#kyg

You were so close. So. Fucking. Close. So unbelievably ready to kiss Yugyeom; to tug at his hoodie and meld your lips to his in the middle of a fucking hallway where anyone could walk in, but no. You’re here, watching over rehearsal to add some finishing touches (not like it needed it, but he insisted, only serving to increase your levels of irritation) to Jimin’s routine, and you’re pissed.

“I’m so fucking mad at you,” you whisper to him seethingly, barely audible through the music that blasts through the portable speaker.

Jimin doesn’t even flinch. Instead, his eyes remain on his dancers as he replies nonchalantly, “Mmhm… Right. What for?”

You sigh, slumping in your seat before crossing your legs and arms, muttering something in defeat, “It’s stupid. I’m just mad.”

Not a word escapes his lips. Instead, he chooses to nod silently before sitting up, walking around with a blank face to correct some blocking issues. Once again, the changes are so minute that only he would make them; you’re not even sure why he needed to fix it in the first place. Well, you think, pausing with a slight tilt of your head, his routines are always the cleanest.

Ever the multi-tasking, detailed person that he is, he uses two hands and pulls each individual dancer in multiple directions, fixing them accordingly before taking a seat beside you. He snaps his fingers, and the music plays from the speaker before his attention shifts to you once again, even as his dancers rehearse. Only then, does he continue with your conversation.

“Why? Didn’t you and lover boy make out?” he asks, the last word causing your eyes to widen.

“What?” you flinch at the implication, cocking your head forward as warmth begins to flood through your cheeks. You’re so flustered that you didn’t even notice the fact that your voice increased in volume, spooking the people that are currently surrounding you. Embarrassed, you apologize softly with a nod of your head.

“What did you see?” you ask him, the words coming out in a forced whisper.

At first, Jimin opens his mouth to speak but instead, he stops himself, crossing his arms in front of his chest with the largest shit-eating grin that you’ve ever seen from him. The sight nearly makes you regret the fact that you even kept this promise. It’s almost mean, the way that he’s making you stew in your own thoughts before answering, “I meant to say make up, but I guess that you heard what you wanted to hear, huh?”

He grabs his water bottle and takes the most dramatic, slowest sip that you’ve ever seen, positively relishing in your flushed and sheepish state. Such a sight is rare, so he absolutely loves this colour on you. Perhaps, he should extend his thanks to Yugyeom for whittling you down, forcing this mushy, lovey-dovey side of you to come out.

“Just shut up and teach,” you poke back, prompting a giggle to escape Jimin’s lips. He throws his head back and squeezes his eyes shut at your torment, clutching his stomach as he does so. Clearly, he’s teasing you but he still places a hand on your shoulder reassuringly; as if he’s approving of the match.

“I’m happy for you,” he congratulates you before pulling away, leaving you on your seat. You should probably follow, considering that you have to help him rehearse but strangely enough, his words linger in your mind. Maybe it’s the way that he sounded so real, so genuinely happy for you that it made your heart swell.

It only reminds you of how you already miss Yugyeom face. How you yearn to see his bright, endearing smile; to feel his long arms wrapped around you, squeezing you into the warmest hug…

Unknowingly, you smile while staring at absolutely nothing, your mind preoccupied with how ecstatic the notion makes you.

You’ve truly, never been more excited to see him.

Two hours until rehearsal officially ends, and the curtains open. Two hours.

✧✧✧

Yugyeom is annoyed.

Not at you, though. Definitely not at you, considering he was point four-five seconds away from kissing you in that hallway.

Rather, he’s annoyed at his stupid, bitch ass friends that will not let up on their teasing.

Even when he’s in the middle of rehearsing his routine with twenty dancers, trying his best to focus on his task and not on the fact that he can see you rehearse in a familiar skirt from the corner of his eye, his friends are distracting him.

But, all the words are muffled at this point. He’s going through the motions, but the second that your gaze meets his with a smile so brilliant that he can see it from across the room, he caves.

“Hello? Gyeom? Mr. Kim Yugyeom? Captain Sir?”

Yugyeom barely registers the voice coming from Jinyoung, until a tap on his shoulder is given.

It prompts him to shake his head, concentration resuming. His routine is clean but, there are some dynamics that he reminds himself that he needs to sharpen up. Blocking has also become a moderate issue, as his rehearsal space back at the studio is much narrower than the size of the stage.

