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Kyungsoo watched as the smoke from his cigarette dissolved in the chilly May air. He could hear the faint voices from the dance studio downstairs, see its golden light softly reflecting on the sidewalk’s moisture. He could recognise Hyejin’s booming language – it should have served as a call for him to enter the studio since his partner was already there, albeit a few minutes early.
He didn’t want to.
He relished in his last drag. It was like his legs refused to lift him up from his sorry squatting position - which wasn’t a good sign. Lately he was too tired to dance, or rather, felt tired with the mere mention of dancing.
‘Bad boy.’
Kyungsoo flinched at the unexpected voice. Unexpected but familiar, honey-like, warm in the icy night. It came from above. He ripped the cigarette from his mouth and craned his neck upwards.
A gaunt figure was leaning a bit too much on the balcony above him. It was late dusk, and the man’s long fringe framed much of his face, but Kyungsoo could still his gentle smile clearly, the way the corners of his lips slightly curved and the lines under his eyes deepened enchantingly. ‘What is a pro dancer like you doing smoking?’ he chided him.
Kyungsoo just smothered the cigarette butt on the cement next to him without breaking eye contact. It was actually a big deal, and he wasn’t sure why he decided it was a good idea to smoke right outside the studio, but Jongin wasn’t taking it seriously either. ‘Don’t tell,’ he said as innocently as he could.
‘I’ll think about it if you treat me to some fried chicken.’
Something stung in Kyugsoo’s heart, but he dismissed the feeling with a wide smile. It was a joke, or maybe force of habit.
‘Hyejin’s already here,’ Jongin said, gently shifting his foot from side to side.
‘I know,’ Kyungsoo all but groaned. ‘I should be heading in.’
‘I’ll meet you downstairs,’ Jongin said, flashing him one last enamouring smile, and with a smooth swing went back inside.
When Kyungsoo heard the balcony door slide shut, he sighed. He tried so hard to be cool and smooth whenever he interacted with Jongin, but he just didn’t have the charisma. Always pretty awkward and low-key. Jongin knew so many people too - it was impossible for Kyungsoo to stand out in the crowd. At first he didn’t mind knowing he didn’t impact Jongin’s life the way Jongin impacted his own, but the closer he grew with the man the more it mattered.
He groggily went down the cement steps to the dance studio, hearing the voices growing louder, snippets of Viennese waltz, scolding.
‘Evenin’,’ Kyungsoo drawled as he pushed the glass door open.
‘Why, look who decided to show up.’
‘Hello to you too, Hyejin,’ Kyungsoo sighed and headed to the changing room, not even acknowledging the couple that came before them, who always for some reason stuck around.
‘Looking a bit tired, Kyungsoo,’ he heard his coach call.
‘No, I’m good!’ he called back, looking for his mouth spray. As he was getting ready, the coach skipped through the songs on the old CD player until she settled on their foxtrot, and Kyungsoo immediately felt himself tense up at the sound of these first few violin glissandos. There was no way this song wasn’t appearing in his nightmares after all of this was over.
Hyejin was waiting for him with a hand on her hip and a fond look on her face. They had been partners for quite some time now, although not paired up from childhood like many other couples. Kyungsoo had actually taken up dancing a lot later than Hyejin, but she had trouble finding a suitable partner for her height.
Kyungsoo decided to nod his greetings to Seungwan and Minseok hanging around in the studio just to establish there were no hard feelings, and they helloed back. For some reason he made people think he hated them.
Kyungsoo readied his hold and waited for the music to begin and for Hyejin to approach him. His eyes kept wandering to the empty triclinium by the changing rooms. Jongin said he’d come down… The burgundy cushions had adjusted to the shape of his body, and even the hard seating surface had a slope in its middle from where Jongin was sitting.
He felt a pinch on his bicep. ‘Agh!’ he whisper-shouted.
‘Concentrate,’ Hyejin said with narrowed eyes.
The coach begun clapping her hands to the rhythm, something that annoyed Kyungsoo to no end; it did more harm than good. It disrupted the flow of the music, but unfortunately that’s how standard was being taught; with the metronome.
Kyungsoo decided to start with the basics to get them both in the mood, but Hyejin had other ideas. He sensed her getting confused with her footing, and just like that they were out of sync from the first couple of seconds. Hyejin was straining her waist too much and Kyungsoo had to support too much of her weight and it was dragging him down.
‘No, no, stop,’ the coach said. ‘Come on, you two! How can you not even hold your poise?’
Kyungsoo knew neither Minseok nor Seungwan were judging them or had any ill intent staying there, but he suddenly really wished they would just leave.
