#playdatbeat

The club didn’t have a name on the outside, just a flickering amber light that turned off every few seconds above a narrow door tucked between a tailor shop and a closed bookstore. There was no sign. No menu posted outside. No music spilling onto the street to lure people in.

Just that light. The type of place where no one knew the name but somehow everyone knew the place and inside, it breathed. Warm brass lights. Low laughter and the occasional clinks of glasses. The velvet hum of a bassline curling through the air like smoke. The aroma of the alcoholic drinks served along with the hint of cigarette smoke from the men who reentered the club.

The humidity of the room was an understatement, bodies that moved around to the rhythm of the jazz bands music as the singer managed to be stable despite his dramatic movements. Couples who moved in a sync like a practiced dance.

You originally hadn’t meant to stay long. It was supposed to be one drink, you told your friends as you said goodbye and went your separate ways. Something to wash away the heaviness of the past couple of days. But the moment you stepped in, the world outside was muted, or overrun, as if the city itself had exhaled and left you here in this pocket of time.

The music shifted. A slow, aching intro. Something deeper. Something older.

“Oh… qué será…”

The singer’s voice slipped into the room like silk, wrapping around every conversation, every breath. That’s when you noticed him. He was across the room, leaning slightly against the bar with an arm propped up, not slouched, not rigid, just… present. Like he belonged to the music in a way the rest of the room didn’t. Seonghyeon.

You didn’t know his name yet. But something about him felt known. Dark hair falling over his forehead just right, casting a slight shadow over his eyes with the dim light. A glass that seemed like it was untouched in his hand. Eyes steady, observant, already on you. Not in a fleeting way. Not in the way strangers glance and look away.

No.

He was looking at you like he had been before you even noticed him. And when your eyes met, He didn’t look away. The world narrowed. The music deepened. The lyrics of the song curled around your ribs, something bittersweet and searching.

“Oh qué será… que será…” A question with no answer.

Your breath caught, not from fear, not from discomfort, but from the strange, electric bold that seemed to connect the two of you without it being seen. Truly seen. You looked down for a moment, fingers circling the rim of your glass, grounding yourself. But something pulled you back.

When you looked again, He was moving. Not rushed. Not hesitant. Each step he took was deliberate, weaving through tables and drifting between bodies, until suddenly he was there, close enough that you could see the very faint sweat marks starting to form at his hairline from the humidity in the room. “May I?” he asked softly. His voice matched the music, low, smooth, with something unspoken beneath it.

You blinked, caught between surprise and inevitability “May you…?” He tilted his head slightly, the faintest smile touching his lips. “Dance.”

The song swelled, as if on cue. You hesitated only a second longer, not because you didn’t want to, but because something about this moment felt too perfectly timed, like stepping into a story already written. But then you placed your hand in his, everything clicked into place.

He guided you toward the open space without needing to check if you’d follow.

The dance floor wasn’t a defined space—just an open area in the middle of everything where couples moved like shadows, close and fluid. Seonghyeon guided you there with quiet confidence, his hand warm, steady around yours.

When he turned to face you fully, something shifted again. Closer now, you could see the details, the faint crease near his eyes when he focused, the softness beneath his composure, the way his gaze never wavered from yours.

“Just follow me,” he murmured. And you did.

The first steps had felt like a beginning. But the longer the song played, the more it became something else entirely. Something deeper. Something that didn’t feel like it would end when the music did.

The rhythm settled into your bones slowly, like warmth spreading through cold hands. The song itself wasn’t rushed, it lingered, stretching each note as if it wanted to savor the space between heartbeats. And Seonghyeon danced like he understood that.

Like he was that space. His hand at your waist adjusted, just slightly, but it changed everything. His touch wasn’t just guiding anymore. It was listening. Feeling the subtle shifts in your balance, the way your breath caught when he drew you closer, the way your fingers tightened when he let you drift just out of reach.

“Relax,” he murmured, barely audible over the music. You hadn’t even realized you were tense. But the moment he said it, his thumb traced a slow, absentminded line along your side, not distracting, not intrusive, just enough to anchor you.

And you let go. Your next step softened. Your shoulders loosened.

And suddenly, the dance stopped feeling like something you were trying to follow, and started feeling like something you were creating together. He stepped back, gently pulling your joined hands with him. You followed instinctively.

