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Kim Seokjin was a good person.
He loved and respected his parents. He doted on his dog. He doted on other people’s dogs. He paid his parking tickets on time and never took up more than one dryer in the laundry room. He was a good person.
But apparently none of that mattered, because he was in hell. He hadn’t known that hell was actually a small dance studio tucked behind a coffee shop in Hongdae, but here he was.
On the floor.
Sweating.
Every muscle hurting.
In front of one of the hottest guys he’d ever seen in his entire life.
He was going to kill Namjoon.
…………………….
Two weeks earlier
“Hyung, are you even listening to me?” Namjoon sounded exasperated, like he’d been talking for a while. Whoops.
“You were talking about art,” Seokjin guessed, dragging his attention away from his phone and this hellacious round of Battlejack he couldn’t beat. Art was usually a good guess with Namjoon, that or music, but he figured art encompassed music? It totally did.
“Mmm-hmm, what about art,” Namjoon asked flatly, leaning back in his chair. They were in a noodle shop waiting for Taehyung, who was getting out of his afternoon class soon. He tapped his fingers on the table expectantly, and Seokjin felt the urge to smack them off the table. Who was the hyung here anyway?
“It’s very important,” Seokjin said, just as flatly, staring back at him. He loved Namjoon, he really did, but if he took him as seriously as he wanted to be taken, they’d both be in tears by the end of the day. Time to lighten the mood. “Hey,” he said, smiling his very most charming smile, “What do you call a--”
“Art,” Namjoon went on, ignoring him completely, “isn’t limited to one genre, you know? It’s all connected. Visual arts, music, dance, photography, fashion…”
Seokjin lost the thread again in the middle of congratulating himself for being right on the whole art encompassing music thing, then tuned back in to Namjoon saying, “...I have to fill in my gaps, you know? I’m lacking the full experience. So what do you think?”
“Good idea?” Seokjin said, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. And then he felt guilty for only half-listening, so he said, “I don’t know anyone who takes art and music more seriously than you, Namjoonie. Whatever you want to do, I’m sure you’ll be great at it.”
“Hyung, do you think...would you come with me?” Namjoon gave him a quick little apologetic smile. “It’s just that...I know I’m clumsy, and I want to...not totally embarrass myself alone.” He grimaced. “I know you’ll take care of me.”
And there was a direct hit to Seokjin’s weak spot right there, how could he say no to that? Whatever it was, he’d do it. “Whatever you need, Namjoon-ah,” he said indulgently, leaning over to pet his hair.
…….
What Namjoon needed, apparently, was somebody to go to a salsa dancing class with him. Salsa dancing. “I’m trying to expand my artistic horizons, I told you,” he said, with a look like he knew Seokjin hadn’t been listening.
The class was on Saturday at 10am, out in Hongdae, at some place that was running a deal if you bought a 6-class pass. Fine, Seokjin was a good and loving hyung and he wanted to support Namjoon in all of his artistic endeavors, he could handle six weeks. Plus, he was taking a break from his yoga classes right now, he could stand to shake up his exercise routine. It would be fine.
……
***WEEK ONE***
The dance studio was small and very simply furnished. The floor and walls were white, with mirrors along one end. There was a bar running across two of the walls. The reception desk was minimalistic and scandinavian-looking, with an ipad on a mount and a single, sleek vase holding flowers in pastel tones. It looked impressively professional, and that was before Seokjin noticed the medals and awards placed high up on a tastefully discreet chrome shelf.
He’d been picturing something like the exercise rooms in his gym, where they taught kickboxing and yoga and stuff. Seokjin began to feel a creeping sense of unease that he was out of his element. Namjoon was next to him stretching, arms raised overhead, wearing somewhere in the vicinity of a million won worth of workout gear, complete with a Gucci sweatband. He looked serious and intent, and Seokjin remembered how important this was to him, expanding his horizons or whatever, and refocused on his own stretching. As he bent over, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. God, his ass looked amazing in these pants. Even if he ended up sucking at salsa dancing, he’d look good doing it.
