Mornings had a consistent routine. As the clock hit five, Hakyeon would rise – stretching his arms over his head – before rolling out of the bed, feet hitting the floor with a light thud. He would then cross over to the window, peeking out between the curtains, to gaze out at the sleepy main street. By the time he woke up, the lights were already on at the Flour Boy Bakery, and Chansung was usually doing his morning jog down the street before heading into 2PM Fitness for his workout. Pulling the curtains a little further open, he would let the blue light of the coming dawn seep into the room, spilling over the rumpled blankets and smooshed pillows. This action would almost always be greeted with a few mumbled curses from deep beneath the blankets; Taekwoon hated mornings with such an intense passion that Hakyeon suspected he was at least part vampire. The familiar greeting would always make the lithe dancer laugh at his lover before he frolicked into the kitchen to start the coffee machine. After a nice cup, he would head down to the studio and work on the books until Taekwoon came down at about nine to begin preparing for the first class of the day, which would always include crossing the street for coffee and sugar as something of a pick-me-up.

But every Thursday, the schedule would change. Hakyeon would wake up and crawl into his trusty sweats, which were so stained and threadbare that Taekwoon almost constantly threatened to throw them away. The redhead would then steal one of his boyfriend’s shirts before shuffling downstairs – skipping the morning coffee. The dance school had a recital coming up, and Hakyeon always performed a solo as part of the proceedings. (He claimed his solo was because his iness was a gift to the universe, but Taekwoon knew it was because Hakyeon lived to perform. Even a small stage twice a year was better than no audience at all.) Thursdays were when Hakyeon would enter the empty studio and dance with abandon, trying different ideas until he found just the right choreography.

Taekwoon loved Thursdays. They were the only days when he would steal out of bed early – half an hour after Hakyeon – and slip downstairs to watch his lover dance. There was something so breathtaking about the way the redhead would lose himself to the music, flowing through the motions until his clothes were fused to his skin with sweat. But lately, Hakyeon had been struggling to come up with the right choreography. He would dance to song after song, but nothing seemed to click. It worried Taekwoon. The recital was just a month away, and Hakyeon had never been this far behind in preparing for it. He wondered what was going through the man’s mind – what creative demons he was wrestling with.

On that particular Thursday morning, Taekwoon rolled out of bed and crawled downstairs, wrapped up in a hoodie Hakyeon had bought him the previous Christmas. He stifled a yawn behind his hand as he shuffled to his usual position behind the viewing window, tucked up in the worn out armchair. The moment he opened his eyes (he avoided doing that until he absolutely had to), the man noticed that something was different. For the past few months, Hakyeon would be pacing the floor or muttering or switching songs by this time. But today, he lay sprawled out in the middle of the floor. And then Taekwoon heard it: the first strains of music.

With the first thrums of the cello, Hakyeon’s body bent off the floor – shoulders digging into the wood – as though he were being electrocuted. Each new beat was punctuated with a new twist of his body. His hand jerked up to stretch towards the ceiling as the raw tones of a woman’s voice came over the sound speakers; his fingers curled even as his arm began to tremble with the amount of tension Hakyeon poured into the gesture. He then flipped onto his stomach, bowing his body against the floor and pushing his hands slowly across the wood out from his body. As the chorus surged, the man suddenly rose in a smooth scorpion move and launched into a dance that could only be described as anguished. He threw himself across the room as though he were being cast about by some invisible force; it hurt to look at his ragdoll body. The redhead then lept, falling into a roll that carried him across the floor until he collapsed in a ragged heap. But the dance did not end there. Hakyeon twisted in a way that would be painful for anyone less flexible (how Hakyeon could move like that was beyond Taekwoon’s understanding, even though he too danced with great skill), and soon was kneeling with his back pressed against his floor. At the next beat, the redhead stretched both arms out – as though he were trying to grab something that was moving away from him – and pushed off the floor once more. Once fully risen on his knees, he suddenly stood, back arching as though he had been stabbed from behind. Throwing one leg up – pointing his toes towards the ceiling – he pirouetted before dropping to the floor once more.

Reaching backwards, Hakyeon rolled his body upwards, kicking a leg up and over in a handstand, until he was on his feet once more. He staggered forward a few steps, before making a gesture that made it seem as though he were trying to rip out his eyes or claw out the inside of his head. As the tempo increased, the gesture became more furious until, as the chorus returned, Hakyeon was yet again flinging himself about with seeming abandon – this time adding more falls and kicks than before. It was as though Taekwoon were watching his lover self-destruct, torn apart from the inside. And then he was able to place the song: “Anything but Love” by Apocalyptica.

Hakyeon had played the song for him once, just after he had asked the redhead on a date for the first time. The man had given him a wan smile – the most emotion Taekwoon had shown up to that point – before politely telling Taekwoon that he thought them dating would be a bad idea. Taekwoon had been distraught. They had met in a dance class and had been assigned to be partners on a special choreography project. It had been liking finding the sunlight for the very first time to work with Hakyeon: They complimented one another so well, even though their styles were so disparate, that Taekwoon couldn’t help falling in love with his partner. Seeing his distress at the rejection, Hakyeon had asked if Taekwoon wanted to know why he had been rejected, and the man had agreed after some hesitation. 

Hakyeon had taken Taekwoon to an empty practice room and collapsed in the middle of the floor, much as he had at the start of the dance. After Taekwoon had sat down, the then-blond Hakyeon began to explain his story. He had, only scant months before, escaped from a long-term relationship. Something of a rueful frown had turned Hakyeon’s lips as he explained, “I thought Kangin loved me. He told me it often enough – said that I was the center of his world.” A sigh that was almost a laugh slipped past his lips. “And I believed it – believed that him hitting me was part of us being in love. That it was my fault he got so angry. It got to the point where … he started to tell me that no one else would ever love me, not after everything I had done. And I stopped caring, stopped feeling. It was awful.”