One step.

Two.

The distance between you stretched, but the connection didn’t break, it tightened, like an invisible thread pulled taut between your bodies. Your arm extended, fingers still intertwined, your body angled toward his. Then, he turned his wrist.

A small motion. But you felt it instantly. You spun.

Not the kind of spin meant to impress, but one meant to linger. Your dress caught the motion, the fabric whispering around your legs as the room blurred into streaks of amber and shadow. For a moment, you lost sight of him. And then, you found him again.

Exactly where you expected him to be. Waiting. Watching, with that look in his eyes that hadn’t seemed to change the whole time since he laid his eyes on you that evening.

Your hand returned to his chest as he drew you back in, your palm flattening briefly over his heartbeat. It was steady. But not calm. And something about that made your lips curve faintly. “You’re enjoying this,” you whispered. His eyebrow lifted just slightly, a quiet challenge in his expression. “You’re not?”

You didn’t answer.

Instead, you shifted your weight forward, just a fraction The music swelled, richer now, layered with emotion that felt almost too big for the small room.

Your bodies began to trace shapes across the floor, weaving between other dancers who seemed to fade into the background. It was as if the two of you existed in your own pocket of rhythm, untouched and uninterrupted.

He led you into a half-turn, your back brushing lightly against his chest for the briefest second before he redirected you again, your bodies reconnecting face to face. You felt the heat of him even after you turned back. Felt the ghost of his presence along your spine. And he noticed.

His gaze darkened just slightly “Trust me,” he said softly. And before you could question it, He let go.

Not completely but enough to barely be touching. One hand remained in yours. But the other, the one that had been grounding you, guiding you, disappeared. His body aligning with yours just long enough to steady you.

And then, another turn. Faster this time. But still controlled. Your breath caught as the world spun, your balance teetering on the edge of something thrilling and unfamiliar.

But he was there. Always there. His hand firm around yours, his timing precise, catching you exactly when you needed it. You began to anticipate him. To feel the rhythm not just in the music, but in him. The subtle tension before a turn. The slight shift in his grip before a dip. The way his body leaned just a fraction before guiding yours to follow. It became instinct. You stepped back before he pushed. Turned before he asked. Leaned in before he drew you close. And that’s when it stopped feeling like he was leading at all. It felt like you were both moving toward the same invisible point, again and again, meeting there without needing to think or communicate.

The song softened unexpectedly, the instruments pulling back, leaving space, raw and open. Seonghyeon used it. He stepped closer and loser until there was no space left between you. Your hand slipped from his shoulder, settling instead against his chest again, fingers curling slightly into the fabric as if grounding yourself.

His hand returned to your waist, no, lower this time. Careful, respectful, but undeniably more intimate. The movement slowed. No spins. No patterns. Just a gentle sway.

But somehow, it felt more intense than everything before. Your bodies moved as one, barely separate, your steps so small they were almost invisible. Your breathing synced again. Your gaze didn’t leave his. The world outside this moment felt distant. Irrelevant. The lyrics floated back in, soft and aching.

“Qué será…”

You felt it then, not just in the music, not just in the dance, but in the space between you. That question. That pull. That something undefined, unspoken, but undeniable.

The final instruments of the song slowed, softening into something almost fragile. The space between each note stretched, leaving room for everything else, for breath, for hesitation, for choice. Seonghyeon felt it coming. The end.

And with it, the inevitable breaking of whatever this was. He didn’t want it to end like that. His hand shifted at your waist, not pulling, not pushing, just adjusting. But you felt it. He saw it in the way your gaze flickered for half a second before returning to his, sharper now and more aware. Good. You were paying attention. So was he.

He stepped back just enough to create space. Not distance. Never distance. Just enough room to move again. Your fingers slid from his chest, returning to his hand, your warmth lingering even after the contact broke. It stayed with him.

Annoyingly so.

He lifted your hand slowly. Deliberately. Not the kind of motion meant to impress, but the kind that asked a question without words. Would you follow? You did. He turned his wrist one last time and you spun.

He didn’t guide the speed. You did. Your turn was slower than before, intentional, almost drawn out. As if you were stretching the moment just as much as the music was. Seonghyeon watched you the entire time. Didn’t look away. Didn’t dare to blink.

