It's Friday, a little past midnight. Or is it Saturday? Taemin doesn't know anymore. 

All the lights in the studio are off, shut down when everyone else left two hours ago. His only source of light is from outside the large windows, bright street lamps filtering in through the glass and reflecting on the mirrored walls—but it's enough, because he doesn't need light to know what he's doing. He also doesn't need to see his own reflection in the mirror; he already knows what he looks like—he looks exhausted, he looks tired, and well, he looks alone, because he is. There's nobody else in the room, nor in the building. 

Normally, he wouldn't have been alone, but tonight he is, and he is fine with that. 

Just to feel a burn in his muscles, he's been working on the same turn for the hundredth, maybe thousandth time, drilling it into his mind, his body, every fiber of his being. His muscles are screaming, his heart is threatening to rip out of its cage, and it's painful, but at least, the feeling can overshadow other things—other, more painful, things, that he wants to forget. His body moves through the routine on autopilot. He spins across the floor, and propels himself into the air, forgetting, for a split second, that no one is there to catch him. 

Without anyone to break the fall, he succumbs to gravity and tumbles to the floor, his legs refusing to move fast enough in the time it took him to realize, once again, that he is alone. He winces at the pain on the side of his leg, and he was about to drag himself off the floor when suddenly, all the lights in the room switch on. 

It's blinding. On reflex, he closes his eyes. He's not used to the brightness—not after being in the dark for so long. 

"Hey. You okay?" 

With a struggle, he lets himself open his eyes just enough to see a tall, gangly figure peering down at him. 

Ah. It's Sehun. 

Taemin doesn't know what he's doing here, but he shouldn't be here. Everyone should have left hours ago. No one was supposed to see him crash and fall like that. He was alone. 

"Yeah, I'm fine," he grimaces and pulls himself up to his feet. 

His leg hurts more than he thought. It's probably going to bruise by tomorrow morning. He's gonna have to think of an excuse. Things like this never escapes Jongin's notice, and he can already hear him freak out, scolding him for being too careless when practicing as if he doesn't do the exact same thing. 

"You sure you're okay?" Sehun's tone sounds nonchalant, but with the way he insists on asking, Taemin knows he is genuinely worried. "I can go grab the first aid kit." 

"It's fine. Nothing's broken," he sighs as he goes to the corner where he keeps his stuff. After he grabs his water bottle, he slumps to the floor and rests his back against the cold mirror. "Why are you still here? I thought everyone left." 

"I left something at the lounge," Sehun shrugs, following him to the corner. "Why are you still here? I saw you. You weren't working on your solo." 

It's his turn to shrug, because he has nothing else to say. Even though he does have a solo part to practice—just a tiny part—he was working on the duet instead; the one he's going to perform with Jongin. 

"Jongin's not around tonight?" 

"He has a date." 

That's the only reason he's here, working on a duet piece alone. Anyway, if Jongin was around, Taemin wouldn't have fallen ungracefully like he did. He would have caught him before he could even touch the floor. 

"Oh," Sehun plops down on the floor next to him, and leans against the mirror. "With that songwriter guy?" 

To be more exact, it's the 'tall and handsome' songwriter guy—the one Jongin's been dating for about six months now. 

"It's a big night," he answers, hoping he sounds casual enough. "He said they might… you know. Sleep together. Tonight" 

Sehun whistles. "That explains why he's been jittery all day." 

Taemin tries to chuckle, but it sounds wrong in his head. 

"Yeah. It's his first time dating a guy, so..." 

Sure, Jongin's dated other people before. He always gets a little bitter over it, but usually it fades in a couple months—except the first time, and this one. It's not because he doesn't approve of Jongin's boyfriend, or anything. In fact, he's really nice—a genuinely good guy, although he's a little too loud for Taemin's taste. He takes care of Jongin really well, and the most important thing, is that Jongin's happy with him. There's nothing else he could say or do besides give them his full blessing. 

The root of his pain is in the fact that Jongin is actually dating a man, this time. It's not that it's a surprise, because Jongin has had crushes on guys before, but seeing them together only seems to emphasize the fact that he couldn't have him.

"Really? Wow. Wouldn't have figured." Sehun snorts. 

Taemin pauses in his thoughts. "That's a surprise. Most people think he's straight." 

Sehun looks at him in disbelief. 

"How?" 

"He's only dated two girls before. Never been with a guy, ever," Taemin tries to explain. "I mean, he's liked guys too, in the past—although nothing ever happened there—but not a lot of people know this." 

By 'not a lot of people', he actually means he's the only one who knows—because he knows Jongin never told anyone else about his huge crush on that senior from college days, nor the one on that cute teacher's assistant from freshman year. 

Sehun falls silent and avoids his eyes, looking out into the room. 

"Well, in my defense," the other dancer begins casually. "The first time I met him, he was with you. That's why I figured he wasn't a hundred percent straight." 

He frowns, tilting his head. "What does that have to do with anything?" 

"Have you seen the way you guys move when you dance together? The way you look at each other?" Sehun shrugs. "With all that chemistry, I assumed you were dating and just wanted to keep it under wraps." 

Taemin chokes. 

"No. No." he repeats, emphasizing the denial. "Jongin and I are not—have never dated. Ever." 

"I know," Sehun says, but he also gives him a look. One that makes it very obvious that he's waiting for an elaboration of some sort, as if he knows that there's more to the story. 

He sighs. He needs to talk to someone, and if Sehun is offering to listen, he'll take it. 

"Jongin, he… doesn't see me that way," he starts, looking up at the ceiling. "I'm his best friend, and he's mine. And well, if it's dance… We have been dancing together for a long time. Nobody knows him better than I do—not when it comes to dance." 