‘That was my bad,’ Hyejin said. ‘Let’s try again.’
The music rewound. Hyejin arched her back in the impossible stance follows were supposed to maintain, and closed her eyes. It was something they sometimes did, it helped her become more aware of the lead’s movements and follow them accurately. If she had to result to this this early in practice, it was a sign of a rough night.
For a while they danced across the floor, taking one large stride, then glide the other foot until they met. Hyejin’s heels matched with the coach’s clapping perfectly and she moved so lightly she looked like she was floating. Her elegant smile was so uncharacteristic of her it reminded Kyungsoo to take care of his own expression as well, lifting his head a little and gently lifting the corners of his lips.
Kyungsoo released Hyejin’s back to have her swivel, but before he raised his other arm for her to do so, Hyejin had moved backwards for an open position. They both froze.
‘No, I…’ Kyungsoo begun.
Annoyance crossed Hyejin’s face for a split second before her expression returned to neutral. ‘Again,’ she said.
It had been like that. Kyungsoo and Hyejin never truly connected, but then Kyungsoo never truly connected with any partner. He couldn’t hide in standard dancing. It all really depended on the lead, even the way the follow danced, down to the flow of her dress.
Hyejin simply couldn’t follow him.
‘Are you aware you’re entering a competition in less than two months?’ the coach said sharply, after countless music rewinds and a sheen of sweat over the dancers’ foreheads. ‘What’s going on with you two?’
‘We’re always like that, coach…’ Kyungsoo muttered, looking down. They were definitely in a tough period. There were other times where they did so much better, they were coordinated and light. Sometimes it felt like Hyejin was just an extension of Kyungsoo’s own body; he had perfect control. But they had to hit a new low just before the competitions.
‘Well, you’re not supposed to be! What kind of follow can’t follow? I know you used to lead, Hyejin, but that was years ago and it’s never happening again! You’ve been a follow for so long, how haven’t you even gotten the gist of it yet?’
Hyejin released Kyungsoo’s hold like she got burned and took a couple of steps away from him. ‘What?’ she cried in disbelief. ‘Are you saying it’s my fault?’
‘I’m sayin-’
‘You don’t understand how hard I’m trying to follow Kyungsoo’s lead! I’m doing everything I can! It’s just so… incomprehensible! So unclear! I never know what he wants to do!’
Kyungsoo bit his lip.
‘It’s like he doesn’t have a personality or something. I have paired up with others, you know. It feels like they know what to do. Like they have a goal, have something in mind, want to be perceived a certain way. Kyungsoo’s just…’ she sighed. ‘He’s too underwhelming.’
‘What are you trying to say?’ the coach asked, shaking her head.
‘I’m saying I’m sick of you blaming me for trying my best when the real problem is Kyungsoo!’
‘You are a team, Hyejin, you cannot say something like-’
‘A team my ass!’ Hyejin shouted. ‘I’ll tell you what we are! A shitshow, that’s what!’
Hyejin was usually sharp with her words, but this sounded too genuine to just be another one of her antics. She sounded like she was completely tired of partnering up with Kyungsoo.
‘You know you could have talked to me about this,’ Kyungsoo said, letting a few moments of shock to pass.
She snapped her head towards him with her lips pursed, and he immediately knew he had screwed up by the hurt in her eyes. ‘Oh my fucking God, Kyungsoo,’ she said. ‘Don’t you even dare pretend like we haven’t had this conversation.’
It was true that Hyejin had attempted to address the problem numerous times in the past. Kyungsoo just thought it was too bothersome to get into it, he still hadn’t had his own issues figured out but instead of trying to reach to a conclusion with Hyejin, he dismissed her entirely.
Yes, he didn’t know who he wanted to be. The saddest part was how strongly that was conveyed through his dancing, enough to disorient even his partner.
Seungwan came to Hyejin’s side and attempted to have her calm down but Hyejin just brushed her off. ‘I’m just so sick of this, seriously. I get that you don’t want to share everything, but you have to help me out somehow here,’ she said. ‘We both depend on you, you know. Take responsibility.’
The moment Kyungsoo took a deep breath to say something that might get him out of this situation, he heard groggy footsteps coming from the stairs in the corner of the studio. ‘What’s the commotion?’
Kyungsoo gulped. It was Jongin. Shit.
He stood at the foot of the staircase, black tank top loosely tucked in jeans that were perhaps too baggy, low on his hips even with a belt. He was carelessly wearing a brown woolen jacket and had a single crutch under his arm.
‘Hey, Jongin,’ Hyejin sighed. ‘You look better.’