The room blurred around you. The golden light caught the edges of your silhouette, your movement smooth, unbroken. For a brief second, you weren’t entirely real. You were something softer, something untouchable. And then, You were facing him again. Too close. Closer than before.

Your momentum carried you forward, and his hand met your waist instantly, steadying you, but neither of you corrected the distance. Neither of you stepped back.

Your breathing wasn’t steady anymore. He noticed immediately. Not uneven, but aware. Like you were feeling it too. Whatever this was. Whatever had been building since the moment your eyes met across the room.

Seonghyeon’s gaze dropped. Just for a second. Your lips. And then back to your eyes. There it was. The question. Clearer now. Unavoidable. He didn’t ask it out loud. Didn’t need to. The music softened further, the vocalist’s voice barely above a whisper now, carrying that same unanswered refrain.

“Oh, qué será…”

Your hand tightened slightly in his. Not pulling away. Not uncertain. Just… present. And that was enough. Seonghyeon didn’t rush. That wasn’t his nature. He moved the same way he had all night, deliberate, controlled, aware of every inch of space between you and how quickly it was disappearing.

Your foreheads almost touched. Not quite Your breaths mingled first. Warm and close. Shared. For a moment, nothing happened. And somehow, that moment felt louder than anything else in the room. Then,

You closed the distance.

Or maybe he did. Later, he wouldn’t be able to tell. The kiss wasn’t sudden. It wasn’t hesitant either. It was something in between, something that felt inevitable, like the final note of a song that had been building from the very first chord.

Your lips met his softly at first. Testing. Confirming. Seonghyeon stilled. Not out of surprise. But because for a fraction of a second, he needed to feel it. Understand it. Warm and real.

Unmistakable.

His hand at your waist tightened, not enough to trap you, but enough to keep you close, to make it clear he wasn’t stepping away. Not now.

The kiss deepened naturally as if you were being molded together. No force. No urgency. Just a quiet, mutual shift, like both of you had silently agreed to stop holding back at the same time. He tilted his head slightly, adjusting, refining the contact the same way he had adjusted every movement in the dance. Precise.

And you matched him. That was what stayed with him the most. Not just the kiss itself, But the way you met him in it. When you finally pulled back, it wasn’t abrupt. It was slow. Reluctant. Like letting go of something neither of you had expected to find.

The music ended.

Applause filled the room, sudden, loud, almost jarring after everything that had just happened. Seonhyeon didn’t react. Didn’t look away. Neither did you. For a brief moment, the world existed again, but it didn’t matter. He exhaled quietly, his forehead resting lightly against yours. Too close. Still too close. “Stay,” he said. It wasn’t about the dance. He felt your breath hitch slightly before you answered. “I wasn’t planning on leaving.”

That, that did something dangerous. Because Seonghyeon realized, in that moment, that he didn’t want this to end at all. Not with the song. Not with the night.

And that was a problem.

Because things like this Moments like this they didn’t last, they never did. He knew that. He had always known that. But instead of stepping back, instead of creating a distance. He reached for your hand. Not to dance. Just to hold like he was still making sure you were truly real

Your fingers laced with his easily, naturally, as if they had done it before. They hadn’t. And yet, It felt like they had. He glanced toward the exit. Then back at you. No question this time. “Come with me.” It wasn’t a command. It wasn’t even a request. It was an invitation

And you didn’t hesitate. He led you through the crowd, your hand still in his, your presence at his side grounding in a way he hadn’t expected. People moved around you, conversations resumed, the band began preparing for the next song, but it all felt distant. Muted. Irrelevant.

The door came into view. That same narrow exit from where you entered not expecting anything from tonight. That same flickering amber light beyond it. Seonhyeon pushed it open, the cool night air rushing in immediately, sharp and refreshing against the warmth of the club.

You stepped out together.

The city greeted you again, alive, restless, full of movement and noise. But it felt different now. Changed. Or maybe You had changed. He didn’t let go of your hand. Not when the door closed behind you. Not when the music faded. Not when the world rushed back in. For a moment, you both just stood there. Side by side. Breathing in the same night air.

Seonghyeon looked at you then, really looked this time, without the dim lighting, without the haze of music softening the edges.

