warm up

 

“They want to do a what?” She twisted a lock of hair around her index finger and pulled, a nervous habit that had rece she no longer had to keep her hair tightly hairsprayed on a semi-regular basis. “Mom, I don’t think it’s a good idea…”

On the other end of the line, her mother sighed. “It was in your contract. ‘Potential follow-up segments for future episodes.’ I’m afraid we don’t have a choice.”

“It’s been twenty years! Isn’t there a statute of limitations on those things? I didn’t even sign it, I was a minor!” She paced in small circles around her living room. There had to be a way out of this. “I haven’t danced in years!”

Five years, in fact. Her pacing grew more frantic. “Can’t…can’t he do it with his new partner and pretend she’s me?”

She was reaching at straws.

“Honey,” her mother’s voice softened. “I know it’ll be hard. But maybe seeing Jongin will be good for you.”

Maggie flinched involuntarily at the name. “Mom,” she pleaded. “I don’t think I can.”

“Maggie, you haven’t come home in five years.” Her voice was gentle. “Don’t you think it’s time you made peace with each other?”

You’re martyring yourself. Lizzie’s exasperated voice ran through her head. Why leave and let him keep the town and all your friends? It’s like you got the raw end of the deal in a ed-up divorce settlement.

“I—I need to think about this.” Hastily, she exchanged ‘I love you’s and goodbyes with her mother before hanging up.

It was unfair that she was the one who had to run. But could she deal with having to face them all again? She drew her legs up on the couch, closing her eyes and dropping her head back against the armrest. What was she going to do?

 

She took a deep, bracing breath before pushing open the door to the studio, only to stop short at the sight of an unfamiliar face at the receptionist’s table. Two decades of Miss Emily greeting her at the door, calming her down before competitions, and patching up her scrapes and bruises had left her unprepared to see the young, waifish girl in her place. What else had changed in this place she once considered home?

“May I help you?”

She approached the desk hesitantly. “Yes, I’m here to see Instructor Kang?”

“I’m sorry, Instructor Kang is no longer taking new students.” The girl smiled politely at her. “I can schedule you a session with another instructor, if you’d like. Instructor Jang is free later this afternoon.”

“I—ah, I’m not a new student. I’m just visiting. Could you tell him that Maggie Chae is here?”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, oh my goodness! You’re Maggie Chae? That Maggie Chae?” Hands fluttering, she gushed, “I am a huge fan! I’ve watched all of your performances with Kai. You two had the most amazing chemistry. Oh my god, this is too great. He’s been so excited to see you.”

He was excited to see her? Somehow she doubted it. “Umm, thank you.” Maggie stuck her hand out for a handshake.

“I’m Helen.”

Helen, in her pink cardigan and matching headband, had a gentle grace that Maggie could tell worked wonders on the younger students. She did not, however, have anything near a semblance of a firm handshake, and Maggie winced inwardly at the awkward feeling of holding a stranger’s limp hand in her own.

“Kai’s told me so much about you.”

The warmth in Helen’s voice gave her pause. She staunched herself for the awkwardness of talking to an ex’s new girlfriend. Pasting her show smile on, she said, “You must be Kai’s girlfriend.”

Helen flushed. “No, no, of course not! I might have a teensy crush on him—who doesn’t?—but nothing serious. Everyone knows you two are perfect together. I’m rooting for you!” She pumped a fist encouragingly.

Maggie's smile weakened as she debated how to respond.

“Maggie!”

Saved by the bell. She turned to see Yixing jogging towards her.

“Hey!” She opened her arms. Yixing picked her up and spun her around, making her laugh. Placing her back onto her feet gently, he said, “It’s good to see you again.”

“Likewise.” She grinned. “Congratulations, by the way. I heard from Lizzie that you’re finally putting a ring on it. Her words, not mine.”

He chuckled. “Thanks. Speaking of my lovely fiancée, you know she won’t be happy if you don’t go see her first. Please excuse us, Helen.”

“Of course, Instructor Jang. It was nice meeting you, Miss Chae!”

“It was nice to meet you, too.” She bobbed a bow before following Yixing down a familiar hallway. Linking her arm with his, she whispered, “Why does she call you Instructor Jang?”

