You limped and sobbed as you hurt your ankle from a failed jump, hearing the laughs of the other dancers who had pushed you earlier

You didn't know why they hate you—it had been like this ever since

You sat at a bench outside your studio, trying to massage your ankle as you saw someone kneel infront of you—it was haoran—the boxer who you had liked for quite a while

"little swan..." he called—gently placing a hand on your ankle "who hurt you?"