“Ri-nim, you haven’t been dancing?”

J-Hope has his head tilted in confusion as they enter the dance studio in Big Hit’s building. I usually spend a few hours dancing alone until they arrive, but today I sit waiting on the floor, scrolling through my music to find something they can warm up with. My leggings, long-sleeved shirt, and face mask all cover the evidence of the night before. My hair is pulled back, but my bangs hang down in an attempt to cover the shadows around my eyes.

“Yeah, I...I pulled a muscle yesterday so I wanted to rest a bit. It might get worse if I dance too much today.” My excuse is a lame one, and I know it, but J-Hope just bites his lip, which is pulled into a frown.

Suga looks at me darkly. “Didn’t I say that you shouldn’t let yourself get hurt?” His eyes tell me that he suspects, that he notices my long clothing despite the eighty-degree weather, or twenty-six celsius. I usher them to get started before I can receive any more questions.

“I did it, ah, did you see?” Jin exclaims after we’ve been working for a little while. The moves I’m showing them are tricky, so Jin is pleased when he can do them without correction. “Very good Jin,” I say with an approving nod. Jungkook rolls his eyes- “Yeah Jinnie, you did it so well…”

“Respect your elders, Jungkook-ah,” I remind him, but Jin just rolls his eyes and reminds me “Jungkook doesn’t know much about respecting his elders. Never has.”

“That’s why…” Suddenly I smirk and whirl around to face Jungkook. “They call him… maknae.” I sing it to the tune of Silver Spoon, causing Namjoon and Suga to bust into fits of giggles.

“Ri-nim, you should write songs!” Taehyung says with a box-grin. I resume my position in front of the dance mirrors.

“I do write songs Taehyung-ah. Well, I compose them. I don’t do lyrics very often, just the instrumental part.”

J-Hope looks over at me. “Can you play us some?”

“If you’re ever in my apartment, I’ll play you some.”

It’s easy to forget my bruises when Bangtan is around.

“Ri-nim?” Namjoon calls after the hours are almost up. “I’m having trouble with the last part, can you show me after practice?” I know that he tends to have trouble with dancing so I nod quickly. It nearly makes me flinch every time I have to execute a move for them, but I can’t let their routine suffer just because of my pain. I clench my jaw and remind myself that I only have to hide it for a little while longer.

When practice is over and the other boys leave to get lunch, Namjoon lingers behind for his extra help. As soon as the door closes, his expression turns rigid. “Show me,” he demands. “I know you’re hiding something under those sleeves.” I look at him wide-eyed, feigning innocence. “Hiding?”

The young man moves closer, despite my subtle wince. His delicate fingers reach to slowly pull down the mask over my mouth and chin, revealing the busted lip- my skin had torn under Rae-kyo’s teeth when he tried to kiss me. Namjoon’s eyes flash. “Please,” he breathes. “Let me see the rest.” Seeing my hesitancy he gently reminds me “I’ve seen you in your bathing suit, I know what your stomach looks like.”

Nodding silently, I lift my shirt over my head until only my sports bra is left, and tug one side of my pants down to reveal the pale skin of my thigh, where the angry red cuts from the broken glass are visible. The cuts stopped bleeding easily enough, but the wounds are still fresh. Namjoon’s eyes trail painfully over my stomach, hips, and arms, where black and blue patterns dance across the skin. My lips are quivering as he asks, “Rae-kyo did this to you?”

I can only nod, pulling my waistband back up, though my shirt remains in my hands. Namjoon reaches towards me again, pulling me into a hug so gentle I can barely feel it but for the warmth of his body on mine. His bare arms whisper words of solace against the skin of my torso, raising goosebumps wherever they make contact. His chin rests atop my head as he rasps, “I’ll kill him. You should never have bruises- from anything.” I can’t find it in myself to reply, merely leaning against his chest and letting tears roll softly down my cheeks.

“Promise me something, jagi,” he begins, his voice sending vibrations across my skin where his throat presses against me. The endearment hangs in the air until I tilt my head slightly in acknowledgment. “Promise that you will never let that...that coward lay his eyes, or his hands, on you again.”

My whisper seems broken when I finally answer “I promise.”

