Archive of Our Own ^beta

Feeling warm, refreshed, clean, and comfy in his sweatpants and t-shirt, Soonyoung let out a contented sigh and stretched his body across the length of Jihoon and Mingyu’s little couch. He was in the middle of rubbing his damp hair against the arm of the loveseat when Jihoon came in from the kitchen and gave him a disgruntled look. He walked over and sat on Soonyoung’s thigh, causing him to yelp and wriggle until he managed to extricate his legs from under his friend, curling them in towards his chest.

“Why do you have to shower here?” Jihoon asked him. “You have a working bathroom in your apartment too.”

“Mingyu embroidered a towel for me, and I’m not supposed to use it?” Soonyoung asked back in mock offense. It was a cute towel, a fluffy pink thing, a boxed-in SY stitched on one corner with navy thread.

“He did that because you kept stealing our towels,” Jihoon deadpanned back, “and that’s weird.”

“How? Your body is clean when you get out of the shower, isn’t it?” Soonyoung asked. “So what’s the big deal?”

“You wouldn’t use our shower so often if you knew half of what Mingyu and I have done in it,” Jihoon said, Soonyoung squawking and kicking him.

“Shut up! I trust Mingyu’s cleaning skills, okay? I’ve seen him scrub things before. Besides,” Soonyoung wrinkled his nose at his friend, “wasn’t it you that said we weren’t going to share personal relationship details when we started dating people?”

“I’m trying to discourage you from using our shampoo every day,” Jihoon told him.

“But you won’t hang out with me if I’m sweaty and gross!”

“So go to your own place?”

“Seokmin doesn’t come back from his classes until later! I get lonely.” Soonyoung flopped onto his other side so he could snuggle his head into Jihoon’s thigh; Jihoon shoved at him, causing his upper body to fall from the couch. Thankfully, Soonyoung caught himself with his arms before his face hit the rug.

“You are the clingiest person in the world,” Jihoon informed him. “I have no idea how you’re still alive.”

Soonyoung pulled himself up, pouted, and put his head on Jihoon’s shoulder. This time, Jihoon let him. He could call Jihoon clingy too, knowing that Jihoon secretly liked Soonyoung’s daily pestering, and had moved in with Mingyu after just three months of dating because he couldn’t stand the three block walk between their apartment buildings and, once he’d gotten comfortable enough with Soonyoung’s roommate Seokmin, had flopped on his back so often that they’d started calling him a koala.

“Shut up,” Jihoon grumbled at him, despite Soonyoung not saying anything, and Soonyoung laughed. “So, what was that big sigh about?”

“Oh, I’m just happy,” Soonyoung said. “Classes were fun. Practice felt good. I got to bother Channie again.”

“Channie?” Jihoon echoed.

“Come on, Chan! That freshman kid in the Modern Dance class? He’s a hip hop dancer, I’ve talked about him before.”

Soonyoung watched Jihoon search his mind for a few moments, the realization showing in his raised eyebrows when he remembered what—who—Soonyoung was talking about.

“You bothered him? Doesn’t he hate it when you do that?”

“Nah.” Soonyoung lifted off Jihoon to flop against the back of the couch. “He likes it.”

Chan was a student that was new to both the university and the dance program, having started in the fall semester last year. They’d met about a week after that semester had started, the dance program organizing a party for all the new kids to get more comfortable with the older members. Chan hadn’t needed much help mingling, though; people were drawn to him, Soonyoung included, liking his upbeat way of speaking, the way he looked when he smiled, and the way his head fell back when he laughed.

Soonyoung hadn’t been able to resist challenging Chan when the dance battles started. They were a staple of every party the dance program put on, and it was fun to see the mismatch of styles that would result when the different departments of dance would pit members against each other. The winner was picked by audience enthusiasm, and Chan had surprised Soonyoung with his confidence, telling Soonyoung not to go easy on him. So Soonyoung hadn’t.

Chan had held his own for a little while, Soonyoung had to admit, having to push a little harder than he usually would when dancing against a rookie. But when Soonyoung had pulled out his trick of doing a high cabriole leap, then using his landing leg to slide down into the splits it had been over, even Chan staring down at him with nothing less than amazement. Soonyoung had made sure to wink.

Chan had been very sure he’d be able to win, so Soonyoung couldn’t resist teasing him, just a bit, for the rest of the evening. And a little the next time he saw Chan, about a week later. And about any time they saw each other after that. It was just good natured fun, especially with the way Chan’s eyes lit up when he let his respect slide and started to bite back.

“Ugh, I want to dance with him again,” Soonyoung sighed, putting his head in Jihoon’s lap again. Jihoon squashed the tip of his nose, his next words coming out nasally. “He was good then, and it’s been like eight months, so he’s bound to have improved so much. It would be so much fun; I swear we had some chemistry going on.”

“You have such a crush on this guy,” Jihoon accused.

“Hey!” Soonyoung shook his head. Jihoon released his nose. “Just because I think he’s cute, that—that doesn’t mean I have to like him.”

Jihoon’s face went flat, clearly unimpressed. “You think he’s cute.” 

“Stop looking at me like that!” Soonyoung protested. “We both think Seokmin’s cute. Neither of us have a crush on Seokmin.”

“Okay, sure,” Jihoon allotted. “But I don’t claim to have any chemistry with Seokmin, either.”

Before Soonyoung had to try and think up some kind of defense for that, Mingyu poked his head into the living room.

“Food’s ready!” he told Jihoon, who smiled at him.

“Can I have some?” Soonyoung asked.

“Yeah, of course,” Mingyu said with a shrug. “I knew you were coming, so I made enough for you too.”

“Have I ever told you how sexy you are?” Soonyoung asked, lifting his head from Jihoon’s lap, and Mingyu burst out laughing.

Chan didn’t bother being quiet as he burst into Hansol and Seungkwan’s apartment. His mouth was already open, ready to complain, when he realized that the living room was completely empty. The kitchen was empty too, but he knew his friends were home, letting out a sigh when he noticed the closed bedroom door. Screwing up his face to ensure that his eyes would stay closed, Chan burst into their bedroom too.

“Alright, I need you guys to put clothes on and listen to me because I need to complain, but I won’t do it if you’re naked.”

Hansol burst out laughing. The direction of the sound told Chan that Hansol was on the bed, so he kept his eyes closed.

“If you’re going to start ranting at us when we get dressed, then why would we put our clothes back on?” Seungkwan asked, and Chan buried his face in his hands.

“Oh my god.”

Hansol was still laughing. “We’re not naked, Chan,” he said. Cautiously, Chan peeked one eye open.

Seungkwan and Hansol were not naked. They were on their bed though, Hansol sitting against the headboard, his legs spread wide. He had his phone in one hand, his other hand resting on one of Seungkwan’s sweatpant-covered thighs, massaging the muscle with his fingers. Seungkwan was sitting between Hansol’s legs, his laptop open, notebooks and textbooks sprawled across the bedspread, presumably working on schoolwork. Seungkwan turned to swat at Hansol.

“Hey, why did you tell him that? If we’d just pretended, we could have made him go away.”

“Because he’s our friend,” Hansol said gently.

“But I’m really good at sounding like—“

“Guys!” Chan whined, before Seungkwan pulled out any fake moaning noises. “Come on.”

“Fine!” Seungkwan pushed his laptop away from himself and leaned against Hansol’s chest instead, reaching up with one hand to touch his fingertips to his boyfriend’s cheek. “What’s the matter with you?”

It wasn’t the kindest way of asking what was wrong, but Chan knew it was all he was going to get from Seungkwan—and that Seungkwan genuinely did love him, and actually wanted to know—so he began to talk.

“Well, I was in one of the side practice rooms in the dance building, just working on choreography and minding my own business—“

“Hold on.” Seungkwan held up a hand. “Is this another story about Kwon Soonyoung?”

Chan’s mouth had still been open when he’d been cut off. He closed it. Hansol burst out laughing again.

“Alright,” Seungkwan said with a sigh, settling himself in a little more comfortably; Hansol put down his phone so he could wrap his arms around him. “Go ahead.”

Chan sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Like I said, I was working through some choreography, and I kept pulling out of a spin late, but I couldn’t figure out why. I’d been working on it for like thirty minutes, I was so frustrated—“ Chan couldn’t help the sigh in his voice, letting out a fast breath, the aggravation coming back just a bit, “—and I saw Soonyoung walk by like, out of the corner of my eye or whatever.”

It hadn’t actually been the corner of his eye. He’d been fully staring at Soonyoung, and Soonyoung had seemed to sense it, looking back and meeting his eyes, and that was when Chan had pointedly turned away and gone back to trying to get the turn right.

It was hard not to stare at Soonyoung. He’d just been in his typical practice attire, but “typical” for Soonyoung was black leggings that were tight to his skin, showing off every curve of the slim muscle in his toned thighs and calves, and a plain, white and flowy t-shirt, so baggy that it was nearly mid-thigh length, but so thin and wet with sweat that the parts of it sticking to his shoulders, back, and chest were nearly transparent. 

“And he saw me, he saw me do the turn once, and told me that I was turning a fourth-beat too late,” Chan said, unable to keep a touch of petulance from his voice. 

“A fourth?” Seungkwan echoed. “Like… A half of a half of a beat?” 

Chan nodded, and Hansol let out a low whistle. Chan had been able to tell, as soon as the words were out of Soonyoung’s mouth, that he was right. He’d nearly cursed out loud, hoping that Soonyoung would just say that and leave him alone, but Soonyoung had simply stood there, brushing his dark, damp bangs from his face with his fingers and waiting for Chan to try the suggestion.

“Well?” Hansol asked. 

“He was right!” Chan exploded, jumping off the bed. “I couldn’t—I couldn’t believe it, I was so angry, and he just—he grinned at me and was all ‘see, there you go!’ and ‘good job, you’ve got this, just keep working’ and I just, I just...” He trailed off. Seungkwan’s eyebrows were raised.

“That all sounds like nice stuff...?” he finally ventured. “Like, he was literally being helpful and encouraging.”

“No he wasn’t,” Chan said. Seungkwan hadn’t heard Soonyoung’s tone. “He’s better than me, by so much, and he knows it. He just loves to hold it over my head.”

“Are you sure?” Hansol asked. “Soonyoung’s a really nice guy, Chan.”

“He was smirking, when I got the turn right. He fucking winked at me again.”

He could still remember the first time Soonyoung had winked at him. He’d been at a little get-together, thrown by the seniors of the dance program. All of the disciplines of dance were invited, and Chan and Hansol had gone together, already fast friends from their first week of hip hop classes.

Soonyoung was one of the many people he’d met that night. Chan hadn’t met anyone from the ballet department yet, and had assumed from Soonyoung’s bouncy demeanor and slight bumbling in excitement that he was newbie too, so when he’d challenged Chan to a dance battle, Chan was pretty sure he had this one in the bag. He was confident in his own abilities, and wanted to look cool in front of someone cute.

In actuality, Soonyoung was a third-year ballet major, was so skilled that it was near-criminal, and had completely wiped the floor with him. Then winked about it.

Seungkwan tossed his pen at Chan’s face. Chan, too preoccupied to dodge, was hit squarely in the forehead. Seungkwan had sat up off of Hansol’s chest, but interlocked the fingers on one of his hands with Hansol’s own.

“Chan, do you hear yourself? You want this man’s dick so badly that it’s insane.”

Chan felt his entire body flush bright red. He wouldn’t have been able to talk if he tried, but he tried anyway.

“What, that’s—that’s not—I don’t—”

“Literally all you talk about is how talented and sweaty he is,” Seungkwan deadpanned while Hansol, screw him, laughed behind his hand.

“I don’t like him!” Chan protested. “I hate him.” 

“Then have angry sex!” Seungkwan exclaimed back. “I’m sure it’d be worth it, with how flexible he is and stuff.” 

Hansol was trying so hard to keep his laughter quiet that he was going red, and was leaning so far to the side that he was in danger of falling off the bed. Chan put his face in his hands.

“Just do something,” Seungkwan said. “Please. I’m tired of hearing about how thirsty you are.” 

Deciding he didn’t need to take this abuse—and that he did need a cold shower—Chan went home.

“Well, maybe if we…” Joshua trailed off as he took Soonyoung’s computer into his own lap, frowning in concentration. Soonyoung simply let him, already hopelessly confused by the instructions that he was supposed to follow to properly format his essay, watching as Joshua worried his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“I need… Margins?” Soonyoung said, in an attempt to be helpful. Joshua simply shook his head a bit. After grappling with Microsoft Word for another ten minutes, Joshua slumped against Jeonghan’s shoulder in defeat, who was sitting next to them on the couch. Jeonghan burst out laughing, giving his boyfriend a sympathetic kiss on the temple.

“Wonwoo!” Soonyoung whined. “Help!”

Soonyoung had invaded Jeonghan and Joshua’s apartment with Wonwoo and Seokmin. Technically, Wonwoo and Seokmin were the invaders; Soonyoung had been invited over, he and Joshua struggling through the same Anthropology class to satisfy a General Education part of their respective degrees, deciding to work together to complete an essay that was due the following morning. Wonwoo and Seokmin had tagged along because Seungcheol was over for the weekend, and since he studied Sports Medicine at a public university instead of going to the same fine arts academy with the rest of them, it wasn’t often that they got to see him.

“You’d better not have deleted File Explorer again or something,” Wonwoo said as he reentered the living room, Seokmin peeking his head out from the kitchen as Wonwoo exited it. “I don’t even remember how I fixed that.” 

“No, we just need to format this essay,” Soonyoung assured him, gesturing to his laptop, which rested on Joshua’s lap. “And Joshua’s too, so it should be easy. Unless Joshua broke something.”

“Joshua broke something?” came a loud voice, then Seungcheol was also exiting the kitchen, the arms of his sweater pushed up past his elbows, a cute red apron tied around his waist. 

“You’re cooking?” Soonyoung asked in excitement. “What are you making?” 

“Uh…” Seungcheol offered up a sheepish grin. “Meat?” 

Jeonghan snorted out a laugh at the nonexistent description. “The man of my dreams.” 

“Hey babe, I thought you were waiting for me to help you,” Joshua said, reaching up to tug on Seungcheol’s sleeve. “I’ll cook with you if you want.” 

“Seokmin said he’ll do it,” Seungcheol told him, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. Jeonghan leaned his cheek in obligingly, so Seungcheol kissed him too. “You just get your essay figured out.”

“I’d rather cook,” Joshua said to himself as Seungcheol returned to the kitchen. “This class is terrible.”

“Terrible,” Soonyoung agreed. “Yeah, Mingyu gets to cook for school all the time. It’s not fair.” 

“He’s a culinary arts major though,” Jeonghan pointed out. Wonwoo sat on the floor in front of the couch and extended his hands, Joshua passing Soonyoung’s laptop over to him. “He has to.”

“Oh, speaking of which…” Wonwoo leaned back in a futile attempt to see into the kitchen, then simply decided to yell instead. “Do you guys have any saffron in there?”

“What?” Seokmin popped his head out again. Soonyoung waved at him. Seokmin beamed and waved back.

“Saffron,” Wonwoo repeated, pulling his phone from his pocket and scrolling through a text conversation. “Mingyu needs it for something, I don’t know. He asked me to check. He said turmeric will work, if you have that instead.”

“What kind of spice even is that?” Jeonghan asked, as Seokmin promised to look through the cabinets. “What does he want to use it for?”

Wonwoo shrugged, his glasses glinting as he turned his attention to Soonyoung’s too-bright computer screen. He looked like an anime villain, Soonyoung thought, sitting all cross-legged on the floor like that. 

“He said it’s for some special dish he wants to make for Jihoon.”

Soonyoung groaned, letting his body slump against Joshua’s shoulder. 

“Jihoon is so lucky, that bastard.” He sighed. “I want a hot guy to cook me food all the time too.”

Wonwoo glanced up at him. “Chan can’t cook.” 

Soonyoung kicked him. 

“Mingyu was complaining to me about Jihoon the other day,” Seokmin reported as he entered the living room, a little plastic container in his hand with Turmeric printed on the label, handing it to Wonwoo. Soonyoung sat up straight.

“What? Why?” Mingyu had fawned over Jihoon since the day they met, and while Jihoon was a bit of a gremlin, he was also Soonyoung’s best friend, and the nonstop affectionate attention was nothing more than what Soonyoung believed Jihoon deserved. “Is something wrong?” 

“Jihoon’s too busy, apparently.” Seokmin frowned. “I mean, midterms are next week, so I’m sure he’s got some kind of composition project due. Mingyu misses him, that’s all.” 