He looked at her strangely. “Because I teach here?”

“No, I mean…when she mentioned—she called him by his first name.”

He stopped outside of a door. “Oh. She was his partner for a bit. The last one before he retired from competition.”

“He—he retired?”

Yixing nodded solemnly.

“Why?”

Once upon a time, it had been the biggest point of contention between them. It had gone from him supporting her decision to go to college and promising they’d be okay, to him ending every argument blaming her for being a quitter. She shook her head to clear out the memories.

“You’ll have to ask him that.” He nudged her gently into the small dance studio.

“Yixing?” she said softly.

He hummed in response.

“I’m sorry. For staying away so long. You’ve always been a good friend to me, but I…” She drifted off.

“It’s okay. I understand.” He patted her hand.

“UNHAND THAT MAN! And then come over here, because you are mine!”

Maggie twisted her head to the door and squealed. “Lizzie!”

They hugged tightly. Lizzie pulled back to arms’ length, hands still on her shoulders, and scrutinized her. “Okay, off with it. Let’s see what you’ve done this time.”

She laughed and reached up to pull off her beanie, revealing a freshly-dyed head of light pink hair.

“Oh my god. That hair is an abomination to any self-respecting ballroom. I love it!”

She twisted a strand around her finger. “I just…needed to change something.”

“And I need to live vicariously through your hair decisions. You look so cute!” Lizzie stepped back to greet Yixing with a kiss on the cheek. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.” He smiled lazily at her. “I’ll leave you two to talk. I’m teaching a hip-hop class across town in half an hour.” He pecked Lizzie on the lips and waved goodbye to Maggie. “I like your hair. Let’s catch up tonight!”

She nodded.

“Don’t forget your subway pass!” Lizzie called after him.

Maggie giggled. “Ironic, isn’t it, that just a few years ago you swore up and down that the two of you would never have feelings for each other?”

Lizzie rolled her eyes. “I know. ‘We’ve been partners for too long, we know each other too well.’ I fell into my own damn trap.”

She tilted her head. “I don’t think knowing each other too well is really the problem.” It was not knowing each other enough. Not enough to know that you’d both change too much, that you’d fall out of love. “And back then, neither of us would have guessed that we’d end up being best friends, either.”

[Back then, they had been fierce rivals on the dance circuit, and mere acquaintances off of it, mostly only due to Yixing and Jongin’s friendship. Lizzie had scoffed at the “reality show child wonder,” and she, in her not-so-charitable moments, privately called Lizzie a “stuck-up drama queen.” But after the breakup, Lizzie had been the first one to knock on her door.

“Girls stick up for other girls,” she had announced. “So while that Jongin his wounds with their stupid wolf pack or whatever, I’ll be here for you.”]

Lizzie snorted. “True. But here we are, and you can’t get rid of me.”

She gave her a fierce hug. “I’m glad.”

Lizzie patted her head. “How’re you holding up?”

She let go and gave her a look. “I dyed my hair pink.”

In a patient tone, Lizzie asked, “…and?”

She sighed. “Okay, I guess. My mom was right. It is time I stopped running.”

“Good. Let’s talk about something else, then. How’s job hunting going?”

Maggie groaned. “Not well. I had one interview last week, but it went terribly. The interviewer was so arrogant, and kept asking questions about my personal life.”

“Gross.” Lizzie wrinkled her nose. “But don’t worry! There’ll be better opportunities in the future, and you don’t want to work for them anyway.”

Maggie laughed. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. And I think I need to go find Instructor Kang. I have no idea how I’m going to pull off a dance routine after all this time.”

“Maybe you’ve still got it!” Lizzie snorted at the look on her face and hugged her. “All right. Don’t forget, dinner tonight with me and Yixing! Miss it and I’ll have your head!”

She laughed. “I wouldn’t dare. See you tonight!”

Wandering back out into the hallway, she headed toward the smaller ballroom in search of Instructor Kang. Pushing open the heavy wooden door, she was greeted by a blast of salsa music, and a solitary figure dancing with an invisible partner. Kai.

