#risks

Lee Know loved being alone. It never felt lonely in the slightest, more like a gentle warmth that wrapped around him in a big hug. There was something enchanting about the fact that no one else in the world was experiencing the same moment as him. Being alone meant that the seconds, the air, the way the light moved, belonged solely to him. It was intimate in its own quiet way, like a little kid whispering him a secret he couldn’t share with anyone else.

Sure, he could forget the small, mundane things, how many eggs he’d eaten for breakfast or how the morning breeze had carried the scent of wet grass, but the fleeting moments stayed with him. The way the sun washed over dandelions peeking shyly through cracks in the pavement, the faint hum of a car in the distance, the rhythm of his shoes brushing against the dirt path as he walked home. Every little detail was a fragment of memory only he would ever hold. The idea that out of millions of people on the planet, he was the only one experiencing that exact second, that unique alignment of breath, sound, and stillness, was a thought he liked to revisit often. It made the world feel enormous, yet strangely his. But there was another truth, too. When Lee Know found himself in a room full of people, he could sometimes feel more alone than ever. The laughter, the chatter, the easy way people leaned toward each other, it all seemed to highlight the space between him and everyone else. It wasn’t that he disliked people, but being surrounded by them reminded him that everyone else seemed to have someone to talk to. Someone who looked for them in a crowd, someone who noticed when they went quiet.

He had Jisung, of course. Jisung, with his quick words and endless energy, who always tried to include him. But Jisung also had other friends, a job at the smoothie shop, a girlfriend who made him light up in a way that Lee Know could only observe from the sidelines. He didn’t blame him for it, it was just how life went, but sometimes watching Jisung drift into his own little world with others left Lee Know with a familiar ache. He didn’t want to dwell on it, didn’t want to pity himself, but it was hard not to notice the difference between being alone by choice and being alone because no one thought to ask if you wanted company.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried. People often mentioned how he’d struggled to make friends growing up, and at some point, that reputation had just stuck to him, like a label that never quite peeled off. He enjoyed talking to guys, but the moment ballet came up, they’d laugh, make a few comments, and change the subject. Ballet had always been one of his greatest joys, discipline wrapped in grace, strength hidden in elegance, but it seemed no one ever understood it that way. And while he got along fine with girls, there was always that awkward divide, the invisible line that made him feel like he had to dull the edges of his personality to fit in. Too graceful to fit with the boys, too boyish to blend with the girls. He knew it wasn’t his fault. The world could be narrow-minded and unkind in quiet, casual ways. But sometimes, late at night, when the world went still and the hum of loneliness crept in, he couldn’t help but wonder, why did it have to be this way? Why did being himself make him so hard to understand?

So he learned to love solitude, not as a compromise but as a kind of freedom. Because when Lee Know was alone, there were no rules. No one to tell him how to act, no expectations to meet. He could stretch his limbs like a dancer in an empty studio, talk to himself if he wanted to, hum a tune only he knew. In solitude, he wasn’t too much or too little of anything. He was just himself. And that was something he thought was utterly, achingly beautiful.

Maybe that’s why Lee Know knew you were different from the very first moment the two of you met.

At that point, Lee Know was one of the higher-ranked dancers in his class, a fact everyone knew well. His teachers often used him as the example, calling his name whenever they needed to demonstrate proper form or control. He had earned that reputation through years of practice, injuries, and late nights spent perfecting every movement until it felt like muscle memory. He could dance blindfolded and still move with elegance, just like he did for Idol training. It wasn’t arrogance that filled him when they praised him, it was something simpler, purer. A small flame of pride in doing something he truly loved. Because when you’re good at something that makes you happy, it doesn’t just feel good, it feels like you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

When he danced, Lee Know felt untouchable. The world around him blurred away, the noise of fans, the pressure of performances, even the quiet tension that sometimes lingered among the members. All of it dissolved. In its place, there was only movement. His body and the music were all that existed. He always thought of it as floating, like drifting in a warm current where every thought aligned with motion. Dance was strict and disciplined yet forgiving enough to let him experiment, to breathe. It was the only place where he could fail and still feel free. So when his teacher approached him after class that day, he didn’t think much of it. Harper was always kind, always soft-spoken, and she never wasted words. “Minho,” she said, her tone careful but light, “tomorrow we’re holding a mixed class, with some of the students from the lower ranks.” She paused, as if trying to gauge his reaction. “It’s sort of a workshop. We’ll be watching to see who might be ready to move up next year.”