“Oh.” Satisfied that he wouldn’t have to kick Mingyu’s six-foot-two ass, Soonyoung sat back against the couch again. “Misses him? They live together. And Jihoon calls me clingy.” 

“You are clingy, Soon-ah,” Jeonghan told him. A Jeonghan that had his arm around Joshua’s neck and his head on Joshua’s shoulder. But before Soonyoung could point that out, Jeonghan spoke again. “What do you have to do for your midterm?” 

“Just the same project as last year,” Soonyoung said, waving an arm. 

Every year, the dance program assigned every student a choreography project. A routine needed to be written to at least three minutes of music, and it would be performed in front of all of the students and the instructors for feedback. It was mostly a participation grade, but choreographing and performing like that wasn’t an easy thing, so it was a stressful assignment nonetheless. After that, all students were given a week to improve their routines with the feedback given, and were to perform again for just the instructors alone, as well as two esteemed choreographers that the school called in. That performance was scored and ranked, and the top ten students got to go and perform their routine a third time, but in an exhibition with a number of other fine arts schools, in front of a group of representatives from various entertainment companies, ballet troupes, and other talent scouts.

It was a chance to form connections and look for job opportunities before graduation, and Soonyoung had been fortunate enough to qualify two years in a row, practicing hard to turn that into a three-year streak. 

“How is the routine coming?” Joshua asked. “Don’t you only have a week left?”

“I just need sixteen more counts!” Soonyoung said, stretching his arms up over his head until both of his shoulders popped. He’d been working on it for weeks, and was very happy with it, a bit in love with the way all of the elements were coming together. “I’m going to finish it tonight, hopefully. Though there’s a part in the middle I’m hung up on, so I’m going to practice that too. Everything needs to be perfect.”

“Don’t stay out too late, okay?” Seokmin said, trying to look reprimanding. It was Seokmin though, so it didn’t really work. “I’m going to sit in the living room and wait up for you, so you’ll feel bad for making me stay up late and come home.”

“Hey!” Soonyoung whined at him. “Not the guilt trip. Not from you.”

Seokmin, they’d found out, was the only member of their friend group that could successfully guilt trip Soonyoung into doing things. Seokmin was also the only member of their friend group that had never ever done anything wrong, so it made sense.

“And all of us will take turns calling you every five minutes, after it hits midnight,” Jeonghan warned. 

“What if I turn my phone off?” Soonyoung asked.

“Do you even know what button to push to turn your phone off?” Wonwoo asked back, from his seat on the floor. Soonyoung kicked him again. 

“Seriously, guys.” Soonyoung rested his head on Joshua’s shoulder, snuggling in and closing his eyes. He appreciated all of their concern, but they didn’t have anything to worry about. “I’ll be fine.” 

Nine at night was later than Chan usually went to the dance building to work on choreography, but he’d been hit with a bolt of inspiration while doing everything he could to avoid his literature assignment, and wanted to get in front or a mirror to work through the idea he’d had before it was too late. He was only three sets of eight away from finishing his midterm routine, and if he got it done tonight, he would be able to use the whole next week to clean the choreography up and make it flawless for the midterm exam. The exam and, hopefully, the exhibition auditions as well. 

Hansol had told him that first-year students didn’t often qualify for the exhibition, because only ten students from all of the disciplines of dance were selected to go, and more experienced dancers often scored higher. He’d also heard that Kwon Soonyoung had made it to the exhibition his first year, so Chan was going to try to get in, too. He was pretty sure that he could do it. He just needed to work hard. 

The first practice room he came to had the light on and the door closed. Chan glanced in, curious, and as if in response to his thoughts, was met with the sight of Kwon Soonyoung himself. 

Soonyoung looked like he’d been there for a while already, his mouth open to take better, deeper breaths, his grey shirt darkened with sweat across his shoulders and back. But his chin was up, his arms straight, his fingers poised, and as Chan watched he spun up into a series of pirouettes, turning so quickly that wet droplets flew from his bangs. In a series of movements almost too fluid to be human, he came out of the spin, jumped across the floor once, twice, then threw his body into a leap, incredible with how high off the ground he managed to get. His arms went up over his head, his legs kicking through the air before coming down, with a slight wobble, onto his left foot.

That little waver in Soonyoung’s landing broke the polished flow of the motions, and Chan let out an exhale, realizing he hadn’t taken a breath in or out since he began watching Soonyoung dance. Soonyoung was frowning down at his feet as though his ankle had betrayed him, curling each foot in turn to crack his toes against the wooden floor before trying the jump again. That time he nearly spun out, falling completely to his right knee as his left foot slipped a bit. His third attempt was a success though, Soonyoung stepping out of the leap with a smile, his wrists turned up and fingers extended, his arms down by his sides. He spun a couple of times, looking pleased, and Chan had a sudden jolt of fear when he remembered that the window worked both ways and Soonyoung could spot him watching at any moment, so he hurried off to find a practice room of his own. 

Thankfully, his own choreographing session went well. He wrote the step sequence down in his notebook, using his phone to film himself to make sure that everything fit together properly. He’d forgotten to keep an eye on the clock though, not realizing that it was past eleven o’clock until he got a text from his roommate.

From: Jeon Wonwoo
planning on coming back 2nite?

To: Jeon Wonwoo
Yeah! Sorry, I got carried away. Thanks for checking in!!

Chan stuffed his phone into his bag, packing up to go back to his apartment, finding himself touched by Wonwoo’s text message. Becoming his roommate had been random, Chan simply responding to the first ad he saw for someone looking to share an apartment, but it had worked out well; Wonwoo was quiet, sure, but he was very kind and very smart, often taking Chan’s requests for help in stride and offering encouraging words. Chan fished his wallet from his bag before zipping it closed, considering maybe buying Wonwoo a drink from the vending machine on his way out as a thank you for looking out for him, when he stepped out into the hallway and realized that Soonyoung’s practice room was still occupied. 

Soonyoung was still in there, and he looked exhausted. He was upright though, standing in front of the mirror. For a moment he didn’t move, Chan wondering if he was alright, but then his eyes fell slowly closed and he tilted his chin back, exposing his throat, Chan’s eyes catching on a droplet of sweat that ran down from his jawbone and disappeared under the collar of his shirt. 

Slowly, Soonyoung moved his arms, drawing one in towards his chest, the other out to the side. He was bending to his left at the waist, his left leg staying planted flat against the ground, his right one lifting up the longer he bent over. His moving leg was straight, his toes curled into point, and before long he was in the standing splits, the fingertips of his extended arm touching the floor. He moved his hand so his palm was flat against the wood, and his body moved through the slowest one-handed cartwheel Chan had ever seen, the strength and balance of it incredible, his legs and arm all unwavering, the edge of his shirt gripped by gravity and falling to expose the strong lines of a toned abdomen. 

A spark of what had to be anger lit itself in the pit of Chan’s stomach and he turned on his heel, headed straight for the vending machines. The idea he’d had to buy Wonwoo a soda had completely left his mind, putting in money and punching the button for a sports drink instead. He pulled a clean towel from the bottom of his bag, and while it was a little silly looking—blue with multicolor cartoon dinosaurs on it—it was also the only one he had, so it would have to do. 

Then he went back to Soonyoung’s practice room door, realizing as he was holding the items that he had no idea what he was doing. It wasn’t like he was just going to walk in there and just hand them to Soonyoung. 

Instead, he dug through his bag for his notebook, opening it to a blank page and beginning to write, his pen strokes large and messy. Then he tore the page out and placed it all on the floor outside of the door, folding the towel to place the note on top of it. 

Stop practicing and just get some rest already!! 

Before he could talk himself out of it, he knocked on the door. Then he hurried off, not bothering to wait and see if Soonyoung had heard the knock or not. 

It was a full week later when he and Soonyoung’s paths crossed again. Fortunately though, Chan had known he’d see Soonyoung, and had mentally prepared for it; it was the day of the midterm, the entire dance program gathered in the auditorium to perform their routines. What he didn’t prepare for was Soonyoung walking into the auditorium, completely immersed in a conversation he was having with two of his ballet dancer friends, the dinosaur towel Chan had given him resting loosely around his neck. 

“And then he… You’re not listening to me,” Hansol said. He was right; Chan hadn’t heard a word of the story Hansol had been telling since Soonyoung had walked in, but that didn’t stop Chan from protesting. 

“I was listening!” he lied quickly. Hansol raised his eyebrows. 

“So what was the last thing I said?”

“That, uh…” Yeah, Chan had nothing, now feeling a bit sheepish at being so completely caught. “That I wasn’t listening.”

That just made Hansol laugh, looking over to Soonyoung too. 

“Hey, isn’t that towel yours?”

“Maybe we just have the same one.”

Hansol clearly didn’t believe that, but before he could begin disputing it, Instructor Hyelim got up onto the stage and clapped her hands for silence. 

“Alright, I want groups of five warming up at a time! We’re going to start with the seniors. Everyone else be good audience members, alright? There will be two minutes after the performances for feedback. Don’t be afraid to give tips to older dancers! We all have something to learn from each other.” 

Nerves curled in Chan’s chest as the first five seniors left the auditorium to warm up backstage, everyone else moving to take seats in the audience. Soonyoung ended up three rows down and a little to the right, Chan staring at the back of his head. 

“That is your towel,” Hansol said. 

“Shut up.”

Chan could forget his nerves a bit as he watched all of the older students. He loved dance, he truly did, and it was nice to be in a room full of people that shared the same passion as him, giving each other compliments and constructive criticism. Even when things to work on were pointed out, they were done in an encouraging way, the positive attitude in the room making him able to relax his shoulders. It was always nerve-wracking to show off something that was worked hard on, but watching others perform and get feedback was a reminder that everyone in the room wanted each other to succeed, and that was nice.

He was distracted as soon as Soonyoung left his seat to begin his warmup. He didn’t pay much attention to the fifteen minutes of performances ahead of Soonyoung’s, but as soon as Soonyoung walked onstage, he was riveted. Hansol laughed. Chan elbowed him. 

“When you’re ready,” Instructor Hyelim said, and Soonyoung positioned himself in the middle of the stage: feet together, one arm lifted over his head, his wrist bent and fingers loose. He gave her a nod, and she started his music. 

There were a few seconds of silence as Soonyoung closed his eyes. Then he let his head fall back, and a few soft tones began, Chan recognizing the opening choreography as the slow motion handstand-cartwheel he’d seen Soonyoung do in the practice room a week before. 

Unlike the other ballet dancers, Soonyoung hadn’t chosen a classical music piece to dance to. He was moving along to a ballad by a pop singer, the song very atmospheric and emotional, Soonyoung able to put that emotion into his dancing. Each movement melted seamlessly into the next, every sweep of arms or legs fluid, clearly strong but almost achingly gentle at the same time. When he spun himself up into that leap Chan had seen him working on, Chan held his breath; Soonyoung landed perfectly onto his left foot, his knee bending to catch his weight, just to straighten again so he could bend his upper body over it. 

Soonyoung slid down into the splits as the singer let out the last note of the song, something almost haunting about it, and about how silent the entire room had gone as they’d watched Soonyoung dance. He had the same arm over his head again, leaving it extended as he closed his eyes and did a slow, controlled collapse, in towards himself and onto his back. 

Instructor Hyelim started clapping first, the rest of the room quick to follow. It was near comical how Soonyoung jumped to his feet at the applause, bouncy in his excitement, a beaming smile on his face so wide that his eyes had all but disappeared. He was bouncing up onto the balls of his feet as he listened to the feedback given to him, the muscle in his calves flexing and relaxing, his face serious as he nodded along. 

Chan didn’t say anything, not having a single thing to criticize at all, and not thinking he could put the wonderment he felt in any words even near good enough to describe how he’d felt watching Soonyoung dance. He didn’t like the word “talent”, thinking it discounted all the hard work it took to get good at something, but there had to be something special in Soonyoung’s body, in Soonyoung’s blood, that made him able to move like that. 

“Oh! Also!” Soonyoung was halfway off the stage when he stopped, waving his arms to get attention back on him. “Someone lent me their towel last week. If you want it back, whoever you are, please tell me! If I don’t find out the owner, I’m keeping it forever!” 

Chan could feel Hansol staring at him from the corner of his eye. He pointedly kept his gaze forwards.

“Nobody?” Soonyoung asked. The rest of the class shook their heads, or said “no”, and Chan sure as hell wasn’t owning up to it either. He’d run away for a reason. After another moment, Soonyoung shrugged. “Alright. It’s mine now! Thanks for the towel, and the drink too.” 

“A drink?” Hansol mouthed at him, a look of incredulity on his face that Chan knew he’d picked up from his over-dramatic boyfriend. Chan resisted the urge to flip him off. 

Hansol went shortly after, one of the first second-year students to perform, and Chan cheered for him when he was finished. When it came to having carefree fun on stage, Hansol was the model for it, but he was good enough to keep that ease in his expression while accomplishing difficult moves, an aspect of his performance that Chan really loved. And he made sure to tell Hansol so when it was feedback time, who flashed him a thumbs up from the stage. 

Now that Hansol had gone, Chan was acutely aware that his turn was coming up too, and nerves started in his stomach again, doubling in intensity when it was his turn to head backstage. He used his fifteen minutes to stretch and bounce, letting out long, slow breaths. He’d practiced this down to the last second over the past week. It was just a participation grade. Any feedback he got would only help, and was all tailored to make him better. Trying to keep that mindset, he stepped out onto the stage. 

Getting started was the most difficult part, but the opening moves were muscle memory by now. It was hard to turn his brain off and just let himself perform what he knew, and he felt a little tense the entire time, a little tight; he pushed harder and faster, hitting each move as strongly as he could, feeling his body fly. He’d picked a song with a strong, pervasive beat and let it permeate into his skin, breathing with it, moving with it. The little tips he’d used to improve certain sequences ticked through his mind as each move came and went— “You’re turning a fourth beat too fast” —feeling accomplished as he nailed each of them. The three minutes felt like they flew by, Chan’s chest heaving when he was finished. 

Hansol was cheering for him, causing a smile to break out on Chan’s face. The whole class was applauding, pride swelling in Chan’s chest at the validation. He got nice feedback from his classmates, an especially thoughtfully-worded comment coming from a ballet student named Minghao, whom Chan knew as one of Soonyoung’s friends. Soonyoung himself didn’t say anything during the allotted time for feedback, instead coming up to Chan once the exam was declared over and Instructor Hyelim began passing out her comments sheets, each with a grade written on the top. Hansol was on the phone with Seungkwan, Chan pouring over his comment sheet when he felt a tap on his shoulder. 

Soonyoung was smiling at him, the dinosaur towel wrapped around his neck again. 

“You did well!” he said happily. Surprisingly, this comment didn’t sound teasing, which knocked Chan off balance. 

“I… Thank you,” he finally managed out. “You did too.” 

Soonyoung beamed at that. “I did want to say something, but I didn’t have the time,” he started, and Chan felt his jaw set. “Just—it’s a really small thing, but I think it would help your performance if you put a little more thought into your facial expressions.”

“My—what?” That wasn’t a comment Chan had ever heard before, and the way it sounded like genuine advice had his guard dropping a bit. 

“You’re moving really well to the beat,” Soonyoung said, moving his arms in what Chan was surprised to see was a near-perfect replica of one of his sequences, “but your face doesn’t always match. If you can tie together the energy level you’re trying to convey, your facial expression, and the mood of the song, it really helps turn the performance into one solid piece, you know?” 

“Oh.” The words made so much sense when Soonyoung said them that it made Chan feel stupid for never having thought of something like that before. “I… Yeah, okay.”

“It can be hard,” Soonyoung continued, “and you really need to know the choreography inside and out for it to work, because when you’re trying to dance, of course the last thing you’re thinking about is what to do with your face. But it does really help.”

Chan nodded a bit. “Thank you,” he said, and genuinely meant it. He was wracking his mind to try to think of something he could say, a bit of feedback he could give Soonyoung in return, when Soonyoung’s smile widened. 

“Don’t worry, I know I was perfect.” His tone was lofty, putting his thumb under his chin and extending his pointer finger so it pressed against his nose, his eyes narrowing and his chin lifting in a self important way. “It’s an easy compliment to give me; you don’t have to think so hard.” 

Chan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It felt like Soonyoung was teasing how hard it was for Chan to find fault with his performance, and it was annoying because he was right. He’d thought they’d been having a nice and mature conversation, but maybe that was just impossible with Soonyoung.

“Come on baby!” Soonyoung beamed at him, bending down a bit to nudge at him with his shoulder. “Compliment me.”

