The folds of your skirt rolled like the waves of an ocean. You welcomed the breeze of the air on your thighs as you twirled on the hardwood floor, your arms moving gracefully to the pulse of the music. Every now and then, you would catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror lining the wall, only to twirl back around to the window illustrating the Seoul skyline.

To any other person this building would simply have been one of those towering sky scrapers which are often found in any city. The kinds of buildings you pass by and wonder exactly what all these floors could possibly be used for. However, to you, this building was a sanctuary. You knew everything about it, from the quirky owners of each office to the obscure companies they ran. Admittedly, it wasn’t a very common place to find a dance studio. But then again, the owner was not a very common man himself. You’d met him one year ago at a ballet performance. The man was quite mysterious with his personal affairs and his mind always seemed to be elsewhere. Nonetheless, he’d welcomed you to his studio, allowing you to occupy it under no charge, despite the scarce amount of business he’d had.

The studio took up the entire 24th floor of the building. Through the middle of the level ran a small, almost stifling hallway, which served the sole purpose of separating the two dance rooms. The public studio occupied one side, whilst a private room occupied the other. Originally, you’d begun taking public lessons alongside five or six other dancers. Every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday evening you would attend the lessons, each of which lasted between two and three hours. You had continued in this fashion for three months, at which point the owner abruptly instructed you to take up private lessons instead.

As it was in bad taste to question a good thing, you silently obeyed these orders and began attending classes in the dance room across the hall. The lessons were led by the same instructor as before, and lasted approximately four or five hours. This routine continued for nearly four months. Unfortunately, over those few months, the owner came across a fairly decent amount of business, making it difficult for your instructor to teach your lessons. Despite this, you still found yourself arriving to the studio as usual. You couldn’t place exactly when it happened, but eventually, your instructor had ceased coming altogether. It wasn’t something you were upset about. On the contrary, you found the solitude welcoming, and seeing as how the owner had made no objections, you found yourself occupying the studio nearly everyday. It was on one of these propitious occasions when you’d first bumped into him.

You’d been in the studio far longer than usual that night, dancing till your body gave out beneath you. You collapsed onto the shiny waxed floor, staring into nothingness as your pulse caught up with you. As usual, by the time you finished your session, the 24th floor was empty. Public lessons had ended around dusk and the janitor wouldn’t arrive till fairly late into the night, which left only you in the studio. The music from your stereo continued to fill the room as you closed your eyes and drank in the sounds. Perhaps it was because of this that you couldn’t hear footsteps in the hall. It wasn’t until a darkness shaded the light shining through your eyelids that you realized someone else was in the room.

You sat up with a start, suppressing a scream. You turned your body around to face the figure that had startled you awake. It was a man, just barely older than you. His dark amber eyes stared down at you, a blank expression across his face. Coming to your senses, you quickly stood up and apologized for not seeing him come in.

A small smile played across his lips as he spoke in a soft, sleepy tone, “It’s ok. I just wasn’t expecting anyone here. I didn’t know anyone used this room…”

"Ah" you nodded, "Were you going to use the studio?"

He stuttered, “I mean, I could come back tomorrow if you need it.”

"No, no, I was just about to leave anyways." You insisted, already slinging your gym bag over your shoulder. You gave the boy one last bow before spinning on your heel to walk out the door, his head turning to follow you the entire way.

*****

The next few weeks continued as usual. You didn’t see the boy again, yet he remained in your thoughts. He was the only other person you’d ever seen using the private studio and it struck a curiosity in you. Had the owner also invited him to the studio? Had he instructed him to use the private room? Or perhaps the boy was paying for it himself?

Eventually your curiosity provoked you to ask the owner.
"How I find my clients is my business. Very confidential information." he said in a far-off voice, obviously not paying much attention to the conversation at hand. He walked around the public studio, inspecting the blank walls with an unnecessary scrutiny. He continued in a droning tone, "Anyhow, he only comes along every now and then. He won’t be a bother to you. Why are you interested in him anways?"

The question left you dumbfounded. Why? You yourself didn’t know the answer. There was just something about him that enticed you in a way you couldn’t explain with words. A connection; Perhaps that was the most fitting term? But the owner would never be satisfied with such a vague response.  Unable to give an appropriate answer, you decided to end your interrogation. Instead, you would wait at the studio. Perhaps he often came after you left.