He nodded, remembering his own experience in that same position almost two years ago. He had been terrified back then. He was so awkward and unsure, afraid to make mistakes in front of the better dancers. But the people who had helped him had been patient and encouraging. They gave him advice he still carried to this day. Now he stood in the same place they once had, part of the group that others looked up to. The realization left a small, proud ache in his chest. Harper smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I was wondering if you’d come help teach this time. Just to demonstrate a few techniques and give feedback.”

Lee Know blinked. Teach?

If he was being honest, the idea made his stomach twist. He didn’t want to teach twenty-year-olds how to improve their spins or posture, especially when most of them probably didn’t want to be corrected by someone their own age. And worse, he was an idol. There was always that chance someone would recognize him, whisper to their friends, maybe even record him. The thought made him sigh quietly. He wasn’t there to be seen as an Idol. He just wanted to dance. But when he looked back at Harper, her expression stopped him. She had this hopeful look in her eyes, one that reminded him of how she’d always believed in him, even before he did. She’d been there through his slumps, his frustrations, the moments he nearly quit. He owed her more than he liked to admit.

So he forced a small smile, already knowing the answer before he said it. “I’ll come,” he said finally, voice soft but sure. “What time should I be here?”Harper’s smile bloomed instantly, warm and genuine.

“Thank you, Minho. I knew I could count on you!” As she walked off to gather her things, Lee Know stayed behind for a while, staring at the mirrors in front of him. His reflection blinked back, tired but composed, someone who’d learned to move through discomfort for the sake of others. He bent down to retie his shoes, humming faintly under his breath. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, he thought. Maybe helping the next group of dancers find their rhythm would remind him why he fell in love with it in the first place.

The next day, Lee Know arrived at the studio a few minutes early, dressed in his black leotard and tights. His hair still carried a soft curl from the photoshoot he and the members had done the night before, it had dragged late into the evening and left him more tired than he wanted to admit. He brushed his bangs out of his face, letting out a small sigh as he stepped through the entrance doors. The familiar scent of polished wood floors and faintly lingering perfume drifted in the air, the kind of smell only dance studios ever seemed to have. He adjusted the strap of his dance bag, a water bottle clinking against the side as he rubbed at the back of his neck. His muscles ached slightly from yesterday’s rehearsals, but the moment he heard the soft hum of conversation and laughter spilling from the practice room down the hall, something inside him eased.

When he entered, the studio was alive with movement. Students were scattered across the mirrored walls, stretching, chatting, fixing their shoes, or tying their hair up. The sound of soft sneakers brushing the floor mixed with music from someone’s phone speaker. It was noisy, but not unpleasant, just the kind of energy that made the room feel full of life. He spotted a few familiar faces among the group, friends he’d trained with for years, and when one of them caught sight of him, they waved. And that’s when he noticed you. You were standing with a small group near the back corner, laughing at something one of the older students had said. He guessed you were younger, maybe twenty-four, but there was something about the way you carried yourself that stood out from the rest. Your laughter wasn’t loud in an agitating way, instead it was warm, and honest, like it made everyone else around you start smiling without realizing it. There was a lightness about you, like someone who had too many dreams to ever be pinned down.

He hadn’t even realized he was watching until one of his friends nudged him and said something he barely caught. Lee Know gave a small nod in response, pretending to look elsewhere, but his gaze found its way back to you anyway.

That was when the light hit just right.

The fluorescent bulbs overhead reflected off the floor and cast a faint shimmer across your skin, and suddenly, nothing else makes sense. You seemed almost unreal, like one of those fleeting moments in life where everything adds up. You were perfect up and down. Your hair was pulled back into a loose bun, strands already falling free to frame your face, and he could tell you hadn’t even started dancing yet. The tiny imperfections, stray hair, flushed cheeks, the way your posture was slightly relaxed, everything about you only made you look more alive. Then your eyes caught his. And they really did sparkle, not just because of the lights, but with something deeper. A kind of curiosity, a restless brightness, like there was an entire world of thoughts and emotions swirling behind them. Lee Know’s breath caught before he could stop it. You smiled, just a small, instinctive curve of your lips, and in that instant, something in his chest shifted. It wasn’t a thunderclap, not some dramatic movie moment. It was gentler, more real, like the quiet strum of a guitar on a calm evening, steady and tender.

Lee Know’s heart fluttered, and his mind went blank. He had always thought love at first sight was something people made up to sound poetic, a storybook fantasy for hopeless romantics. But now, standing there with his hands awkwardly gripping his water bottle and his heartbeat quickening for no logical reason, he understood it. The simplicity of it. The purity. The way time seemed to slow, the chatter of the room fading into something distant. For the first time in a long while, he wasn’t thinking about dance, or precision, or perfection. He was just feeling, completely, and helplessly human.