“Whatever.” Baby. Chan hated how belittling it sounded, how juvenile Soonyoung must find him to call him that. When they’d first met, Chan hadn’t thought of Soonyoung to be someone that put status in skill, but everything he said to Chan always felt like it traced back to Soonyoung being better than him. “It won’t be so great when you’ve overworked yourself. You should follow what my note said, or you’ll end up regretting it.”

It wasn’t until a look of delight spread across Soonyoung’s face that Chan truly realized what he’d just done. What he’d just admitted to. 

“Your note?” Soonyoung asked. His hands went up to the ends of the towel. “That was from you?” 

Chan didn’t trust himself to speak, able to feel how red his face was. Then, finally, because Soonyoung was just staring at him, “Yeah, so?”

“Why didn’t you say that?” Soonyoung asked. “I’m keeping the towel. I gave you the chance to get it back and you didn’t take it, so it’s mine now.”

“I mean, I—I gave it to you, so—”

“And a drink! I put the note in my choreography notebook, you know. Now I can think of you whenever I look at it.”

The words sounded like flirting, but Chan knew that couldn’t be what Soonyoung was doing. Maybe that’s what Soonyoung had misconstrued his gesture as, and now was teasing him for it. Considering the way Soonyoung usually interacted with him, that possibility felt like the most accurate one. His face on fire, before Soonyoung had the chance to say anything else, Chan gathered his belongings and left the building. 

“What’s wrong?” 

The words were soft and concerned, Soonyoung turning to see Minghao looking at him. Minghao had probably been watching him do relevés for the past minute, and frowning down at his ankle as he moved. 

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Soonyoung said. Today was audition day for the exhibition; he didn’t want his friend to worry about anything but his own performance. 

“Are you sure?”

Soonyoung met Minghao’s eyes, putting as much certainty behind the word as he could.

“Positive.” 

In truth, Soonyoung’s left ankle was aching. The pain had started two weeks ago, but the night he’d noticed it was a night that all of his joints had hurt from dancing, so he hadn’t let it bother him. The pain was still there when he’d woken up, but he chalked that up to having spent five hours working on his routine the night before, and that he just tried to rest it a bit. Unfortunately, in preparing for the midterm, he hadn’t really had time to rest. He hadn’t had time in the past week either, despite midterms being over, because he needed to prepare for the audition. And if he qualified for the exhibition, it would be another three weeks of practicing before the performances happened. 

But the pain wasn’t too bad and no mobility was lost, so Soonyoung was taking painkillers when he had to, elevating the ankle when he could, and trying to ignore it. He just needed to push through for the next month. He could rest afterwards. 

Junhui entered the warm up room, spotted Minghao, and started in his direction. He literally bounded across the room with a few coupé-jetés en tournant, his incredibly long legs having him crossing the distance quickly. He spun himself into Minghao’s arms, who giggled as he caught him. 

“You’re late,” Minghao said. “We’ve been warming up for ten minutes now.” 

“Sure,” Junhui responded simply, before leaning in to give him a quick kiss. Minghao rolled his eyes and let him go, the smile on his face wide. 

“You’re confident, then?” Soonyoung asked. Junhui moved to sit down, spreading his legs into the middle splits and folding over the empty space in front of him, his elbows on the floor, his chin in his hands as he looked up at Soonyoung. 

“I think so,” he answered. Junhui was in the same year as Soonyoung was, and was flexible in ways that even Soonyoung thought was strange, the two of them becoming friends pretty quickly their first year of classes together. Minghao had joined the ballet class a year later, and Junhui had been painfully smitten with him almost immediately. “What about you?” 

Soonyoung nodded. “Yeah, I’m good.” 

The ankle thing was a bit worrying, sure, but Soonyoung didn’t think it was enough to truly hinder him. He had Chan’s towel around his neck, and was otherwise feeling pretty confident; Instructor Hyelim had been rather minimal with her constructive criticisms for his midterm performance. As long as he didn’t mess anything up, he should be fine. 

Audition times had been randomly drawn, and Soonyoung was one of the first people to perform. He felt it was better that way, better to get it over with, and after accepting their well wishes with thanks, Soonyoung headed back to the auditorium stage. 

The performance was a bit of a blur, truth be told. Nerves always followed him up until the moment the music started, but once he began to move, his love of dancing and the rush of performing always took over, easing him up and invigorating him instead. Nothing felt off, nothing felt wrong, and the small, begrudging but kind smile Instructor Hyelim was giving him as he bowed and thanked the judges for their time put a small spring in Soonyoung’s step as he walked off. 

Junhui and Minghao were both practicing seriously when Soonyoung returned and he didn’t want to bother them, casting around for something else to do as he collected his stuff from the floor. He spotted Hansol against the back wall and decided to talk to him, replacing Chan’s towel around his neck and hefting his dance bag over his shoulder. Hansol had been the first performer of the day, and had been hanging around in the room since; waiting for Chan, Soonyoung assumed.

“Hey,” he greeted, Hansol raising a hand for a high-five. Soonyoung slapped him one. “How did your performance go?”

“Good, I think.” Hansol responded, nodding a bit. “You?”

“Good!” Soonyoung leaned against the wall next to him. Though they didn’t talk much, Soonyoung quite liked Hansol. He was incredibly charismatic when he danced, and incredibly calm in every other moment, and the juxtaposition was interesting. Plus, he just seemed cool. “I, uh… I have a question for you, actually.” 

Hansol turned to him with interest, clearly waiting for him to speak, so Soonyoung continued. 

“It’s… Well, you know how I tease Chan sometimes.”

Hansol nodded, a small grin on his face now. 

“Yeah, I know.”

“Is he—he’s not actually angry with me, is he? When I do stuff like that?” 

Hansol laughed a little, leaning against the wall again, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he thought about the question. 

“No,” he finally said, and Soonyoung found himself more relieved by the answer than he thought he would be. “No, I don’t think so. That’s just kind of how he is, you know? All loud, and argumentative like that. He and my boyfriend tease each other, and argue all the time, and I think Chan likes him more than he likes me.” 

“Really?” 

“Oh, definitely.” Hansol laughed a little. “You’d think they hate each other, the way they talk sometimes, but they’re best friends. I don’t know, it’s cute.” 

“He is cute, isn’t he?” Soonyoung agreed, reaching up to grip the ends of the towel with his hands again. 

“I meant my own boyfriend,” Hansol said, clearly amused, “but I’ll keep that in mind.” 

Soonyoung felt himself go a bit pink. “Shut up,” he protested, hearing the smile in his own voice, and that just embarrassed him more. “Chan doesn’t need to know that.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell him.” Hansol pushed up off the wall, his eyes across the room. Soonyoung looked up too; Chan had just walked in. “But Chan likes attention, so don’t worry about it.” 

“Thanks,” Soonyoung said. Then, just because he could, he caught Chan’s eye and gave him a wave. 

Junhui and Minghao’s performances were pretty close together in order. Junhui finished first, his body buzzing with residual nervous energy when he’d finished, bouncing next to Soonyoung on the balls of his feet. Minghao was beaming when he returned, letting out a sigh when he reached them, closing his eyes and putting his hand to his chest. 

“It was perfect,” he declared, Soonyoung happy to see such contentment on his friend’s face. Junhui let out a little cheer, picking Minghao up and spinning him around. It would take a couple of hours for the auditions to finish and for results to be posted, so to celebrate being done the three of them decided to go out to eat, Junhui leading the way to an inexpensive Chinese restaurant only a few blocks off campus. 

Minghao gave them a blow-by-blow of his routine as they had their meal, declaring that no matter what the results were, he was satisfied. Soonyoung wished he could feel the same type of fulfillment; all he wanted was to make it to the exhibition. Not qualifying this year after doing so the years previously would be embarrassing, especially with how confident he felt with his routine. Besides, pride aside, he had actually managed to build up a few connections over the two years he’d gone to the exhibition, and being able to maintain those would be ideal. 

He tried to stay optimistic, but after a couple of hours the anticipation began to grate on him, and he urged his friends back to the school. They got there just in time, only in the warm up room for ten minutes before Instructor Hyelim entered, a sheet of paper in her hand, swarmed immediately by the students. 

“Let me pin it up first!” she exclaimed at them, struggling her way to the wall, pushpins held between her teeth. She pinned each corner down one by one, the action feeling agonizingly slow, before struggling her way back out of the mob. Soonyoung pushed as close to the list as he could, searching frantically for his name. 

Junhui was faster than him; there was a delighted exclamation in his ear, and then Junhui’s arms were around his shoulders, hanging on him in excitement, congratulating him over and over, and Soonyoung realized that he hadn’t seen his name yet because he hadn’t been looking far enough up on the list. His name was at the very top. He’d secured the number one spot. 

He had to stand there in disbelief for a few moments, looking at the “Kwon Soonyoung — First place” on the paper, having a hard time believing it was real. It wasn't really sinking in, despite how long he stared at it, Soonyoung feeling that he probably wouldn’t truly realize it for a good couple of hours. Giving himself a small shake, Soonyoung looked for his friends’ names too. 

Junhui had placed third, Minghao scraping by in ninth. All of them had improved since the year before, especially Minghao, Soonyoung turning to congratulate them both. When he spun around, Junhui and Minghao were busy celebrating each other, and he met eyes with Chan instead, who was a little to his left, searching the board with anxious eyes. Soonyoung turned to look too. It took just a moment to find Chan’s name. 

Lee Chan — Eleventh place

Eleventh place. For a first year student, it was an extremely good score, but all it took was one look at Chan’s face to realize that he didn’t see it that way. Soonyoung turned to him again, wanting to console him but unsure of what to say. 

“Chan—”

Chan’s eyes met his, his gaze sharp, and Soonyoung’s voice died in his throat. 

“Don’t.” Chan’s voice was thick, vicious. “Don’t fucking talk to me.” 

Then he turned and was gone, Soonyoung’s heart stinging as the words echoed in his chest. 

“Eleventh, though! Out of everybody! Chan, seriously, how are you not realizing how amazing that is?” 

Seungkwan, in all of his kindness, had made his way straight to Chan’s apartment after finding out the results for the exhibition lineup. Chan had asked him why he was here, instead of hanging out with Hansol, who Chan knew wanted to celebrate the end of auditions. Seungkwan had swatted at him, saying he and Hansol would celebrate tonight. Chan had said that he didn’t need to know that. 

“It—I mean, it is good, I know that.” 

“But?” Seungkwan prompted, nudging him. They were sitting together on the couch, the ice in Seungkwan’s coffee slowly melting from its place on the coffee table. Wonwoo wasn’t home, texting Chan to say he was having dinner with some friends. 

“But… but it wasn’t good enough,” Chan answered. Seungkwan frowned at him. 

“Chan, is this because—”

“It’s not because of Soonyoung,” Chan said quickly. Seungkwan clearly didn’t believe him, so Chan continued. “It’s because—because I thought the routine was perfect. Seriously, I practiced everything I could think of, I did everything right, the absolute best that I possibly could. And all that landed me was eleventh place.”

Seungkwan looked at him for a moment before heaving out a sigh. He was in shorts and a hoodie, his hair damp; it looked like he’d come straight from the shower to Chan’s place. He’d also somehow had the time to bring an iced americano with him, but Chan had already stopped trying to understand Seungkwan’s relationship with coffee. 

“Chan, that’s because you’re an idiot.”

“Hey!”

“You’re an idiot!” Seungkwan insisted. “And I’m an idiot, and every single person at this school is an idiot.” 

“What?” Usually when Seungkwan was making fun of him, he didn’t make fun of himself too. “Why? What do you mean?”

“We’re at a performing arts school,” Seungkwan told him. “People that aren’t idiots pick majors that, like… After they figure out that two plus two equals four, they’ve learned that bit and can move on.”

“We’re talking about college,” Chan said. “How long did it take you to learn two plus two?”

Seungkwan elbowed him. “What I’m trying to say is that we—you, with dancing, me with singing—we’re never done. When you hit a note well once, you’re not finished learning how to sing it; you have to keep practicing it to even keep it at the same level. I bet that every single time you do the same dance move, you do it a little better than you did last time, because you’ve just practiced it again.” 

Chan nodded a bit. 

“And you’re an amazing dancer, Chan. Every second that you dance, you get better. It’s just that Soonyoung, for example… He’s had two more whole years of seconds. It’s incredible that you did so well.”

Chan just leaned back into the couch, arms crossed and still in the mood to pout, wanting to disagree but not sure how. 

“And then, after that, it’s all subjective!” Seungkwan exclaimed. “We’re trying to… We’re performing in front of people that are trying to grade art. It’s such a stupid concept. If there were a different lineup today of people judging you, you might have ended up somewhere else on the list. So only missing it by one place? It was definitely good enough.” 

Part of Chan wanted to keep sulking, and while he didn’t completely feel better, he couldn’t keep a smile from growing on his lips, nudging at Seungkwan with his elbow. 

“Thanks,” he finally said, and Seungkwan grinned back. 

“If you tell me you love me, I’ll smack you,” Seungkwan told him, snuggling in close to his side and putting his head on Chan’s shoulder. “Besides, who wants to go to some stupid exhibition anyway?”

“Me, Seungkwan.” 

Seungkwan was quiet for just a moment, before snorting back a bit of a laugh. Silence settled around them, Seungkwan’s body warm and comforting against his side, and Chan let out a long, low breath. 

“I cursed at Soonyoung.” 

Seungkwan sat up fast, eyes wide. 

“You did what?” Seungkwan blinked. “Was it because he made it and you didn’t?”

“No!” Chan exclaimed. 

“For fun…?” 

“We were next to each other, looking at the results board,” Chan said. “He saw where I’d placed, and he opened his mouth, and said my name, and I just... I couldn’t stand anything he was going to say. Every single time he talks to me it's just teasing, and it always circles back to how he’s better than me, and it…”

Seungkwan closed his mouth, reaching up and rubbing Chan’s shoulder. Chan did regret it a bit, looking back; he’d been too heated in the moment, but now all he could remember was the stricken expression on Soonyoung’s face. 

“I wouldn’t have been able to listen to it. Not in that moment. I wouldn’t have handled it well.” 

“Sounds like you didn’t handle it well either way,” Seungkwan said, and Chan let his eyes close, his head falling back. 

“Whatever!” he finally decided. He couldn’t take it back anyway, and it wasn’t like he and Soonyoung were actually friends. “He’d just gotten first, I’m sure his ego can handle it.” 

“Chan…” Seungkwan started, but before he continued the apartment door opened. It was Wonwoo, the laptop bag he always carried over his shoulder, a foil covered bowl in his hand. He kicked his shoes off, looking up and giving the two of them a wave.

“Hey,” Chan said, waving back, and Wonwoo extended the bowl  in Chan’s direction. 

“My friend made too much food for everyone,” Wonwoo explained, going to the kitchen to grab a pair of chopsticks for him. “I brought some back for you.” 

“Oh, thank you.” The bowl was piled high with some kind of stir fry chicken and vegetables, on top of a mountain of rice. It smelled amazing and Chan was starving, his cheeks puffed full of food and Seungkwan looking at him in horrified disgust at just how much he’d managed to shove into his mouth when Wonwoo spoke again. 

“I heard about the auditions today. You did really well, congratulations.” 

Unable to respond, Chan simply blinked. He didn’t know how Wonwoo had found out about the results of exhibition audition, but the compliment was nice. It stung a little less, at least, after Seungkwan’s words. 

“Thanks,” he managed out, once he’d finally chewed enough to swallow, covering his mouth with his hand. Seungkwan still looked slightly appalled. “I mean, I didn’t do as well as I wanted to.” 

“If you did your best, then you should be proud of yourself,” Wonwoo told him. “And I’m sure that you did. So you did well.” 

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell him!” Seungkwan exclaimed, nudging Chan with his arm. Chan, now a bit worried for the safety of his food, got to his feet and carried it to the kitchen counter. Seungkwan turned to Wonwoo. “You look like you’re smarter than me. Maybe he’ll listen to you.” 

Those words made Wonwoo laugh. “Soonyoung also thinks he should be proud of himself,” he said, and Chan looked quickly to Wonwoo’s face. 

“What?” 

“He says that the people at the exhibition are really going to miss out on an amazing performance,” Wonwoo continued, “and that if he did anything to upset you, he’s really sorry.” 

Seungkwan’s eyes were wide as he turned to Chan. Chan, in turn, was dumbfounded. 

“You know him?” 

“Oh, yeah.” Wonwoo looked as surprised as Chan felt. “I thought you knew that; we’ve been friends for years. I was just—” he jerked his thumb behind him, pointing to the door, “—he was the one that piled all of those leftovers in that bowl for you, actually.” 

