The air is stuffy in the practice room, and sweat is rolling down Hongbin's temple as he thuds down on the floor in the corner, taking a bottle of water from a nearby chair and gulping down half of it in one go. He feels crazy exhausted and his limbs are shaking wildly, his head buzzing with the dissonant flow of several songs of theirs. He wants to sit there for only a few minutes more before he’ll join the other members on their way home—everyone except Hakyeon.

“Okay, Hakyeon, focus,” Hakyeon's choreographer says and Hakyeon nods, still panting from their group rehearsal. He touches a hand to his forehead, brushing his fingers over his wet locks, moves his shoulders a little and cracks his neck. He is ready to give it his all.

Watching Hakyeon dance has always been a strangely mesmerizing thing for Hongbin. It doesn’t matter if he’s dancing to a certain choreography or performing freestyle, if he is dancing ily or trying to look tough, or if he is losing himself in a modern ballet performance—Hakyeon always manages to look professional.

As the powerful instrumental music starts playing from the speakers with a bass that echoes through Hongbin's chest, he finds himself wondering if anyone else in the world could look as marvellous as Hakyeon does while dancing. He doesn’t think there is another person who looks as lithe and graceful as Hakyeon as he holds his arms above his head and spins around with his eyes closed, a small smile lingering on his lips.

It reminds Hongbin of a tiny, snow white butterfly he saw when he was a child. He was nine or ten years old, sitting in the grass of the playground in his school uniform while his classmates were playing hide and seek. The late spring weather felt unpleasantly warm and Hongbin crawled over to the shade of a young chestnut tree, picking up a short, thin branch from the ground to draw shapes into the air with it when the butterfly fluttered around, landing on the branch in Hongbin's hand. The butterfly moved its wings slowly as if it was trying to fall asleep, and stayed there until Hongbin's arm started trembling from the exertion of being stretched out. The butterfly then took off from the branch, but it didn’t fly away. It kept flying in circles with fluttery wings as if to keep Hongbin company; as if to show him the most tranquil beauty in the world.

Just like Hakyeon does.

The rhythm picks up and Hakyeon is dancing faster, with more momentum. His footsteps fall heavier and his breathing becomes quicker, his black sweater stretches on his overworked muscles, the flame in his eyes flickering more wildly as he glances up at his own face in the mirror.

Sometimes, Hakyeon doesn’t look like a fragile butterfly.

As Hongbin watches the muscles of Hakyeon's lower arm work under his skin as it peeks from under his rolled-up sweater sleeves, he thinks of all the times he’s thought Hakyeon was like a marble statue coming to life. Those thoughts usually occur when Hongbin is lying in bed, too awake to even just try falling asleep, and wanting Hakyeon to be there with him.

He can’t even count all the times he wished Hakyeon's strong arms would be supporting his body by Hongbin's head with Hongbin's always shaky fingers running over the muscles of his shoulders, fingertips trailing down the shape of the sinews there, drawing circles on his skin. He never really dared to imagine how it would feel to kiss Hakyeon's lips—that simply seemed too unholy, like Hakyeon was only a paragon of perfection until someone as mundane as Hongbin tainted him by such a human act as a kiss. He did picture, however, sweat rolling down the column of Hakyeon's neck and pooling between his collarbones, and the flush in his cheeks, the way he would whisper Hongbin's name with his warm breath hitting Hongbin's ear.

In those secret daydreams he never looked into Hakyeon's eyes either. He couldn’t let himself see the fire in there. He didn’t want to get burned.

The slowing of the rhythm of the music breaks his reverie—they’ve passed the and Hakyeon is back to looking nimble as usual, spinning around once more with his eyes closed and opening them just when he stops in front of Hongbin. The song is over.

Hakyeon smiles at him sweetly, even though he looks near unconscious from tiredness. He reaches out then, tipping Hongbin's head up with a finger under his chin, touching him as softly as if it was a butterfly’s wings fluttering against his skin.

Hongbin glances up and the fire sears him.