 

first dance

 

He saw her mid-turn and hesitated. Froze. After a beat, he walked toward her, stopping a few steps short and bowing before offering his hand. Would you like to dance?

Automatically, she slipped her hand into his.

The beginning strains of a tango filled the room. They moved into starting position, torsos pressed together. She wasn’t wearing heels, he realized a bit too late as she looked up at him through the ridiculous pink curtain of her bangs. A week of worrying and coming up with what to say still left him unprepared for the reality of seeing her again. She was still as beautiful as he remembered, even with a messy bun and wearing an oversized shirt that dwarfed her already-small frame.

Once they started dancing, it was obvious that she was out of practice. She was stiff against him, and muscle memory didn’t restore the confidence and grace she had always displayed on the floor. Still, she responded instinctively to the slightest pressure of his ribcage against hers, moving with him as he led her across the room.

It shouldn’t have worked. Once his teenage growth spurt had left him towering over her, their balance should have been thrown off, their partnership over. But back then, they hadn’t yet known about giving up on each other. And inexplicably, it worked. They worked. Even now, when they hadn’t danced together in years and there was a distinct emotional unease between them, they had a natural connection that he had never even gotten close to finding with any other partner. Something about her was just right.

Looking down at her upturned face, he couldn’t help but remember the last time they saw each other.

Their last fight had started like all of their other fights: a petty disagreement that devolved into her being upset that he was “different now” and him accusing her of abandoning him. It was a familiar argument, one they had started having once he had joined a hip-hop crew with Yixing and became “Kai,” and she had decided to go to an out-of-state university for a business degree instead of joining him in the dance program at the local college. Except this time, it escalated.

“You’re the one who left!” he had yelled.

“I’m still HERE. And I’m trying!” she had screamed back.

And somehow, the last words that came out of his mouth were a harshly yelled, “You’re not ENOUGH!”

Maybe he had meant to say, “You’re not changing enough,” or “You’re not trying enough,” or even, “I’ve had enough.” But the damage had already been done, and he watched as her face crumpled with pain. Betrayal, her eyes had accused him, before she ripped them from his and ran, tears streaming down her face.

Now, her face was carefully blank, though they maintained eye contact as he dipped her low and brought her back up with a final flourish.

They stood silently as the final notes echoed.

“I’m sorry. For everything.” He said simply, discarding all the speeches he had rehearsed in his head. She’d know what he meant.

Her hand tightened briefly on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, too.”

He gave her a short nod before letting her go. Silence fell over them once again as they processed their apologies.

They say in the moments two people dance together on a ballroom floor, they must be in love.

 He wanted to pretend just a little longer.

 

“Do you remember our first show routine?” His voice had gotten deeper, and from up close she could see that he had grown even taller.

“I remember.”

At five years old, practicing the same dance over and over again had tasked her patience greatly. She and Jongin had whined and whined about it, but Instructor Kang hadn’t let up, and that routine had gotten them a spot on network television. Every year after that, they’d dance it again, for old times’ sake, and Jongin would always pretend he was about to drop her and laugh at her when she squealed.

…she remembered.

He let her go and stepped away to change the track before returning to her side with a small grin, striking the beginning pose. She did the same, and smiled uncertainly back at him.

A sudden burst of salsa music filled the room, and she found her feet moving automatically with the beat, a thrill of pride rushing through her as she realized she could still keep up. Out of habit, her eyes sought out Kai’s. He laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners, as he danced around her. She felt herself relaxing, falling into the familiarity of the routine. Kai raised an eyebrow at her, asking a silent question. In response, she nodded almost imperceptibly; she could still do it. She felt the familiar support of his hands under her arms as she dropped down into a split and came back up.

Moving to the side, she watched as Kai launched into the complicated footwork of his solo. He shot her a mischievous grin, and suddenly she saw six-year-old Jongin, showing off in front of her. Six-year-old Jongin pulling a prank on Instructor Kang, comforting her when she sprained her ankle. Six-year-old Jongin and five-year-old Maggie, dancing in this very same ballroom to the hoots and hollers of their parents, Miss Emily, and the other members of the studio, just for fun.

