He states it matter-of-factly like Mingyu should have found it obvious, “And since Minghao basically swore you into secrecy, I would assume that he doesn’t want Soon to know. Or anyone else on the team. Or their boss.” Wonwoo thinks for a minute, looking up at the ceiling tiles and presumably going through names, “I’m pretty sure Jun’s the only one that’s aware of his condition since he took Minghao to the clinic once, but I doubt he knows about the severity. Actually, yeah, this is something I wanted to talk to you about now that my saltiness towards Soonyoung has sizzled down. Do you want me to say anything?”

          “Huh?” Mingyu polishes off the sandwich and crumples up the wrapper, tossing it onto his tray. He wipes his mouth and tosses the napkin as well before swallowing, “Why are you asking me?”

          “I assume in the tense PT sessions you and Minghao have been braising in for the past month he would have revealed something about why he hasn’t told Soon.” Wonwoo is close behind on finishing his food, but stops to wait for Mingyu’s answer.

          “He said that if anyone found out, they wouldn’t let him compete.” Mingyu meets eyes with Wonwoo intentionally. He doesn’t want to be teased about the thing, “And for good reason. If his ACL is damaged any more than it already is, it could really put him out of dance forever and for something like that to be taken from him so young would be… unfortunate.” Wonwoo’s giving him a look.

          Or maybe he’s imagining it.

          Wonwoo leans back in his chair, the last bite of banh mi between his fingers. They should have sat outside where the weather is delightful and so they wouldn’t smell like the kitchen when they go back to work. There are even birds singing, “So should I tell Soon or not?”

          “Again, why are you asking me?”

          “Because Minghao and his love of dancing mean something to you.” Wonwoo takes the bite and swallows before speaking again, “And you know him better than I do- longer than I have. Why is competing so important to him?”

          Mingyu sits on his hands, thinking.

          Part of him knows the answer already. Minghao loves the feeling of competition, of standing on a stage under the applause of thousands of people. He hates letting others down. He doesn’t hate losing, but he hates not winning. Part of him knows that that answer is based on loose facts, most of which were gathered from observations over ten years ago, “I don’t know, but I don’t want to speak on his behalf. Were his injuries not obvious during practice or during the performance?”

          Wonwoo shrugs, “I was too focused on Soonyoung.” He admits it sheepishly, “Minghao didn’t show any signs that were obvious. The crowd loved him,” as expected and as they should, “and Soonyoung didn’t say anything other than that it was rude of him to want to change the choreo so last minute. Actually, I think they’re a little on edge with each other right now.”

          It’s Mingyu’s turn to weigh his words, “If you go to his practice, could you check up on Minghao? If you think that he’s seriously hurting himself, I think you should tell Soonyoung.” His mouth is dry, “If he seems to be okay, then I think it’s alright to let his secret stay a secret.”

          “Why don’t you come?”

          Mingyu’s first few words are flustered and unintelligible, “Because that’d be weird, wouldn’t it? Showing up out of the blue? I’m not even on good terms with Minghao, to just show up to his practice would be a little creepy, don’t you think?”

          Wonwoo laughs, clearly seeing the fault in his coworker’s logic, “Well, you’re friends with me and Soon, aren’t you?”

          “Yeah, but-” Mingyu stutters for the first time since preschool. Wonwoo knows. Wonwoo sees.

          “Then it’s fine.” He picks up their trays, moving to throw them away. Mingyu follows a step behind, “I’ll get to show you how cool Soon is on the dancefloor and you’ll get to ignore him the whole time and gawk over Minghao.”

          “I’m not entirely convinced that you actually want me to go.” He takes the last sip of his boba tea. It’s amazing how the ratio, no matter where he goes, always leaves half the pearls behind by the time he finishes the liquid portion of the drink.

          “I want you to come.” Wonwoo singsongs as they exit the restaurant, “You want to come.”

