Ever since you remembered, you always loved dancing.

When children your age were out on the swings, you stood in your garden and danced to whatever music your older sister listened to.

When the other teens went to crazy parties and got -faced drunk, you were in a dance studio practicing your contemporary.

And when everyone went to college after high school to study business or law – you decided to sign into a dance academy.

Auditions went smoothly and you got accepted easily.

You were really excited on your first day – but that excitement got nipped in the bud as fast as you entered the dance studio.

The room was filled with a dozen of girls and boys, and you realized that, among the people you knew, you may had been the best – but there? You were, if even, average.

Just after a few days, you started hating your school, started to despise your every day dance practices with your teachers looking down on your averageness.

After school, though, you would book yourself into the school's private practice studios and you would just dance the way you wanted. You would dance until you went out of breath, until your feet hurt and your lungs felt like they were being torn apart.

But you loved it. And it reminded you why you decided to go there in the first place.

One morning, your alarm clock went off. Blinking at the time, you groaned, throwing your pillow at it. Just a second later, there were several knocks on your door. “(Y/N)!” your mother called. “Get up!”

You flopped back your blanket and got up, dragging your sore body under the shower. All the extra practice left you immensely tired to the point where, when you came home, you would fall into your bed and you would knock out into a deep sleep without even changing your clothes.

When you walked to your school, for the first time, you considered ditching. You wanted nothing more than to just sit in a nice cafe, enjoy a latte and go to the park with your iPod and just dance your heart out. But you knew, just being average, it wouldn't exactly benefit you.

As you entered the school, you felt like a dark cloud was following you and you forced yourself into the changing room. You greeted a girl who was currently changing – one of the few people you actually got along with. Her name was Grace – and that was literally what she embodied. Ballet was her forte, but she also danced contemporary, just like you. And even though you grew to like her – it kind of frustrated you a little.

“I heard we have a new teacher” she grinned, winking at you.

“Oh, really? I bet it's just another old, stern hag” you grumbled, remembering your ballet teacher, who was the meanest, strictest persons you had ever met.

“No” Grace's grin got wider. “I heard he's still young. Some kind of dance god from Korea or something.”

You nodded, slipping into your dance shoes and pulling a loose-fit V neck over your head, wearing it over your sports bra.

Together, you walked into class and started warming up. Stretching your muscles, going through the choreography you learned the day before. When the double wing doors to the studio swung open, your dance teacher walked in and told everybody to sit down.

You looked around. In this class, which was the advanced contemporary class, weren't that many people. Currently, they were around 8 people, which was a nice size if not two thirds of them were way better than her.

“Today, we'll continue – and end – our choreography” she explained, sending groans and whispers through your little group. “You will now the steps by the end of today, but it will be on you to perfect them until the end of the term. In your spare time, that is.”

More groans emerged from the students, including you, but the teacher silenced you with a clap echoing through the room.

“At the end of today's class, everybody will be assigned another style of dance and a teacher for the rest of the term. At the end, you will have to show me and some other judges your contemporary and your second dance routine. I want you to put your everything into it, even if it's not your forte, do you understand? This is a prestigious....”

And then you started shutting off.

Panic started rising in your bones. Beside contemporary and maybe a little ballet, there was hardly anything you enjoyed. What if you would fail? What if your teacher wouldn't be patient with you?

All through the dance lesson, you weren't able to shake your worries off. You kept zoning out, kept getting steps wrong – kept getting yelled at. Frustration was all you felt, and it was stinging behind your lids.

“(Y/N)!” you got called at the end of the lesson, and with shaking legs and cold hands, you walked up to your teacher. She had her lips pressed into a flat line. Disappointment was clearly visible in her features and it weighed you down.

“Hip-Hop” she said, and you frowned on the inside. “Maybe this course will warm you up a little.” Behind you, you could hear some girl laugh at you and you bit your lip, trying to hold back your tears.