Focus, he tries to tell himself, but his eyes somehow wander to the timestamp on the lit-up screen of his phone.

One hour until rehearsal officially ends, and the curtains open. One hour.

✧✧✧

Unfortunately, your busy schedule doesn’t let up enough for you to talk to Yugyeom.

Never have you ever thought that it would be this torturous to see someone without being able to have a full conversation.

He’s been whirling around dressing rooms and backstage spaces like a madman, but you can’t say that your situation is any better. It’s part of the job to be pulled into a million different directions, especially on showcase day, but it’s becoming incredibly frustrating.

Whenever you manage to be in the same room or even, the same space, he always looks at you with such apologetic eyes, as if he’s attempting to telepathically communicate his frustrations as well.

Sorry for being so busy, he seems to convey with a soft, regretful expression. It’s like he’s trying to convince you that he hasn’t forgotten about you. Little does he know, you’re just as impatient. If anything, you’re the person that’s afraid that he’ll lose interest.

But then, he smiles at you from across the hall in the middle of talking to someone on his team, and the feeling dissipates entirely. For some reason, it’s enough to get you through until finally, finally, it’s time for you and Yugyeom to grace that stage that you’ve prepared an entire year for.

Sitting at the vanity in your shared team dressing room, you spray a heap of hairspray into your hair before hastily undoing the ribbons on your rosin-caked pointe shoes, tugging and kicking them off. You had nearly forgotten that you were barefoot for your routine with him. Next, you grab the powder brush and the pressed powder that rests in your open makeup bag, slapping it on before running out of the room.

You’re so panicked with the idea of making him wait that you actually run into him backstage, face smacking against the expanse of his back. It’s dark, the only source of light being the glow of the stage that seeps through the wings, so it takes you a second for your vision to adjust. But once it does, your eyes are met with Yugyeom’s face, grinning wide with his features illuminated from the flickering streaks of light from the stage.

“Are you ok?” he whispers with his hands on your shoulders, steadying your disoriented wobbliness.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you nod, reaching up to wrap your fingers around his forearms. The muscles tense upon contact, prompting you to look up to meet his eyes.

Then, a smile appears across your face for the hundredth time today. The glow from the stage reflects off of his pupils so prettily that your breath catches in your throat.

“Hey,” you say unintelligently, overwhelmingly elated that you’re in his presence again.

Similarly, Yugyeom responds with an equal degree of delight, “Hi, beautiful.”

You chuckle endearingly, looking to the side in an attempt to dampen the heat that spreads from your neck to your cheeks, “Alright, Romeo. Calm down.”

“And what if I don’t?” he challenges cheekily, only serving to make your smile brighter. How did this turn out as well as it is? Just a month ago, you were absolutely crestfallen about the status of your relationship but now that you’ve seen him again; spoke to him again; you’re delighted.

So, you don’t answer him. A normal sassy remark does not leave your lips.

“Anyways,” he says, sliding his palms from your shoulders and down to your hands, “I wanted to tell you this all day but I’ve been so busy-”

“I’ve been busy too, Gyeom. You don’t have to apologize. It’s our responsibility, after all,” you answer, interlacing your fingers with his tenderly. Unbeknownst to you, Yugyeom’s heart swells with affection upon the sensation. Unbeknownst to you, it nearly makes him tear up, but he bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself. He grants himself a couple of seconds before continuing with what he wants to say, but he’s interrupted by a tap on his shoulder.

“Are you number 47?” someone asks him, and your eyes snap to the person in question. Judging by the headset and the clipboard, you can only assume that it’s the stage manager.

Yugyeom nods, and they answer, “Who else is in the number?”

“Uhm. She is,” he gestures at you with a tilt of his head, your own hands clearly preoccupied with holding his.

“Oh! You’re in a routine with your girlfriend? That’s sweet,” they say with a smile, causing the warmth on your cheeks to spread to the tips of your ears; any attempt to hide it would be a futile effort. You haven’t exactly asked and neither has he, but you agree with a wordless nod anyway.

“Thanks,” he whispers sheepishly, peering into your eyes to gauge your reaction. Luckily, he’s greeted by a speechless grin.

How disgustingly cheesy it must be to watch you two interact. You from one year ago would find this horrifying to your sensibilities. But now, you’re eating the attention up, and you could not care less.

“Well, you two are up next. Please prepare yourself in the wings,” they remind, giving you a single nod before walking back to their station. Yugyeom watches them leave until you lean in to whisper into his ear.