Taekwoon had done his best to process the horrific story the beautiful dancer was laying out before him. But how could Hakyeon believe that no one else would ever love him? He was kind and thoughtful, intelligent and forgiving, not to mention drop-dead gorgeous. It seemed unfathomable. “How…how did it end?”

A sigh slid past Hakyeon's lips. “Some of my friends and my brother Youngjae staged an intervention, I guess you could say. They packed up my things, and Youngjae punched Kangin so hard I think his jaw broke…” Hakyeon shrugged. “I moved here, started fresh as best I could, and … I threw everything that reminded me of him away.” Utterly unable to process how something so awful could happen to someone so wonderful, Taekwoon sat in a stunned silence and tried to find the right words. But, there was nothing. He had just begun to feel like an insensitive jerk for asking Hakyeon out when the slimmer man had pulled out his phone. “Maybe…this will help you understand how it felt. I’m not so good with words, but music helps. And maybe then you can understand why – at least for now – I can’t say yes to you.”

And then Hakyeon had played the song for him. The lyrics told of a person who was trapped in a relationship where their partner delighted in breaking them – where they could give anything but love. It hurt to think of Hakyeon considering of himself as being completely dead on the inside, unworthy of love or saving; but, it was easy to see the damage this Kangin had wrought. Taekwoon had felt so angry thinking of Kangin’s crimes that it made him burn with the desire to hurt, to maim, to torment the unknown man for everything he had done to Hakyeon. But, instead, the brunette had vowed he would do anything and everything in his power to bring the beautiful dancer at his side back to life.

It had taken nearly three years of patience before Hakyeon had agreed to dating Taekwoon, but once their relationship had started – oh, it was heaven. They were just as perfect together as Taekwoon had imagined; he could not fathom a life without his handsome redhead at his side. In fact, Ye-Won at The Jewelry Box was even working on designing a certain something special for Taekwoon – something he intended to present to Hakyeon on their upcoming anniversary. But the return of that song, with all of its terrible connotations, made his chest ache. Hakyeon deserved to think of beautiful memories, not the demons of his past.

Moving to his feet, Taekwoon slipped through the studio and over to the sound equipment. Pulling out his phone, he brought up the song he wanted and plugged the device into the system. Then, with a deft flick of the output switch, he cut off the angry music Hakyeon had been dancing to and replaced with it the soft sound of a piano playing. It had been the first song that Taekwoon had ever sung (and played) for Hakyeon, back when they had been not-quite-dating but very clearly interested in one another. “Someone To Fall Back On.” Taekwoon had chosen it all those years ago because he knew he could never be a hero nor some fairytale prince, but he could be the person Hakyeon could count on to stand beside him no matter what problems they faced.

At the change of music, the redheaded dancer stopped short and turned to gape at Taekwoon. He had not noticed his entrance. The quiet brunette shrugged a little and smiled softly at Hakyeon. He then bowed a little before moving towards his lover, one hand lightly outstretched. A wide smile turned Hakyeon’s lips – the sort of grin that the man had only regained after more than a year free of Kangin’s poison. He happily slid his hand into Taekwoon’s grip and allowed his lover to pull him close, their bodies pressed together as they moved lightly across the smooth wood floor. Taekwoon buried his nose in the sweaty strands of Hakyeon’s hair, breathing in deeply the familiar scent of his other half, and tightened his grip on the man’s slim waist. Then, softly, the brunette began to sing along with their song – just under his breath – even as Hakyeon let his head rest on the broad, comforting shape of Taekwoon’s shoulder.

It was in moments like this, where it was just the two of them and the music, that Taekwoon remembered how lucky he was. Hakyeon was his happiness, his heart, his voice, his everything; always. As the song came to an end, Hakyeon pulled back just enough to look up at Taekwoon. They gazed deeply into one another’s eyes, exchanging a million “I love you”s in that single glance, before a cheeky grin turned the redhead’s lips. “This year, I think you should dance with me, Taekwoonie. To our song.” Taekwoon hummed a little. “I’m glad you agree.”

The brunette chuckled – a whispering breath of a thing – before leaning down to press his lips firmly against Hakyeon’s. “As long as it makes you think of good things.”

Hakyeon lifted a hand to brush it along the gentle curve of Taekwoon’s jaw. “How could I think of anything else when I’m with you, Taek? You’re the best part of me.” He snuck a quick kiss. “When I try to give up on myself, you remind me of all the things I have to be happy about. Every time I smile, it is because you were there to help put the light back in my soul. Dancing with you - to our song - would let me show that to everyone, so they could begin to understand just how wonderful you are.”

A light blush colored Taekwoon’s features as he glanced towards the ceiling. Accepting compliments and praise, even from Hakyeon, would never be his strong point. “Hakyeon?”

“Hm?”

“I’ll dance with you on one condition.”

Hakyeon’s eyes lit up. “What’s that?” Rising onto his toes, he forced Taekwoon to meet his gaze. An impish little grin turned the redhead's lips; Taekwoon had not agreed the seven prior times Hakyeon had asked him to dance with him for the recital. It was a bit like finding a sapphire when he had been expecting coal. There was nothing short of shaving his head bald that would stop him from siezing the opportunity to dance with his Taekwoonie. 

The brunette smirked. “You have to dress as a girl.”

Except maybe that.

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So there is my "punishment" fulfilled. Hope you all enjoyed! And you should read Rosefangedlion's story, because it's great. Still in progress, but very much worth keeping up with. <3