*****

For two weeks, you waited. Most of the time, you would practice past midnight before giving up and heading home. It had gotten to a point at which you were beginning to doubt if he was even real. Could it have been a ghost you’d seen that night? Or perhaps a hallucination? Perhaps you’d conjured him out of exhaustion. Still, as much as it wore you out, you persisted.  You had decided you would continue, no matter what, if only to prove to yourself the boy was not merely an illusion. He was real, and you were going to figure out what about him had left such an impression on you.

It was Saturday of the third week when you finally spotted him.

You’d arrived at the studio around nine, quite a bit later than usual, and the stereo, allowing the slow melody to encompass the room. You danced facing the window, painted with the drops of evening rainwater. Once again, you’d been too preoccupied with the way your feet slid on the floor, the way your muscles tightened at every pirouette, the way your hair fell loosely around your face, to notice the knocking on the door. It must’ve continued for at least one or two minutes before the door hesitantly slid open. It wasn’t until the boy coughed slightly that you realized he was there. You jolted around to see him standing there, slightly wet from the rain, his fringe dripping water over his lashes. You bowed quickly and greeted him.

"Annyeonghaseyo." The boy bowed back, curving his lips in a slight smile.

Now what? After all that hunting and scouting out for him, what were you planning to say? Despite all your determination, you now stood there quietly, unable to produce a simple sentence. The both of you remained silent, shifting your feet, the awkwardness in the air making it seem as if you’d been in the position for hours. Finally, he spoke.

"I was wondering if you still came here."

You let out a short laugh, scratching an invisible itch behind your ear, “Yeah, I do. I was beginning to wonder the same thing about you.”

The boy breathed a laugh. You felt yourself once again at a loss of what to say. Unable to stand the uncomfortable atmosphere, you picked up your bag and said, “Well, I guess I should go. It’s already so late.”

You slung the bag over your shoulder and scurried to the door. Just as you were about to pass him by, the boy held onto the end of your shirt as he protested, “You don’t have to go.”

You turned around and eyed his childish grip on the soft cotton. Realizing what he’d been doing, the boy quickly released your shirt and folded his arms behind his back as he continued, “I mean, do you wanna stay? It gets kind of boring sometimes, practicing alone for so long.”

You looked from the door to the boy and back before giving a small nod, “I guess I could stay a bit longer.”

The boy gave the same small smile as before, attempting to hide his excitement. He the heel of his sneaker and walked in long strides towards the middle of the studio. You shrugged the dufflebag off your shoulder, letting it fall by the door, and followed him. He turned abruptly and stuttered, “Ah, I almost forgot. My name is Yixing.”

He bowed slightly and smiled. You nodded in return and introduced yourself. Yixing. The name sounded comfortable on your tongue.

You surveyed the room for a moment, as if it were your first time there, determining an appropriate spot to sit. After a moment of consideration, you sat down in a corner by the window and watched the boy as he stretched. “So” you began, unable to restrain yourself from asking, “How did you find out about this place? Did the owner tell you?”

He reached his arms out above him and yawned before answering, “No, it was my manager.”

You raised a brow. “Manager? Are you part of a company?”

He turned around to face you and plopped down on the floor, stretching his legs. “Mm. Three years ago I joined the company as a trainee.” He crossed his legs and looked down bashfully. “I asked my manager to help me find a place to dance by myself. Most of the time I just train in the company’s studios… but sometimes I like to come here and practice. It’s easier to focus.”

You nodded. So he was a trainee. You couldn’t help but feel a bit disheartened. Perhaps you hadn’t realized it until now, but you had secretly been hoping he would be more like you; pursuing your dream despite your shortcomings and adversities. You’d hoped you would find someone to empathize with and share in your worries and hopes. It was always easier to deal with troubles when you knew there was another person out there, struggling just the same as you. But he was a trainee. He’d already overcome any adversities he might have had. Perhaps connection wasn’t the right term after all, you thought with a sigh. Yixing tilted his head in confusion.

"Is something the matter?" he asked

"Hmm? No, nothing. I was just thinking." you replied, not realizing just how long you’d been pondering over what he’d said. You continued asking questions to keep the conversation going. "Why do you always come here so late then? Ahh, It must be that you’re busy, huh?"

His eyes traced the folds of your shirt as he shook his head, “It’s not that, I just can’t sleep sometimes, so I come to the studio.”

You laughed, “Is it really that much better here?”

He looked up at you and smiled, “It is. I can relax here, by myself. I like the privacy.”

"The privacy? Then why did you ask me to stay and keep you company?" you teased, poking his knee.

His cheeks flushed a slight pink as he laughed nervously, “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant-”

He huffed a sigh, unable to gather his words together. You stifled a laugh watching him on his bottom lip, attempting to correct his statement. “I meant privacy from everyone else. I like having this place as my own, you know? A place that nobody else knows about, where I can come and just relax. And dance for the sake of dancing, not for the sake of my training.”