“Is that your way of asking me to be your girlfriend?” you tease, giggling when he jumps up in surprise. You pull away to see a pink flush spreading from his cheeks to the tips of his ears, peeking through his dark, tousled hair. A stray strand falls over his left eye, so you can’t help but reach up to tuck it behind his ear.

Then, Yugyeom blushes even deeper than before, and your heart sings at the sight.

“Maybe,” he responds shyly, peering away from your eyes to look at the curtain beside him. He almost pouts; Perhaps, you should stop with your teasing for now, no matter how tempting it might be to see him all sheepish and shy.

“Is that your way of asking me to be your boyfriend?” he adds before turning his attention back to you.

“Maybe,” you smile. You want to add something else, but remember that time is of the essence. You two are up next, and you’re not willing to hold back the show for Yugyeom, no matter how cute he might be to you personally.

“We’ll talk after,” Yugyeom says, as if he read your mind. You nod in agreeance before reluctantly loosening your grip. Slowly but surely, the warmth of his palms leaves your hands.

“Break a leg,” you wish softly, biting the inside of your cheek when he places a tender peck on the back of your hand.

“Break a leg,” he whispers against your skin, and it takes nearly all of the willpower in his body to pull away. You’re beginning to believe that he’s attempting to hide that struggle but, there’s absolutely no way in hell that you miss it. Not in the way that his eyes light up amidst the darkness of backstage. Not in the way that the little spark of his stare lingers for long enough that it intensifies tenfold, searing into your memory.

You have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from finishing what you both started.

Alas, he walks away, retreating further and further until you manage to find him in the wing on the other side. Then, you both wait, gazing at each other from across the stage; impatiently; fervently; until familiar music finally blares through the speakers.

✧✧✧

You two begin on opposite sides of the stage.

As the beginning of the song starts, a soft, even beat resonates through your body. Each step is controlled and strong as you focus on Yugyeom doing the same; after all, you’ve rehearsed this piece upwards of a hundred times.

However, something isn’t the same. It should be practiced and almost routine, but something about it is wholly different. Yugyeom’s eyes, normally bright, earnest, and filled with stars, have descended into something much darker; much more concentrated and uncharacteristically intense that the sight nearly causes you to recoil on stage.

Oh.

That’s new.

Barely fifteen seconds in and you’re out of breath. Not from physical exertion, but from the way that he’s looking at you.

Unfortunately, the choreography forces you to tear your gaze away from his. For the time being, at least.

As the familiar steps continue, you two remain a couple of meters away from each other. However, you two aren’t completing the same movements; Yugyeom had suggested some unconformity during the creative process that you surprisingly enjoyed.

Your pointed toes and graceful lines contrast with his characteristically crisp quality of movement. Your backgrounds are so incredibly different, but nothing is out of sync. Even from the corner of your eye, he dances with the same unwavering intention that you have, and it shows.

Next, a point in the routine involves slowly walking backward in a mirror-like fashion; you can’t see him and he can’t see you. All your eye can see is the wide expanse of the theatre in front of you, the rows and rows of audience members dimly lit in comparison to the stark brightness of the stage.

The music decreases in its intensity as you travel backwards, as so does the quality of movement. The strength from before is now replaced with something a little more fluid; something that moves through the music, rather than chasing it.

Slowly but surely though, the music begins to swell again. The bass becomes more pronounced; just barely, as you inch closer and closer in proximity to him. You’re not sure if the audience can tell, but the yearning begins to manifest in your expression and your body language. You reach backwards for him, but miss on purpose. It’s all part of the constant flow of energy in the piece, teasing the viewer with the push and pull of your chemistry.

Then, you both snap upward, feigning a stumble towards each other, and your back smacks against him in an orchestrated fashion. Upon contact, your stomach flutters when you feel his hand come in contact with your shoulder. The warmth of his palm slides across your collarbones, and your body contracts in response to his touch. You twirl around with a high swing of your leg, wrapping around his waist before rebounding away from him.

However, he grabs your hand with a sudden snap in the song, and your entire torso tenses. With a choreographed yank backward, you execute a triple pirouette to face each other.

His pupils lock onto yours at the sound of the clear, accented hit in the music, and the experience is utterly electric.