Deep into a calf stretch, he heard “Hello, hello! Who’s ready to dance?” Seokjin looked up to see a man striding gracefully to the front of the room. He had bright red hair, a sleeveless shirt and loose pants that were hanging low on his hips. Kim Seokjin was no stranger to beauty, and he had no false modesty about his own good looks, (it didn’t mean anything special about him, it was just an objective fact) but it had been a long time since he’d been actually struck speechless by someone’s overall hotness. “I’m your teacher, Jung Hoseok,” Mr. Wonderful announced, and Seokjin scrambled to his feet to bow with the rest of the class, mumbling his greetings.
Mr. Wonderful -- Jung Hoseok -- turned around, caught him staring, and winked.
Not to be outdone, Seokjin sent him a flying kiss, which Hoseok pretended to catch and put in his pocket, then shot him double finger guns before turning back to the rest of the class.
Seokjin was in love.
“Okay, has anyone here tried salsa before?” Two women in the back of the room raised their hands hesitantly. “Has anyone taken any dance classes?” A few more hands went up, none of them with much enthusiasm. “Okay, okay, class of beginners,” Hoseok smiled wide and Seokjin felt his heart skip a beat. “I can work with that,” he said, and he looked like he meant it, like he wanted nothing else to do in his life except teach this basic salsa class at way too early o’clock on a Saturday morning. “Do any of you do any sports? Physical activities?”
Seokjin’s hand shot up. Hoseok turned the full force of his smile on him, which was overwhelming, but Seokjin held fast. “Snowboarding,” he blurted out. “I snowboard. Play tennis. Run a little. Some wakeboarding in the summer when I get the chance.”
“You must be in good shape,” Hoseok said, letting his eyes travel a little. Was he checking him out? Please god, let him be checking me out, Seokjin prayed. “You’re going to do just fine.”
It started out okay. Hoseok started the music and said “Now class, just watch me first” and Seokjin was already doing that, gold star to him. Hoseok put his hands up, stepped forward firmly and oh god, hips can do that? Seokjin put his hands on his own hips, feeling them. He was pretty sure they were completely attached to his body and couldn’t ever, ever move like that. But he was willing to try.
He tried. And failed.
“Now, count with me, one two, three four,” Hoseok lifted his arms gracefully and stepped forward, his hips moving perfectly on the beat. Seokjin managed stepping forward, but that was about as far as he got.
Next to him, Namjoon tripped on his own feet and, in an attempt to catch himself, smacked the woman next to him. Oh god, this was so embarrassing. “Namjoon-ssi,” Hoseok said cheerfully, “you’re quite tall, perhaps you need some more room?” He put his hand on Namjoon’s arm and steered him carefully toward an empty corner of the classroom. “My apologies for crowding you,” Hoseok said, and he really sounded earnest, like he was the one in the wrong and not Namjoon for trying to decapitate some poor woman with his giant hands.
Seokjin took a deep breath. He worked out. He was flexible and strong and never had too hard of a time learning whatever sport he’d put his mind to. There was absolutely no reason dance should be any different.
Except, it was so different. Rather than throwing himself forward down a mountain or riding a wave, each movement was tiny and precise, balancing himself against himself, using muscles and tendons he barely knew existed. Tomorrow was going to hurt, he knew it.
And yet, as hellish as salsa dancing was, Seokjin was also burning in a hell of his own making, thinking about how Hoseok must have developed all those little tiny muscles and tendons, the kind of precise control he must have over his hips. It was...inspiring. And distracting.
When the class was over, Hoseok came over to him. He was barely sweating, it was so unfair. “Seokjin-ssi, nice job.”
Seokjin laughed. “I was terrible,” he said, “but thanks. I’ll work harder next time.”
As they left, Namjoon was shaking his head. “Okay, I’ve suffered for my art,” he said. “I don’t think I can take another five classes. I’m going to kill someone. Or myself.”
Seokjin was pissed, “Hey, no, you don’t drag me out, force me to meet the new love of my life--?”
“The what now?” Namjoon looked confused, like he hadn’t been right there.
“The love of my life, Namjoon-ah, please keep up.” Seokjin took a deep breath. “You don’t make me get up at six in the morning, sweat, make a fool of myself in front of the man I’m going to marry--”
“Wait, are you talking about the teacher?” Namjoon asked, but Seokjin ignored him.