Wonwoo pulled his laptop out, sitting down on the couch, and Seungkwan left soon after. He said it was so he didn’t have to watch Chan’s disgusting eating anymore, but Seungkwan hadn’t been as discreet about receiving texts from Hansol as he’d thought. Already feeling immensely grateful to him though, Chan simply let him go, his brain feeling more and more mixed up the longer he ate the food that, apparently, Soonyoung had hand-wrapped for him. 

Wanting to do something about all the thoughts rolling around in his mind, Chan changed into a loose t-shirt and sweatpants, grabbing his tennis shoes and dance bag from his bedroom. Wonwoo was still on the couch, popping one earbud from his ear as he watched Chan put his shoes on. 

“I’m gonna go out for a bit,” Chan told him. “If it gets past eleven, could you text me again?” 

“Sure,” Wonwoo said with a nod. “Have fun.” 

“I’ll try!” Chan responded, stepping out into the cool night air. It was late, and it was a weeknight, so he didn’t really come across anyone on his way to the dance building. He assumed the actual building would be empty too, until he noticed that the door to the practice room at the very end of the hall was closed, the light on. Somehow, Chan already knew who he’d see when he looked inside. 

Soonyoung wasn’t dancing this time. He was on the floor, his eyes closed, his legs spread wide, moving smoothly through a repetitive set of dynamic stretches. It was really unbelievable, how Soonyoung was always here, always working on something. Chan would think him obsessive, chasing something or feeling like he had something to prove, if not for the way Soonyoung performed; he did all of this because he loved it, fully and completely, and it was amazing to Chan. 

Chan knew that he liked to dance, and that choreographing was one of his favorite things to do, but he couldn’t help but wonder if he would ever love anything the same way Soonyoung simply loved to move. It was so admirable, and as he watched Soonyoung get to his feet, Chan made himself admit that a large reason why Soonyoung could rile him up so easily was because Chan was jealous of him. Jealous of his prowess, of his artistry, and jealous of how comfortably and skillfully he wielded it. He just needed to get over this setback, Chan told himself; he needed to get over his own indignant feelings about not qualifying for the exhibition performance. He needed to work harder, and he would be fine. 

Soonyoung rolled his neck in a few smooth circles, the motion passing down into his shoulders, rolling them back too. Then he met eyes with himself in the mirror, his gaze sharp, and began to slide his legs apart on the wooden floor. He extended one arm down to catch himself when he was low enough, and as Chan watched Soonyoung sink slowly into the center splits, he was forced to admit another reason why Soonyoung so instantly irked him. 

Soonyoung was really, really hot. 

It took Soonyoung reaching into his dance bag and pulling out his bottle of painkillers, just to find that the bottle was empty, that forced him to confront the fact that there might be something actually, genuinely wrong with him. 

He didn’t want something to be wrong though, didn’t want anything to be wrong, and waited another full day before rolling across the rug onto his back, looking up to where Seokmin was sitting on the couch, and asking,

“Hey, do you think it’s bad that my ankle has been hurting for the past two and a half weeks?” 

Seokmin didn’t really appreciate his casual approach to the problem. He flustered into concern instantly, which led to him calling Jeonghan, because that’s what Seokmin always did when he had a problem he didn’t know how to solve. 

“Hey!” Soonyoung exclaimed, trying to wrestle Seokmin’s phone from his ear. “I don’t—I don’t like, want to go to the hospital or anything. I don’t want this to be a big deal.” 

Jeonghan was quiet for a long moment. “Do you want me to call Seungcheol?” he finally offered. “He could take a look at it for you.”

Thankfully, that sounded like a much better alternative, so Soonyoung agreed. Seungcheol was free for the day, agreeing to drive down and see if his in-progress degree in Sports Medicine would be enough to give Soonyoung some kind of diagnosis, saying he’d be there in an hour. 

Word spread. Jeonghan and Joshua showed up at their apartment within five minutes, and Wonwoo and Mingyu were there ten minutes after that, though Wonwoo seemed not to know that there was a problem at first; he was just trying to escape all the dramatic bemoaning about how much Mingyu missed his boyfriend. 

“Jihoon’s still lost to his computer chair?” Soonyoung asked. Mingyu nodded, pouted, and all but threw himself into Seokmin’s lap, who let out a little “oof” of strain from the extra weight, but didn’t try to dislodge him. 

“You’re not a lap dog,” Jeonghan admonished, but he sat down next to them and gave Mingyu a few comforting pats on the head. 

“I asked him for a good morning kiss today, but he had headphones on, and he didn’t even hear me,” Mingyu whined. “He had to make two compositions, and he only has one left, but the deadline is tomorrow.”

“Oh, that’s good though,” Joshua said. “After tomorrow he’ll be finished, then.”

“Yeah, but I won’t get to see him today!” The pout in Mingyu’s voice was near comical, except Soonyoung knew it wasn’t a joke. “I try to wait up for him to come to bed, but I’ve fallen asleep alone almost every night this week! I’m going to die, for real.” 

“He did this last year too,”  Wonwoo reminded him. “You survived, and then he made it up to you. You’ll be fine.”

“Besides, I’m sure he misses you too,” Seokmin said, his arms around Mingyu, fingers interlocked so he could better hold Mingyu in his lap.

“Yeah, I know he does,” Mingyu said with a sigh, “but…”

“But attention is important,” Jeonghan agreed, and they all sat around in the living room to wait for Seungcheol to arrive, brainstorming ways for Mingyu to get Jihoon’s attention, despite Jihoon’s need to focus on his schoolwork. Mingyu was in the middle of asking questions about Soonyoung’s simple but effective “just walk around naked” plan when the apartment door opened. 

It was Jihoon. He looked exhausted, in sweatpants and a t-shirt with a ball cap on, his shoulders slumped, just standing in the doorway.

“Hi,” Wonwoo finally said, and that got Jihoon’s attention. Soonyoung almost laughed at just how much his friend looked like a zombie. 

“Mingyu isn’t at home,” Jihoon responded, seemingly ignoring the greeting. 

“He’s right here,” Joshua supplied helpfully, pointing, and Jihoon took a few more steps inside, Mingyu getting up from the couch. 

“I turned in my compositions,” Jihoon said. “I’m done.”

They all cheered but Mingyu cheered the loudest, rushing over. It was cute, just how much Mingyu had to bend down to kiss Jihoon, and once Jihoon had his arms around Mingyu’s neck he seemed to want to leave them there, Mingyu just picking his boyfriend up instead. 

“We’re still here,” Joshua said, but neither members of the couple seemed to care, and Jeonghan grabbed at Seokmin’s wrist and tugged him to his feet to get him off the couch. It was a smart move, Mingyu depositing Jihoon there just moments later. Mingyu hadn’t stopped kissing Jihoon since he walked in, and didn’t seem like he would any time soon, and after a moment, Wonwoo sighed. 

“Want to just go to my place?”

The offer was accepted readily, everyone moving to leave. 

“No naked butts on the couch!” Soonyoung exclaimed at them, Jihoon lifting one arm from around Mingyu’s neck to give him a thumbs up in understanding. That made Soonyoung laugh, and they were all out the door. 

They actually ran into Seungcheol on their way to Wonwoo’s apartment, so they grabbed him and dragged him along. Soonyoung felt a bit nervous when he stepped into Wonwoo’s apartment, saw shoes he recognized as Chan’s inside the door, and realized that Chan would be home. He hadn’t seen Chan in a couple of days, not since the day of the auditions, and was afraid of how Chan would react to him. He’d tried to tell himself that Chan had been upset by the results and not by him, but with how Chan had glared at him before speaking, that wasn’t an easy thing to believe. 

“Alright.” Seungcheol was pulling out of a hug from Joshua, his face serious with concern as he looked at Soonyoung. “Which ankle is it?” 

Soonyoung sat on the couch, pulling his shoe and sock off and propping his left foot up on the coffee table.

“This one,” he said, gesturing. “But… But it’s not swollen or anything. It doesn’t even hurt all the time, just after I’ve been practicing for a little while.” 

Seungcheol knelt down to look closer. “Could I?” he asked, and Soonyoung nodded, shrugging. Seungcheol took Soonyoung’s ankle in his hand and began to move the joint around, seeming surprised. 

“What?” 

“You’re just so bendy.” 

That made them all laugh, Jeonghan lightly kicking him. A side door opened and Chan, confusion on his face at the sound of strangers, poked his head out. 

“Oh, sorry,” Wonwoo said quickly. “My friends are here.” 

“Um… Hi.” Chan stepped out into the room with a hesitant wave. His hair was damp and his skin was a bit pink, as though he’d just gotten out of a very hot shower. He had on loose sweatpants and a pink hoodie, and when he noticed what was happening on the couch, his face took on an expression of concern. 

“Are you okay?” he asked Soonyoung, stepping forwards. Seungcheol was still holding onto his foot. 

“Yeah!” Soonyoung exclaimed, trying to sit up a bit straighter. “Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just—” 

Then Seungcheol held the heel of his foot still and pressed up on the ball of it, flexing his toes towards the ceiling, and Soonyoung’s words were gone as a gasp of pain left his mouth, jerking his leg from Seungcheol’s hands to bring his knee to his chest. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Seungcheol said quickly. “Does bending it like that usually hurt?” 

“You’re hurt?” Chan’s voice was louder with worry. “What happened?”

“I’m fine!” Soonyoung insisted again, giving Seungcheol his foot back, who took it with gentle hands. 

“Tell me when you feel some discomfort,” Seungcheol told him, and began pressing on all the individual joints of Soonyoung’s foot, starting at the toes and working his way up towards his ankle.

“Seriously, did you hurt yourself?” Chan asked again, his eyes on Soonyoung’s face, and Soonyoung swallowed. 

“I… Yeah, maybe.” 

Chan cursed under his breath, his eyes going to Soonyoung’s extended leg, and looking at his concern, Seungcheol’s genuine concentration, and the worry on the faces of the rest of his friends had fear beginning to curl in Soonyoung’s chest. He couldn’t… He couldn’t actually be hurt. Seungcheol was supposed to come over and tell him that things were fine, not that—

Pain flared through his ankle as Seungcheol pressed his thumb squarely where his leg turned into the top of his foot. Soonyoung bit at his bottom lip, resisting the instinct to yank his foot away again. 

“There,” he said, taking in a quick breath. “It's the worst right there.” 

“Okay,” Seungcheol was frowning. “So you have pain there. Nowhere else? It doesn’t spread?” 

“Nope.” Soonyoung wanted his foot back. He was regretting telling Seokmin about this. “And it doesn’t even hurt all the time, so really…” 

He trailed off into a shrug. Seungcheol was still frowning. 

“There’s no bruising, no inflammation.” He looked to Soonyoung again. “And you didn’t fall, or trip over anything recently?” 

“Nope! Come on, I’m too graceful for that. I’m sure it’s nothing; I’ll just rest it, and it’ll be fine.” 

“No, you won’t,” Chan spoke up. “You’re always already at the dance building when I get there, and you’re still there when I leave. The exhibition is coming up.”

“But…” Sure, Chan was right, but he didn’t have to say it out loud like that. 

“Soonyoung.” Seokmin’s voice was worried. “I really think you should go to the doctor.”

“No!” Soonyoung took his leg back, getting to his feet. “I’m okay, guys.”

“You’re obviously not,” Wonwoo countered. 

“Soonyoung, you’re hurt.” Soonyoung didn’t like the plainness of the words, or the force with which Chan said them. “You’re hurt, and if you just ignore this, then—”

“I said I’m okay!” Soonyoung didn’t want to hear whatever disaster scenario Chan had. He didn’t want to go to a doctor. He didn’t know what to do, what he would do, if something was actually wrong with him. Dance was all he had; the thought of anything happening to it was too frightening to think about. 

“I told you that you needed to rest more, and if you would—”

“So this is my fault?” Soonyoung asked, turning to face Chan again. That light was back in Chan’s eyes, but instead of being exciting, it just added to the ache Soonyoung was feeling. He tried to take a step forwards, but all the bending and pressing Seungcheol had done made his ankle sore, and he limped on it for a moment before stopping, resting all of his weight on his right leg. He let just the tips of his toes touch the floor, feeling like an injured animal. “You’re going to gloat about it now?”

“No!” A flash of frustration passed Chan’s face. “I just—”

“Why are you even worried about me?” 

That question made Chan close his mouth, and he flushed pink all the way up to the tips of his ears. 

“I… I just—”

“If I can’t talk to you, then you can’t care about me,” Soonyoung told him. He knew it might not be fair to throw Chan’s words back in his face like that, but he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since it happened, how angry and hurt Chan had looked, just from Soonyoung saying his name. He’d tried to shake it off during his meal with his friends, had tried to celebrate his own success instead, but he hadn’t been able to. Scared, hurt, and angry was never a good combination for Soonyoung, because anger was always the easiest. 

He turned away again, not wanting to be here anymore. He’d return to his own apartment, and just hope that Mingyu and Jihoon had decided to go back to their own place by now. 

“Soonyoung.” Chan’s voice was softer, and it froze Soonyoung in his tracks; he’d never heard Chan say his name like that before. “Damn it Soonyoung, just—”

“What?!” Soonyoung turned around. Or, he tried to. He was too high strung to remember that attempting to pivot on his ankle wasn’t a good idea; a sharp twinge shot up his leg and he lost his balance, slipping over himself. His entire left leg collapsed under him, and he felt it, he felt something in the bone crack as he fell to the floor.

“Soonyoung!” All of his friends were around him, but none of that mattered; pain, white hot and terrifying, had tears springing in his eyes and his heart jumping in his throat. 

“It’s broken,” he heard himself say, his voice strangely quiet to his own ears, knowing his words were true. “It’s, it’s—fuck, it’s fucking broken—” 

“It’s okay,” Seungcheol said, the words juxtaposed by how panicked he sounded. “We just—”

He stopped, swallowing and looking around, and Jeonghan placed a hand on his shoulder.

“What do we need to do?” he asked, Seungcheol swallowing again before he seemed to refocus. 

“Wonwoo, if you have any cardboard, or thick blankets, get them,” he said. Wonwoo and Chan both jumped into action, and Chan returned first with a thick, unfolded comforter that looked like it’d been stripped off his bed. Seungcheol took it and shaped it into a sort of a trough, resting Soonyoung’s ankle in it to stabilize the bones. “Let’s get him to my car. I’ll drive him to the hospital.”

It was a group effort, Soonyoung more or less carried down to the parking lot. Chan, who had been holding onto the comforter while Soonyoung’s friends had him under the arms, was made to sit in the back with him, Soonyoung’s ankle resting in his lap, told to keep it as still as he could. Chan had just nodded at any and all of Seungcheol’s instructions, his eyes wide, his face pale. 

“It’s broken,” Soonyoung said again, his mind blank of anything else. Chan looked up to his face, meeting his eyes. He looked scared, but Soonyoung could barely register Chan’s fear over the terror in his own chest. 

“It’s going to be okay,” Chan said. His voice wasn’t steady at all. “You’re going to be okay.” 

All things considered, the break wasn’t that bad. In a way, it had been inevitable; x-rays revealed that Soonyoung had already had a stress fracture in the talus bone of his left ankle for weeks, and with his unwillingness to rest, the doctor said that it would have only been a matter of time before the bone fully cracked. But the break was very clean, the doctors commending Seungcheol for his quick thinking with the homemade splint—and commending Chan for how well he had managed to keep it steady. The bones hadn’t shifted much and had reset easily, the ankle only needing a stirrup brace to keep it aligned. Soonyoung just needed to stay off the injury for the next six weeks minimum, given a pair of crutches and taught how to use them. 

But it was still a broken ankle, and Soonyoung was a dancer. 

Chan felt sick to his stomach for the entire ride home. He was up in the front seat now, next to Soonyoung’s friend Seungcheol, while Soonyoung stretched his injured leg out across the length of the backseat. Soonyoung was on the phone, Chan listening to the one-sided conversation he was having with a physical therapist, already trying to find out the best way for him to make a full recovery, to get back the mobility that would inevitably be lost. Seungcheol leaned over when they hit a red light, his face serious. 

“You did really well with all of this,” he told Chan. “Really, thank you for everything.” 

“I… Yeah.” Chan didn’t know how to respond to that. “You too,” then, “thanks.” 

Seungcheol didn’t make fun of him for the disjointed attempt at a response, also seeming a bit shaken, the light turning back to green. 

Soonyoung called Seokmin next. It was obvious that it was more than just Seokmin on the other end of the line, but none of the names Soonyoung said were names that Chan knew. 

“No, I’m not in a wheelchair!” Soonyoung exclaimed. There was a smile in his voice. It wasn’t on his face. “I have crutches, Mingyu. But you can still carry me around, if you want. That sounds fun. I’m not coming back right away.” 

