There were three things bothering Aya on Tuesday two weeks into the final quarter of her second year. First; results for the previous quarter were still not out. It rarely exceeded a week for quarterly grades to be published, let alone two. It wasn’t so much over her results she was worried about; it was the time delay that she found strange. Second; she thought Solenn’s transfer into the first class on Monday highly suspect. Not that she was in a position to undermine the girl’s scholastic performance. It was simply her biased gut feeling that it had something to do with the fact that Solenn was, in a way, the owner of the school. And third; she still couldn’t regard Sehun straight in the eyes.

It was beginning to upset her, emotionally and physically. She couldn’t understand it herself. No, it wasn’t just the kiss. She didn’t think she could get that shallow. Maybe it was the boy himself. Maybe, in her effort to distance herself, Sehun did nothing to counter it. Maybe he didn’t see her importance the way she found his. Or maybe he just wasn’t the type to reconcile something he didn’t put asunder. In any case, she determined not to do anything about it as long as Sehun, too, wouldn’t do anything about it.

“But how about this stupid note!” Aya slammed on her desk. The note Sehun had left was crumpled beyond recognition. She had kept it with her wherever she went. When Sehun had asked her out and she had agreed, there hadn’t been any exchange of affectionate words. Not a single gesture of sentiment. They hadn’t even progressed to holding each other’s hands.

But then again, they were officially together, so why did a single kiss and a simple note of confession get her too worked up?

“Jin Aya, would you like to be escorted to the infirmary?”

She jerked up from her stupor and watched the woman’s worried face. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I didn’t hear you. Can you please repeat the question?”

The woman’s lips pursed. Aya saw the rest of the setting; blackboard, wooden table, her armchair. She was still in class! And she had most unceremoniously interrupted the class discussion. Her face burned.

Crumpling the note within her fist, she stood and bowed in apology. And then, without waiting for anyone to her, she excused herself to go to the infirmary.

As soon as she was out, she ran. She had no direction, nor purpose. She just wanted to get away. Along deserted corridors she dashed. Higher and higher into the building, way past the council floor. It was quiet, except for the padding of her shoes. At last she reached the topmost floor, just beneath the rooftop. She leaned against the wall and sank to her knees. She needed a break. From herself and from everything else. What was it that calmed her? How had she managed pressure before? She forced her breathing to slow as she let her lids drop.

When the answer finally dawned, she laughed. Of course.

It had only been months since she last danced, but it already felt like years. The one thing that kept her going despite all the pretense she had to endure. Yes, she recognized it as pretense—the exemplary scholastic performance, the influential position, the pleasant countenance. She knew and she wouldn’t deny it.

When she stood, she felt the rough wooden door behind her collide with her back. She pushed a palm to it, slowly, like it might unhinge if she were a tad too rough. She only turned when the door was gaped fully to an empty room. There were no windows or furniture. Nothing. It wasn’t until she looked up that she saw two air conditioners hung overhead.  This could be a dance room, she mused, stepping slowly inside. Or at least it used to be.

The door behind her clicked as she locked herself inside. The confinement choked her, but not for long. She let her lids drop, and since there wasn’t anything inside that could be her source of music, she started humming instead. Random tunes, from her memories perhaps, although she wasn’t thinking of any song in particular. She waved and turned and swayed along with her soft humming. There were no mirrors to assess how she was doing. She didn’t care. As long as she was moving, as long as she was consumed by her passion, she was all right. She felt the corners of her lips turn up slightly at the thought. She was all right. Her mind had cleared for now; at least until she could dance again, whenever that would be.

She would have stayed in the moment for hours if not for the gap on the wooden floor that caught on her foot. Her eyes snapped open just as she felt her body sway forward like a falling object set in slow motion. Her face should have crashed against the hard wood already, but the slowing motion was more dramatic than ever. Maybe this is how it feels to be in euphoria. She was going to welcome the drop and relish the impact when she finally realized what was causing all the slow motion.

Or rather who—who was causing it. Her heart jolted up ; one arm was locked around her waist and kept her from falling. As quickly as she had recognized the boy, she straightened and recoiled away.

She met his gaze—awed or shocked? She couldn’t be so sure. But it was neither cold nor frolicsome. And all at once a hundred possibilities swarmed her head; she bet her skull would shatter any second.

How long had he been standing there and watching her? How much had he seen? What would he make of it? How did he even get inside? She was positively certain she’d locked herself earlier. Regardless, he was already here and the expression on his face was not at all reassuring. He’d seen enough.

“Aya…”

She squeezed air out of her lungs. She’d been holding her breath long enough to feel a certain pang. When she gasped for another lungful, it was his name that escaped her lips.

“Baekhyun.”

He seemed to have finally snapped out of his own trance. He straightened, though his brows were still arched up in disbelief. Baekhyun was not in any way exceptional when it came to academic matters, but he sure as hell wasn’t dumb either. She knew then, that whatever Baekhyun saw, for however long it might have been; she knew that he was on to the correct conclusion.

“You… dance?” His tone was still skeptical, but the awe was there as well, pride even. He moved tow