“Oh my gosh! You must be Lee Know!” Your voice is bright, almost like a spark that cuts through the hum of chatter filling the studio. Lee Know looks up, startled for a moment before realizing you’re standing right in front of him. You’re smiling, clasping your hands together in this earnest, almost childlike way that makes his chest feel like it's so heavy it could drag him into the ground. He can hear his friends behind him trying, and failing, to hold back their laughter, a few of them nudging each other knowingly. It’s clear they’ve picked up on the shift in his energy before even he can hide it.

“Um, ya,” he replies quickly, his words tumbling out awkwardly, too flat, too short. The sound of his own voice makes him wince inside. Ya? Really, that’s all you’ve got? he thinks, yelling at himself on the inside. He hopes the smile that follows looks normal and not as forced as it feels. His heartbeat’s thudding somewhere between his throat and ears, the rush of it making his thoughts blur at the edges. He hates that he sounds so unsure, but at the same time, there’s this strange flicker of pride, because at least he said something, even if it wasn’t perfect. He hopes the smile that follows looks normal and not as forced as it feels. His heartbeat’s thudding somewhere between his throat and ears, the rush of it making his thoughts blur at the edges. He hates that he sounds so unsure, but at the same time, there’s this strange flicker of pride, because at least he said something, even if it wasn’t perfect. Your smile doesn’t falter though. In fact, it softens.

“I’m Y/N,” you say warmly, extending your hand just slightly before lowering it again when he hesitates. “It’s nice to meet you.” And that’s it. That's the entire first interaction. You don’t launch into conversation or start listing all the reasons you admire him or mention his performances or his fame. You just… stand there. The moment stretches, full of quiet understanding neither of you can put into words. It’s not awkward, just different. The noise in the studio fades, the laughter of his friends, the music starting up in the background, even Harper’s voice calling out warm-ups, it all turns distant, like sound underwater. All Lee Know can really focus on is you. The glint in your eyes, the light catch of your breath, the gentle way you tilt your head while looking at him. There’s something in your expression, recognition, maybe? Or something softer, like the feeling you get when you realize you’ve known someone before meeting them.

You don’t need to ask about his career or his training; you already know enough. You’ve heard stories through mutual friends, seen glimpses of him dancing from afar, and now here he is, real, close, maybe even more human than you expected. For Lee Know, the air between you feels almost electric, but not in a loud, dramatic way. It’s more like the quiet spark of static when fingers brush unexpectedly, fleeting, delicate, but impossible to ignore. He doesn’t need to tell you everything about himself. You already seem to understand the parts that matter. The discipline, and the long nights working hard. You seem to be able to tell he truly cares about Ballet. And you are here for the same reason. That’s already enough.

He watches you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, your lips curving as someone calls your name. You excuse yourself with a little laugh and wave, walking off toward the other side of the room. Lee Know stays still for a moment longer, his pulse refusing to settle. His friends tease him quietly, one of them nudging his arm with a grin, but he barely hears them. His thoughts are miles away, still tangled up in the way your voice sounded when you said his name.

A small bell rang through the air, light but commanding enough to hush the murmurs that had filled the practice room. One by one, the teachers began to enter, clipboards in hand, their steps purposeful, their gazes sharp with the kind of focus that made every dancer instinctively straighten up. Some were ready to judge, others to demonstrate, but all carried the same quiet authority that filled the space with anticipation. The wooden floors gleamed under the fluorescent lights, reflecting a dozen pairs of nervous feet. You hurried toward your spot along the wall, your hair bouncing slightly as you moved. The faint smell of rosin powder hung in the air, mingling with the clean, airy scent of the studio. You took your place in line, shoulders squared, eyes bright, a soft smile still playing on your lips, one that you didn’t even seem to realize was there. That same smile had already carved its way into Lee Know’s mind.

He followed a few paces behind, sliding into position a couple of dancers away from you. It wasn’t close enough for anyone to think he was being strange, but it was near enough that he could see the outline of your movements, the tilt of your head, the way your shoulders rose and fell as you took a deep breath before the music started. He told himself it was coincidence, just where he happened to end up, but even he knew it was a lie. His friend trailed behind him, muttering something about the number of students in today’s session, but Lee Know barely heard it. The instructor clapped their hands once, calling everyone’s attention to begin. As the warm-ups started, he found himself matching his breathing to yours without even realizing it. The rhythm of the music pulsed softly through the speakers, and the room filled with the sound of synchronized movement, feet brushing the floor, soft thuds, the faint squeak of tights shifting against the polished wood. But in Lee Know’s mind, it was quieter. The only sound he seemed to notice was the faint whisper of his own heartbeat. “So her name is Y/N?” he murmured under his breath, barely loud enough for anyone but his friend behind him to hear.