But then your teacher did something unexpected. She leaned closer to you, and a ghost of a smile tugged on her lips. “If you can master this, you will be better than anyone here. I can see your potential, (Y/N), we just have to wake up your ambition.”

The following night, you could hardly get any sleep. And even though your mom made you heavenly-smelling pancakes for breakfast, you decided to just slowly sip on a cup of coffee.

“Honey, don't pull yourself down” your mom tried to cheer you up. “Just see, I bet it will be the best experience you will ever have.”

So, when you walked up to the dance studio you were assigned to, you tried to walk with confidence, even though your tummy turned and your palms were sweaty. You hesitantly knocked the door, and as there was no answer, you sighed in relief when you found the room empty. You were early after all.

You decided to do some stretching and go through your contemporary choreo beforehand. You were so into it and the music was so loud, that you didn't even notice that somebody had entered. Not until you saw him in the reflection of the mirror, catching you off guard and sending you right onto your .

You winced in pain and were just on your way to get back on your feet, when you noticed that the person – most probably your teacher – held his hand out to you.

“Let me help you up” he chuckled, and you noticed the accent in his voice.

You looked up and saw a boy that was not much older than you. In his early 20's.

Taking his hand, he pulled you back on your feet and pulled his hand back, only to hold out his fist for you to bump.

“Hi! I'm Hoseok and I will be you Hip-Hop teacher until the end of the term.”

The new teacher, you thought.

“Hi, I'm (Y/N)” you introduced yourself, drew your eyebrows together and awkwardly bumped his fist.

“Cool. Nice to meet you” he smiled. A smile so bright, it could probably light up Tokyo all by itself.

As Hoseok bend over the stereo to connect his iPod with it, you took a closer look at him. He wore a baggy shirt by a brand you had never heard of, baggy shorts to his knees, knee-highs and worn out Nike sneakers. To top his already bad- looking style off, he wore kneepads and a snapback.

You jumped when the music suddenly started blasting. You could feel the bass shaking your whole body and it made adrenaline shoot through your veins immediately. You knew this song from a movie. It was Petey Pablo's Show Me The Money.

Hoseok approached you and stopped next to you.

“Let's just listen to the song. Get used to it, okay?” Even though he had already leaned in closer to you, he still had to yell over the music. You nodded in response and closed your eyes, feeling the beat.

When you opened them, you noticed that your teacher wasn't next to you anymore. Instead, he stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror and danced – what you assumed – the choreography he had in store for you.

Your jaw dropped as you watched him. Somehow he managed to do the sharpest movements you had ever seen, but at the same time, the way he danced was fluid and-

“Perfect” you mumbled as soon as the music stopped, looking at him in awe.

As Hoseok turned around, he smiled at you, making your heart jump a little, and clapped his hands.

“Let's get to work then!”

Luckily, Hoseok was the most patient teacher you had ever met. Working with him was so relaxed that you actually started to enjoy school again. In the mornings, you even looked forward to your Hip-Hop lessons.

It turned out, that you were better at it than you had expected, which was still not very good. But when there were steps you couldn't understand or just couldn't get right, he would repeat them with you until you were able to perform them well. And, other than your other instructors, he would praise you. A lot.

“Ah, screw this!” you just spat, throwing your hands up in the air in frustration. “I can't get this right!”

Hoseok had just showed you a complicated sequence of hand moves, and you were having more than just a tough time. You were used to fluent arm movements – those sharp ones were completely new to you.

“Don't give up” he chuckled. “Here, let me show you.”

To your horror, he walked up behind you, his chest so close to your back that you touched when he took a deep breath. From behind, he took your hands and placed them into the starting position. He slowly executed the movements, and you could feel his breath tickling on your neck. You held your breath and a cold shiver ran down your spine as his hands shifted, encircling your wrists.

“See? It's not that hard is it?” he asked, and you hummed as an answer, too afraid of what would come out of your mouth when you would attempt to speak.