Five-year-old Maggie made her stick her tongue out at Kai when he motioned for her to start her solo. Eyes closed, she moved through the steps. It had been so long that she had forgotten the feeling of having wings on her feet.

Kai joined her again, and as their feet weaved around each other, she couldn’t help smiling back at him.

“Ready for the big finish?” He held a hand out to her. She grabbed it and he lifted her to flip over his shoulder and pull her back up through his legs. A few more steps, then the music ended. Panting, she laughed, exhilarated.

Glancing at each other, they grew shy.

Kai cleared his throat.

“Could we…maybe…start over again? With everything?” he asked. “Being partners? And being friends?”

She paused. Smiled.

“I’d like that.”

 

second dance

 

He tried to be inconspicuous, really, he did. He danced with his assigned partner, bridesmaid #3 to his groomsman #3. He made small talk with her as they shuffled along the dance floor. He even made sure to make eye contact and smile at her every so often. But judging from the faintly amused look she was giving him, he hadn’t been able to completely disguise the fact that he was glaring at the best man.

Jongdae was a nice guy. He was a good sport, had a terrific sense of humor, even had a great singing voice, as demonstrated by the duet he had sung with groomsman #1, Minseok, as Lizzie and Yixing had their first dance. He was also a terrible dancer. Stiff as a board. It was almost a travesty that he was dancing with Maggie. Almost, if not for the fact that Jongdae was also extraordinarily charming, and Maggie was laughing, eyes crinkled and dimples showing, even as she automatically adjusted to accommodate his two left feet.

They say in the moments two people dance together on a ballroom floor, they must be in love.

He felt envious. It wasn’t an irrational, possessive jealousy. It was more…fear. Fear that he couldn’t compare, fear that their relationship could never be fully repaired. Residual regret, despite the fact that they had both agreed to put the past behind them. And…resignation, and the queer mix of anger and sadness that came with it.

On the bright side, they were making progress. Though it was nowhere near their previous competition level in terms of difficulty, the routine was coming together. Between practices and the classes Maggie had picked up for Lizzie, they saw each other almost every day. And though they still had a long way to go, it was nice to finally be friends again.

He tore his eyes from the maid of honor and returned his attention to his partner as the song thankfully came to an end. Making his excuses, he prepared to cut in on Jongdae, only to see Maggie barreling towards him in a swirl of green tulle. Pleasantly surprised, he moved to intercept her, smooth words on the tip of his tongue. Except she swept right past him to the girl beside him, grabbing her hand with a panicked whisper of, “Emergency bridesmaid meeting!” and dragging her off without a single glance in his direction.

 

After sending Anna off to find Jenny and awkwardly inserting herself between two men trying to impress Gina and unceremoniously yanking her away from the conversation, Maggie and the bridesmaids convened in an inconspicuous corner.

“What’s going on?” Jenny asked, obviously girding herself for the worst. “Is Lizzie angry drunk again?”

They collectively winced as they remembered the bride’s outraged rampage through the bar hosting her bachelorette party when she thought a bouncer had been “looking at her funny.”

“No, worse.” She took a deep breath. “She gave the signal for the bouquet toss.”

Anna looked a bit green around the gills. “Oh, no.”

“Well,” she reasoned hopefully. “There’s always the chance that some other single woman will want to catch it."

They all looked doubtful of those chances. She continued, "But…in the event that there isn’t….one of us is going to have to take one for the team.”

“Nose goes!” Gina, who had been surreptitiously rubbing her nose before making the sudden declaration, had her index finger firmly pressed to its tip. Maggie and Anna quickly followed suit, the latter smashing her finger into her nose so forcefully, she looked vaguely porcine.

They all stared at Jenny, who had reacted just a second too slowly.

“My entire family is here today,” she said expressionlessly. “I’m getting enough questions about how single I am already, thank you very much.”

They all made noises of sympathy.

“What about Anna?” Gina suggested.

Anna shook her head vehemently, finger still determinately on her nose. “No. No, no, no. I can’t.”

“Why not?” Gina asked. “You’re the only one of us with a significant other.”

“And this might make him run for the hills. If he doesn’t, I will.” Anna turned to point at her. “Why not Maggie? She’s not single, either!”