“--and then abandon me, Kim Namjoon. It’s not happening.” Namjoon was looking very doubtful, so Seokjin pressed the issue. “I came here for you today,” he said, trying to strike the right balance between cute and serious.
“One more week,” Namjoon sighed.
***WEEK TWO***
“Yeah, I’m out,” Namjoon said, holding a cold pack to his elbow. “Sorry, hyung.”
***WEEK THREE***
Seokjin felt slightly less confident going to class without Namjoon. For one thing, Namjoon made him look good. For the other, now there was one less guy in the room. The women were all pretty nice, but some of them got a little aggressive when partnered up with him to practice. He was just trying to get used to putting the front and back basic steps together, and maybe not fall flat on his face, when Yoonsook let her hands drift down to his ass for the third time that session. “Um, noona,” he said, getting flustered. “Please, um, I’m having a hard time focusing.”
“Seokjin-ssi,” Hoseok said from somewhere behind him, causing Seokjin to trip backwards. Strong hands caught him and turned him around. “Why don’t you partner with me for a bit?”
Seokjin felt hot and then cold and slightly faint. “Oh,” he said, trying to remember how to operate his limbs. Hoseok took one of his hands and used his other hand to subtly correct Seokjin’s hip placement. Seokjin bit his lip and stuttered something out, he wasn’t sure what, but he heard Yoonsook say “...ohhhhhhh” and walk away.
“Sorry,” Hoseok said, as he led Seokjin carefully around the room, counting one-two-three-four between words, “I’ll talk to her about getting handsy. You looked like you needed saving.” His arms were bare, which was incredibly distracting, but the way he kept glancing at Seokjin’s mouth and looking away was even more distracting. And encouraging.
“My hero,” Seokjin said, feeling slightly more assured of himself now that he was getting into the rhythm of things. He winked at Hoseok, who looked away, biting his lip. “She’s fine,” he went on. “I’m used to it.”
“I can imagine,” Hoseok muttered, and Seokjin mentally cheered.
Hoseok turned to call out instructions to another of the pairs and a correction on someone’s posture. He turned back around quickly and Seokjin stumbled again. “Sorry,” Hoseok said, smoothly bringing them back into the beat.
“It’s okay, you’re the teacher, you have to teach.” Seokjin could feel his palm sweating on Hoseok’s shoulder and he was praying desperately that it wouldn’t like, slide off or something disgusting like that. He needed a distraction. “Hey,” he said, “did you hear about the guy who tried to eat a clock?”
Hoseok looked at him, puzzled. “No?”
“Yeah, it was really time-consuming.” Seokjin cracked up, leaning in to Hoseok’s space as he doubled over laughing.
Hoseok’s mouth dropped open, then cracked into the brightest, sunniest grin as he leaned into Seokjin, giggling. “That’s terrible,” he said. “I can’t believe that just came out of your mouth.”
“But you’re laughing,” Seokjin said, feeling satisfied and warm.
“I guess I am,” Hoseok said. “So what do you do for a living?”
They talked for the rest of the class. Hoseok would stop to instruct the class on their next steps, demonstrate, then return to Seokjin to help him practice. They talked about Seokjin’s on and off again acting jobs, his youtube channel, and his favorite Japanese delivery place. Hoseok didn’t talk much about himself, but he did mention going out to eat with his sister over the weekend, and he talked about how much they liked to shop together.
The hour flew by, and at the end of the class, Seokjin wanted to stay and talk to him, maybe get a read on the whole single/not single situation, but Hoseok went right back to his office with a quick smile and a wave. Disappointing, but Seokjin was more committed than ever to keeping up with the class.
………………………………….
Now that Seokjin couldn’t pretend that he was going to the class for Namjoon, he decided he wanted to do well. He was trying to impress Hoseok, sure, but he didn’t like the idea of half-assing anything, especially something that looked as simple as beginner salsa. Seokjin decided to look for some youtube videos on salsa so he could practice at home. If he got desperate, he could ask Jimin to help, but Jimin would probably die laughing at him first, so that was a last resort. Instead, he’d loaded up a playlist of beginner videos and waited until Yoongi left for a late night at his studio. Yoongi was a great friend and a great roommate, but he didn’t really feel like explaining himself yet. It felt kind of private, somehow.