Soonyoung’s voice went quiet with his last sentence, Chan looking back at him. Soonyoung’s gaze was out the window, following the lines of the sidewalk with his eyes. 

“No, not that. There’s just something I need to do first. Yeah, yeah. I don’t know either.” 

He didn’t elaborate, and Chan was still confused when Soonyoung asked Seungcheol to drive them as close as he could get to the dance building. It wasn’t possible for Soonyoung to want to dance now, was it?

“Chan, will you come with me?” Soonyoung asked once he’d maneuvered himself out of the backseat, his crutches under his arms. 

“What are we doing?” Chan asked back, his car door already open. 

“I need to break the news to Instructor Hyelim,” Soonyoung explained. “I just… I don’t want to do it by myself.” 

“Oh.” Chan hadn’t even thought of that. “Yeah, okay.” 

They were outside of Instructor Hyelim’s door when Soonyoung reached over and poked him.

“See what I did there? Break the news?” 

Chan blinked at him. “Oh,” he said again. Soonyoung frowned. 

“You didn’t laugh.” 

“Well, it wasn’t funny.” 

“You don’t have any pity for me?” 

Chan just reached forwards and pulled the door open, so he wouldn’t have to watch the way Soonyoung’s lips bunched up when he pouted. Instructor Hyelim was clearly surprised to see him, her eyes going wide as saucers when she properly took in what she was looking at. 

“Kwon Soonyoung! What did you do?!” 

Soonyoung offered up a sheepish smile, and she ushered them inside. He explained everything to her; how the break was already there, how he’d been ignoring it for weeks—she reprimanded him for that—how he needed six weeks of rest, and how he already had a plan for physical therapy. 

“It’s that high tour jeté near the end of your program,” Hyelim said. “The one you land on your left? That has to be what did it.” 

“I practiced that one a lot!” Soonyoung exclaimed at her, like they’d just solved a crime together, and despite not being familiar with many ballet terms, Chan knew that they were talking about the leap Soonyoung had in his routine, the one that Chan had seen him struggle with before he began properly landing it. “I just wanted it to be perfect! Ah, I feel so betrayed.” 

“The exhibition is what we really need to talk about,” Hyelim said, a sigh in her voice. “Obviously, you can’t perform.”

Soonyoung nodded. “Yeah, so I think—”

“But that doesn’t mean you can’t go,” Hyelim continued, and Soonyoung blinked at her.

“What?”

“Soonyoung, I’m not going to punish you for getting hurt. You have a network already, a lot of connections, and you qualified to go; you’re going to come. I’m going to let you travel with the rest of the team. And I’ve already decided,” she said, when he started to open his mouth, “so don’t try to argue about this with me.” 

Soonyoung closed his mouth again, but only for a moment.

“But we still need ten performers,” he said, and she nodded.

“Okay, we’ll bring someone else.” She bent down to dig through a drawer of her desk. “Who placed eleventh?” 

Chan then realized why Soonyoung had asked for him to come along.

“Chan did.” 

Hyelim stopped, glancing up to look at Chan, her eyes going over his face for a long moment. 

“Well, Chan?” she finally asked. “How about it? Do you wanna come to Seoul and perform?” 

It took Chan a second to find his tongue. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I do.” 

“Awesome.” She clapped her hands together. “You missed the meeting about it, so I’ll just fill you in now.” 

Then she did, giving him handouts, dates, and deadlines. It was overwhelming on top of everything else that had happened that day, but she told him she’d be sending the information to him in an email too, so Chan let the words wash over him without trying too hard to commit them all to memory.

The meeting was pretty much over after that. Hyelim called Soonyoung an idiot again, which he sighed and agreed with. He smiled the whole time he was in the room, but Chan didn’t miss the way the expression dropped as soon as they were out the door. 

“Congratulations!” Soonyoung told him, after a few minutes of clicking down the hallway on his crutches, Chan walking silently next to him. “You get to go to the exhibition.”

Chan didn’t know how to respond, feeling overwhelmed. 

“You don’t seem very happy about it,” Soonyoung said, his voice softening. “I thought you would be.”

“How…” Chan stopped, stopped and turned and stared at him. “How could I be happy about this?!”

“You were so angry at me when you didn’t get to go, so I thought—”

“I wasn’t—I wasn’t angry at you,” Chan said. Everything felt… Everything felt messed up, and he rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyes. Kwon Soonyoung shouldn’t be standing in front of him like this, his ankle wrapped, needing crutches just to move. Chan shouldn’t be going somewhere, anywhere, to perform in Soonyoung’s place. “I’d just come to terms with the fact that I didn’t make it, and now, now this, it’s just…”

He trailed off, unable to think of a way to articulate how he felt, and Soonyoung looked at him for a moment. Then he put both of his crutches under one arm, his injured foot lifted completely off the floor, leaning back against the wall behind him. 

“Chan, can I ask you something?”

Chan just blinked at him, feeling apprehensive and knocked off balance by the question. 

“What?”

“Do you hate me?” 

“Hate you?” Of all the things Chan expected Soonyoung to ask, that wasn’t it. It completely blindsided him, and he just stood there for a moment, staring at Soonyoung. 

“Don’t make me ask it again,” Soonyoung requested, with a twinge in his voice that sounded genuinely upset. Chan took a few steps away, leaning back against the other side of the hallway. 

“No, I don’t… I don’t hate you, Soonyoung.” Soonyoung didn’t look like he quite believed him, so Chan figured he should elaborate. Should fess up. “But you do frustrate me.” 

“Like, seriously?” Soonyoung asked. “Because I always thought that this,” he gestured between himself and Chan, “was just for fun, but…”

“It’s not that you tease me,” Chan said, shifting from one foot to the other, feeling awkward. “It’s the way you do it. You correct me, then wink at me when you’re right, and make fun of how I can’t critique you. You always have to rub in how much better you are than me.” 

Soonyoung swallowed. His voice was soft. “I didn’t mean it that way.” 

“But you call me baby.”

“Yeah, of course I do.” Soonyoung had a tilt to his eyebrows, like he wanted to be amused, but felt that the situation was a little too serious. “Cute people need cute nicknames.” 

“See?” Chan pointed at him. “You’re doing it again, right now!” 

“Doing what?” Soonyoung asked, looking confused before stopping and blinking at him. “Chan, I’m serious—I actually think you’re cute. I’m not being sarcastic when I compliment you. I mean it. I mean it every time.” 

“But I, I thought…” Chan had to stand there and reconsider, had to try to frame the nice things Soonyoung said as genuine praise instead of a joke, to take the winks as playfulness instead of something smug. That Soonyoung’s advice was an honest attempt to help. The force of it all had his shoulders sagging against the wall. “Oh.” 

“What?” Soonyoung asked. His eyebrows were drawn together in concern. “Are you okay? You look weird.” 

“I…” Chan glanced up, realized he couldn’t say this while looking at Soonyoung, and glanced away again. He’d been on the cusp of this realization a couple of nights ago, but hadn’t fully gotten there, and the force of it was threatening to knock him over. “I am so jealous of you, holy shit.”

Soonyoung looked stunned. “What?” he asked again. 

“When I first met you, I thought you were a first-year too,” Chan explained, “and I was confident; I thought I could probably dance better than you, and you just completely destroyed me instead.” 

“Yeah.” There was a small smile on Soonyoung’s lips. “Yeah, I remember.” 

“Every time you joked around with me, it felt like you were rubbing it in. Whenever you tried to help me out there was this feeling to it, that you were saying something that was so obvious to you, but not to me, because I was an idiot or something.” But if that wasn’t what Soonyoung meant, wasn’t what Soonyoung was doing, then all it had been was Chan, projecting. “Because you’re the best dancer here, and I’m not.” 

“I’m—I’m not the best,” Soonyoung said, the words spoken a bit awkwardly, because they were a lie; the audition results had just proved that he was. “At least, I’m not the best now.” He nodded down to his ankle. It was said with the cadence of a joke, but Chan wasn’t in the mood to laugh; not at Soonyoung’s injury. 

“I shouldn’t be going,” Chan said, Soonyoung glancing back at him. “I shouldn’t go. Especially if you can’t.” 

“But you told Instructor Hyelim you would,” Soonyoung reminded him. “You worked hard. You almost made it.” 

Almost. Chan didn’t respond. Soonyoung sighed. 

“Okay, how about this,” he began, getting his crutches back under him, starting off down the hallway again. Chan pushed off the wall to follow. “I’ll help you. I’ll get your routine up to my standards. Then it’ll be like I’m up there, kind of.” 

“You’d do that for me?” Chan asked, Soonyoung looking over to him. 

“I’m guessing that’s a yes?” he asked back, and Chan nodded. “I’m not an easy teacher, you know.” 

“Good,” Chan responded, and for the first time all day, a genuine smile grew on Soonyoung’s face.

Soonyoung was on the floor in a practice room in the dance building, waiting for Chan to arrive. 

Chan wasn’t late. Soonyoung had shown up a solid thirty minutes before their agreed-upon meeting time, simply because he’d needed to get out of his apartment. He’d been sitting on the floor in the living room, partially trying to work on an assignment for his cursed Anthropology class and mostly feeling like a flightless bird. Seokmin had been hanging out with him in the living room, on the couch with his laptop in his lap, looking down at Soonyoung every five minutes with this awful, sympathizing look on his face. 

Soonyoung knew that Seokmin wasn’t actually trying to be so pitying, that Seokmin was simply upset that Soonyoung was hurting, and was someone that wore his emotions both on his sleeve and all over his face. It didn’t make the expression any easier to bear though, so Soonyoung had given up and gotten to his feet. 

“I’m going to go to the dance building,” he told Seokmin, who also got up, looking concerned. “I’m not going to try to do anything, don’t worry. I’m meeting Chan there. He’s dancing, not me.” 

Aside from Wonwoo, none of Soonyoung’s other friends had met Chan before a couple of days ago. They all knew him, mostly from Soonyoung’s whinings about him, and after the way he’d helped out with taking Soonyoung to the emergency room, he was in everyone’s good books. At those words, Seokmin had relaxed a bit.

“Do you want to call Jeonghan or Mingyu?” Seokmin asked. “One of them is probably free, and they could drive you.” 

“No!” Soonyoung exclaimed quickly. “No, no. I can walk. It’s not actually that far. Come on Minnie, I’m not that much of a cripple.” 

Seokmin had looked doubtful, but let him go. By the time Soonyoung arrived at the dance building though, he was regretting not taking the offer to get a ride; the fifteen minute walk had turned into a full half hour, and he was sweaty, and his arms ached from his crutches. But he’d made it. He would just have someone pick him up later, when it was time to leave. 

Jeonghan probably, as long as he didn’t bring Joshua with him, Soonyoung sending him a quick text. Of all of them, Jeonghan was doing the best job of treating Soonyoung like nothing had happened, which Soonyoung desperately needed. Joshua was doing the same sympathetic staring that Seokmin was, Mingyu already had a high protein, high calcium diet worked out that he was planning on feeding him for the next six weeks, and Jihoon hadn’t done this much concerned hovering since Soonyoung had accidentally given himself a concussion in middle school. 

He needed the people around him to act normally, to not worry. Because if they worried, then he would start to worry, and he couldn’t afford to do that. The light thrill of panic he felt looking down at the brace on his ankle was hard enough to keep at bay all on its own, the smile and carefree shrug he was giving to his friends exhausting enough already. He was trying to tell them all that he was fine. That he would be back to normal in no time, and that recovery would be quick and easy, and that missing out on the exhibition wasn’t a big deal. It was his opportunity to be a generous senior, giving away such an amazing opportunity to an up-and-coming dancer.

In truth, he was incredibly upset about not being able to perform, about being unable to show off the program he was so proud of, and had worked so hard on. He wasn’t confident about being back to normal in just six weeks; he was terrified of the healing process going wrong, of something worse happening to him, of having his mobility limited by this for the rest of his life. 

On top of it all, he wasn’t fine. Aside from feeling clumsy and awkward, his ankle ached all the time. For some reason, the pain was even worse at night; he’d woken Seokmin the night before from crying out loud as he’d hobbled into the kitchen in search of his painkillers. Seokmin had gotten him the medication and helped him back to bed, getting under the blanket with him and comforting him back into drowsiness, falling asleep right next to him. The kindness, while appreciated, had also made Soonyoung cry harder. Everything… Everything was all messed up, and Soonyoung could barely stand it.

“Are you okay?” 

The question was asked softly, Soonyoung glancing up quickly to see Chan standing in the doorway. He straightened up immediately, giving his head a small shake. 

“You’re late,” he reprimanded, Chan raising an eyebrow at him. 

“I’m twenty minutes early.” 

“I’m your teacher. Shut up.” 

Chan rolled his eyes but the usual anger wasn’t there, which Soonyoung was glad for; he had the strangely fragile feeling that if he was glared at, he might cry. Chan fully entered the room, placing his dance bag down against the wall. 

“Okay, whatever.” 

“Hey, don’t whatever me!” Soonyoung gave him an exaggerated frown. “Start warming up. No time to waste.” 

Chan did, going through some dynamic stretches, bouncing around cutely on the balls of his feet to warm up his legs. The movements were loose, Soonyoung realizing that this was the most easy and comfortable he’d ever seen Chan. Instead of making Soonyoung happy though, it made him nervous, and he couldn’t help speaking up. 

“Hey, are you sure you want to do this?”

Chan paused, glancing at him. “What?”

“Me, you know… critiquing you like this. It might… When I said I wasn’t an easy teacher, I was serious.”

Giving feedback to peers was a normal thing, but the more established Soonyoung had become over the years as someone that was a “good” dancer, the more he’d found himself approached by other students, people that were acquaintances and classmates but not quite friends, asking him to watch their routine and give comments on it. And while Soonyoung didn’t think he was mean, he wasn’t really in the business of sugarcoating things, either; he took dance more seriously than that, saying plainly what was good and what wasn’t, and how to fix it. Maybe he nitpicked too much, or maybe he wasn’t nice enough, but the people that asked him for help usually never came back and asked again. If Soonyoung was going to start having any kind of relationship with Chan, he didn’t think that this—doing what had once been called a “merciless drag” of something Chan had worked so hard on—was really the best way to go about it. 

“I know,” Chan said, a frown forming on his face. “Why is that a bad thing?” 

“People think I’m too judgemental.” 

“And I trust your judgement,” Chan rebutted, almost instantly, “so that’s okay.”

Soonyoung frowned back at him, not sure that Chan truly understood the severity of the situation. 

“But—” 

“Soonyoung, you could tell me this whole thing is garbage.” With the way Chan was looking him in the eye, Soonyoung could tell he meant it, and he didn’t know how to feel about that. “And that would be fine.” 

“You would like that?” 

“Well, no.” he laughed a little. “Of course—of course I wouldn’t like that, nobody would like that, but… If you also tell me how to change it to make it better, then that’s worth it.”

“Oh.” Soonyoung felt out of arguments, and while he still didn’t completely agree, he didn’t have much to say either. Chan gave him a grin, partially encouraging and partially satisfied from having the last word—Soonyoung couldn’t help a small twinge of indignation at that; wasn’t Chan supposed to be younger than him?—and Soonyoung relaxed his posture against the wall. “Okay then. Show me what you’ve got. Hand me your phone and I’ll start your music for you.” 

Chan did, tapping at it for a couple of moments to pull up the right song. It was straight out of Chan’s music library, and Soonyoung was tempted to snoop through Chan’s music but held himself back, placing the phone on the floor instead. Chan got himself set, fixing his gaze on his own form in the mirror.

“Alright,” he said, focused now. “I’m ready.” 

Soonyoung started the music, and Chan began to dance. 

It was Soonyoung’s third time seeing the routine, but it still surprised him, just how powerful Chan was. This routine was so unique, Chan able to throw himself around with an almost wild determination, the untamed nature of the movements even more impressive because Soonyoung knew each one of them was actually purposeful and practiced. It was a dance that only Chan could achieve. It would come across differently if Soonyoung attempted it, if Junhui or Hansol attempted it; it was specific to Chan, and the way he moved his body, and even how his body looked. Chan was a bit stocky in stature, and Soonyoung would be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed how strong Chan’s thighs and core were, different from his own lean muscle. 

It was all over too quickly, Soonyoung even looking down at the phone to make sure the cut of the song was a full three minutes. Chan’s chest was heaving, and he held his final stance for a moment before breaking from it, leaning his weight onto his heels, his shoulders rolled back, lifting one arm to push his hair from his face. He was in sweatpants and an open cut tank top, and Soonyoung didn’t think he’d ever seen him move so much so up close before, realizing that his mouth was dry.