“Try” he then grinned, taking a step back. Through the mirror, you could see that he had crossed his arms in front of his chest, her eyes fixed on you to watch your every move.

You took a deep breath and gulped, before bringing your hands into starting position again, repeating what he just showed you.

“Good. 75% speed now.”

You crinkled your nose and frowned a little, but he smiled at you encouragingly.

“See? You're good. Just believe in yourself! Full speed, c'mon!”

You concentrated hard, and as soon as the music set in, your body moved by itself. To your surprise, you had really mastered it. Behind you, Hoseok applauded and you started laughing at his dramatic reaction.

A few days passed by and you were getting closer to Hoseok by the day. You enjoyed his company, and even enjoyed listening to the Hip-Hop playlist he put together for you. Each day, you noticed how you got more confident in your dancing – and you actually regained your ambition just by watching Hoseok dance. The way he put his all into his steps, it fascinated you.

“So, uhm” Hoseok started the lesson one day, and you noticed something you had never seen him do. He acted nervous – rubbing the nape of his neck and a hint of a blush lingering on his cheeks.

“Spill the beans” you laughed, elbowing your dance teacher, who grew to become your friend.

“The part we're learning today, well....the dance is actually choreographed for two people, so there's this part where we'll be dancing together. It's part of the assignment.”

“It's okay” you assured. “I have danced with others before.”

Though you couldn't quite deny how your heart rate picked up and you felt the blood rush to your cheeks.

“Alright, so then, uh...”

Hoseok lightly placed his hands on your hips, showing you the steps and how he would be involved in it. Turned out, that the part was a little ier than you had expected, and you were glad that your head was red from the dancing, so nobody would be able to tell that you're actually really blushing.

Even though, dancing with Hoseok felt natural. You adapted to him quickly and you found this the most comfortable part.

“So, in the end we'll stand face to face” he explained, lightly encircled your wrist and whirled you around. Since you were surprised by the force, you stumbled, flying directly into his arms.

Out of reflex, he wrapped his arms around you, keeping you from falling.

“Swept you off of your feet, huh?” he chuckled, and you noticed how deep his voice sounded, and how close to your ear it actually was.

You slowly peeked up, seeing that he was looking down on you with an absent smile. He held you away a little, so, instead of being chest to chest, you had a little room to breathe – but he didn't let you go.

Instead, you watched him run the tip of his tongue over his lips and you looked up to fix his eyes with yours. By now, your breathing went flat and you didn't know what to do. Hoseok then raised his hand and brushed a strand of hair out of your eyes and behind your ears. His touch made your body hair stand up and as his eyes wandered from yours down to your lips, you completely lost it.

Was this happening? Was it really happening?

He slowly leaned in and your eyes fluttered shut. But as you didn't feel anything as the seconds passed by, you opened them again, looking at him in confusion.

To your surprise, he was grinning, but his eyes were half-way closed and, if you weren't mistaking, his eyes had darkened into an almost black color.

“Can't wait, huh?” he murmured, his voice raspy and low in your ears.

Then, everything happened quickly. One of his hands had moved to your back, the other to the back of your head, and the next second, you were pressed up against him and his lips softly brushed over yours before he placed them down on yours to kiss you.

After a moment, you wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers tangling into his damp hair as you got on your toes. You felt so light that you sighed into the kiss, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss and let his tongue trail your lips.

You couldn't suppress a small giggle at the ticklish feeling and he pulled back. His face was flushed and his lips swollen – and you assumed you looked just the same.

“Is this part of the choreo, too?” you teased, and Hoseok ruffled his hair, looking a little embarrassed.

“Not really” he admitted, chuckling.

You frowned and playfully elbowed him in the ribs.

“Too bad” you winked and he pulled you into a headlock, tickling your sides until bothof you collapsed onto the ground.

“I really like you, (Y/N)” he admitted, pulling you closer to him.

“I like you, too, Hoseok” you replied, shyly burying your face in his neck.

 

 

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