After clearing out the coffee table and making some space, Seokjin set up his laptop. While he was queuing up the beginner salsa playlist, he had the thought that maybe he should look at the Hope on the Street studio website, in case they had links or resources or something. (Something like a bio of Jung Hoseok or something, you never know.)
The Hope on the Street site had the same minimalist design as the interior of the studio, all in calming colors. There was a photo album with pictures of the studio and classes in action, a page with directions and contact info, and a page that said our staff in a gentle italic script. Seokjin clicked on it.
The information on Jung Hoseok was minimal, but there were some links to videos under his bio. When he clicked on those, they showed Hoseok, alone in a mirrored studio. Jin was wondering how you danced salsa alone, but then a thudding electronic beat started and Hoseok started to move. He was...Seokjin didn’t know the name of it, but he was moving like liquid, with perfect control, hitting every beat, and...Seokjin’s mouth was dry and his cheeks flamed, like he was watching something he wasn’t supposed to.
Screw pride, he was going to need Jimin’s help.
***WEEK FOUR***
“Hyung, just move--no, just--” Jimin pushed at Seokjin’s hip. “Aisshhh, why are you so bad at this?” he asked, exasperated.
“Can you stop with the insults for two minutes and help me?” Seokjin said, trying to hit Jimin’s neck.
“Why do you even care?” Jimin said, dodging him to grab a bottle of water off the counter. “Didn’t Namjoon-hyung give up on that class like, weeks ago?” He laughed. “And don’t tell me you’re dying to learn salsa, because I have now witnessed this disaster with my own two eyes.”
Seokjin flopped dramatically on the couch. “Jung Hoseok,” he sighed. “He of the perfect bone structure, of the magical hips--”
“But you have perfect bone structure, hyung,” Jimin said, looking skeptical.
“I know, can I continue?” Seokjin sighed again, long and drawn-out, with just enough of a whine in it to make Jimin look annoyed. “He’s perfect, he’s beautiful, watching him move is like art, and I need to be perfect at salsa dancing so I can woo him, okay?”
“I can’t believe you found someone prettier than you, hyung,” Jimin said, raising his eyebrows. “Impressive.”
“Did I say that? No. If i limited myself to dating people more attractive than me, I’d never date. But he’s beautiful in his own way and kind and has a perfect smile and and sin hips and Jiminiiieeee, you have to help me. He dances with me every week so the ladies don’t get too friendly with my butt, and we talk about our lives and I want him get friendly with my butt. Jimin, hellllpppp.” Seokjin rolled over and nudged his face against Jimin’s shoulder like an affectionate cat.
Yoongi’s bedroom door creaked open and he shuffled out, still in his pajamas. He looked at all the furniture at the edges of the room, and Jimin and Seokjin, sweating and cuddled on the couch. “You know, I don’t want to know,” he said, turning on the coffee maker.
“Jimin thinks I’d only date someone who was prettier than me,” Seokjin said.
“Uhhh, you’d never date,” Yoongi said, rooting around in the cabinet for a clean mug.
“Thank you,” Seokjin said, looking pointedly at Jimin. “Jiminie is helping me learn to dance so i can woo the love of my life. He likes my jokes, Yoongi.”
“Okay, that’s possibly more rare than being prettier than you,” Yoongi said. “You’re just going to have to marry him.”
“This is why you’re my very best friend and best roommate,” Seokjin said, seriously. “I could kiss you.”
“Please don’t,” Yoongi said. “And don’t you dare--”
Seokjin blew him a flying kiss.
Yoongi closed his eyes and sighed, but caught it and put it in his pocket anyway. “Okay, bye, I’m best man at your wedding,” he said, and went back into his room.
***WEEK FIVE***
After another hour of talking and dancing and laughing, where Hoseok sent him off again with a smile and a wave, Seokjin walked into the small back office. He was going to do this. He was committed. He wasn’t going to be creepy or anything, but he wasn’t going to leave this class without saying anything.