“Sorry,” Chan said after a moment, glancing down at him. “I haven’t practiced it in a couple of days. Thought I was finished with it, you know.” 

Soonyoung nodded a bit. When he still didn’t speak, Chan tilted his head to the side, his pink lips slightly parted, still breathing through his mouth.

“Well?” he finally asked. “Is it all garbage?” 

“No!” Soonyoung said quickly. “No, no it’s not. Definitely not.” 

Chan leaned a bit, all of his weight on his left foot, a smile breaking out onto his face. 

“I thought you were going to be mean,” he said, his voice holding a teasing lilt, despite still being slightly breathless. 

“I want to start at the beginning, and work through it at half speed.” Soonyoung decided to ignore the comment, not used to feeling this knocked off balance, especially not in a dance practice room. “We need to establish what angles you’re trying for, with your arms and legs.” 

The words “half speed” usually got a groan but Chan just nodded, the playfulness gone from his face and replaced by a look of determination. 

They worked on the moves for hours, finding a problem sequence within the first sixteen counts and starting in on it. To Soonyoung’s surprise, Chan never complained. He took all of Soonyoung’s criticism in stride, nodding along, already in position to restart a sequence before the word “again” had even made it out of Soonyoung’s mouth. 

“You know,” Chan began—he’d just worked one sequence completely up to speed, after they’d had it broken down and slow for the past forty-five minutes— “I think this is a little harder for me than it is for you.” 

Soonyoung tilted his head in an exaggerated display of innocent confusion. 

“What, are you tired or something?” 

The look Chan gave him was so deadpan and sarcastic that Soonyoung burst into giggles, leaning against the back wall, and a begrudging smile grew on Chan’s face too. 

“Fine!” Soonyoung exclaimed. “Fine, we can be done for the day. You’ve done really well.” 

“Thanks,” Chan said, his body relaxing again as he got into some cool down stretches. “Wow, I think I’m going to be sore tomorrow.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah.” There was a contemplative frown on Chan’s face, reaching up with both arms and grabbing one wrist with the opposite hand, bending his torso to the left. Soonyoung pretended he didn’t notice the way his shirt was riding up his side. “That hasn’t happened in a while.” 

“Well, now I feel a little proud of myself,” Soonyoung responded, grinning when Chan went pink.

“What?” Chan asked.

“You’re just so sweaty.” That wasn’t what Soonyoung had been smiling about, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t true; Chan’s clothes had spots of sweat across his chest and back, a lot of his hair stuck to his face, the occasional droplet rolling down from his temples or under his bangs. His body was covered in a damp sheen, bright in the overhead fluorescents, and Soonyoung kind of couldn’t stop looking at him. 

“I don’t think you’re in a place to call anyone sweaty,” Chan told him, and that had Soonyoung laughing loudly.

“Hey!” he protested through giggles, “hey, it’s called passion, okay? Besides, what you’ve seen is nothing; I used to be worse, when I did dance that was much closer to the style that you do. I used to really get drenched.” 

“Wait, what?” Chan turned to him, surprise all over his face. “You didn’t always do ballet?” 

“Oh, no.” Soonyoung waved a hand. “All I used to dance to was pop music! I didn’t start focusing on ballet until… I don’t know, I think I was sixteen? Maybe seventeen.” 

“Seventeen?” Chan echoed. Soonyoung was enjoying the shock on his face, trying not to grin. 

“Yeah, I… I’ve been told that I picked it up pretty fast.”

“You’re insane,” Chan told him, the words plain. 

“I get that a lot.” 

Chan stared at him for another second, just long enough to make him squirm before sitting down on the floor to stretch out his legs. 

“So you used to do hip hop?” he asked. “That’s how you know all the names for the moves and stuff?” 

Soonyoung nodded a bit, but he knew his expression was sheepish, especially with how Chan was side-eyeing him now. 

“I, ah… I mean, yes. That’s how I know all the terms. But it wasn’t exactly hip hop.” 

“Then what was it?” 

“Um. Boy band choreography?”

Chan burst into laughter at the admission, loud and bright, his head falling back, his mouth falling open. Soonyoung puffed his cheeks up, letting the air out slowly.

“Yes, prima ballerina Kwon Soonyoung learned the entire routine to Breath by B2ST at fifteen. Please, laugh at me.” 

His sarcastic tone just made Chan laugh more and soon he was on his back on the floor, his eyes closed and his hair splayed out, giggles coming from his lips. It truly was a painfully endearing sound, Soonyoung unable not to smile as he watched him. 

“Really?” Chan finally asked, when he was able to reign himself in and pull back up into a sitting position. 

“Yeah, me and my friend Jihoon would do it together! Jihoon got pretty good, but he’s majoring in Music Theory and Composition now. He stopped dancing with me way before that, though. Back when I got into tap, I think? Gosh, he wanted to strangle me for that one.” 

“Tap?” Chan echoed. He looked dumbfounded. “What else do you know?” 

“I mean, Wonwoo and I learned belly dancing together our first year here,” Soonyoung said. “We would tie our shirts up like this—” he pulled his shirt up so it was around his ribcage, holding all of the bunched fabric just below his sternum with one hand, not missing the way Chan’s eyes flicked quickly to his exposed navel before going back to his face, “—and kind of, you know, gyrate around the living room. But Wonwoo was too embarrassed to ever perform anywhere.” 

“Wow.” Chan took on a bit of a faraway expression, breaking out into laughter again, Soonyoung knowing he must be imagining his roommate dancing. And yes, it had been very funny, but it had also been one of the most fun things Soonyoung had done in his life. “I would love to see that.” 

“Maybe he’ll do it someday. I’ll start working on trying to convince him.” Soonyoung struggled to his feet, hopping over to where he’d propped his crutches against the wall and sticking them under his arms. “Hey, do you wanna go eat somewhere?” 

He was having a good, nice conversation with Chan, and didn’t want it to end. Chan looked taken aback, hesitating for a couple of nerve-wracking seconds before nodding. 

“Yeah, sure. Will—can you walk there?” 

“I’ll be fine,” Soonyoung responded dismissively, pulling his phone from his pocket to send Jeonghan a quick text. “Besides, I know some places that are pretty close.” 

To: Hanniehae
Thanks but I don’t need a ride actually!! I’m going to eat with Channie!

They ended up sitting across from each other in a fast food restaurant, but Chan wasn’t complaining, so Soonyoung didn’t either. 

“So,” Soonyoung started, reaching across the table to steal one of Chan’s fries, just because he could, “how did you get into dance?” 

“Oh, my dad’s a dance teacher,” Chan said easily, and Soonyoung’s mouth fell open. He found out, through asking questions, that Chan had been dancing about as long as he’d been walking, that he’d been on television performing dance routines on two different occasions—Soonyoung warning Chan that he was going to look for the clips—and that he, too, had learned boy band dances.

“You laughed at me!” Soonyoung exclaimed, and Chan began laughing again. “You made fun of me, and you did the same thing!” 

“You were embarrassed!” Chan exclaimed back. “I’m not. I learned SHINee’s Sherlock, and it was awesome.”

Soonyoung beamed, feeling so excited that for a moment, he couldn’t stand it. He tried to get to his feet, falling clumsily back into his chair and cursing. Chan’s face went quickly to concern. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I’m frustrated!” Soonyoung said, but his voice was exaggerated on purpose, and Chan grinned again. “I know Sherlock too! If I wasn’t all…” he gestured to his foot under the table, “then we could do it together.” 

Chan glanced around. “Here?” he asked.

“Or back at the dance building. Whatever. I just… I really want to dance with you again.” 

The confession felt a little too honest to his ears, and in his slightly flustered silence Chan reached over and stole one of Soonyoung’s fries in return. 

“Why? So you can totally show me up again?” 

“Of course!” 

Chan laughed, loud and bright, and Soonyoung felt so taken with him that in that moment, nothing mattered but the smile on Chan’s face. 

“Hey,” he started, his voice softer than he meant it to be, Chan glancing at him curiously. “We can be friends, right?” 

“Yeah,” Chan responded, after a moment of mulling it over. “Sure.”

Soonyoung reached over and stole another one of his fries.

Chan was… Chan was struggling. His life was a simple cycle of waking up, going to class, doing as much homework as he could force his brain to focus on until it was time to go to the dance building, fine-tuning his routine until he was nearly dead on his feet, getting a ride home from one of Soonyoung’s friends, and crashing into bed so hard that he didn’t even remember his head hitting the pillow, all of his muscles achingly sore. 

Having Soonyoung as his personal dance teacher was the most intense training Chan had ever experienced. Soonyoung was relentless in his pursuit of excellence, the phrase “good enough” one that didn’t seem to exist. His eye for detail was so incredible, so precise, that it aggravated Chan sometimes. He saw things that Chan didn’t, that Chan couldn’t, that Chan didn’t even think to look for.

Chan absolutely loved it. It didn’t feel like nitpicking; it was the meticulous level of quality that he wanted, that he’d been trying to work towards. It was something that honestly, he thought he’d already had. He’d been led to believe that he was his own worst critic, but around Soonyoung, that wasn’t true. Working with Soonyoung was opening his eyes to a whole world of things that were wrong with his dancing, which would have been disheartening if Soonyoung wasn’t sitting there next to him the whole time helping him fix it, giving him options on how to improve, encouraging him along.

It was awful, and exhausting, and Chan hadn’t ever felt more invigorated. When he told Seungkwan this, Seungkwan had given him an up-and-down, his lips pursed, his eyebrows raised.

“Weird way of telling me you’re into masochism, but okay.” 

“Oh my god,” Hansol mumbled, the English words muffled by the way he’d pressed his face into his boyfriend’s shoulder. Seungkwan continued before Chan could respond, an eyebrow raised. 

“And how’s that angry sex going?” 

“Shut up!” Chan exclaimed at him. “It’s not like that.”

“That’s not why you’re walking all stiff? Pity,” Seungkwan said, kicking his feet up onto his coffee table, adjusting the way he was sitting on the couch so Hansol could more comfortably rest against him. Chan rolled his eyes. 

“Come on, Kwan. We’re… I don’t know, it’s like we’re friends now. It’s been cool.” This admittance felt a bit sheepish. “You were right, Hansol. He’s actually really nice.” 

“And I’m right too,” Seungkwan insisted. “You have the hots for him. You can’t actually be this dumb; you have to see it, right? Now that you’re spending so much time together?” 

“I admire him a lot,” Chan allowed. “He’s really like, cool or whatever. But that doesn’t mean—”

“We talked about this, remember?” Seungkwan sounded a bit more serious now. “How most of the time, when you think a guy is ‘cool’, you actually want to kiss them? It’s how we figured out that you had a crush on Hansol. Which I was super chill about, by the way, if you ever need a reminder about how good of a friend I am.”

“Wait, what?” Hansol asked, sitting up quickly. Chan groaned, his eyes falling closed, his head falling back.

“That was a secret!” he insisted at Seungkwan. Because Seungkwan was right; Chan had known he was bisexual for a while, but hadn’t really ever been good at knowing when he had crushes on people. “Don’t worry, it’s… I’m over you, I swear.” 

Hansol, looking a bit like he’d been hit over the head with a steel beam, just leaned against his boyfriend’s shoulder again. 

“And Soonyoung likes spending time with you, right?” Apparently, Seungkwan wasn’t done.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean—”

“He does think you’re cute,” Hansol cut in, able to pull himself out of his shock just in time to tease Chan. Typical. 

“No, he doesn’t.”

“I’m serious.” Sure enough, Hansol looked serious. “He told me. Then told me not to tell you. So I said I wouldn’t. Then I told him that you liked attention.” 

Chan decided that he officially needed better friends. 

“Do you guys have some kind of bet, or something? Stop trying to make me think I have a crush on Soonyoung.” 

Seungkwan’s face went all wide-eyed and innocent, a pout on his lips, Chan deciding he should leave for the dance building early before he got genuinely annoyed. He knew his friends meant well, and that it was all in good fun, but still. Yes, Soonyoung was attractive, but mulling over whether or not he wanted to kiss Soonyoung was not what he needed to be worrying about right now. 

When he walked into the practice room, he was met with the sight of Soonyoung in a kind of a handstand, balancing up on his forearms with his long legs extended out behind him, the right one straight towards the ceiling with pointed toes, the left one weighed down by the brace and only parallel to the floor. Soonyoung saw Chan in the mirror, smiling upside down at him.

“Hi!” His face was quickly going pink. “Could, uh… Could you help me down?” 

“Are you stuck?” Chan asked back in shock, dropping his dance bag in the doorway and rushing over, hovering, unsure of what to do. 

“Not really, I just usually get out of this by letting my legs drop, but I don’t think that would be safe.” Soonyoung explained. “So, just…” 

Chan ended up holding Soonyoung’s left thigh, lowering it carefully to the floor. Once his left knee was safely down, Soonyoung lowered his right leg easily, the movement graceful. His face was very pink when he sat back up. 

“What were you even doing?” Chan asked him.

“I got bored waiting for you.” There was a soft, playful pout to Soonyoung’s voice. “I wanted to start stretching, but I got carried away.” 

“Got carried away,” Chan echoed, thinking back to the pose he’d found Soonyoung in. Soonyoung grinned at him, the expression enough to make Chan wary. “What?”

“Wanna let my thigh go?”

“Oh!” Chan hadn’t even noticed that he was still touching Soonyoung, lurching back like he’d been burned. “Sorry.” 

“It’s fine! Actually, while you’re there…” Soonyoung shifted his hips to adjust how he was sitting, spreading his right leg out. “Could you help me with some stretches?”

Chan found himself crouched next to Soonyoung on the floor, mostly helping Soonyoung move his left leg. He knew Soonyoung was flexible, but feeling it for himself was another thing entirely, and feeling the tense, tremble, and slow relax of Soonyoung’s inner thigh under his hands had his mouth going dry. 

“Okay, now come around and push down on my back.” Soonyoung requested. He was all the way out into his center splits, the toes of his right foot pointed again. “Go slowly, though. It’s been a couple of days.”

Chan did, placing his palms flat against Soonyoung’s shoulder blades. Soonyoung stretched his arms out in front of him as he lowered his upper body towards the floor, Chan feeling his back muscles shift under the thin fabric of his shirt. Soonyoung, while lithe and lean, was also so solid, so firm, so strong, and it was all Chan had not to dig his fingertips into the fabric, just a bit. 

Soonyoung let out a slow exhale when he’d bent all the way forwards. 

“Alright, now hold my hips,” he instructed, Chan having to swallow as he moved his hands down Soonyoung’s sides to his hip bones. His thumbs were closer to the middle of Soonyoung’s lower back, and he was able to feel the symmetrical dip of dimples there. “Make sure I don’t move.” 

Then Soonyoung flexed his right foot, making a small sound as he did. Chan knew that the purpose of the small motion was to increase the stretch in his right hamstring, and as Soonyoung had warned, his right hip was trying to shift up off the ground. Chan held it still, and Soonyoung’s hip popped loudly.

“Are you okay?” Chan asked, surprised, and Soonyoung let out a sigh. 

“I’m perfect,” Soonyoung responded, moving to straighten his back. Chan, too distracted to lean away, found himself very close to Soonyoung once he was sitting up, especially when Soonyoung turned his head to look at him, their faces only inches apart. He was so pretty this close up, with his soft eyes and full lips, and the realization crashed over Chan all at once. He did want to kiss Soonyoung. He wanted to kiss Soonyoung so badly that the pit of his stomach burned with the thought of it. Oh, he was going to kill Seungkwan for this. “That was just what I needed, actually; my hip has been feeling tight lately. Thanks, Channie.” 

Channie. The cutesy nickname had Chan reeling away from Soonyoung, brought him back to where he was and what he was doing. He stumbled all the way to his feet, and Soonyoung was looking at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah. Fine, just think we should get started. I… I’ll warm up.” 

Now that he’d noticed it though, it was impossible to ignore. He didn’t just want to kiss Soonyoung, or touch Soonyoung. He wanted to do well for Soonyoung, wanted Soonyoung to pay attention to him, to praise him. He kept remembering Hansol’s words, how Hansol claimed Soonyoung had called him cute, desperate now to know in what way he’d meant it. 

In a way, Chan was grateful that there was only one week left until the exhibition; when it was over, they wouldn’t have a reason to hang out so much anymore, and there would be less of a chance for him to make a fool of himself in front of the guy that he—admittedly, goddamn it—liked. He was dreading it too though, not wanting his time with Soonyoung to end. 

