( & . — SO WON’T YOU TAKE IT, ) I FEEL LIKE FOR THE FIRST TIME I AM NOT FAKING
it’s expected that if falling in love is out of her comfort zone, touch would be too. but yura’s captivated by the choreography. whenever dohee asks her to perform with her, she can’t resist. because as much as the choreography isn’t always her preferred style, it pushes her, challenges her, excites her. she’s kept on her toes and the choreography literally calls for that at times, jumps and floorwork, fluidity yet precise movements. the type of choreography yura never thought she would love but she does.
♫ , i promise to keep this a secret, i’ll never tell but don’t you keep it all to yourself
she looks to dohee for guidance, permission, confidence and she finds it so easily in her friend that she forgets the pressure of trying to perform perfectly in order to uphold the talent of her friend’s choreography. the conviction is contagious— yura thinks she can dance across the stage, fly as if just a touch could knock her off her feet, take control of her whole body, the promise of the song fulfilled.
♫ , so won’t you take it, i feel like for the first time i am not faking fingers on my buttons and now you’re playing master of anticipation, don’t you keep it all to yourself
she forgets herself in the song, forgives her shortcomings, a leap of faith, a reach for the stars, and she’s back on her feet, yearning for another touch. a touch to knock her off her feet again.
♫ , just a touch of your love is enough to knock me off of my feet all week just a touch of your love, oh, just a touch of your love, oh just a touch of your love is enough to take control of my whole body just a touch of your love, oh, just a touch of your love, oh
spinning, reeling, a chance to be free — she throws herself into the song, a smile exchanged with dohee as they nearly crash. a collision of power instead, of coordination, of an absoluteneed to dance because what they’ve been touched by is the music and she’s ecstatic when the music fades.
it’s not the complete song, not the end, and she knows this isn’t the end of her attempting dances like this either. there’s a rhythm in her heart, a melody that she can’t keep to herself and it starts in her feet, thunders through her veins to her very core, electrifying and she’s lit aflame.
she’s vaulted out of her comfort zone, springed into another type of dance, and she’s beginning to see the same type of beauty in the cherry blossoms that fall upon the stage, picking one and placing it in her hair before finding another to do the same for dohee. it’s her way of saying thank you, that and the way she says, “this was fun.”