There was a pause before his friend answered, tone light but knowing. “Yup. That’s her. She’s a really nice person, we met a while back when she got the class times mixed up.” Lee Know let out a soft laugh, short but genuine. The image that came to mind, of you walking into the wrong class, confused but trying to act confident, somehow made him like you even more. His friend smiled faintly, keeping rhythm with the movements. “She’s hardworking, really. Always gives her best. She just… still has a lot to figure out about herself.” Lee Know frowned slightly, glancing at the instructor to make sure they weren’t being watched before whispering again.

“What do you mean?” His friend hesitated.

“Don’t get me wrong, she’s smart. Makes friends easily, and she’s honestly one of the most genuine people I know. But she’s scared sometimes. About taking risks. She doesn’t like stepping into the unknown.” Lee Know’s brows furrowed. He tried to focus on the sequence, arm out, turn, pivot, point, but his mind snagged on those words. Scared of taking risks? He couldn’t relate. His life had been nothing but a risk. Choosing to dance, becoming an idol, stepping onstage knowing that one misstep could ruin a performance, it was all risk. But it was what made him feel alive. There was always a breath before taking a shot, and that was everything. How could someone be afraid of that feeling? His friend’s voice continued behind him, calm, thoughtful. “She’s happy with how things are, I think. She’s worked for everything she has, and she’s proud of it. But it’s like, she’s afraid that if she reaches for anything more, if she tries to change what’s comfortable, everything around her might fall apart.”. There was a shrug, the faint sound of a shoe sliding against the floor. “If she doesn’t ask for more,” his friend said quietly, “then nothing can be taken away from her.” Lee Know’s hands clenched slightly at his sides, his posture faltering just enough for one of the teachers to give him a pointed look. He straightened immediately, but his thoughts burned hot. The logic made sense, on the surface. It was safe, protective, and reasonable. But to him, it was wrong.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it as he danced through the next few steps. The idea of living like that, of settling into comfort so deeply that you stopped reaching, made his chest tighten. It wasn’t living at all. It was just… standing still. Existing without the thrill of trying. He risked everything all the time. Every performance was a gamble. Everything could always be taken away. But he still did it, because the chance of something good happening, the possibility of something beautiful, was always worth it. He couldn’t understand how someone like you, someone who laughed so freely and smiled like you meant it, could be afraid of reaching too far.

He glanced toward you again, you were focused on the mirror, your expression intent and calm, completely unaware that he was watching. You looked radiant in motion, your reflection dancing beside you in perfect harmony. Lee Know exhaled, letting the music guide him again. The sound of the piano filled the air, smooth and steady. Why couldn't you take a risk?

After everyone had finished their warm-ups against the mirrored wall under the watchful eyes of the instructors , the atmosphere in the studio shifted. Sweat glistened faintly on everyone’s foreheads, the scent of resin and floor polish mixing with the faint hum of the air conditioning. The teachers began whispering among themselves, flipping through clipboards filled with evaluation sheets, before one of them clapped her hands sharply. “Alright, everyone,” she called, “we’re going to try something a little more advanced today. Some of the choreography from the recent concert performance.”

Lee Know’s heart gave a small skip. His concert. He recognized the music before it even started, a familiar track that sent a flicker of nostalgia through his chest. The choreography wasn’t easy but he was confident he could do it. In fact he already knew most of the older students could handle it, but he wasn’t expecting to feel this strange mix of nerves and anticipation. He glanced up just as you stepped forward into the group’s formation. Your hair was still tied loosely, a few stray strands brushing your face, but your focus was razor-sharp now. The teasing smile you’d worn earlier melted away, replaced by a calm intensity. When the music began, it was like a switch flipped inside you.

And you were absolutely wonderful.

You moved like the rhythm lived inside your bones. Every beat landed exactly where it should, every extension flowed seamlessly into the next. Your spins were perfectly centered, your transitions seemed so natural, it was elegant and beautiful. Even the smallest gestures , the tilt of your wrist, the way your head followed through a turn , felt intentional. The room seemed to fade away for him. The chatter, the scuffing of shoes , even the teachers’ low notes on their clipboards , all disappeared as you took over the space. You weren’t dancing in the room, you were owning it. Every leap seemed weightless, every line of your body extended as though gravity simply decided to let go of you.