Hoseok was sitting at his desk. It was clear of everything except a framed picture of a small dog, a bottle of water, and a laptop. Hoseok had put on a snapback and black, round-rimmed glasses. He looked quiet and studious and like someone Seokjin would want to wake up next to on a Sunday morning. It was awful.
“Hi,” Seokjin blurted out as he walked through the door.
“Hi,” Hoseok said, smiling up at him. “Can I help you?”
“Uh,” Seokjin tried to think of something to say, but faced with Hoseok’s smile and those glasses and all the post-class adrenaline rushing through his body, he just went blindly with his instincts. “So,” he said, pushing his hair off his forehead and giving his very best smile, “come here often?”
Hoseok blinked, looked down at his desk, then looked up again. “...to my own office?”
Kim Seokjin didn’t get where he got in life by backing down when things got tough, so he pointed at Hoseok and said, confidently, “Yes.”
“Amazingly yes, I do,” Hoseok said, clearly amused. “Every day in between classes.” He leaned back in his chair, still smiling. “So let me get this straight,” he said. “You’re hitting on me, right?”
“This would be so weird if I wasn’t hitting on you,” Seokjin said, slightly offended that someone would think that this was just how he normally talked to people?
“Bad news, it’s weird anyway,” Hoseok said, laughing a little, but kindly. “But, um,” Hoseok looked apologetic, and ohhhhh shit, had Seokjin misread the situation?
“I’m sorry,” Seokjin blurted out, covering his reddening face with his hands. “Oh wow, I’m so sorry, this is so weird, right? I’m like, sexually harassing you and you probably don’t even date guys. Was I stereotyping you? For the dance thing? And making assumptions, oh god, am I homophobic and gay? What a disaster.” Seokjin bowed, his hands still covering his face, “I’m so sorry,” he said again, the words coming out all muffled.
“Oh, no, no,” Hoseok took Seokjin’s hands and gently pulled them away from his face. They were standing close, like they had when they were dancing, and it was even more overwhelming without music. Hoseok smelled good and clean, his skin shining and clear, the perfect little upturned quirk to his lips. Seokjin wanted to kiss him very, very badly. “The thing is,” Hoseok said, “I don’t date students.” He smiled wider. “It’s just unethical. But,” his cheeks darkened and he looked away, “I do date guys, you were right about that.”
“I can just--” Seokjin was about to say quit, but then he remembered how hard he’d been working to get that stupid back basic step, and...ugh, it was going to kill him if he quit before getting at least that down. He must have made a face, because Hoseok nodded approvingly. “Good call, I don’t date quitters either.”
“So, next week is the last week…” Seokjin said, hopefully. “Do you have any rules about going out for coffee with a very recently former student?”
“Hmmmm,” Hoseok said, rubbing his chin. “Why don’t you ask me next week and find out?”
“Okay,” Seokjin said, his heart pounding. He fought the urge to giggle, then remembered how much he hated fighting urges and gave in to it. “Next week, then,” he said, and turned to leave.
“Seokjin-ssi?” Hoseok called out. Seokjin turned around in time to see Hoseok lift his hand to his mouth and blow him a big kiss. Seokjin grabbed it out of the air and pressed it to his cheek in shock. He was completely, utterly smitten. This man was the best man he’d ever met in his life. Flustered, he couldn’t do anything but bow, stutter out his goodbyes, and leave, blinking in the harsh afternoon sun.
He couldn’t wait until next week.
***WEEK SIX***
Getting dressed for an exercise class followed by a possible date was a sartorial nightmare. “You look good in everything,” Yoongi said, uselessly, watching him tear his closet apart. “And he’s already seen you in your workout clothes.”
“Just because your boyfriend wears sweatpants 24/7 doesn’t mean that it’s actually acceptable in public,” Seokjin said, holding up a black t-shirt and tossing it aside in disgust.
Yoongi shrugged, unbothered, chomping his way through some cereal as he sat, cross-legged on Seokjin’s bed. “When you’re 21 and hot you can get away with anything,” he said, smirking a little.
“I swear to god, Yoongi, if you start calling me old--” Seokjin started, but Yoongi cut him off.
“Wear the tight sweats, the black ones,” Yoongi said, pointing with his spoon. “They’re basically formal sweatpants.”