Your smile slowly faded as he continued, his cheeks flushing a deeper crimson, “That’s why I was surprised when I first saw you here. I thought it would ruin my secret. You know, I wasn’t even going to come back after that.”

He spoke shyly, his eyes shifting from the floor to your eyes every now and then, monitoring your expression. “But I think it’s good I came back. I thought maybe I could talk to you, and  we could be friends. I don’t mind sharing the studio if it’s only with one or two people. It’s better when there’s somebody to share with.”

You nodded your head slowly, taking in the words he’d spoken with such care. You felt the smile slowly returning to your lips. It seemed you both had more in common than you’d thought.

"I would like that too." you said with a grin.

******

You laid down on the wooden floor and stared up at the ceiling, listening absentmindedly to the lyrics of the song playing as you caught your breath. The familiar sound of the door sliding open disrupted the harmony of the music. You turned your head to one side to see Yixing dropping his gym bag on the floor and striding in your direction.

"Annyeong" you said tiredly. It must have been at least one in the morning by now, and your eyelids were becoming heavier and heavier.

He waved childishly and sat down beside you, pursing his lips inward. Although it had only been a month since you’d met him, Yixing made no objections when you began addressing him informally. In that short amount of time, you’d learned many of his habits and mannerisms. In fact, there was very little about Yixing you hadn’t figured out yet. It was a simple matter of asking and he would confess anything to you. There were occasions when you would wonder if perhaps you were the only one he confessed to. It would have been nice if it were so.

"I thought you said you weren’t coming today. I was just going to go home." you said nonchalantly, turning your head back to the ceiling.

He shrugged, rubbing his eyes, “I wasn’t going to come, but I couldn’t sleep again. You can go home if you want. I just wanted to come here.”

You pushed your self off the ground and sat cross legged in front of him. “It’s fine, I can stay a little while longer. Did you get any sleep at all?”

He hummed, “Yeah, a bit. Don’t worry, it’s no big deal.”

His eyes blinked slowly, his mouth slightly ajar with exhaustion. You tilted your head. He certainly didn’t look alright. You brushed his fringe away and pressed your hand gently on his forehead. He looked up, surprised at the sudden contact. Your eyes met as you gave him a small smile. His skin was smooth against the palm of your hand. And warm. Too warm. You furrowed your brow in concern. The longer your hand remained against him, the hotter his skin seemed to become.

"You sure it’s no big deal? You’re burning up. Look, you’re even sweating." you pointed out.

A reddish tint painted his cheeks. He looked down, avoiding your questioning eyes.

"I feel fine." he insisted, "Just tired."  As he spoke, his fingers found their way to your wrist, gently guiding it away from his forehead. You let it fall limp and huffed a sigh. Yixing’s gaze remained fixed on the soft hands resting on the wood boards of the floor as you continued to probe, "Are you sure you don’t have a fever? You should go home and get some rest."

His eyes flickered from the floor to you before he gave a small, evasive nod.

You breathed another sigh. “Hold on.”

You stretched to reach out for your dufflebag and pulled out a thermos. Although it wasn’t very hot anymore, you poured him a cup of tea in the lid of the bottle. He took it, despite his objections earlier. You pulled your knees up to your chin and watched as he sipped it slowly, his lips afterwards.

"You know what we should do?" you teased, a smile playing across your lips. Yixing looked up, arching a brow in anticipation.

"We should dance." you said, simply. "I mean, if you’re gonna be up all night with that fever anyways, we might as well help you sweat it out, right?"

"Aren’t you tired? You said you were going to leave." he recalled. "And you told me to go home and rest."

You shrugged, ignoring his cheeky comeback. “But then I said I’d stay for a bit, remember? Besides, how could I leave you here alone with that fever? You might pass out and nobody would find you till morning.”