You reminded him of a swan, graceful, proud, but untouchable in your beauty. Your movements carried that quiet power that made people stop what they were doing just to watch. And as you continued, Lee Know noticed he wasn’t the only one completely captivated. The teachers had stopped whispering; Harper, one of the strictest instructors, had even paused mid-note, pen hovering uselessly in the air. The older students, who usually looked confident and sure, now seemed hesitant, glancing at one another as if realizing they were witnessing something rare. And then came the finale, that one move. The signature jump, the breathtaking moment that tied the entire piece together. Lee Know knew it well. It was the part of the choreography that always made the audience gasp when performed right. His pulse quickened as he waited, because even though he’d never seen you do it before, he knew you could. You had the strength, the control, the heart, he could feel it.

You prepared, stepping back, your body aligning perfectly, eyes focused ahead. The music swelled. He could practically see it , the perfect arch, the flawless landing. And then… you stopped. Just before takeoff, your body stilled. The momentum you’d built evaporated in a heartbeat. You lowered your arms gently, almost peacefully, and stepped out of the formation. For a moment, Lee Know thought maybe it was a mistake, that you’d start again, or laugh it off, but instead, you just smiled softly, bowed your head slightly toward the teachers, and walked toward your bag.

You started chatting casually with a few friends, pulling your sweater back over your leotard, your laughter filling the space like nothing unusual had happened. But Lee Know couldn’t move. His brows furrowed, confusion tightening in his chest. Why did you stop? You’d been brilliant. You’d held the entire room in the palm of your hand, and then… you decided to let it go. Even stranger, no one seemed surprised. No teacher called out. No student snickered or whispered about it. It was as if everyone had seen this before, as if your brilliance always came with a quiet retreat at the end.

You walk out of the dance studio laughing, your voice mingling with the soft chatter of the others spilling out into the hallway. The sound of ballet slippers squeaking against the polished floor fades as the group disperses, and the bright fluorescent lights hum overhead. You wave to a few girls near the exit, telling them you’ll catch up later, your grin bright and easy. Behind you, Lee Know’s steps are quick and uneven, like his body’s trying to catch up to the thoughts tumbling around in his head. His heart is pounding, because he's honestly a little mad. The way you’d stopped so suddenly in the middle of your dance had left a splinter in his chest that he couldn’t ignore. “Hey,” he calls, his voice sharper than he means for it to be. You turn around, a little surprised but still smiling, your hair slipping loose from its bun.

“What’s up?”

“The final move,” he says, stepping a little closer, his voice low. “Why didn’t you try to do it?” You laugh softly, that gentle, airy sound that seems to wrap around him like sunlight through a window. Normally, it might’ve frustrated him, someone laughing off something he takes seriously, but there’s something different about this laugh. It doesn’t sound dismissive. It sounds… tired. He notices how your smile flickers for a second, your eyes softening, almost sad. And just like that, his chest tightens with regret. “Oh, crap, sorry,” he blurts quickly, guilt flashing across his face. “You don’t have to answer that, I just, I didn’t know why. I mean, you’re an amazing dancer! It’s just… I didn’t understand.” You shake your head, your expression kind as you step a little closer.

“No, don’t apologize! You didn’t do anything wrong.” You pause, glancing down at the floor, your voice quieter now. “I guess it probably doesn’t make any sense.” Before he can say anything, you reach forward and clasp his hands in yours. The gesture is so sudden and sincere that it steals the air from his lungs. Your hands are smaller than his, soft and warm, and he can feel the slight tremor in them as you hold on. “I just knew I had moved up a rank,” you explain, your eyes flicking up to meet his. “And I knew that if I tried to do the leap, I could fall. I could ruin it. If I fell, it might’ve cost me everything I’d already earned. So… I didn’t risk it.” You smile faintly, but there’s something fragile about it, something that tells him you’ve thought about this too many times before. You’re not proud of what you’re saying. You’re just protecting yourself.

You may be a Coward, but at least Cowards are safe.

Lee Know studies your face, his heartbeat still uneven. “But… if you had landed correctly,” he says slowly, his voice careful, “you probably would’ve moved up even higher.” You shrug lightly, a soft breath leaving your lips.