She yelped. “Don’t pin this on me! I am very single, thank you very much.”

 “Oh, yeah? What about Tall Dancer Groomsman?”

“Who, Kai?” She furrowed her brow. “We aren’t together.”

“Really?” Anna gave her an arch look. “Well, someone was Glarey McGlarerson while you were dancing with Jongdae, and it certainly wasn’t me.”

The others looked at her with interest.

Kai had been glaring? She waved a hand dismissively. “Long story. Doesn’t change the fact that we aren’t together.”

“Is he bothering you, then?” Jenny asked, concerned. “Do you need us to scare him off?” The other girls nodded in support.

She was touched. “No, it’s fine, we’re just friends.”

“Gina, what about you?” Anna asked, feeling the precariousness of her position as the only non-single bridesmaid.

Gina snorted. “Pretty sure me getting married is still illegal.”

“Isn’t that an even better reason to catch the bouquet?” Anna coaxed. “You can fly in the face of convention!”

Gina raised a brow. “Having a nose piercing doesn’t exactly mean I’m a rebel without a cause. Besides, you’re the oldest after Jenny, and I think she gets a pass on this one.”

They all nodded in agreement. Matchmaking aunties were no joke.

Anna blew out a breath. “Fine. There had better be other people who come up to catch this stupid thing, or else you all owe me something really nice for this.”

“Joonmyun is really nice.” Gina said sotto voce as Maggie and Jenny giggled.

“I heard that!”

 

Luckily, an assorted group of Lizzie and Yixing’s high school friends, coworkers, and relatives also came up when the MC announced the bouquet toss. The four of them halfheartedly pretended to jostle for position, even as they left a wide berth between themselves and the line of fire. They breathed a collective sigh of relief as a distant cousin of Yixing’s leapt for it, catching enough air to make any basketball player proud, before pasting bright smiles on their faces and clapping politely as the crowd dispersed.

Maggie startled when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around to find Kai extending his hand to her.

“I have it on good authority that the next dance is a salsa.” He grinned at her.

 

The salsa led into the Macarena, and then the Chicken Dance, and then some sort of wild conga line started by one of Lizzie’s drunk uncles. They danced until they were breathless with laughter.

“Wanna take a break?” he asked her. She nodded, and they walked outside the ballroom into the hotel hallway. The registration table at the entrance had been deserted, guests long checked in and dancing the night away inside. They settled into the chairs behind it, sitting side by side.

Maggie sighed as she slid her feet out of her shoes. “Remind me never to wear heels this high or this narrow ever again, vanity be damned.” She eyed the table. “It probably wouldn’t be terribly polite for me to put my feet up on this table, would it?”

He chuckled. “Here, put your feet in my lap.” She turned to face him and did as he suggested. He took her left food in hand, rubbing firm circles right above the arch.

“Oh my god, I forgot about how great your foot massages are.” She leaned back, bracing her arms against the seat of her chair for balance.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier that your feet hurt? We could have stopped to rest instead of continuing to torture your toes.” He switched to her right foot.

“It was too much fun.” She sighed. “It’s been a long time since I danced just for fun.” She hummed along to the strains of the song drifting through the doors.

“In that case…” He gently pushed her legs off of his and bent down to undo the laces of his oxfords, taking off his socks and handing them to her. She looked at him quizzically as he slipped his feet back into his shoes, retied them, and stood up.

“Put them on.” He motioned to the socks. “And let’s dance. No one will see us out here.”

She seemed to ponder this for a moment before putting on the socks and accepting his outstretched hand. He pulled her onto her feet. Sighing happily, she said, “These are cushioned. You are a saint.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist as she brought her hands to his shoulders. “You’re welcome.”

They swayed to the ballad that was playing, crooning voices singing of luck and soulmates and rain muffled through the doors.

“Are you still coming over for dinner tomorrow night?” she asked. At his nod, she said, “My mom is really excited. She’s making all your favorite foods. You’d think she hadn’t seen you in years.”

Clearing his throat, he replied, “That’s because she hasn’t, really.”

“What do you mean? She has lunch with your mother once a week.”

