When angels had landed at the foot of your bed and told you they were going to help you capture Minwoo’s heart, you had expected there’d be a bit more to it than dance lessons. But when you arrived home from shopping with the family that Sunday, you discovered the angels had moved all your bedroom furniture into the corner of the room, leaving a wide open space to dance in.
“I hope you’re putting all of that back after,” you said, eyeing them.
“Way ahead of you,” Kwangmin replied, pulling out a detailed sketch he’d done of your bedroom before the furniture had been moved. “I know where everything goes.”
“I did the bunny,” added Youngmin, beaming. On closer inspection of the sketch you noticed there was a badly drawn little rabbit floating just above the bed.
Kwangmin was all business. “Let’s get to work. How well can you dance?”
“Um, well...” You demonstrated a couple of steps you knew from a Kara song. Youngmin cooed and clapped - but stopped when Kwangmin shot him a look.
“We’ll... just start from the basics,” he said to you. “Watch me carefully, okay?”
He nodded to Youngmin, who hit play on a stereo, connected up to your iPod, sitting beside him from his position on your windowsill. Out of it came what sounded suspiciously like the theme tune to My Little Pony.
“What is this?” Kwangmin said, frowning.
“I don’t have this on my iPod!” you said, throwing up your hands.
My Little Pony, My Little Pony, isn’t the world a lovely place...
“Oh, my bad,” Youngmin giggled, fiddling with the iPod. “I added it. It’s about ponies!”
“Can you just get to the actual song--”
“Some of them have wings!”
Everywhere you go a smiling face...
As Youngmin jabbed at your iPod, you noticed Kwangmin looked deflated. You offered him what you hoped was an encouraging pat on the shoulder, and got a weak but rare smile in response.
“Okay, ready!” Youngmin said, once he’d worked out how to skip to the right song.
You half expected to hear My Little Pony again, but what began instead was a slow song with a heavy beat, the kind of song you’d faintly heard coming from the dance club’s room after school before. Kwangmin had done his research thoroughly.
Your eyes fixed on him as he began to move with slow, snakelike movements, impossibly flexible. His hips seemed elastic, rocking sensuously to the beat.
“Are you allowed to do that?” you said once he was finished, trying not to gape.
“You know, dance... sexily. It’s not very angelic.”
“It’s allowed,” Kwangmin said firmly, but a few seconds later his huge wings suddenly fluttered out, almost knocking you over. He touched them gently, as if checking they were still there.