Mr. Perfect.
Settling on his song for the March evaluation had been simple once heâd gotten a partner. She was a dancer. She helped him on occasion whe his shoulder would pop out of joint and he was unable to get it back himself. On one of these occasions heâd politly asked her how preperations for her performance were going for her to unleash a small rant about how she didnât know how she was supposed to do this on her own, The company wanted her to sing but she didnât feel like she had the power to sustain a whole singing performance. To the point where a coach had told her she wasnât allowed to dance at all for the stage. Cracks in trainees became evident around evaluations. She told him she didnât know if this could loose her the contract sheâd worked so hard to earn, and pushing away the warning signs of a trainee who probably should leave the company soon, he used it to his advantage. He became her singing coach for the month. Not in an official sense, but in a âIâll sit here until you sing it wellâ sense. The song itself was simple for him to sing. But he wasnât singing, he was rapping.
The stage was dark. she opened the song and he could hear her voice shaking. At this point he didnât know if she were over acting or just nervous. He didnât have the time to consider it. He had to step into his role.
I follow in your shadow I make a phone call I become thrilled at the sound of your shaking breath My heart runs after your increasingly quick steps I think Iâll go crazy, The long night gets darker
He didnât face the audience. He faced her. Mostly, cheating out so his face wasnât entirely lost. She didnât look at him though. As practiced she stared straight ahead, purposefully ignoring him while he rapped his verse. Bouncing on beat, as if in desperation for her, but in reality even these non-dance moves had been meticulously choreographed.
Her turn to step forward and sing the chorus, and he knew she could have done better, but at least she was on key. Coming in on his cue, he walked to the other side of her, still mostly ignoring the faces in the chorus
Look at me now I donât wanna cry no more, more
For the first time since they started, she looked at him on that line, and he stepped over an invisible barrier heâd been staying behind. Sheâd come up with a visual story to act behind, when she acknowledged his presence, he could get closer, when she ignored him, his movements would become more erratic, but he wouldnât go near her.
Itâs already been a thousand days since we met I prepared a gift youâd like I sit on the street you frequently travel Iâm waiting for you, I know my love Donât call it obsession, you donât know love Donât say Iâve gone crazy You donât know my heart
Hakyeon walked over to a prop table while her portion of the second verse played out. Heâd practiced this so many times, but the month was not enough to get her near his standards. They hadnât even talked for the last week outside of necessary rehearsals. He was getting the impression she feared his temper a little bit.
e held a bouquet he picked up from the table while he sang, giving her his gift, which she slapped out of his hand- an homage to the original artists. In the end she broke her contact with the audience, looking at him. Sheâd managed the produce the tears sheâd promised. She sang the last chorus to him. Looking at the ground, away, but still he slowly walked up, sliding his hands around her waist, holding her tightly, possessively. The lights went down and he he could feel his song partner trembling.
She left the company not to long after. Â
