I had lost, what I had moved away from.

But I also remembered as my back pressed against Jimin's, just how much I had gained now, how much more life had become for me. Remembered how the boys were now the very drive of my living, the very beings I had found love within, had found solace and security and shelter within.

I remembered the heat of the touches that pushed away, chipped at that cold that had settled inside me centuries back, slowly causing it to thaw, to soften. I remembered the airiness their laughs brought to my lungs, finally making me feel as if I could breathe, lungs caving with the sheer dizzying rush of it. I remembered what it felt like to be me because of them.

To be beyond a siren, beyond someone who'd lived and endured for centuries. With them, I was just me. Just (Y/N).

And I loved them for it.

It was a breathless, consuming realisation. Dizzying and exhilarating as I moved with Jimin, as the connected swathes of fabric flying out in an imitation of wings, of black bold wings bursting from my shoulders and flaring out, free and unrestrained to fly, to spread wide. Body cradled and supported by his, a silent reminder, a silent tell that he would lift me up, he would be the one to help me to fly, to be free.

The certainty of that love and pure longing for them coursed wildly through my veins, thrummed through my body as I spun, arched towards Jimin, felt that connection transform, stronger and brighter, unbreakable, met his eyes and saw my own emotions reflected there. Saw his eyes, hypnotic and captivating keep me tethered to him, drawing me in further. A strong compulsion and power in his eyes that lured, that beckoned with that sweet, fiery promise.

And when the song trailed away, faded into a silence, there was only the sound of our breaths remaining, heavy and rushed, mingling with one another, arms still wound around each other, a lover's embrace.

This time when the curtains fell, hiding us away from the rest of the world, from any eyes, it was just us. Just us as we stared at each other, pressed close, feeling the steady firm support of his arms, of his body intertwined with mine and eyes dark and unable to tear away from each other.

When the curtains fell, the world melted away but Jimin remained.

Solid undeniable warmth Jimin. Strong, steady Jimin. Jimin who's hands raised me up, splayed against my back and tugged me close, out of the arch and into his space, into his air, noses brushing, breaths hurried and urgent.

Jimin who'd been the one to break me free from the spell, the one who'd helped me learn to fly, to spread my wings. Jimin who'd as my duet partner not only supported me but became one with me, became a part of me, moving in unison and tandem with me. Jimin who'd through dancing with me had helped me let go of my past, let go of what was, had told me it was okay to heal, okay to move forward.

Jimin as the turn, that change in my life that marked something new and powerful, hungry tides of longing and want for each other that would ebb away momentarily to sweep in with more intensity.

He and six others who'd taken my heart and soul and shared it between them, kept it safe and protected within them.

Jimin as the one who'd reached in to the old me, to the original black swan and given her a new rebirth, a new tale to live.

And when I see nothing but exuberance and that strong rush of emotions drown the soft browns of his eyes, see it settle on his face, I lean forward to press our lips together.

Crackling embers that burn and flare when my lips meet his, when I silently thank him, over and over for helping that part of me to come out properly. For helping the me that had been lost and destroyed as a siren finally begin to heal fully, begin to step away from that label just by dancing with me.

And though it's his arms I'm in, his lips that move softly and unhurried against mine, the world fading away around us, the sound of applause distant and dull, heart beating wildly, thudding away inside my chest, pushing to get free, I know that all seven of them have helped me more than I could've ever thought.

That I'd waited centuries to find these seven gifts.

That these seven gifts were the ones who'd taught me how to love myself.

How to be me.

And it was me who was irrevocably and wholly in love with the entirety of all seven of them.

And so when his touch caused those sparks and embers to flare into flames, I gladly gave myself to it. Let myself be consumed and burned by the fire because it pushed away the water I'd always been drowning in.

Because that fire consumed me whole with its heat and there was nothing more I needed.

Nothing more I wanted.

Just this.

(THERE WE GO!! THE, THE MAJOR CHAPTER I THINK ME AND Midiiplier  HAVE BEEN WAITING WHAT FEELS LIKE CENTURIES FOR!! AND WE FINALLY GOT THERE! FINALLY GOT TO IT!! AND MY SWEET DARLING DO LET ME KNOW HOW IT WAS!! BECAUSE THE ANTICIPATION HAS BEEN SO SO MUCH FOR THIS CHAPTER AND I WANTED TO DO THIS BEAUTIFUL SONG, THIS BEAUTIFUL CONCEPT SO MUCH JUSTICE! AND MY LOVES...HOW DID YOU FIND IT?? DID I DO BLACK SWAN JUSTICE?? DID THEIR EMOTIONS COME ACROSS PROPERLY OR NOT?? AHHHH!! IT'S SO NERVEWRACKING TO WRITE AND I KID YOU NOT WHEN I SAY I REWROTE THIS CHAPTER AND FIDDLED AROUND WITH IT MORE THAN ANY CHAPTER I HAVE WRITTEN TO DATE!! SO I HOPE ALL THAT FIDDLING PAID OFF!! AHHH! I'M JUST SO NERVOUS AND PANICKING FOR THIS!! BUT THE BEAUTIFUL PERFORMANCE THE BOYS DID WITH THE ORCHESTRAL VERSION INSPIRED THIS!! AND I'VE DECIDED THAT IT'LL BE WHAT I BASE MY POETRY ASSIGNMENT ON TOO! I'M FEELING INSPIRED! ANYWAYS...CAN'T WAIT TO HEAR WHAT YOU ALL THOUGHT OF IT!! JUST SO EXCITED FOR YOU ALL TO READ IT!! TAKE CARE, ENJOY AND STAY SAFE MY LOVES!)

QUESTION...SOMETHING YOU'RE CURIOUS TO KNOW ABOUT ME? ANY MAJOR BURNING THINGS YOU WANNA KNOW?

Mine is...I'm super curious where in the world are you when you're reading these haha? So my darlings- where are you from?

Borahae! 💜💜💜

PurpleQueenie <3