          They set the time for Tuesday after work. That’s fine since Mingyu takes it off anyway and he has enough house chores to keep him busy until 5:30 when Wonwoo gets out of work. His house chores are supposed to be meditative and help him relax, but clipping plants with a can opener and accidentally bleaching his favorite pair of jeans doesn’t spell relaxation today. By noon, he feels like he must be hyperaware that he’s doing the menial tasks correctly. Is this a sponge in my hand and not the steel wool? Are the reds in the right basket? Did I turn the stove off? Did I already run this laundry through the rinse cycle an hour ago? No? Better run it again. He even goes so far as to forget which rooms he’s Swiffered through already and ends up mopping the flat three times.

          All for nothing since no one ever sees his house and it’s never ever in disarray anyway.

          He almost forgets to eat lunch with all the happenings. He even is so lucky as to burn his soup and it’s incredibly difficult to burn something that’s suspended in water. At least it’s edible. More edible that Soonyoung’s cookies.

          Around 3 he feels like the clock has stopped moving or is at least moving at a pace akin to that of dying snails. Maybe he should bring a peace offering. Cookies? Cake? -filled macarons? He picks the first option. Hopefully bringing a plate of ic cookies will deter Soonyoung from ever sending a plate with Wonwoo in the future. He and Joshua couldn’t live through that and Jeonghan isn’t as nice as them when it comes to sharing his opinion. Seokmin was lucky he escaped thanks to his internet cutting out in the middle of an online lecture.

          Cookies it is.

          “Cookies.” Wonwoo looks at him when they both step out of their cars in Honeyrun Plaza’s crowded parking lot. The parking lot isn’t that small, but the sporting good’s shop on the corner is having a blowout sale so it really is lucky that they scored two spots near the dance studio, “I would actually consider fighting you if I wasn’t so butthurt about Soonyoung. You take those cookies in there and make him cry.”

          Performance Studio is sitting where his old gym used to be. The place shut down after he graduated high school. Admission was crazy cheap back then and he had begged his dad for enough allowance to join a few months at a time. All his friends went there. He’s not sure if they did more working out or talking, but regardless, he has fond memories of the place. It’s gutted now, replaced with sleek Cherrywood floors and any wall that isn’t windows is mirrors and curtains. The main lobby is mostly the same aside from a fresh coat of paint and a load of performance pictures that litter the wall. Even the drinking fountains are still the same.

          The place still smells the same, sweaty.

          It’s not like B.O., it’s just hot, salty; sweaty. People working hard and exerting a lot of energy for hours on end tend to make an area smell like that. The interior paintjob makes it look more professional than the old gym did. The floors don’t have an inch of carpet and the ceiling tiles no longer have stains from the water leaks. Well, maybe they do, but they’re black now instead of that spackled white.

          “This way.” Wonwoo guides him down a hallway. All the walls are new. It used to be an open floor plan with exercise equipment scattered about, but now it’s sectioned off into several dance studios with a central, main floor for groups evaluations and class showcases. Most of the dancers are teens, high school kids. Mingyu recognizes the old Oakdale colors streaming from a backpack and a letterman that looks like the one he has at home buried in his closet. It’s clear that this dance studio is a pretty popular place. Even kids from Riverside are here.

          Their shoes and bags say that they’re Riverside kids; from a different tax bracket as expected. However, the hostility between the schools that Mingyu remembered from a decade ago seems to dissolve when they pass through the main doors. The teens are supporting each other and cheering for each other; sharing water and laughs.

          “Hey, Wonwoo. Looking for Soonyoung?” the man sitting at the front desk asks him.

          “Hey, Yixing.” Wonwoo smiles at him, “What studio is he in today?”

          “If his class is out, he should be in A3.” The soft-toned man looks at his watch, “Did you just get out of work? What’s the occasion?”

          “No occasion really, just wanted to show a friend the studio.” Yixing nods and is distracted by a man bringing his daughter to the desk with warm greetings. Something about the dance studio helping her gain confidence in school and praising the instructors and thanking Yixing for opening Performance in the first place. He’s humble, “Down this hallway.”