He agonized over it all week. When Friday evening finally rolled around, he decided to say something, stopping his cool-down to look over at Soonyoung. As always, he was sitting on the floor, his back against the mirror. Unable to stay still, unable to stop dancing, Soonyoung had spent the whole week learning tutting technique, and was flailing his arms around his head with the most concentration Chan had ever seen on another person’s face. 

“Hey, Soonyoung?” 

Soonyoung paused, his thumb and pointer fingers making a rectangle in front of his face. After a moment, he grinned and peeked at Chan through it. 

“What?” 

“Oh, I just…” This was going to be hard though, if Soonyoung wouldn’t take him seriously. “I just think that when you’re completely healed, we should do something. You know, choreograph something together. It would be fun.” 

Soonyoung’s mouth fell open, his hands dropping into his lap.

“Do you mean it?” 

“I—yes?” The question was baffling. “Of course.” 

A smile was growing on Soonyoung’s face, making Chan smile in return. 

“Oh, that would be so much fun!” He looked delighted. “But… I mean, fully healed though, that’ll take a while. Are you sure that you’ll still want me?” 

“Yes,” Chan answered, the words instant, not even needing to think. “I want you.” 

Soonyoung was still smiling, but the expression had softened from new excitement into something else, something more genuine, and it made Chan swallow a bit. 

“Alright.” His voice, too, was softer and more honest. “I’ll hold you to that, okay?” 

On Saturday, Wonwoo drove Soonyoung to the hospital. Seokmin helped him out of the car, the two of them keeping a slow pace with him as he clicked inside on his crutches. He had a check up appointment, here for, at the very least, an x-ray. If he was lucky, he would be able to get an ankle boot to have some—extremely limited, but still—mobility back. 

Thankfully, he was healing well. They fitted him for a boot and put it on him, saying that while it did allow him to put some weight on his foot, he was to only do so extremely sparingly, and to still use the crutches as often as he could. He texted the information to Jihoon in excitement, who in turn invited all three of them over for lunch. 

The doctors had said he was healing more quickly than expected, Soonyoung making sure to tell Mingyu when they arrived. Mingyu seemed thrilled that all the high protein food he was cooking for Soonyoung was working, picking him up in a bear hug and spinning him around. They went over the details of Soonyoung’s doctor visit as Mingyu finished the meal, Seokmin helping Jihoon pull out plates and eating utensils.

“Okay,” Soonyoung started around a mouthful of food, putting his chopsticks down. “Everyone here knows I like Chan, right?” 

“Yup,” Wonwoo said, not even looking up from his plate. Jihoon raised an eyebrow.

“So you’re admitting it now?” he asked, and Soonyoung gave an exaggerated sigh. 

“Come on Hoonie, it was obvious from the start!” he insisted. “I just… We’re spending time together now, you know? And we’re friends and stuff.” 

“That can’t be the reason you’re finally fessing up,” Jihoon said, and Soonyoung groaned. Jihoon knew him too well. 

“I say all of this because I’ve made a decision,” he declared grandly, pretending to regain control of the situation. Seokmin and Mingyu were looking at him with interest, so he continued. “I have to kiss him.” 

That made Wonwoo look up. “What?” 

“We were talking the other day, after practice—well, not exactly, he was cooling down and I was just being weird by myself on the floor—and he called my name, right?” 

“You’re that easy?” Jihoon asked back. 

“No!” Soonyoung tried to kick Jihoon under the table but Jihoon seemed to anticipate the move, lifting his legs up just in time. “No, he got my attention so he could tell me that he wanted us to choreograph a routine together, once my ankle is healed.” 

“Oh!” Seokmin exclaimed excitedly, his cheek bulging with food, pointing his chopsticks at Soonyoung like he’d just made a good point in an argument. “That’s romantic!”

“You’re my favorite,” Soonyoung told him, and Seokmin beamed. “So I asked him—because it’ll still be weeks before I even have this stupid boot off—if he was sure, because it would take a while. And he said…” 

He paused for dramatic effect, feeling satisfied when he looked around and saw all of his friends looking back at him. Mingyu had even stopped chewing. 

“He said ‘yes, I want you’.” 

A chorus of excited exclamations went around the table, Soonyoung unable not to beam around at them all. 

“Right? He said ‘I want you’ to me. That means I have to make out with him. Like, I think that’s a law somewhere.” 

That had Jihoon snorting a laugh into his food. Both Mingyu and Seokmin seemed on board, Mingyu insisting that he should have already gone for it. Unfortunately though, Wonwoo was his smartest friend, and he didn’t seem so sure. He had that contemplative frown on his face. 

“What?” Soonyoung asked, reaching across the table to poke him in the forehead. 

“It’s just—he used to literally hate you, didn’t he?” 

“He didn’t! I asked him.” 

“Okay, you had to ask him if he hated you, and that really isn’t much better. It’s barely been two weeks since then, hasn’t it?”

Soonyoung nodded, the beginnings of unease curling in his stomach too. Which was frustrating, because he’d been so sure before about his plan to just go for it.

“Hey!” he protested to Wonwoo. “Stop that. Hold on.” 

He pulled his phone out, dialing Jeonghan’s number. Jeonghan had gotten himself two boyfriends, and that made him the most qualified person Soonyoung knew to ask for love advice. 

“Soonie!” Jeonghan exclaimed as he picked up. “What’s going on? I thought Wonwoo was driving you around today.” 

“Oh, he is. I’m fine, I just had a question.”

“Okay, shoot.” 

“Should I make out with Chan?” 

Jeonghan didn’t even hesitate. “Yes, absolutely.” 

“What?” came a voice, sounding far off on Jeonghan’s side, and Jeonghan was clearly tilting his mouth away from the phone as he called out,

“Shua! Should Soonyoung make out with Chan?”

“Definitely!” Joshua called back.

“I knew it!” Soonyoung exclaimed at them. “Thanks.” 

He hung up, and Wonwoo sighed at the pointed look Soonyoung gave him. 

“Okay, okay. Fine. You weren’t going to listen to me anyway,” Wonwoo said. “But at least have some mercy on him and wait until after the exhibition, alright? That’s what he needs to focus on right now, and I know you would feel bad if you distracted him.” 

Soonyoung took the words in, then slumped back into his seat. 

“I hate that you’re always right,” he complained, and Wonwoo laughed. 

The ten qualifiers for the exhibition, Instructor Hyelim, and Soonyoung himself got on a bus the next day to ride to Seoul. They had a couple of hours allotted to them in the performance hall, intended to be used for rehearsal and figuring out the logistics of getting everyone’s music to play over the speakers. Then they were to travel to their nearby hotel, spend the night, and have their exhibition performances the following day. 

Soonyoung was excited, snagging the seat across the aisle from Junhui and Minghao. Minghao was excited too, while Junhui looked genuinely nervous. Chan sat next to Soonyoung, falling asleep within the first thirty minutes of their journey, and after a particularly sharp right turn, ended up with his head against Soonyoung’s shoulder. 

Soonyoung looked down at him, at his slightly parted lips and his soft eyelids, at the way his eyelashes just barely brushed his cheeks. He considered waking Chan, because of how delicate and dangerous the situation seemed; the longer Soonyoung was allowed to look at him like this, the more he wanted to call his name, to be looked at with sleepy eyes, to take Chan’s chin in his hand and place a kiss on his lips. He wondered if Chan would push him away, kiss him back, or just blink at him. 

But he’d made a promise not to do exactly that, tearing his eyes away. It was a struggle not to glance at him again, a fight Soonyoung lost about once every two minutes. Then the bus went over a bump and Chan startled awake, apologizing and shifting off of him. Soonyoung took a long, slow breath. 

He left Chan alone while they were in the performance hall, letting him practice on his own, limping along on his crutches next to Instructor Hyelim as she checked in on everyone and tried to get the music up and running. They used his phone to figure out how to hook the system together, but after accidentally blasting SHINee’s Woof Woof throughout the entire auditorium, including over the outside speakers, he was told not to touch anything. 

“Wait, while I have you…” Instructor Hyelim set her backpack down, crouching and digging through it. “Let me give you this. Don’t lose it.”

She placed a hotel key card in his open palm, but didn’t let go of it. 

“What?” he asked her. 

“This is the key for you and Chan’s room,” she said. 

“It’s—oh.” Since he was the plus one, Soonyoung had assumed he’d be alone, or in the same room as Hyelim. 

“Behave yourself,” she told him with a grin on her face, letting the key card go, Soonyoung left to wonder if the entire world knew about his crush on Chan. Chan didn’t seem overly surprised that he and Soonyoung were sharing a room, though he disappeared into the shower almost immediately upon getting there, so Soonyoung—after texting Jihoon in a rush of excited panic about the whole thing—stretched himself out on the floor. 

Chan reappeared about twenty mintes later, his hair only halfway to dry, in a soft grey t-shirt and sweatpants. He looked warm and clean, his posture comfortable, and in the quiet solitude of the hotel room, something about it felt intimate.

“Hey sexy,” Soonyoung greeted, letting the playfulness he put in the words disguise how much he meant them. It made Chan laugh as he sat down on one of the beds, putting his arms out behind him, resting his weight on the heels of his palms as he looked down at Soonyoung, his knees slightly spread. 

“You should get ready to go to bed,” he said, sitting forward and extending an arm as though to help Soonyoung up. “Long day tomorrow.” 

“For you, maybe.” Soonyoung took his hand but stayed seated, holding it loosely just because he could, swinging their arms a bit. And Chan let him, just looking at him, a light smile resting on his lips. “I’m not going to be performing. I’m just going to be doing more sitting. I swear, once this boot is off, I’m never going to sit down again.” 

That made Chan laugh again, the sound soft and relaxed, and he gave Soonyoung’s hand a squeeze. 

“You still need to rest though,” he tried again, giving Soonyoung’s arm a bit of a tug. Soonyoung sighed, pulling himself to his feet.

“I don’t like it,” he confessed quietly. Chan glanced up at him, frowning in confusion. 

“Sleeping?” 

“Well, not sleeping; sleeping is fine. My ankle, though. It always hurts more at night.” He shrugged, glancing away from Chan. “I don’t know, apparently that’s normal, but that doesn’t make it fun.” 

Chan’s frown turned into something a little more serious. 

“Does it hurt very often?” he asked. “You don’t complain about it.” 

“I try not to,” Soonyoung confessed. “I don’t want to, you know, be a downer or anything.” 

“You can, though,” Chan told him, his voice honest. “You don’t need to pretend it doesn’t suck, because I’m sure it does.”

“It…” Soonyoung let himself sigh, let his shoulders slump just a bit. “It sucks. It sucks so fucking much.” 

Chan’s face had gone sympathetic and Soonyoung didn’t like that at all, tugging on his hand in return. Chan stood obediently, giving him a curious look, and Soonyoung put a hand on his waist, taking a small step back. Chan moved with him, looking confused. 

“Dance with me,” Soonyoung requested, Chan’s expression softening again into a smile.

“You know ballroom dancing too?” he asked, though he didn’t seem very surprised. 

“Only a little,” Soonyoung said, bringing Chan’s free hand up to rest on his shoulder. He taught Chan a simple sequence, just four steps that repeated in order. Chan picked it up quickly, despite how awkwardly Soonyoung was moving with the boot on, and before long they were swaying slightly in the middle of the room. Soonyoung was again trying not to look at Chan’s face for too long, but it was difficult; they were so close, and Chan himself seemed to have no qualms with staring, Soonyoung almost able to feel the way Chan was looking over him. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Chan said into the silence. “You don’t need this exhibition, anyway.”

“What do you mean?” 

“You’re amazing.” Chan’s voice was plain, unabashed, and Soonyoung completely stopped moving just to look at him. “It doesn’t matter where you perform, or who you talk to. You’ll succeed, no matter what.”

The words went straight into Soonyoung’s chest, sticking there, bouncing against his heartbeat and resonating through his rib cage. He made himself smile, smile and tuck his chin, beginning to sway again. He had to, had to move, had to look away, or he’d kiss Chan here and now.

“Don’t get all cheesy on me,” he said, trying to keep his voice light. 

“Sorry,” Chan said. His voice was a bit quiet; he didn’t sound sorry at all. “I just don’t think I’ve ever told you how much I admire you.”

Chan was so, so close to him, Soonyoung now regretting this whole slow dance idea. But he didn’t want to pull away, deciding to change the subject instead. 

“Jihoon and I always said we’d work together in the future,” he started. “He’d write the music, and I’d write the dance moves. I’d create choreography for the songs he composed.” It was a silly childhood dream they’d had, one they’d talked about in middle school. It hadn’t been mentioned much since their last year in high school, but Jihoon was majoring in Music Composition and he was majoring in Dance, so it was still a possibility, he supposed. 

“You wouldn’t want to perform?” Chan asked, and Soonyoung shrugged, humming a bit.

“Sure I do. But creating… creating is just so much fun.” 

“I want to perform,” Chan said, after a moment of silence. “That’s the best part, for me.” 

“You’re good at it,” Soonyoung said, nodding in agreement. “Your charisma is incredible.” 

They’d stopped moving again. Chan’s hand was in his, Chan’s eyes on his face. Chan hadn’t looked away from him since entering the room, and that realization had Soonyoung’s heart in his throat.

“Yeah?” Chan asked, his voice softer than it usually was. 

“Yeah. People are drawn to you. You’re good.” Soonyoung wanted to stop talking, wanted to just shut up before he said something too telling, but he didn’t seem able to. Not with Chan looking at him like that, open and honest and a bit hopeful. “You’re so good.” 

His words didn’t end up being the problem. His eyes flicked down to Chan’s mouth, unable to help himself. Chan saw it, that much obvious by the look on his face, and his grip tightened just a bit on Soonyoung’s hand and shoulder. Not letting him back away. Not wanting him to back away. 

Soonyoung cursed. Chan’s eyes went wide, blinking a few times. 

“Are, uh—” That obviously hadn’t been what Chan had expected—Soonyoung couldn’t let himself think about what Chan had expected— “are you okay?” 

“No!” Soonyoung whined, because he wasn’t, letting himself turn up the dramatics. That had Chan worried, and he led Soonyoung to his bed, sitting him down. 

“Are you okay? Is it your ankle?” 

Chan was still holding his hand, Soonyoung drawing it close so that the back of it was resting on his thigh, looking down at the way his fingers fit between Chan’s. He’d never been good at self control when it came to things like affection, and just let himself speak.

“I promised that I wouldn’t kiss you until after your performance, but if I wait that long, I think I’ll die.” 

To Chan’s credit, he recovered quickly. He took in the words, then straightened up a bit and blinked, but didn’t look at Soonyoung when he spoke. 

“Wouldn’t want you to die.”

“What?” 

“Kiss me.” Chan turned to him, the attempt from before to be suave completely gone. “Please.”

Chan was looking at him, his lips slightly parted, his eyes on Soonyoung’s face. He wasn’t backing down from the request, open about wanting it, and the fingers he had laced with Soonyoung’s tightening their grasp, just a bit. 

So Soonyoung took Chan’s chin in his free hand and kissed him. 

Chan kissed back, tentative, incredibly sweet but hesitant enough to make Soonyoung pull away. He leaned back to look at Chan’s face, who met his eyes for just a moment before leaning close and kissing Soonyoung in earnest. 

This was the Chan that Soonyoung was used to, the Chan that was in no way unsure; he pressed into Soonyoung, tilting Soonyoung’s chin, Soonyoung sliding his hand to the back of Chan’s neck to push his fingers into the hair on the back of Chan’s head. 

“I really like you,” Chan murmured, close and a bit breathless, and Soonyoung had to pull back, had to release Chan’s hand and look him full in the face. 

“Say that again,” he requested. Chan blushed, so flustered that he stood up, Soonyoung realizing that the confession had been, at least in some part, an accident to say out loud. He sat up properly and reached for Chan, pulling him close so he stood between Soonyoung’s spread knees.

“I really like you too,” he told Chan, tilting his chin up to look at him. “I just wanted to watch you say it.”

“I…” Even Chan’s ears had gone pink but he was smiling now, just a bit. He met Soonyoung’s eyes anyway. “I really like you.”

Soonyoung beamed, feeling his whole face scrunch up in happiness, tugging Chan towards him. Chan smiled back, Soonyoung able to feel that smile on his lips as Chan kissed him, the upturned shape pressed to his mouth again and again before heightening into something more serious, Soonyoung letting his lips part. 

Chan sat back down on the bed, Soonyoung turning to face him, moving back until he was sitting up against the cushions, pulling Chan in until he was almost in his lap. Chan kissed him firmly, soundly, like he’d never done anything more important in his entire life, and it was all Soonyoung had to just wrap his arms around Chan’s waist and revel in it. 