“I, um, couldn’t really face her after we broke up. So…I avoided her. Them. Both of your parents.” That was why he was so nervous about tomorrow’s dinner. He supposed it was what other people felt when they met their significant other’s parents for the first time—the desire to please, the worrying about making a good impression, the fear of disapproval—except he had known Auntie and Uncle since childhood, and he and Maggie had already broken up.

They both fell silent. He struggled to lighten the mood.

“My mom’s really excited, too. She’s marinating beef as we speak.”

She gasped. “With the secret sauce?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, with the Kim family super secret barbeque sauce.”

“Yes!” she hissed in an exaggerated whisper. At normal volume, she wondered, “What will it take for her to give me the recipe?”

Keeping his voice deceptively casual, he said airily, “She’d probably teach you if you married me.”

She laughed. “Tempting offer. It might be worth having to be married to you.”

It was an old joke between them, and the familiar repartee gave him the courage to verbalize the thoughts he had been processing for the past few weeks. “Maggie, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“What is it?” The song ended, and the beginning notes of another ballad rolled in to take its place. The two of them were still swaying, a soothing back-and-forth.

He took a deep breath. “You keep calling me Kai.” She opened to interject, but he shook his head, barreling on. “I know why. But I want to be Jongin again. Your Jongin. Not Kai.” Not Kai, the self-absorbed, cooler-than-thou, larger-than-life dance persona he had let take over his life. Not Kai, who had belittled her and made her cry. Not Kai, who had pushed him to keep competing to prove a point to someone he had already pushed away. Jongin, who loved her, no matter if he was boyfriend or best friend to her. Jongin, who was heartbroken and hurting, but didn’t know how to fix things. Jongin, who had always been half of Maggie-and-Jongin.

She studied him. “It’s not that easy.”

“I know.” Oh, did he know.

She shifted her gaze to a point just above his shoulder. “I—” She looked back at him. “I’ll think about it.”

At his nod, she added with a smile, “Aren’t we due for a spin soon?”

With a laugh, he spun her out.

 

last dance

 

“Does Yixing have any of that Chinese milk candy left?” he called from his place on the couch. “I finished all of the fruit gummies.”

Maggie was in the kitchen, retrieving a bag of instant popcorn from the microwave and upending the contents into a large plastic bowl. “When they said ‘housesitting,’ I don’t think they meant ‘try your best to eat us out of house and home,’ Jongin.”

“They said ‘feel free to use whatever you need’,” he defended.

“And do you need to eat all of Yixing’s secret candy stash?” She walked in with the bowl of popcorn in hand.

“Arguably, yes.” He took the bowl from her and set it on the coffee table next to the now-empty tin of fruit gummies. She settled beside him on the couch, and he rested an arm around her shoulders as she leaned into him.

“Hold out your hand.” She did as he asked, and he dropped the last fruit gummy into her palm. “I saved the last one for you.”

“That’s so kind of you,” she said laughingly, popping the candy into . “Oh, it’s green apple, my favorite.” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek as a thank you.

On the television, a bespectacled comedian welcomed viewers and guaranteed “an exciting show tonight, folks!” Pre-taped interviews played, featuring spots from past judges.

“It’s weird,” she murmured. “It feels like so long ago, but at the same time it’s like it all passed in the blink of an eye.”

He hummed in agreement and hugged her closer as the host introduced the first act, “two kids who tore up the dance floor.” Footage of their younger selves, waiting impatiently backstage for their turn to audition, began rolling.

“What’s your favorite thing about dancing with Jongin?” a voice off-camera asked.

Picking at the sequins on her dress, five-year-old Maggie answered, “He flies, like a bird. A big bird. Maybe an ostrich. Jonginnie’s really strong.”

On the couch, Maggie groaned in embarrassment, burying her face in her hands as Jongin laughed.

“Look at you,” he cooed. “So cute. I can’t believe you compared me to an ostrich and meant it as a compliment.”

“To be fair, you’re way too tall and have a really long neck, so I’d say the description is still accurate.” She laughed and wiggled away when he poked her side in retaliation.

The interviewer asked Jongin the same question. Six-year-old Jongin said simply, “She’s light and easy to carry.”