          Wonwoo seems to know his way around the studio which is to be expected since he’s in a long-term relationship with one of the lead instructors. A few students greet him on their way back to the locker room, one even gives Wonwoo a high-five and finger-guns as she spins into the bathroom. He’s well-liked, “Look at you, Mr. Popular.”

          He laughs, “Nah, not me, Soonyoung.”

          When they pass A1, Mingyu realizes that a small group of people is gathered in front of what he assumed to be A3. Logically. The doors are glass so that people can peer in and see who is in which room right away without having to disturb practice, but this room’s glass door is just to match with the others since the entire wall is glass. The other three walls are mirrored and in the center of the deep, red dance floor sit six people. He immediately recognizes Soonyoung’s blonde hair from the back. Two have brown, one has blue, and the other two have black. One face looks familiar and it’s the face of the man that dropped Minghao off at the clinic that one time. Somehow Mingyu isn’t surprised.

          The kids and adults gathered by the door clear the way when Wonwoo makes his presence known. It actually takes him a little bit of effort since his clothes make him look like a parent at first glance. Mingyu’s dressed down in jeans and a t-shirt today instead of his office-casual button up and slacks. It’s a comfortable appearance. But even still, Mingyu makes sure to check his hair in every reflective surface he passes. The mirrors are fogged up with steam and heat from their bodies. You could say the dance was pretty hot.

          “Soon told me that the finals have three more sections in addition to the set the performed at semi-finals. It’s going to take a lot of stamina.” Wonwoo mumbles to Mingyu who is shuffling by the window beside him. The six are looking at a notebook that Soonyoung is scribbling in. A couple of them point here and there and then Minghao stands up to show them the move in question. They nod and the shortest one follows the movement. Soonyoung corrects him twice before they demonstrate again. The youngest looking guy comes over to the side and cues the music.

          “That’s Chan. He’s a few years younger than us and is just starting to stabilize his career dancing. He’s one of the senior students here. Vernon’s the same, the brown haired one.” Mingyu squints, he’s almost 90% sure that the man is Hansol from DonutBoo, but he may be losing it. It was really early after all, “He actually works front desk most of the time, but Soonyoung recruited him to participate which is why Yixing covers his shifts when they have group practices.” Mingyu appreciates the one-sided introductions not that he holds much interest in the other members, “The short one with blue hair is Jihoon. It used to be red and, before that, yellow. He’s a freelancing audio engineer that moonlights as a DJ. He and Soon make most of the music arrangements. He doesn’t actually work at or attend the studio, but he and Soon have been friends since high school. The tall one is Jun. He’s really nice and shy so tone down that misplaced aggression, would you?” Wonwoo elbows Mingyu in the side. What aggression? There’s no aggression here. Not at all, “He and Minghao are pretty close. He’s the one that introduced Soonyoung and Hao a few years ago and Soon scored them him a job here at the studio.”

          The following four minutes are filled with bated breath from them and the people around them. Each step falls in tune with the beat. It's entertaining and enthralling to say the least.

          Each of the six members has a special charisma that is restrained since they’re focusing solely on the movements of their choreography, but, even then, their personalities show through immediately.

          On paper, they’re all doing the same moves. In reality you can tell that Jun is more introverted. His movements aren’t as sharp, but they’re incredibly languid and fluid, blending into each other with a ribbon-like grace. Jihoon isn’t as experienced, but he’s feisty. There’s a peculiar amount of swagger behind his dance style that’s hard to put into words. In the nicest way, it looks like he’s trying to make up for his lack of physical stage presence by being more aggressive. Vernon (or Hansol, he swears they look the same) is excitable and a little early on most key moves, but his energy works well with the upbeat tune. Chan is the sharpest. His movements cut like a blade, almost robotic in nature. Soonyoung is the loudest, his movements are strong and powerful with confidence behind every step. You can’t miss him on the dancefloor just like you can’t miss him in a room full of people.

          And Minghao is…

          Well, Minghao is perfect.