“But I didn’t. I only needed to move up one, and that’s what I did.” There’s a long silence between the two of you, one of those rare, still moments where it feels like the world around you stops. Your gaze meets his, and for a second, there’s something unspoken there. Something that feels almost like understanding or maybe a plea for him to please drop the subject so you don't feel any worse about it then you already do. Then you let out a real smile, bright and full of warmth. “Don’t worry, Lee Know. It doesn’t matter much anyway. I’d just rather play it safe.” You let out a small giggle, and only then do you release his hands. The loss of your touch makes his palms feel oddly cold, so he quickly clasps them together, trying not to think about whether they’d gotten sweaty. He doubts you’d have minded, but still, the thought makes him blush slightly.

He watches as you wave to him before walking off toward the parking lot, your laughter trailing behind you as you join a few of his friends near their cars. The way you glow under the fading daylight, it’s almost unfair, he thinks. You look so effortlessly alive, so sure of yourself, even when your words say otherwise. And he feels utterly, completely confused. He leans against the doorframe, watching you laugh with his friends, the sound soft and real. A small, helpless smile tugs at his lips. You’re incredible. Frustrating. Wonderful. And as he stares after you, one thought slips into his mind before he can stop it:

What am I going to do with you?

You did make it into the higher class, and though Lee Know didn’t want to admit it out loud, something about ballet suddenly felt different. The studio lights seemed warmer, the music sweeter, the hours shorter. He used to come in for the discipline , the perfection of form, and to get better at different forms of dance, but now he just came in for you. From the first moment you’d joined the upper ranks, you’d brought a new kind of energy into the room. It wasn’t loud or showy, but surprisingly gentle and comforting. You worked hard, but you made it look effortless. And when you danced by yourself, when the music began and the rest of the world faded out, you reached this quiet zone no one else could enter. It was mesmerizing to watch. Lee Know couldn’t explain it, not even to himself. You weren’t just a good dancer, you were simply a dream. Every gesture, and spin, every rise and fall of your body told something wordless and real. It wasn’t just practice for you or him, in some way he felt connected to you.

He would often find himself lingering near the mirrors when class ended, pretending to stretch while really watching the way you moved through your final cool-down routine. The light would hit your figure just right, and he’d think, She’s a shooting star. A brief, breathtaking thing that only existed in the moment he saw it , something he could never fully keep. He would’ve made a wish then, if he could. A wish to see you dance forever. And as the two of you got closer, he stopped trying to hide how he felt. He wasn’t good at subtlety anyway. His friends noticed the way his voice softened whenever he said your name, the way his eyes automatically sought you out the second he entered the room. It became part of his routine , his heartbeat syncing unconsciously to your laughter, his chest tightening whenever your hand brushed his arm. He’d thought his crush started off strong, but every day it grew louder, heavier, until it felt impossible to ignore. Every time he walked in and you’d run over to greet him, giggling about something so random he could never remember the details afterward, his heart would stumble over itself like it didn’t know what rhythm to keep.

He loved the way your joy filled the room. You could make him laugh at nothing, smile for no reason, think for hours about the smallest things you said. Sometimes, he’d be lying in bed after practice, staring up at the ceiling, replaying the way you’d smiled that day or the way you’d gotten too caught up in explaining a step and waved your hands around dramatically. He was utterly, stupidly, hopelessly in love with you.

But when the news reached him, that you’d been offered the main role in your next class performance and had turned it down, he shouldn’t have been surprised. He should’ve seen it coming. But he wasn’t prepared. Even after weeks of knowing you, he still saw you through the soft haze of rose-colored light , all grace and fire and beauty. Every time you refused an opportunity, something inside him cracked. It wasn’t disappointment in you, not even close, it was heartbreak for what you didn’t see in yourself. That day in class, he could tell something was wrong long before anyone said a word. You weren’t yourself.

The music started, but your movements felt quieter. Not clumsy, never clumsy, but restrained. There were moments where your usual lighthearted confidence flickered, replaced by something distant. Every few seconds, your smile would falter, and that same sad gaze he’d seen once before, the one you’d worn when he’d asked why you didn’t jump, would surface again. It hit him like a terrible déjà vu. He hated it, truly hated it, because the sadness looked so foreign on your face. You were supposed to be bright, lively, and endless. But instead, you looked deflated, like dancing couldn't make you feel better anymore.