The words should have made Jongin beam, but the smile he gave was painfully empty. ‘Thanks.’
His flip-flops made a funny sound against the floor as he made his way to his usual seat on the triclinium.
Some rustling made Kyungsoo turn around and he saw Seungwan muttering something to Minseok with a strange mixture of sternness and belittlement on her face.
‘Right? What the hell were they even doing at the clinic, he looks like he’ll drop dead any moment now.’
A lump formed in Kyungsoo’s throat and he hoped with all his might he was the only one who heard Minseok’s reply. Jongin had gotten quite sick years ago, but it had only taken such a big physical toll on him about six months ago.
He used to be a remarkable dancer, especially in the Latin category. For Kyungsoo he was the best competitor out there, but he just never landed first place. He was stuck at second.
But that never stopped people from admiring him and dancers from looking up to him, recognising his expertise from movements to expressions. It was when the reason for his retirement became known that they all began mocking him. Suddenly, he was too weak.
‘I think we’ll get going, coach,’ Seungwan said, waving her hand goodbye. Minseok was eyeing Jongin as he gathered his things.
‘Alright,’ she replied. ‘Don’t forget to fix your heel, Seungwan.’
The door swung shut, allowing some of the chilly air to enter the suddenly gone-stale air of the studio.
A few moments of silence passed until the coach turned to the newcomer nestled on his usual seat.
‘Maybe you can give us some insight to this couple’s problem, Jongin,’ the coach suggested.
Jongin perked up from where he was slouching on his seat. ‘What’s this couple’s problem?’
‘They can never dance in unison. They have different things in mind.’
‘From the several times I’ve watched them practice I can’t really place what goes wrong. They stop almost before the mistake happens,’ Jongin said.
Hyejin opened her palms, fought the urge to roll her eyes. ‘That’s what he does, he just stops.’
‘Something’s holding him back,’ Jongin murmured, gazing deep into Kyungsoo’s eyes, so intensely he couldn’t quite hold the look. His own eyes dropped lower, on the bronze collarbones peeking through the round cut of his shirt. ‘About the foxtrot, you are both doing very well when it comes to solo turns, this is where you show your expertise. But you bounce too much in the lilt, and the open reverse turn that comes after that gets messy. You have to work on your outside swivels, I’m sure the coach has pointed that out. You’re also overdoing your jetes. Remember that you still have to dance quite waltz-like, with a few exceptions from Hyejin the overall feel of your performance is too dynamic,’ Jongin continued, and Kyungsoo watched as his neck slightly shifted and his Adam’s apple bobbed.
The sharp sigh that came from his right shattered his reverie. Hyejin’s expression had turned terribly sour. It was clear she didn’t like being directed by a fallen star.
‘Demonstrate, then,’ she said, crossing her arms over her chest.
Jongin gave a bitter smile and a quiet exhale. ‘I don’t demonstrate.’
A few moments passed in an audible silence. Hyejin’s lips turned into an impossibly tight line, so pursed it almost seemed like she was smiling herself, attempting to hold back a booming laughter. ‘Of course you don’t,’ she finally said. ‘You don’t do this, you don’t do that – why are you even here anyway? What do you do? Apart from sitting on a chair and patronise competing couples,’ Hyejin’s voice was picking up pace and volume, and she moved to the changing room, gathering her things in sharp, hard movements. ‘Bit hypocritical of you to critique me when you can’t even stand on your own. What a sorry fucking-‘
‘Hyejin-’
‘You’re not a dancer anymore, so quit acting like the hot-shot you think you still are. The only reason you’re still relevant at all is because journalists know where to find you since you can’t move around and you can’t run away. Half the sport comes down to psychology, you know. If you can’t even handle that much, why did you even bother in the first place. Good thing you fucked off and dancers who actually deserve it can make it to the top three.’
She shoved the door open with her shoulder, stomping outside and quickly getting lost in the early nightfall haze. The coach got over her initial shock quickly and called after her again, muttered some curses as she threw her coat over her shoulders and ran after her in quick, light steps. The door opened for the second time, then closed. Silence.
Kyungsoo stared blankly at the marks left by the soles of their shoes on the lacquered floorboards. They were jagged, mixed, and confused.
He turned to Jongin, who was standing stiffly, hands unmoving and lightly clutching at the fabric of his trousers. Under the harsh yellow light, that exposed all the hollows and creases on his body without mercy, that turned his skin into ancient parchment paper, he really did look nothing like a dancer.
‘You ruined my career,’ Kyungsoo said airily. He half meant it. Maybe more than half. At that exact moment, maybe he meant it fully, with a tired passion.
