Work Text:
The music starts. He takes one look at his reflection on the mirrored wall of the practice room. He takes a deep breath and sets his body in motion.
He knows this song back and forth. He has performed it for years, yet every time he dances it, he treats it like it's the first time he's presenting it to an audience.
He has been part of the industry since he was fourteen years old - not even of legal age. He grew up in the spotlight, with his four brothers alongside of him.
When he debuted, he was just a coconut-headed kid who blinked excessively out of nervousness. He didn't even have any lines in their debut song because he was still considered tone-deaf back then.
So what did he do about it? He practiced. His members taught him and guided him. In a way, they raised him. Pretty soon, he was not only able to sing well, but he was also able to belt out high notes like the rest of his the group.
But he never stopped dancing. Dancing was his lifeblood. It was as essential to him as breathing.
He watched himself in the mirror as he did the choreography. Every flick of the wrist was his eleven years of dancing. Every bend of the knee was his solo career. Every gyrating thrust was his transition from being a boy to a man. Every little micro-movement represented his hard work and growth not just as a person, but as a performer.
As the music ended, he looked at himself in the mirror as he did the final pose. He let himself catch his breath while he felt beads of sweat run down the sides of his head. Finally, he relaxed. He took a look at his reflection again. He was already twenty-six. He wasn't that skinny little boy anymore. He had grown much taller. He worked out and developed his muscles. He still had a coconut haircut but over the years, it became his signature. Still, all he could see was himself, a boy just doing what he loves to do best - dance.
He was called the Korean Michael Jackson.
I prefer another name.
He is Lee Taemin.