You were still the same. And somehow, Not at all.

“…I don’t usually do this,” he admitted quietly. It wasn’t an apology. Just the truth. His thumb brushed lightly against your knuckles, absent, thoughtful. “But I don’t want to pretend this was nothing.” The city moved around you. Cars passing. Voices in the distance of people who were still out despite the late hour. Neon flickering overhead.

And yet, It felt like the two of you were still inside that song. Still inside that moment. Still suspended in something neither of you had named yet. Seonghyeon tightened his hold on your hand just slightly. Not enough to trap. Just enough to keep. “Walk with me.” This time, it wasn’t about leaving.

Rain had always seem to make the city look more gloomier than it usually was. The large amount of water pouring from the clouds covering the light cray concrete coating it a dark grey. It was almost exactly the same as when you first met him, Seonhyeon.

Before you could do anything a hand reached from in front of you, picking up the drink before any more could spill on the already wet pavement “Here,” he said in a low tone. That was the first time you saw him, hair damp from the rain, tired eyes that looked like he hadn’t slept in days. You thanked him after that.

And somehow… your meetings never stopped there. They became a routine. Always before midnight, near the same convenience store. It became a quiet routine neither of you said anything about. You would arrive he was usually there already or showed up minutes after you. leaning on the wall, sitting on the curb. He would stare up into the sky with his shining eyes like he was waiting for something, or trying to forget something.

Some days he looked more exhausted than most. You never asked questions, when you did his answers were always short and simple. But little by little you noticed things without realizing it. the fact that he would always reach for the premade açaí bowls, strawberry milk despite the late hour.

“you work too much.” You said scooping up the yogurt from the small cup, letting the spoon sit in your mouth for a couple seconds before taking it out.

He laughs, “I guess you can say that.” His hand reaches back, scratching the back of his neck. Something you noticed he does more than he probably realizes. “What do you even do?” You turn your head to him just to be met with his side profile. “Nothing important” he shrugs.

You didn’t believe that, you never did. But you let it go every time, not pushing more than what you wanted. Because him being there with you left enough, even if you didn’t know everything. Maybe you didnt know anything at all

-

One night the rain seemed to be heavier than usual. The streets were empty with the occasional sound of cars passing by. You found him sitting on the curb, head lowered, hands clasped together like he was trying to hold himself together for whatever reason. You sat beside him. “You look like someone just ruined your life,” you said gently. He let out a weak laugh one that sounded like he was grounding himself.“Something like that.”

The rain hit the pavement with repeated taps. After a long silence, he spoke again. “…Do you ever think about leaving everything behind?” Hearing him say that made you frown slightly. “Leaving what?”

He took a pause before answering. “Your life. Your people.” You took a second to think whether or not he was being one hundred percent honest in that moment or was just asking a random question. “That sounds lonely.” You said.

“It probably is.” You turned to look at him. “Why would anyone want that? A world full of people and you want to just, disappear?”For a moment he didn’t answer. Then he said something so quietly you almost missed it “Because sometimes the thing you want most… costs everything else.”

Your chest tightened. “You talk like you already decided.” He rubbed his face with his hands but not moving them. “I might have.” The words sat between you, they made your chest tighten in a way you couldn’t explain, heavy and uncertain. Without really thinking about it, you nudged his shoulder making him turn to you.

“Well, if you leave, you’d at least have to tell me first… or take me with you” He looked at you then. Really looked at you. Like he was trying to memorize your face, you eyes, your nose, your lips. “You’d miss me?” he asked, a sly smirk appearing on his face. You laughed softly, shoving his shoulder with small force. “Of course I would, but you’d probably miss your açaí bowls more. What if they don’t have any where you go, then what?”

He looked away slowly, his face returning to a normal almost sad look. “…You shouldn’t.” He laughed but it wasn’t really a laugh, more like a breath he was holding in for to long. “Why not?” His voice came out quieter this time. “Because I’m not someone worth waiting for.”

Something about that answer hurt in a way you couldn’t explain. You reached over a pinched his side, making him jump. “You idiot, of course you’re worth missing.” That made him laugh again, holding his side. A real laugh this time. Then, after a long pause, he said something that made you pause. “Y’know maybe you’re just the only one I need.”