The audience cheers fade into the background like a fleeting, distant memory when you meet his eyes, and a pregnant pause in the music prompts you to reach out to his face. Yugyeom’s eyes widen at the action, as if your touch burns. It’s completely unplanned, not choreographed at all but for some reason, it works. A genuine, earnest expression starts to bleed through his performance, and you two are completely fucked in the best way possible.

The transition is seamless as the lift starts. It’s weightless, every single push of your body responding with a pull from him. The energy is equalized; not one person giving more than they can take. Not a single hiccup occurs, as if he knows exactly where to support your weight. The experience seems to prompt something in the both of you because a single, simultaneous movement causes your eyes to make immediate, all-consuming, searing contact with his.

Suddenly, nothing else matters.

Not the cheers. Not the audience, and to a certain extent, not even the music. Just you and him, and the connection that you have with each other. The pure chemistry, radiant and reactive and bursting off of the stage in chaotic sparks.

How unlike it is in comparison to the others that have come before. How you seem to immediately comprehend where he needs you and why.

How truly indescribable it is to understand. To know. How unbelievably freeing it feels.

✧✧✧

You’re panting for oxygen after leaving the stage, stumbling out of the wings. You fail to remember the fact that your water bottle is sitting backstage, focusing on the fact that you’re aching, wholly desperate to lay your eyes on his face.

Yugyeom’s face; handsome, bright-eyed, and sweet.  

The performance; the chemistry that you had on stage with him was utterly electric, every single touch and every single moment of eye contact lit you aflame. So much so, that you can still feel the adrenaline running rapidly through your veins, fueling every fatigue-laced step towards the exit.

With sore muscles and heaving breaths, you manage to push the door open to a long, dimly lit hallway. Instantly, you recognize that it’s a passageway that is only used by the theatre staff, as well as dancers that are running between quick changes. You’ve used this hallway yourself, so you’re familiar with how to get to the dressing rooms.

As if on instinct, you wander the hallway’s twists and turns with practiced efficiency, increasing your speed with each passing second. You’re getting impatient, lungs burning and body aching with exertion until finally, finally, you see him across from you, cheeks pink, forehead sweaty, and hair messy.

It’s Yugyeom in all his glory. A smile spreads across his face the instant that he lays his eyes on you, and you’re completely and entirely gone.

He’s running and so are you, not even caring that you two practically collided with each other in a desperate hug. You wrap your arms around his body to pull him close, Yugyeom doing the same by encircling your shoulders with a single arm, pressing your face against him.

A couple of minutes pass as you bask in the warmth of his body, unperturbed by the fact that you’re both sweaty from dancing a little while ago. The only thing that you can pay attention to is his large hand pressing into the small of your waist. Then, the proximity becomes increasingly and terrifyingly apparent.

Yugyeom pulls away from you, just slightly. It makes you begin to believe that he’s having second thoughts; it has been a couple of hours, after all. But then, his eyes meet yours; unbelievably earnest, affectionate, and tender that there isn’t a doubt in your mind that he doesn’t feel the same as you. There’s absolutely no way.

Perhaps, it’s the fact that his gaze slowly drifts from your eyes and down to your parted lips, lingering there, tempting you, but you’re beginning to experience the physical and mental urge to demonstrate your affections to him.

Right now.

At the corner of your eye, you catch the open door of a dressing room; your dressing room, actually.

As quick as your exhausted body will allow, you pull away from his embrace. You grab at the front of his shirt, fisting the fabric in your grip before tugging him in the direction of the open door. He makes a noise in protest, but immediately shuts his mouth when you nudge the door with your hip, walking backward until it closes. Upon closure, the music that echoed from the stage suddenly stops. The room is quiet, the only sound being the dull click of the lock.

You two are finally alone, and that fact seems to dawn on Yugyeom as well.

You’re not sure who moved first, but it doesn’t matter.

Not when his lips crash into yours with such ferocity that your mind loses all coherent thought. You manage to meet him in the middle of the room but it’s small, so you accidentally lose your footing for a brief moment.  Stumbling backward, you reach behind you to steady yourself for some semblance of stability, but it’s difficult considering the fact that Yugyeom is kissing you with everything that he is, everything that he has.

His lips are enveloping your own, swallowing up your soft whine as he nearly overpowers you with his passion. Your hands and the base of your back end up hitting the ledge of the vanity, so you attempt to muster some level of strength to hoist yourself up. Eventually, you find yourself sitting on the cold wood with your legs parted, allowing his body to slot between your thighs as you pull him closer.