Jongin kept his gaze low, perhaps eyeing the same marks Kyungsoo was looking at before, and shrugged with a distant smile, shadows painfully travelling across his shoulders as he did so. ‘Dancing ruined me,’ he replied. ‘It’s just the way it is. That’s how dance is, you’re bound to get ruined.’
Whenever Kyungsoo tries out the sentence he’s about to say in his mind, he almost never ends up saying it. The more he repeats it, the more he changes his mind – doubts and uncertainties and fear of judgement or elaboration take over instead. ‘Well, not every dancer has anorexia. That’s really your own problem.’ This was a sentence he had been trying out, and one that must have gotten filtered and eventually lost. ‘I get that there’s immense pressure on your figure and appearance in competitive dancing, probably more than in any other sport, but every dancer has the same pressure. Or maybe it’s not even about that, maybe it’s just the general stress of performing and succeeding and fulfilling expectations and paying the rent. I think it would surface anyway, in one way or another. If you weren’t a dancer you’d be something else. The only difference is that maybe it wouldn’t affect your career as much. Anything can ruin you in that sense, anything you ever do, and you can’t blame it on every single aspect of your daily life, because at this point you must admit the problem is yourself.’
Jongin remained silent for a few seconds, or maybe they were minutes, and Kyungsoo was fighting within him. There was a raging war, and the side that urged him to take his things and leave, to beg for forgiveness and never look at him ever again was winning. ‘You sound like you’ve been meaning to say this for a while,’ Jongin just said. He was smiling.
‘I have been thinking about it,’ Kyungsoo confessed breathlessly.
‘About my anorexia?’
‘About… you in general. And how you must feel.’
Jongin’s smile widened, and it lost its sincerity in favour of a more teasing curve. ‘You seem like you’ve got it all sorted out,’ he drawled.
‘God, I…’ Kyungsoo sighed, and this time he did grasp at his hair. The short strands sprung out of his grip easily, though. ‘I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I had to say that, I guess with what just happened I’m kind of- no, there’s no excuse. I’m just an ass.’
Kyungsoo felt a poke on the back of his hand, light, quick, he could’ve imagined it. ‘It was strong of you to tell me that,’ Jongin said warmly. How pathetic that he felt like he needed to comfort Kyungsoo after practically being told he victimised himself. ‘I sort of need that reality check sometimes. I get caught up in my own world and the four white walls I keep staring at and sometimes forget there’s a whole 40.000 kilometers of planet earth where a lot more people have it like I do and much, much worse, there are millions of people who lead unhappy lives and I ought to be grateful I at least have one person who I can trust and love talking to.’
Kyungsoo gulped thickly. Was that last bit directed to him? He felt too delusional to even hope.
‘…Well,’ he said shakily.
‘What?’
‘I was afraid you’d hate me for saying that,’ Kyungsoo admitted, and even made a show of releasing a – very genuine yet exaggereated – sigh of relief. The moment it left his lips he wished he could take it back. Everything he seemed to be doing felt like the wrong choice lately. He was sort of sick of that. He wondered if it would ever end or if it were one of these new things that occasionally latch onto his confidence – these are there to stay. ‘I don’t know what I was thinking. Good thing I’m a dancer and not a therapist. My mind is so tangled sometimes I confuse my own self.’
Jongin snorted softly. ‘It shows,’ he stated, cocking his hip slightly. ‘You’re not completely fine either, are you? You know it. And you avoid it, like I did.’
‘Completely fine,’ Kyungsoo repeated lowly. ‘Who even is completely fine.’
‘It interferes with your life. It interfered with mine as well, but instead of overcoming it, I embraced it thinking it was part of me now. But it isn’t, it’s not supposed to be your life and I was just too afraid to confront my issues and get help, change the habits I formed over so many years. You deserve living, really living, living at your fullest, not by your standards.’
‘But that’s just who I am, it- it is my life, my life, it’s just-’, he blurted it out, ‘one big insecurity…’
Jongin’s arched eyebrows rose in surprise, and he gave the sweetest, almost disbelieving smile, and chuckled. ‘What are you insecure about?’
Kyungsoo let his arms drop to his sides once, then twice. His lips in a tight, almost embarrassed smile. So much for being cool in front of Jongin. He was even kind enough to act like he had nothing to be ashamed of.
‘Just… everything that I do. There’s always a subconscious embarrassment to it, even if I think I did well, something nags at the back of my brain. Maybe it’s the way I look. Or the way I talk, or the way I move, or my voice, or how I act when I’m excited or angry or anything strong, I’m supposed to be calm and collected and laid-back and I’m just not that at all, I’m just a nervous mess and I- talk so loudly lately-’
Jongin was standing in front of him. Very much in front of him, just a step away. Kyungsoo’s eyes leveled at his full, dry lips and jutted cheekbones, the muscles of his neck and the hollows all around them. His smell, an artificial cologne mixed with his skin and warmth, something rich and natural.