When there was a break between practice and the actual dancing, and Harper was off in the corner talking animatedly to some guy she was interested in, Lee Know quietly made his way toward you. The room was still humming with background chatter, the squeak of ballet shoes against the floor, and the faint sound of music leaking from someone’s phone, but to him, the only thing that stood out was you. You were sitting by the mirrors, knees pulled up slightly, picking absentmindedly at the ribbons of your shoes. Your reflection looked calm, but he could see the storm brewing behind your eyes. “What’s going on with you?” Minho asked softly, crouching beside you. To anyone else, his tone might have sounded sharp, almost confrontational, but you had known him long enough, just over three months, to understand the gentle worry tucked beneath his words. He only ever got that serious when he cared. You gave a small sigh, a forced laugh slipping out before you could stop it.

“It’s really nothing, Minho… please don’t worry about me.” He froze for just a moment when he heard his real name on your lips. You’d been calling him that for weeks, ever since he told you you could, but it never failed to make his heart stumble in his chest. Something about the way you said it, so soft, like you were letting him into a secret, made him feel dizzy every time.

“Well, that can’t be true,” he said, settling down beside you. His leotard stretched across his shoulders as he leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “Something’s going on. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but…” he paused, biting the inside of his lip, his eyes darting to the floor before finding yours again, “I just want to make sure you’re okay.” The sincerity in his voice made you smile for the first time all day, really smile. You reached up to undo your messy ponytail, letting your hair fall freely.

“You’re so sweet, Minho,” you whispered, brushing a few strands from your face. “Well, to be honest…” you hesitated, fidgeting with your fingers. “I got accepted for the main role in the Class 2 show.” For a split second, his brain froze, then he gasped, spinning toward you with wide eyes, his hand flying to your arm in excitement.

“That’s amazing! Y/N, that’s huge! You’re an incredible dancer, you earned that! That would be such a good way to celebrate moving up!” But instead of smiling, you groaned and covered your face with your hands.

“No, it’s not! I’m not skilled enough to do any of those moves, Minho. Everyone will laugh at me, and then I’ll get moved back down. I’ll ruin everything.” Your voice cracked at the end, and when you looked at him again, your eyes were shimmering with unshed tears. “I don’t want to move away from everyone. I don’t want to move away from you.” You whispered the last part, cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but even though saying it made your heart flutter with anxiety, it also felt right. Honest. Minho’s breath hitched. For a heartbeat, he didn’t know what to say, but then something shifted in his expression. He stood up quickly, moving in front of you until you were face to face, his hands settling gently but firmly on your arms. You could feel the warmth of his touch even through the thin fabric of your sleeves.

“Y/N.” His tone was different now, lower, steadier, full of something that made your stomach twist. “You have to do this.” You blinked, surprised by the intensity in his eyes. “I can’t watch you hold yourself back anymore,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “You’re so talented. The most amazing dancer I’ve seen. Everything about the way you move, it’s like the world disappears when you’re on stage. If you don’t do the lead for yourself… then please, do it for me.” Your breath caught in your throat. He wasn’t smiling or teasing. He meant every word. His gaze was so earnest, so raw, that for the first time, you saw a side of him no one else got to see. “You obviously got the role because you deserved it,” he continued, squeezing your arms gently. “They wouldn’t have chosen you if you weren’t ready. You just… you have to believe that.”

“Minho…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“Y/N.” His voice softened again. “You have to.” The world went still for a moment, just you and him, breathing in the same space, hearts pounding in quiet sync. The fear inside you was still there, heavy and loud, but now it was mixed with something else: courage. Finally, you groaned softly, looking down.

“Alright… I guess I could give it a try.” The second you said it, his entire face lit up.

“Yes!” he exclaimed, practically bouncing in place, clapping his hands once. His sudden excitement made you laugh, the sound bubbling out before you could stop it.

“Why do you care so much?” you teased lightly, watching him try to hide the way his grin wouldn’t leave his face. He shrugged, cheeks turning pink.

“Because it’s you,” he said simply. And somehow, that was all the reassurance you needed. As he kept cheering for you, eyes shining brighter than the studio lights, you found yourself smiling again, really smiling. Maybe taking the role wouldn’t be so bad after all. Not if Minho was there to watch you dance.

And there was a creeping thought in the back of your head as well, Lee Know really did care. He cared so much it made you heart hurt and mind blank every time he looked at you with those soft eyes. Because you were so in love with him it was all you cared about, your mind thought of him 24/7 but you were too scared. What if he didn't like you back? What if you told him your feelings and it only ended up in failure? What if you make a mistake? But with him smiling so brightly in front of you about you taking a risk you can't help but imagine taking the leap of telling him how you feel. Maybe you will one day, when you finally gain enough courage. And although it's just a thought you feel braver then you have in a while.