His tongue slips into your mouth and you become completely lost in the moment, moaning louder than you anticipated. You’ve wanted this for so, so long that you’re frantically grabbing at anything you can reach. It could be the fabric of his shirt, the muscle in his arms, the strands of his dark hair, anything that will have him as close to you as possible.

And within the flurry of frenzied kisses and hushed moans, you gasp against his lips with a whispered confession, “I love you.”

The hands resting on your body freeze.

“What did you just say?” Yugyeom asks. His tone is not one of disgust, nor is it one to question the reasons behind your admission. Rather, it seems that he’s unable to believe that you would even care for him in that way. He’s speechless, eyes widening in disbelief that you would return his affections to the same degree.

“I love you,” you tell him again, stronger and clearer than the first. His heart swells, leaping out of his chest as he leans down, nuzzling his nose before resting his forehead against yours.

With a bright smile, he replies tenderly, “I love you, too.”

His confession causes a giggle to bubble out from your lips.

“Say it again?” you request, craning your head back to give him a pleading pout.

“I’m in love with you,” he starts, pausing with a swallow when your lips make contact with the column of his neck, “I’m so-” he stops again when you start to pepper soft pecks up the line of his neck, “I’m so fucking in love with you,” he eventually finishes, the sentence said with such vehemence that your heart nearly stops beating in your chest. He continues to ramble phrases of affection until his voice becomes soft and breathy, right when you press the flat of your tongue against his pulse.

Your smile can’t help but become wider and brighter at the sincerity of his words. However, you don’t reply. Rather, your lips continue to rove over the sensitive skin of his neck, sucking and biting marks that you’ve wanted to leave for the longest time, showing in your own way that you love him with the same intensity.

The sensation is indescribable, urging you to push your heels into the base of his back. Yugyeom jolts forward, breaking the kiss with a surprised moan, “Fuck…”

Yugyeom’s thoughts are frazzled and so are yours, mind unable to focus on anything other than how your bodies feel against each other. Although there is a faint echo of music in the background, the sound is completely ignored in favour of this intimate moment.

Nearly a year of constant and unavoidable yearning for the man currently exploring the planes of your body is enough for you to forego any sense of shame. It hasn’t even dawned on you that you’re making out with someone in a dressing room; you of the past would honestly never be so reckless. But, Yugyeom is letting out these guttural, deep groans against your damp skin as he grinds his crotch between your parted thighs, grip on your waist tightening with each passing second.

“I want you,” you suddenly plead, the phrase slipping from your lips before you could stop it. Normally, such a thought would never cross your mind in a place so public but, your confidence surges exponentially when Yugyeom’s eyes widen in astonishment, cheeks flushed.

“W- What? Here?” he stammers, caught off guard by your sudden boldness.

“Why not? There’s no one in here,” you justify, but Yugyeom doesn’t seem to be convinced yet. So, you add, “We have 15 numbers until Lisa and Bam are up.”

“Well…” he answers cautiously.

“That means,” you pause, momentarily distracted by the feel of Yugyeom’s firm chest against your palm, “That we have a half-hour to do whatever we want.”

You can almost feel him shudder at the seductively persuasive tone of your voice. Your confidence is effectively boosted, so you attempt to convince him further. Staring right into his eyes, you whisper with a breathy, wanton promise, “You can have me right here…”

Yugyeom’s eyes darken instantly, his hands responding to your promise by gliding down your thighs with increasing pressure, digging into the soft flesh. You’re beginning to think that he’s going to cave in until his eyelids close and he shakes his head.

“As much as I want to…” he disagrees, but changes his tone when he realizes that you might take offence, “Like, trust me, I really, really, want to.”

He bites his bottom lip, expression hazy.

“But?”

“But I don’t want to do it here,” he answers resolutely, loosening his grip on your thighs.

“Why not?” you pout, but decide to mentally rescind that statement. You scold yourself, maybe you should curb your horny a little bit.

“I… Hng…” he starts, but becomes momentarily distracted when your tongue traces his earlobe, breath fanning the skin before you bite down on the metal of his hoop earring, giving it a little tug, “We’re not fucking for the first time in a place like this.”

You halt your ministrations, pulling your lips away before grinning radiantly. His words don’t dissuade you in the slightest. Rather, you want him to elaborate with all of the gritty details.

“Oh? What kind of place did you have in mind?”