Soonyoung wanted him closer, shifting so he was laying back, tugging Chan down. Chan clearly didn’t expect it, half falling on him instead, a laugh leaving his mouth. It made Soonyoung giggle, and soon they were laying next to each other, Chan’s eyes squeezed closed, Soonyoung loving the way happiness looked on his kiss-bitten lips. 

“Should I admit something else embarrassing?” Chan asked, Soonyoung glancing at him in interest. 

“Oh, I’d love that,” he said, and Chan laughed again before sitting up. Soonyoung rested a hand on his thigh, lightly massaging the muscle. 

“You already know that I’m jealous of you,” Chan started, Soonyoung impressed that he could say the words so plainly, “but another part of why you annoyed me so much was because of how hot you are.” 

That wasn’t what Soonyoung expected, and he had to stare at Chan for a moment. 

“I’m—you—what?” he asked, Chan grinning. It became clear that he’d said the words not because he felt he needed to get them off his chest, but because he knew they’d make Soonyoung speechless. That realization stunned him just a bit more. “You think I’m hot? But I think you’re hot.” 

Chan giggled. “We can both be hot,” he said, the amusement a light in his eyes. 

“So, what you’re saying is…” Soonyoung sat up too, feeling a bit bolder, slipping his fingers under Chan’s t-shirt. Chan squirmed a bit from his ticklish fingertips but didn’t try to make him move, looking at him as though wondering what he planned to do. “What, I need to wink at you more?” 

That was clearly a lot less sexy than anything Chan expected him to say and he burst out laughing, his head completely falling back, Soonyoung taking advantage and nuzzling his face into Chan’s neck. He placed a few light kisses there, just because he could, until Chan took Soonyoung’s face in his hands and brought Soonyoung’s lips to his instead. Soonyoung wrapped his arms around Chan, and it wasn’t a surprise this time, when he began to pull Chan down. Chan came easily, kissing him as he relaxed into Soonyoung’s embrace. 

With Chan’s arms around him and Chan’s chin on his shoulder, his slow, easy breathing in Soonyoung’s ear, Soonyoung slept comfortably the entire night. They woke comfortably too, Chan still half asleep when he rolled and kissed Soonyoung good morning. It didn’t take long for his grogginess to fade when Soonyoung mentioned the exhibition performance, and he went quiet instead, focused, Soonyoung following him around, rubbing his upper arms and telling him that he was ready, that he would do well. 

They separated when it was time for Chan to go warm up, Soonyoung walking him to the small room backstage with the rest of his classmates, making sure to hug and encourage Minghao and Junhui as well. Then he made his way into the auditorium to sit down, taking a breath before he walked through the doors, knowing that when he walked in he’d be faced with businessmen and talent scouts that would want to talk to him, putting a happy face on. 

It was relatively painless, though all of them had something to say about his ankle, and all of them voiced remorse about him being unable to go on stage. Less of them seemed interested in his offer to send them the recorded footage of his exhibition audition, but Soonyoung didn’t let that bother him. He had the conversations Instructor Hyelim wanted him to have then took a seat, pulling out his phone. He’d promised Chan that he would record his performance.

While he had his phone raised, he didn’t look through the screen at all, watching Chan instead. As he’d told Chan, the performance was perfect, though Soonyoung knew it would be. Chan had worked too hard for too long, had taken every instruction and expanded on it, had run the moves again and again until it was impossible for the routine to be anything but flawless. But knowing that and seeing it in action were two different things, pride and affection welling up so strongly in Soonyoung’s chest as Chan performed that he couldn’t help how widely he was smiling, or how loudly he cheered when it was over. He knew he probably wasn’t supposed to do that, catching both Chan and the entire rest of the audience off guard, but he didn’t care. Chan met his eyes, his chest heaving, and smiled. 

“You were amazing!” Soonyoung exclaimed, when the round of performances from their school were over, the next school preparing their dancers, the audience taking a break. He hurried in as quickly as he could, swinging in on his crutches and launching himself at Chan, who caught him in a hug, his laugh loud and bright in Soonyoung’s ear. 

“Really?” 

“Really!” Soonyoung pulled back, wanting to see the smile on Chan’s face. “All of them were impressed, I’m sure. Come on; this is the part where you go out into the lobby and talk to them about how amazing you are.”

He dragged all of his friends out into the lobby with him, and since Minghao and Chan were new to this, introduced them to whoever would listen. Instructor Hyelim granted them permission to sit up in the back of the auditorium to watch the dancers from the other schools, so they stayed in the performance hall until the event was over, chatting with other dancers when they could. It was fun, especially with Chan next to him the whole time, relaxed and happy with the weight of the exhibition performance off his shoulders. 

They returned to their hotel in the early evening, told to pack up and be ready to leave in two hours. Soonyoung was still too distracted by how well Chan had done, in the middle of telling him for the third time in a row when Chan had a question.

“Hey, can I see my performance then? You filmed it for me, right?” 

“Oh!” Soonyoung sat on his bed, quickly pulling his phone out, Chan sitting next to him. “Yeah, yeah, it’s…” 

It took only a few seconds for them to notice that sure, Soonyoung had held his phone up the whole time, that he’d switched the camera into ‘video’ mode and pressed record, but hadn’t turned the camera around. He’d recorded his own face, his own silly, happy, excited expressions, instead of any footage of Chan dancing.

Upon seeing this, Chan burst out laughing. 

“I’m so sorry!” Soonyoung exclaimed, horrified. He really should’ve warned Chan about how terrible he was with technology. “I think… I think Instructor Hyelim was talking about recording everyone, you can ask her if…” 

“No, it’s okay.” Chan was watching the screen, a small smile on his face. Soonyoung found the footage embarrassing; not only was it a mistake that it existed, but it was a little too close up and at an unflattering angle, his face almost looking pudgy with how emphasized his smile was. But the light in his eyes and happiness on his face were obvious, everything about him getting more and more excited as the performance went on, his mouth falling open as Chan executed a complicated step sequence with precision. “I kind of like this better, actually.” 

The smile on Chan’s face was quiet, small, and perfect as he watched Soonyoung’s reactions, and Soonyoung felt a rush of affection for him all over again, nearly knocked over by the force of a realization that followed only a second later. It caught him by such surprise that he said it out loud.

“Holy shit, I can kiss you now.” 

“What?” Chan asked back, the words wrapped up in a laugh, amused by the nonsense that had just left Soonyoung’s mouth. Soonyoung didn’t care, taking Chan’s face in his hands and pressing a wet, messy kiss to his cheek.

“Hey!” Chan yelped, but he was still giggling so Soonyoung kept going, kissing his nose and his forehead, kissing him everywhere except his lips until Chan was grappling with him on the bed, half trying to kiss him back and half trying to get away. They rolled across the mattress, Soonyoung over Chan on the bedspread, when Chan managed to grab both sides of Soonyoung’s head to hold him still. He was breathless with laughter. 

“You did well,” Soonyoung told him. “I’m really, really proud of you.” 

The laughter faded as Chan took the words in, as he looked over Soonyoung’s face. Then something more serious, more genuine grew in his eyes and he lifted his shoulders up off the bed, kissing him firmly. It was a kiss that left Soonyoung breathless and put a spark in Chan’s eyes, Soonyoung leaning in to return it. He positioned himself more squarely over Chan, wedging one of his knees between Chan’s thighs, Chan fisting his hands a bit more firmly in Soonyoung’s hair. 

They ended up packing in a rush, nearly late to the bus, Soonyoung giving Instructor Hyelim a sheepish smile as he returned the key card to her. He found Chan sitting next to the window, Junhui squeezed into the seat next to him. Junhui was grinning a familiar, mischievous smile, while Chan looked a little nervous.

“What’s going on? Soonyoung asked. 

“Nothing!” Junhui said quickly, hopping to his feet, making a leap across the bus aisle and sliding in beside Minghao. Soonyoung looked to Minghao for an explanation, but Minghao just shrugged and put an arm over his boyfriend’s shoulders. 

“What was that about?” Soonyoung asked a bit more quietly, once the bus was moving and Chan had been quiet nearly the entire time. 

“Oh, just…” He seemed distracted, and Soonyoung was starting to feel a bit worried about it all. “He was—they both, really—they were asking me if I was your boyfriend. I didn’t know what to say.” 

“Oh.” Soonyoung sat there too, also feeling unsure. But there was only one way to find out the answer, so he decided to simply ask. “Do you want to be?” 

Chan’s eyes flicked to him quickly, a smile growing on his face, muted but obvious all the same. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I do.” 

“Good,” Soonyoung responded, and Chan pressed a quick, chaste kiss to his cheek, Soonyoung enjoying it for just a moment before Junhui and Minghao began a light, teasing cheer. 

“Chan?” 

“No.” 

“Channie!”

“No!” 

Chan could tell by the tone of his boyfriend’s voice that he was pouting, which was why he kept his eyes resolutely on his phone screen. 

“But I’m bored!” Soonyoung exclaimed, letting out a loud breath. Then his voice went all grumbly, like he meant to say the words to himself, except that they were definitely loud enough to hear over the music playing, especially with the way he and Chan were the only two in the room. “Why are you even here then?”

“Oh?” Chan glanced up. Sure enough, Soonyoung’s lips were bunched together in a childish frown. “Do I just exist to entertain you?” 

“I thought it was in the job description, yeah,” Soonyoung said, and in spite of himself, Chan laughed a bit. 

“I’m here so I can help you, if you need it. But you need to get this done, even if it’s boring.”

Soonyoung heaved out a sigh. “I know.” 

Soonyoung had had his boot off now for a solid four weeks, but he was still a long way from healed; he had a strict physical therapy regimen he was required to follow by a physical therapist, as well as a specific amount of time he still had to wait before attempting certain jumps. Chan often came with Soonyoung to the practice room for physical therapy to help him out, because there were some positions Soonyoung still couldn’t maneuver into well, or to encourage Soonyoung when things got too hard. And he knew that Soonyoung appreciated his company, even if he called Chan being there cold-hearted torture because he was, quote-unquote, “just standing there looking all sexy”, but “they couldn’t even make out”.

Chan pointing out that he was literally just in sweatpants and a t-shirt hadn’t done anything against Soonyoung’s argument. 

“I would probably be able to do all of these exercises better if I had a sexy dance to watch while I was doing them,” Soonyoung said, with a pointed look at Chan. Soonyoung was standing at the bar against the mirrored wall, doing slow exercises Chan had learned were called battement dégagés, which truly did look dull.

“Alright, I’ll go call Junhui,” Chan said, even pretending to start towards the door, Soonyoung squawking out a protest that made him laugh. “I’m not going to do a sexy dance for you, Soonyoung.” 

“Oh, you won’t do it now,” Soonyoung said. He was pouting again, holding up a hand and beginning to count each list item off on his fingers. “But you’ll: secretly choreograph a sexy routine, put it to the sexiest Taemin song in existence, record yourself performing it, then send it to me at two thirty-eight in the morning. On a Thursday.”

“You gave Wonwoo a heart attack with how you broke into our apartment at three AM,” Chan said, laughing a bit at the memory. Wonwoo, with the comforter from his bed wrapped around his shoulders, looking bleary, his hair disheveled and his glasses askew, had assessed the situation for about three seconds before saying he was sleeping on Jihoon and Mingyu’s couch and just walking out into the night. 

“Well, your pants weren’t going to take themselves off,” Soonyoung pointed out. Despite trying to be funny, Soonyoung truly did look a bit tired and put out at having to do such basic moves, and Chan knew he was here for morale, so he took pity on him and walked closer.

“How many more of these do you have to do?” he asked.

“Five more sets of ten.”

“Oh, that’s not so bad.” Chan put a hand on the bar too, facing Soonyoung, trying to mirror his movements. “Maybe we can do them together.” 

Soonyoung lit up. He loved it when Chan did ballet, simply because of how incredibly bad at it he was. 

Sure enough, Soonyoung was correcting him immediately, each sweep of their legs leading to a new constructive comment.

“Point your toe more. No, keep your ankle like this. Extend your leg farther. Don’t put so much weight on your toes.”

Chan knew that he was doing this for Soonyoung, that repping something again because it wasn’t quite right would get Soonyoung through fifty of these leg moves in record time, but he still didn’t like being told that he was wrong.

“You’re irritating,” he said, and Soonyoung laughed, pausing with his leg extended to give his shoulders a little shimmy.

“Oh? Am I getting you all hot and bothered?” 

Chan gave up his ballet stance, Soonyoung whining at him immediately. 

“No no, I’m sorry. I’ll shut up, I promise.”

“No, you won’t.” 

“If you stop, I’ll stop,” Soonyoung threatened. “It’s either this, or you do a sexy dance.” 

“Are you—are you really going to use the fact that I care about you… against me right now?” Chan asked in slight disbelief. Soonyoung just grinned at him. Sighing, Chan replaced his hand on the bar and tried to reposition his legs. He’d been told by Seungkwan, about a month into he and Soonyoung’s relationship, that he was hopelessly whipped. Maybe his friend was right.

True to his word, Soonyoung kept his mouth closed. Or, kept it closed until they were finished. Then he beamed at Chan.

“You only did seventeen of those wrong!” 

“We only had twenty left!” Chan exclaimed back at him, and Soonyoung burst into giggles. 

“It’s okay! It’s okay if dégagés aren’t your thing. You’re much better at pliés anyway.”

“If this is another joke about my butt—”

“I wasn’t going to talk about your butt!” Soonyoung insisted. “I was going to talk about your thighs this time.” 

He reached over and squeezed one for good measure, right above Chan’s knee, too quick and nimble for Chan to get away in time—Chan was still trying to get used to having such a lithe and graceful boyfriend, now that the boot was off—and it tickled, Chan yelping. He realized though, as he jolted away from Soonyoung, what Soonyoung was trying to do. Soonyoung was trying to pester Chan into kissing him, a pattern he only recognized because of how often it worked on him. 

“If you want to kiss me, you just have to ask,” he decided to say. Soonyoung, after getting over the surprise of being found out, pouted again. The expression was painfully cute—and also kind of hot, but maybe that was just Chan, and Seungkwan was right and there was something wrong with him. 

“I tried to ask earlier, and you said no.” 

“You weren’t done with your physical therapy earlier,” Chan pointed out, stepping closer. Soonyoung put his arms round Chan’s neck, a mock-contemplative expression on his face.

“Just have to ask, huh? Maybe I’ll ask the same way you did, the first time. You were so polite about it. Said please and everything.” 

“Soonyoung,” Chan tried, unwilling to be teased, knowing that now he sounded like the whiny one. Soonyoung leaned in close, so close that they were only a few inches apart, only a second away. It was instances like this that made Chan acutely aware of the effect Soonyoung had on him; for a moment, he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“Chan?” Soonyoung’s voice was soft, that soft way he would turn it and somehow make it sound like the most gentle thing Chan had ever heard. “Can I kiss you? Please?” 

All Chan could do was nod, Soonyoung capturing his lips in a kiss. Soonyoung kissed him thoroughly, holding him close, like he was the only person in the world.

“So polite,” Chan murmured when Soonyoung pulled back to breathe, letting his eyes open as he said Soonyoung’s words back to him. “Said please and everything.” 

That had Soonyoung giggling against his mouth, the sound pure and light with happiness, and Chan had to smile, unable to help it, his eyes sliding closed again as he pressed his forehead to Soonyoung’s. There was something rising in his body, expanding through his chest and pushing his heartbeat into his throat, but before Chan could figure out what it was Soonyoung was pulling back with a gasp of realization.

“Wait! I’m done with my physical therapy for the day!” 

“Yeah, you are,” Chan said with a laugh, his boyfriend doing some happy pirouettes around the room, his arms extended and his head thrown back. Watching the silly celebration had the bubble in his chest bursting open, the understanding of what the feeling was running through Chan’s whole body, bright and warm. 

“I had some ideas for what song we could use for our duet,” Soonyoung was saying, bending to pick up his cell phone, scrolling for a moment. “I was thinking that it would be fun for both of us to challenge a more contemporary style, but still keep elements of our individual…” 

His voice trailed off as he finally turned and looked at Chan, the next words more curious and amused than accusatory. 

“You’re not listening to me.” 

“Oh no, it’s just…” Chan laughed a bit. His next sentence hadn’t truly sunk in yet, but that didn’t make it harder to believe. “I’m in love with you, I think.” 

Soonyoung stared at him for just a moment before a smile split his face, then he was rushing to Chan, wrapping him up in his arms. Chan laughed as the force of Soonyoung’s embrace nearly knocked him off balance, squeezing back just as tightly. Practice could wait, but Chan didn’t mind that at all.