“I don’t know if I should feel amused or offended that my weight was the sole factor that recommended me as a dance partner,” Maggie mused.

“Yeah, well, it’s not like you had much else going for you.” He yelped as she mock-glared at him and pretended to bite the arm slung around her shoulder. “Savage. Why do I subject myself to such treatment?”

“Because I’m light and easy to carry,” she sniffed, turning back to the television, where a montage of their performances was playing. It was a bit surprising, to see how talented they had been, and how distant it felt—almost as if the kids on the screen were other people, who were meant to never grow up or change. Somehow, it didn’t seem real, that those children had stopped dancing, stopped thinking that performing was the most important thing in life, stopped being hyperactive, easily excitable, easily satisfied kids. It wasn’t a bad thing, growing up. But it was hard to associate herself with these figures that had remained frozen in time on the silver screen.

They both froze as a home video—probably filmed by Chanyeol, judging by the angle—started playing. It was filmed in a large, empty room that had been temporarily designated as the “rehearsal room” for the competition that day—the “World Open Youth Under 21 Latin Championship,” proclaimed the banner that Chanyeol had zoomed in on. They were all sitting cross-legged on the floor in a circle, teenaged competitors from around the world, playing a silly game in broken and not-so-broken English, trying to get to know each other and relax before the competition started. The camera panned to Maggie, who was laughing so hard her eyes were closed. She had Jongin’s tuxedo jacket draped over her lap and wore a bright red dress. Despite her heavy eyeshadow and made-up lips, she looked young, so young, a child who thought she was a grown-up. In the center of the circle, Jongin had just finished performing a series of goofy animal impressions and struck a ridiculous pose, grinning proudly as the others cheered and clapped. He sat back down next to Maggie, entwining their hands. They shared a secret smile as a boy from the Russian team stood up for his turn.

“I didn’t know Chanyeol recorded that.” Maggie’s voice interrupted the next part of the segment, an interview with Instructor Kang.

He stayed silent, brow furrowed. “I knew from the first time they walked into the studio that they’d be immensely talented,” Instructor Kang’s gruff voice said in the background.

Jongin cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” she turned to look at him.

“I regret it. That we’re not like that anymore.” He gestured to the television. “Carefree. Happy. Not…not fighting for months and breaking up and not seeing each other for five years.”

She hummed. “Well, first, it wasn’t your fault. It was something both of us had a hand in, and to some extent, it wasn’t really even something that both of us can be blamed for. We were young and naïve and probably a bit too selfish. Even if we hadn’t broken up then, we would have eventually.”

He sighed. “I suppose that’s true.”

“Jongin, we were basically attached at the hip since infancy. It wouldn’t have done us any good to never learn to be by ourselves.” She laced their fingers together. “We needed space to grow.”

“You make it sound like we’re plants.” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it gently.

“Humans aren’t all that different from plants,” she mused, resting her head on his shoulder. “We need care and feeding and the right amounts of sunlight and rain.”

“What about now?” he asked. “Do you think we’re still doomed to failure?”

“No.” She said simply. “We’re different people now. Grown-up Maggie and Grown-up Jongin have a much better chance.”

Satisfied, he returned his gaze to the screen. Onstage, the present-day versions of themselves had just bowed to the crowd and gotten into starting position. The pop/Latin mash-up that Yixing had mixed and mastered for them blasted through the theater, and they launched into the routine they had been practicing for months. It wasn’t a flawless performance by any means—Jongin winced inwardly as he saw himself overly compensating for his right knee, which he had injured a few weeks prior to the taping—but there were no glaringly obvious mistakes, nothing the general audience would find fault with. Most importantly, it was fun—fun in the music they were dancing to, fun in their overdramatic expressions, and fun in the sheer joy on their faces. He watched as the couple on the screen sent each other flirty glances, Maggie dancing around him in a swirl of skirts and fancy footwork.

They say in the moments two people dance together on a ballroom floor, they must be in love.

But he’d always been in love with her, long after the dancing ended.

He leaned down to brush a kiss on her hair. “I love you, Chae Maggie.”

She snuggled closer. “I love you, too, Kim Jongin.”