Yugyeom surprises you by answering without hesitation, “My bed. My couch. My shower. My car. A wall. My kitchen…” his list trails off when the distance between your lips becomes closer and closer, but not enough to touch. He licks his lips before swallowing, mouth becoming dry as your breath fans across his parted lips.

“Really, now?” you question breathily, pausing to nuzzle your nose against his, “I’ve been thinking of this exact location, bent over this vanity…”

You stare into his eyes for the hundredth time today, attempting to wordlessly communicate your need for him; to finally have his hands all over your bare skin and-

Your thoughts are interrupted by a low groan from him, and the sound has you canting your hips upward.

Shameless doesn’t even begin to encompass your attitude right now but you don’t care. You would throw away your pride for the man in front of you. You would willingly and gladly humble yourself because that’s how much you care for him. That’s how much you love him.

Yugyeom on the other hand wants to succumb to your wishes. He’s waited forever to be with you. So long, that he swears that you can see the steam shooting out of his ears at this point. He should’ve known that you’d be like this in bed; just as persuasive and demanding as you normally are.

“I- God damn it…” he stops again, shuddering at your suggestion. He struggles to maintain coherency with your tongue swirling across his skin, but his resolve remains. So, he shakes his head, “You’re a menace. I really want to take you out on a date first…”

“Oh, wow. He’s hot and chivalrous.”

For a moment, you thought that he might get bashful at your compliment; you two seem to be similar in that fact, but he surprises you with a cheeky, almost cocky smile.

“You think that I’m hot?”

You roll your eyes, “Gyeom. We’re literally making out.”

He laughs in response, the sound loud and bright, “Well, I think that you’re hot, too.”

“Hm… Careful of what you say. I might just have my way with you here,” you suggest, giggling when he responds with a nuzzle against your nose. Then, he gives you a chastising look.

“Date first,” he asserts, but you respond with a pout and pleading eyes.

Don’t test me, he seems to convey wordlessly, much more serious than you anticipated.  

“Fine,” you concede, reluctantly removing your hands from his body, “Sex postponed.”

Yugyeom giggles at your remark, “I promise that it’ll be worth the wait.”

✧✧✧

You two attempted to sneak out of the dressing room. For the most part, it was pretty successful but unfortunately, you’re much too dazed and giddy to be able to think properly.

It isn’t like you’re embarrassed to be seen with Yugyeom; definitely not, but you would’ve liked to have some semblance of privacy before letting the world know that you two are together, together. But clearly, that idea was discarded the second that you entered the audience with him, holding hands and smiling goofily.

You weren’t even aware that you and Yugyeom were being so obvious until you took two empty seats beside Jimin.

“You two looked like you had fun,” he quips with a grin, satisfied when Yugyeom’s face burns bright pink.

And honestly? Your face isn’t much better. His comment urges you to subconsciously smooth over your hair with your fingers; you’re beginning to think that the messiness gave away the earlier, greatly pleasurable events of the day.

“Just pay attention to the stage,” you respond, and Jimin responds with a snicker. Normally, you would add other words of the sassy, quick-witted nature but you feel Yugyeom’s fingers interlace with yours. Then, nothing else matters.

You crane your head to the side, admiring his side profile in the lighting. The audience isn’t lit very well, but the brightness of the stage lamps is enough to illuminate his features flatteringly. Your eyes trace his browbone, taking note of his long lashes before landing on your favourite feature; his nose.

The sight makes you instantly nostalgic. It reminds you of your first meeting; sitting in this exact theatre in the midst of watching someone dance on a stage in front of you. The only difference is the fact that you aren’t decidedly irritated or annoyed. Or, maybe it reminds you of the time that he drove you home after your first practice, leaving you confused yet excited and inspired at the same time.

In retrospect, the memory makes you laugh. Really, you should’ve known that you were falling for him, right then and there. You almost chastise yourself for being so foolish, but you feel Yugyeom’s grip tighten in your hands.

The sensation is enough for you to forgo the emotional ache of the past. If anything, it propels you towards the future.

Dance is your passion. Your drive. It keeps you going through the highs and lows of life. But, sharing this passion with someone that you undeniably care for; that you’re wholly in love with, is an entirely different story.

You look at him and you feel as if you could get into the studio and make anything happen.

✧✧✧

tag list (very humble lol): @pointofviewyugyeom​

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- yue <3

✧✧✧

[pt. 5] ⤎ [relevé series]