Bruises will fade. Like snow melting or pollen scattering in the spring air, bruises can go from black to purple to yellow. By the time my skin is clear, I’ve blocked Rae-kyo’s cell, home, and work numbers. It is only a week or so after the incident that I hear word of Rae-kyo being fired from his position due to inappropriate treatment of co-workers. I wonder if somebody knew about me, if somebody told his boss, or if the affairs and violence I experienced were common for those involved with him.

Bangtan starts promoting their tour, and for the most part my work is finished. I’m still doing routines as new songs are released, but there is little for me to teach the boys. That is, until Namjoon approaches me one saturday and asks for help.

“Ri-nim?” says the low voice, startling me from my stretching. I whirl around to spot Kim Namjoon, who is looking somewhat meek. He glances up, head low, his expensive sneakers shuffling awkwardly. “Can I ask you for a favor?”

I reach over to pause my music and smile warmly. “Of course, what do you need?”

“It’s just…” his slender fingers pull at the hair on the nape of his neck, which his freshly dyed a mix of black and silver. The colors make his skin striking. “With the new tour, I really want to impress the ARMYs. I want to be a better dancer so I can give them a good show on stage, but we’re going to be doing our shows really soon. Can you help me? The other guys are tired from the promotions so I don’t want to bother them-” I step forward, cutting off his flow of nervous chatter.

“I would love to help you.”

Namjoon really is not a bad dancer, not by a long shot. I’ve had students who could barely do a turn without getting dizzy. Namjoon is strong, flexible, and willing to work hard. There’s just a little something that throws him off, and the only thing I can think of is confidence. He was always teased for not being a good dancer, which means he doesn’t expect himself to do well.

“I’ll tell you what,” I say as he warms up. “I have a routine that I was planning to give to Jimin, or J-Hope, something they could do as a side performance. I’m going to give it to you instead.” The choreography is difficult, but I won’t tell him that. Instead I just show him the first few steps, and then the next few, correcting his movements gently and positioning his limbs how I want them every time he pauses.

It’s a free evening for him, so I make the poor boy dance for two hours straight. By the time we take a break he’s panting and sweating. “Ri-nim, I can’t.” he says, his voice shaking around my name. “We’re not even a minute through the song and I’m dying.”

I walk closer, putting my hand on his cheek and lifting his gaze to meet mine. His silver hair falls into his eyes, so I push it away with my fingertips. “You’re doing great, Joonie. Just as well as any of the others would. You’re a very good dancer.” I look away and step back; I can’t get too close to him, or any of them. It would only end in heartache for me.

“You’ve done enough for today.” I concede, not waiting for him to speak. “Get some rest, drink water, and we can practice some more after your interview tomorrow.” I can feel him staring, but I focus on adjusting my music. “Okay,” he finally says. “Thanks again Ri.” When he finally leaves, I let out a sigh.

We practice for three hours the next day. Namjoon’s muscles strain against his shirt, and mine are probably doing the same thing. We’re both exhausted, but he is learning quickly and I’m reluctant to quit. “Damn, Ri.” he gasps, his hands on his knees as he stops to catch his breath. “You never stop, do you?” I grin mischievously, unable to stop the quip from leaving my mouth. “I guess I have a lot of stamina.” Namjoon gives me a sidelong glance, thick lips slowly curling into a smile as he shakes his head.

“You always tell dirty jokes,” he complains teasingly. “Don’t you know how to act like a lady?’

I scoff, a hand on my hip. “I know exactly how to act. Besides, who ever said dirty jokes are for men? Women are only allowed to be ual when you want us to be?”

The boy lifts his hands defensively. “Alright, alright, easy. I’m sure you’re always- I mean, not that I’m  looking-” My laughter keeps him from finishing his hurried defenses. “Keep dancing oppa, we have lots of work to do.”

“Ri-nim?” Namjoon asks just as we start to wrap up. He always says my name very thoughtfully, as if musing over something. “Yes?” I hum, looking into the mirror rather than meeting his eyes.

“Bangtan is going to a ceremony in a few days...it’s not on tv or anything, it’s like a celebration for some producers who are opening a new music company. A lot of idols, producers, and other people are gonna be there. Do you think maybe you could go with us?”

I try not to stare at him. “Why do you want me to go?” He shrugs, hand rising to rub the back of his neck awkwardly.

“I dunno. I just...want you to meet people. Your dances have gotten a lot of positive feedback, I want to show everyone the mind behind the moves.” My cheeks are warm, so I look away, nodding quietly.

“Sure. I’d love to go.”