The auditorium was packed, a quiet hum of voices filling the air as people shuffled into their seats, the rustle of programs and the faint scent of perfume and stage dust mixing into something almost sacred. People from all over had come to see the performance, and Lee Know couldn’t blame them. He had been counting down the days himself, even rearranging his own rehearsal schedule just so he could be there. He told the other members that it was to support the ballet company, but they all knew he wanted to see you. Down in the orchestra pit, the musicians were tuning their instruments, a flurry of warm-up notes blending into something that sounded like anticipation itself. The faint hum of strings, the soft roll of drums, it was almost as beautiful as you. Above them, the hazy golden lights shifted in soft tones of ivory, honey, and white, casting warm halos over the crimson seats that gleamed under the glow. The whole theater felt alive, breathing, waiting.

Lee Know leaned back in his seat, adjusting the cuffs of his dark suit. His hair was curled gently, a quiet nod to the day you first met, because it looks just like it did in the photoshoot. He smiled faintly at the memory and then looked down at the bouquet of flowers in his lap. Cream-colored roses, soft pink carnations, a few daisies, the kind of bouquet he’d imagined you holding in his mind. He had wrapped it himself, clumsily, but carefully. It wasn’t about perfection; it was about showing you how proud he was. Even if you two weren’t together, even if the words he wanted to say were still tangled in his chest, he needed you to know how much he believed in you. The lights dimmed, and the auditorium fell into silence. The orchestra began to play, the music unfurling like silk, and Lee Know’s heart began to race. The curtains rose, revealing the dancers poised in perfect stillness, the soft glow of stage light kissing their faces. The charcoal-gray lighting wrapped around the stage like smoke, turning every movement into its own performance.

Then you appeared, and everything stopped.

You stepped into the light, your expression serene but fierce, eyes glinting with a determination he's never seen on you before. It's new to see you with this confidence, yet oh so wonderful. The moment your body began to move, he could feel the air shift. You looked like a princess. Lee Know couldn’t look away. He didn’t want to. You moved with a grace that was both impossible and effortless, your dress shimmering in a thousand sparkles that caught the light with every twirl. He could see your confidence glowing brighter than the stage itself, the energy around you transforming into something almost otherworldly. The audience gasped softly at the precision of your movements, but all Lee Know could hear was the rhythm of his own heart and the faint echo of a guitar in the back of his mind, a melody that had followed him since the first day he met you. Your melody.

He leaned forward unconsciously, his elbows resting on his knees, breath caught in his throat. You weren’t just performing, you were becoming. You were the flower finally in full bloom after seasons of uncertainty, the star that had always been destined to shine but had waited for the right night sky. Every ounce of doubt that had once clouded your eyes was gone. You were radiant, powerful, and heartbreakingly beautiful. When the music built toward the highest point, he knew what was coming, the leap. The same move you had been so afraid of, the one that had haunted you for weeks. The days after you agreed to take the lead role Lee Know found you practicing. Every morning, you arrived at the studio just early enough to get some of your own time. The air was cold, the kind that stung your lungs just a little when you breathed in, but it woke you up, reminded you that this was real. You had promised Minho you’d do it. And in some ways you had promised yourself. And yet, every time the music started and the moment for the jump came, your legs froze. It wasn’t physical, your body knew how to move, how to fly, but your mind whispered the same old fears: What if I fall? What if I’m not good enough? What if they all see me fail?

But you kept trying, over and over. And he could remember you finally getting it. Just like you had to now. His hands tightened around the bouquet. And then it happened.

You leapt.

The world seemed to hold its breath with you. Your body lifted, weightless, suspended in a perfect arc under the stage lights. The movement was absolutely flawless. You landed gracefully, your smile blooming instantly as the audience erupted into applause. But Lee Know didn’t clap. Not yet. He was still too lost in the sight of you smiling, really smiling. The way the light caught your eyes, the sheer joy in your expression, it hit him harder than any standing ovation ever could. He felt it then, the same pure, overwhelming feeling he’d had the first time he saw you, like the universe had folded in on itself and handed him a single truth: he was completely in love with you. As the performance came to a close, and the dancers bowed under the glow of golden light, he finally joined in the applause, standing and cheering with the rest. But while everyone else clapped for the beauty of the performance, Lee Know clapped for you. For your courage. For the leap you finally took.

Because for the first time ever he had met a girl that he liked being around more than he liked being by himself. Someone who he gave his heart to in her hands and was waiting for her to decide what to do with it. Yes, he was scared, but the idea that one day instead of having moments just to himself he would be able to share them with you, well he liked to think that often. And although you had his heart he knew it would take a while before you did anything with it.