Seokjin sighed loudly. “Please tell Jungkook formal sweats are not a real thing, I swear he is the worst influence--”
“And the loose white t-shirt that gives you cleavage. He won’t be able to think straight.” Yoongi continued, ignoring him.
Hm. Hmmmm. “That might work,” Seokjin said, holding up the shirt in question. “Yeah.”
“Best man at your wedding,” Yoongi reminded him, getting up to leave.
“Who else would it be?” Seokjin asked. “You’re my favorite.”
………………..
For the first time since the first week, Hoseok didn’t pair with him to dance. They ran through all the steps as a group, slower, then on tempo. Hoseok made sure that everyone switched partners several times, changing up the music every time they needed to switch. It was fun and fast-paced and exactly what Seokjin needed to keep his mind off what was happening after the class. He tried really hard not to stare at Hoseok, just catching his eye as he needed to get the instruction.
Seokjin nailed the back basic step and all the other combinations, so his practice with Jimin must have paid off.
At the end of class, Hoseok thanked everyone and waved them off, just like he always did. In fact, he was being so nonchalant and so completely normal that Seokjin began to second guess himself. Did the other day really happen? Was he supposed to go back to the office again? Should he wait for Hoseok to make a move? Confused, he started to quietly leave the class with the group, trying to get his thoughts in order.
“Seokjin-ssi,” Hoseok called out politely. “Could I have a word?”
Seokjin froze, letting the other class members push past him out the door. He turned around slowly to see Hoseok standing there with his hand out. “We didn’t get to dance this week,” he said, and Seokjin’s heart fluttered.
“You didn’t ask,” Seokjin said, moving toward him and settling his hand on Hoseok’s shoulder, getting into position. The music was still going, so Hoseok started leading them around the room right away.
“I wanted a private dance,” Hoseok said, wiggling his eyebrows. “Don’t tell anyone, but you’re my favorite student.”
“Kinky,” Seokjin said approvingly. “So after this, can I take you out to coffee? Dinner? Coffee and then dinner and maybe dessert?”
“Dessert or....dessert?” Hoseok asked, making an exaggerated thinking face. “I just want to know what I’m getting into here.” He laughed. “But yes, yes to all of it.” Pausing carefully, Hoseok said, “Just to be clear, you’re not signing up for another class session, are you?”
“God no,” Seokjin said quickly. “I’m pretty sure I don’t have a future in dance.”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” Hoseok said, fitting their hips together and doing something completely unspeakable, some intricate movement that was both incredibly suggestive and also a full three inches at least from where Seokjin really wanted him. “I might make a dancer out of you yet.”
Ducking his head, Seokjin laughed. “Okay, I might be into that.” He lifted his head, winked, and blew him a quick kiss.
Hoseok ignored the kiss, took his hand from where it was still outstretched, and slowly pulled him in even closer, wrapping their fingers together. “I’ve had enough of those,” he whispered. “How about a real one?”
Seokjin closed the distance between them, using his free hand to hold Hoseok’s face, studying it seriously. “How about one here,” he said, kissing the very top of Hoseok’s right cheek, then his left. “Or here.” He kissed the tip of his nose and the top of his forehead, brushing his lips gently across his soft, smooth skin. “This is my favorite,” Seokjin murmured, barely audible, as he carefully tipped Hoseok’s chin from side to side, kissing the tiny dimples at the top of his mouth before kissing him for real, lips pressed softly together. Hoseok sighed into it and they both shivered.
“Let’s go on a date,” Seokjin said between kisses. “Right now. I want to start dating you right this second. I’ve waited weeks, it’s been awful.”
“Yeah,” Hoseok said. He leaned in next to Seokjin’s ear and whispered, “You could say it’s been real time-consuming.”
“Oh my god,” Seokjin said, stepping back in shock as Hoseok cracked up. “Is it too early to say I love you? Because I think I love you.”
“Why don’t you take me on that date and find out?” Hoseok asked, winking at him.
As they walked out of that small dance studio tucked behind a coffee shop in Hongdae, Seokjin sent up a quiet thanks to Namjoon. He owed him one.