He scoffed as he downed the last of the drink. You hopped onto your feet and held a hand out to help him up. Yixing quickly closed the thermos and took your hand, pulling himself off the ground. He brushed the invisible dust off his pants as you ran to the stereo, selecting a song to warm up with. Taking Yixing’s condition into consideration, you opted for a moderately paced dance beat. Quickly, you returned to the boy’s side. As the music built into a steady beat, you both found each other’s pace. It wasn’t long before your steps had become synchronized. Although the movements were slightly different, the harmony of your steps were nearly perfect. You found yourself smiling as you watched yourselves in the mirror. Despite his temperature, Yixing was exuding a focus and energy far beyond your own. You watched him out of the corner of your eye. His movements were sharp and clear cut. Every little shift of the arm and turn of the leg was as precise as a machine, yet burned with the passion of a human. Occasionally, you found yourself losing the beat of the song as you stood mesmerized by the being dancing beside you. It was only once the song was nearing it’s end that you realized you’d been standing there. Yixing looked up to see you gazing onwards and pursed his lips, fighting back an embarrassed smile. Before you could realize what was happening, he slipped his hand into yours encouraging you to rejoin. You blinked in surprise before you came to your senses and caught up with his steps. The song smoothly transitioned into the next, allowing you to keep your feet moving. Every now and then, Yixing would let out a chuckle. Had you done something funny? Was he just having fun? You weren’t entirely sure what he was laughing for, but you liked the sound of it. Before you’d realized it, the playlist ended.

You took a collection of deep breaths and let yourself fall to the floor.

"That was fun." you laughed between breaths. Yixing nodded in agreement and joined you on the cold floor. You both lied, staring at the fluorescent lights on the ceiling.

"Are you feeling a little better?" you inquired.

"I feel tired."

"Is that good?"

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. He hummed a vague response and he shrugged. You turned back to the ceiling and sighed. “Yixing-ah…”

"What is it?"

"Why do you always come here so late at night?"

"Because I can’t sleep." he replied, confusion evident in his tone.

"I know that. But why?" you turned to him, "Why can’t you ever sleep?"

He took a long, slow breath. It seemed as if he were hesitant to explain it. You suddenly felt guilty for asking. Just as you were about to open your mouth to dismiss the topic, he spoke, “It’s almost my fourth year as a trainee, you know.”

You remained quiet. His eyes were calculating as he chose his words carefully. “Lately, I’ve been wondering if this is all for nothing.”

Your heart felt unusually heavy seeing the worry plainly painted across his face. You spoke quietly, “Are you afraid you won’t debut?”

"Even if we do, what if they don’t use me?" His voice was laced with anxiety.

"You’re in a group?" you asked as you shifted your body to face him.  Despite his open relationship with you, Yixing had hardly ever spoken about his training. You’d assumed it was because he preferred to keep that part of his life seperate from the comfort he found in the studio, and so you never questioned him in regards to it. Still, you couldn’t deny you’d always been curious.

He nodded. “It wasn’t very long ago that we found out. There’s twelve of us altogether.”

Your eyes widened. “Twelve? Do you get along well?”

He smiled as if recalling some distant memory. “Mmm. Even if it’s only been a while, they’re all easy to get along with. They work hard too.”

"Do they worry about debuting too?"

He remained silent, mulling over the question. You watched patiently, waiting for him to respond. As you waited you tried to picture what sort of people his bandmates might have been. If Yixing liked them, they must be good people. Funny, definitely. And talented. Were they more talented than Yixing? You couldn’t imagine it. A few weeks ago, you wouldn’t have even believed a person could dance so well as he.

"I’ve heard some of them talking about it. I don’t know about the others. I guess they do."

You pushed yourself up by your elbows and sat cross legged by his side. “I’m sure they worry too.”

"They shouldn’t. They’re great."

You sighed. He was great too. But you couldn’t just say that. He wouldn’t believe you anyways. You looked past Yixing to the window displaying the Seoul skyline. “It’s scary to think about it. All that hard work and time put into your dream, and someone just takes it away at the last minute. It would be better if they never gave you hope to begin with, right?”

Yixing sat up, resting his chin on his knees. “But if they never gave you a chance, you wouldn’t even be able to find out if you could’ve made it.”

You smiled slyly, “You think so?”

Yixing paused for a moment before his lips broke into a smile. However, the sadness  remained in his eyes. “Still, four years a long time.”

"For your dream? A lifetime isn’t even long enough for that. Think about it. There are some people who go their entire lives without even getting a taste of their dreams." You said earnestly. He bit his lip in thought.

You continued,  “Don’t worry. You’ll definitely debut. And even if you do worry, don’t. Just think, there are 11 other people going through the exact same thing as you right now.”

You observed the contours of his fingers, wrapped tightly around his legs, as he looked down pondering the words you’d spoken. You felt slightly nervous. Had you said something too severe? Was he offended? Or maybe you’d hurt him more than he already was? What else could you say to comfort him?

Just as you were going to apologize, a smile spread across his lips. His eyes stared down at his shoes as he said “I guess you’re right about that.”

Your nervousness dissipated as his laugh filled silent room.