Your heart skipped a beat, or two. The words were so sudden, certainly not what you expected from him, for a moment you forgot how to speak all that came out was just noises of shock. Then a small giggle. “You say that like it’s easy,” you said softly, feeling your cheeks warm up. “For me it is.”

The rain kept falling around you. And for the first time since you met him, you thought maybe this strange, quiet thing between you could become something real.

-

But like they say, every good story has its ending. Exactly three weeks later, everything fell apart. You arrived at the convenience store like always. But this time he wasn’t leaning against the wall, He wasn’t sitting on the curb. He wasn’t there at all. You waited. Ten minutes turned to twenty. Then an hour. Just when you were about to leave, you noticed a figure in the distance.

Seonghyeon

He stepped closer but somehow something about him felt… distant Like he had already left before the conversation even started. “You’re late,” you said, showing him a smile, but he didn’t smile back. Your own smile dropped slowly. Expression turning more confused and concerned. “Seonghyeon?”

He shoved his trembling hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “I can’t come here anymore.” His voice broke, not completely but the type were your about to break down but you try to hold it in by swallowing. The words felt like cold water. Like someone just poured water on you after a game you were done playing. “What?”

“I’m leaving.” You stared at him. A long stare trying to read his face but he was looking anywhere but you. “…Leaving where?” You try to step closer but he automatically steps back, like it’s instinct. “I can’t say.” He shook his head. Your chest tightened painfully. “That’s not an answer.” Your eyes began to feel heavy.

“It’s the only one I can give.” The rain started again, softer this time. But it was harsh. Not the calm trickling you hear when you sat with them for the past two months. Whispering and laughing with each other when you could’ve been doing other things, but you always chose him.

You felt something fragile cracking inside your chest. “You said something to me,” you whispered. He didn’t respond, almost like he knew what you were going to say. “You said I was the only one you needed.” His jaw tightened. You noticed. You stepped closer again. your voice shaking now.

“So where did that go?” For a moment it looked like he might answer. Like he might finally explain everything. Instead he said the words that broke you. “I shouldn’t have said that.” Your vision blurred instantly. “Why?”

“Because I knew I couldn’t stay.” He finally looked up, still not at you. He pressed his lips together while blinking trying to keep his tears at bay. The rain soaked into both of your hair. You barely noticed, neither did he. “…Then why say it at all, huh?” His voice came out rough.

“Because it was true.”

That only made it worse. Your chest hurt so badly it was getting harder and harder to breathe the more he spoke. “If it was true,” you whispered, “then why are you leaving?” He looked at you like he wanted to say something more. Like there were a thousand words stuck behind his teeth begging to come out. But none of them did.

Finally he stepped backward. “I’m so sorry.” You shook your head slowly. “No.” Your voice cracked. “No, You don’t get to tell me that- make me feel a certain way, and just walk away like it was nothing! It’s not fair!” He froze. Tears blurred your vision completely now and you didn’t care if they fell at that point.

“You said I was the only one you needed.” Your hands trembled at your sides. “…So where are you going?” The question hung between you. Heavy. Broken. Seonghyeon closed his eyes for a moment letting a stray tear fall down his cheek.

Then he turned around. And walked into the rain. He didn’t look back once. “It’s for the best.” He told himself.

-

Months later, you still passed that convenience store sometimes, same posters, same two dollar meals that were shared between two strangers. Maybe out of habit, out of hope. But he never came back. The same boy who you anticipated to see every night, gone. You grew to like him more than you could’ve imagined, and that truth stays with you.

And somewhere across the city, in a bright practice room filled with mirrors and music, Seonghyeon stood alone long after everyone else had gone home.Sweat dripped from his hair as he stared at his reflection. Your voice echoed in his memory like a broken record that didn’t know how to pause itself.

You said I was the only one you needed.

His hands slowly clenched with the sweat that pooled in his palms. Because the truth he never told you, the truth he held deep in his heart was that leaving you was the only way he could keep chasing the dream he had spent years suffering for. All the late nights he stayed up longer than anyone his age should. And every night after that every time the music stopped and the room went quiet, when all he could hear was the heavy breath of the four other boys and his own, he realized something that hurt more than hours upon hours of training ever could. He had gotten closer to his dream. But the one person he needed most,