He extended his arms gracefully, angled his head, exposing the long neck. He leaned back, his waist bent impossibly, Kyungsoo could make out his straining abdominals even through the slight contact of fabric.
‘What are you doing?’ Kyungsoo asked dumbly.
‘What does it look like?’ Jongin replied, voice slightly annoyed or tight with effort - or both.
‘But you’re on crutches.’
‘Just do it, Kyungsoo.’
Kyungsoo didn’t need to be told twice – he was actually kind of afraid to be told twice – he immediately took the step that separated them and brought one arm around him and the other found his extended one. Jongin’s shoulder-blades peeked strongly through his tank-top, his clammy hand a stack of many, many thin bones. Kyungsoo felt like he was holding the most fragile thing in the world, held his breath the way one would if entrusted with a crystal relic.
They stood that way for a second, Kyungsoo’s legs almost trembling, his hands warm with the contact on Jongin’s skin. He let himself adjust to Jongin’s weight, the shape of his body – the long legs, the broad shoulders – his height, the way his mouth slightly ever curled into a smile. He didn’t remember the last time he had partnered up with a man, just had a sour memory of a big, clumsy mass stepping heavily around the floor, but Jongin was so pliant and flexible not even their height difference seemed to be an obstacle. He linked the length of his leg against his own, relaxed into the support on his back. He had melted into him.
Kyungsoo took a breath, not daring to make it as deep as he wanted it to be, because Jongin could feel everything. Every bead of sweat forming on his hairline, every rapid blink, his erratic heartbeat.
He began humming. It wasn’t their routine, it was another song – jazzy yet dipped in melancholy, that he had heard one day on the radio and that never seemed to leave him alone, not that he wanted it to.
He began taking basic steps, just to test the feeling of Jongin against him, the way they’d move together. He felt a buzzing energy where they were connected, seeping from Jongin’s hand into his, a feeling that urged him to give more, to go further, to set himself free. Soon his legs stretched to form long, flowing strides, in time with the long notes of his humming.
Jongin followed with such ease Kyungsoo almost thought he wasn’t even there, but when his eyes fell on the arched body on him, they were captivated. The air was flowing through his chestnut hair, strands of his fringe parting to reveal the gentle slope of his eyebrows and his high cheekbones. He must have been feeling the vibrations of Kyungsoo’s voice judging by the smile that had turned into something more of a grin.
The heels of Kyungsoo’s dress shoes clattered crisply against the floor along with his buzzing rhythm, giving a satisfying beat and encouraging him to sing more clearly. Jongin’s flip-flops were squeaking awkwardly with every pivot, but that made the dance all the more precious.
They started dipping from one side to the other, Kyungsoo not quite knowing what he was doing anymore, just wanting to relish in their coordination, the feeling of freedom and music. Jongin was flexible, bending his waist as far as Kyungsoo took it, turning his head elegantly every time they changed course.
Kyungsoo braced him a little firmer as they begun swivelling,and although Jongin was practically hanging from Kyungsoo, he wasn’t weighing him down. He was creating a point of gravity, a stabilising presence that Kyungsoo could rely on.
Jongin was stepping carefully between Kyungsoo’s legs, knowing exactly how to move his own without even looking. Nothing about his dancing, even in flip-flops and weak legs, was anything less than satisfyingly smooth. Kyungsoo had never felt that way in the studio before. It reminded him of why he picked up dancing. For the freedom, and for the music.
He swivelled around Jongin like an orbit, gliding easily across the floor once, twice – the feeling was so liberating he didn’t want to stop - thrice, four times, until his singing faltered and he got dizzy. The series of little missteps obviously did not go unnoticed by Jongin, but he laughed. A sound as sweet as honey, unlike his usual chuckles and hums. It was genuine, boyish, almost, and Kyungsoo melted.
Upon lining up after their swivelling, they tossed their leg together, high and to the right, then Jongin slid his own behind, to make way for Kyungsoo to step forward. He stood on the tips of his toes, then they took one step sideways, and then he stood on his tip toes again, following the song’s messily-made staccato perfectly. It made Kyungsoo wonder if he actually knew the song himself.
As the song was coming to an end, and his breathing was getting too laboured, Kyungsoo took hurried strides forwards, almost jumping, just to feel Jonging racing and laughing with him, away from the mess of reality.