iii. the third step

Minji was stretching when the door slammed open. Looking up the mirrored walls, she saw his long legs carry him to one of the benches situated along the walls. He dumped his bag and shrugged his jacket off.

She blinked at him. Once. Twice. Not expecting his loud entry out of nowhere. She arrived a while ago, already in the middle of her stretching when he came. 

Upon arriving at an empty studio, she had already prepared herself for another lonely practice. She knew Kim Jongin couldn’t have backed out with his pride on the line but for a second she believed that he ended up not caring after all. 

He went straight into stretching with his back towards her. Unsurprising as that was, she couldn’t help but feel his presence. It kept pulling at her eyes, sneaking glances at the mirror because Kim Jongin was really there in the room with her.

Unsure how to feel, it quickly turned into a bad idea once he pulled his hoodie off, giving her a flash of hardened lines and golden skin before it was concealed.

.

How long she berated herself, she could only guess because music was playing not too long after and she wondered how the hell he managed to plug his phone to the speakers and get into the centre and start dancing.

And it was a sight. Far different from watching him through the window or when they were surrounded by their peers. Transfixed, the energy he emitted seemed to come off him in waves, hitting her with a sudden urge to join him.

But that was when it came to her.

How could she practice her own routine? It seemed like their teacher did not think this through. Or maybe they expected both of them to compromise. Either way, this was harder than they thought.

She idled, caught between the contentment of watching him and actually practising until she realised she was staring and this situation wasn’t fair at all. And the audacity after missing practice this whole time.

Minji got up with renewed purpose and it ended with a vicious “what the ” from him. AUX-cord in her hand, she did feel an inkling of guilt when the music came to an abrupt stop. It clearly plundered him of his focus.  

“How am I supposed to practice when you’re playing your music?” she tried to reason.

A short laugh escaped him in his bewilderment. “Are you kidding me right now?”

She dropped the cord before stalking towards him, emptying her face of expression.

“I kid you not, Kim Jongin.”

A huff and he was glaring at her through his locks. “You’re the one insisted I come and now you’re going to complain?”

She flushed. “Look, I only did that because I can’t stand slackers. Everyone here works hard—"

“Shut up.” The dip in his voice was unnerving. “If you don’t shut up, I swear…”

That was enough for her obey and he took it as a sign to meet her halfway.

“First, you barge in my practice time, now you control everything around here too? Just what do you want from me, princess?”

The revulsion that laced the label was more apparent than anything else. Involuntary tingles raced across her skin in a sweep of goosebumps. She pissed him off again if it weren’t obvious with the embers in his eyes.

She understood the need to apologise, but it was hard when it was him of all people who probably won’t acknowledge it. So in its stead were splutters, miserable excuses after another. It didn’t help when his gaze never left her.

“I just want you to stop getting in the way!” she rambled on. “I can’t practice because you have your music on so how am I supposed to—?”

He must’ve moved without her releasing because he was right in front of her. He let out a slow, forbidding breath that reached her from she stood.

“This is my practice time, my practice room. If you’re going to , go ahead, but don’t do it when I’m practising. If I really bother you, you can go complain to Mr Hwan.”

The indignation she witnessed in the convenience store was softer yet this was somehow much worse. The beating in her chest threatened to combust and the flames that were climbing up her neck was suffocating.

Those eyes, holding in little sparks beneath the damp strands of his hair, rooted her into place. It was all she could see.