They've been dancing together since they were six—when they saw people dance on TV and decided to beg their parents to let them join that one dance class together. He's been with Jongin even before that—since they were babies. He may not be able to remember those moments, but pictures don't lie, and his parents have so many pictures of them as babies. He can't help but smile as the memories float into his mind. 

"But you do." Sehun's voice cuts into his mind. "You do, don't you? You see him that way." 

He stills. 

Sehun's words sound more like a statement than a question, and he doesn't know what to say. He's not sure if he could trust Sehun enough to tell him that he's literally in love with his own best friend. He hasn't known the other man long enough—barely more than a year—and he also doesn't usually talk to him when Jongin's not around. He doesn't know him as well as Jongin does, and he doesn't know if he should lie, or if he should admit it—he doesn't know. 

"That's why you're here alone," Sehun continues, not waiting for him to confirm anything. He's observing him and muttering his findings out loud, almost like he's talking to himself. "And so late at night, too. Were you planning on staying here until dawn?"

Taemin sighs. There's no point in hiding things. Sehun's already seen him like this, anyway. He saw him fall, and that's a privilege in itself because besides his past coaches and mentors, only two people had seen him fall that hard. 

"That's how I cope," he smiles wryly, glancing towards the tall windows in front of him. "It's how I get over... it." 

He waves his hand in the air, as a vague gesture to describe 'it', and Sehun scoffs. 

"By pushing yourself so hard you collapse on the floor?" 

"I slipped," he huffs indignantly. 

He did not collapse on the floor. It was just exhaustion taking a toll on his body and his mind—that's why he jumped as if someone would catch him, and that's why he couldn't stabilize himself in time before the fall. 

Silence ensues. For a second, Taemin thinks Sehun will finally move on and stop talking about it, but he's wrong. 

"You never told him?" Sehun's voice echoes again in the room. 

"That doesn't matter." 

Sehun pauses. And then he turns to face him, gaping, as if he's taken offense to the fact that Taemin could ever think of such a thing. He gets that look a lot. From Kibum, from his other friends—from everyone who knows, really. 

"Of course it does. You're… you." he insists. "I haven't known either of you that long, but I know he'd drop the world for you." 

"I know." 

He can't help the wry chuckle that bubbles up in his throat. He finds it funny, sometimes, that this is how people think of his relationship with Jongin. Everyone and their neighbors know how important they are to each other—how important Jongin is to him—but Jongin himself never bothered to look at him properly. If that's not funny, he doesn't know what is. 

"Then why…?" 

Why. 

It's such a simple question for other people to ask, and he has an equally simple answer for them in return. He's scared. He doesn't want things to change. That's all there is to it. However, nobody ever understands just how deep-rooted his fears are. They don't get it, because they never experienced it. 

See, he doesn't remember living without Jongin. Literally. He can't remember not knowing him. Honestly, he can't even remember the first time they met; they were already best friends even in his earliest memory—the only memory he has from when he was in kindergarten. 

This is why a simple advice like 'just tell him' is scary. He knows his feelings are unrequited, and he knows that things would change if Jongin ever finds out—not in a good way. It will be awkward, because he knows Jongin will try to compensate, and in the process he will lose Jongin for good. The semblance of a comfortable friendship that they currently have will crumble; his whole world would disappear, and he doesn't know how to live without Jongin. 

"Look," he sighs. "I don't want Jongin to drop his world for me. If I tell him, I'll just ruin our friendship." 

Sehun pauses. 

"I don't get it," he says, eventually. "Are you saying you'll never tell him? Even if he breaks up with this guy—you still won't say anything?" 

"Maybe someday," Taemin says, after a long time. He fiddles his fingers, his eyes stubbornly focused on a knuckle on his left hand. "Not now, but eventually. We don't keep secrets from each other for very long." 

He just hopes that Jongin will either figure it out before he tells him—like he somehow does with every other thing he's ever hidden from him—or that he'll be over it by the time he ever says anything, so that the conversation could go in a more stupid, nostalgic way, like 'hey, did you know I was in love with you back in the day?' 

Obviously, he prefers the latter. The first option seems like an impossible scenario—and that's without the hope of Jongin considering to return his feelings. 

"You're stupid. You're both stupid," Sehun states, matter-of-factly. "You don't want him to drop his world for you, but you're basically dropping yours for him. I can't describe that with any other word besides stupid." 

"Thanks for telling me how stupid I am three times in one sentence," Taemin laughs, almost derisively, at himself. "It's fine. I'm happy as long as Jongin's happy." 

That's a lie. Actually, seeing Jongin happy—without him—is the hardest part of all this. But he's used to the pain, and he's used to making do with what he already has. Greed only brings unpleasant situations, and he doesn't want to have to learn his lesson the hard way. 

"I wish we never had this conversation," Sehun speaks again, after a moment of silence. "Now that I know about it, I'm getting frustrated. Really frustrated. You guys are impossible." 

Taemin laughs, but this time it's actually in good humor. Sehun's words remind him of what Kibum used to say whenever he kicked himself out of his and Jongin's shared dorm back in college, so Jongin can have his girlfriend over. 

"Kibum always tells me the same thing," he says, more to himself than to Sehun, since he doesn't even know if Sehun knows who Kibum is. He gets up with a little wince, carefully reminding himself to not put pressure on his leg, and looks down at the younger man. "But you never know. Maybe I'll finally get my turn someday, and your frustration won't be in vain." 

He probably won't, but joking about it always lightens the mood, and stops them from taking his feelings too seriously. It works with Kibum, at least. 

"Well, I sure hope so," Sehun snorts. "Both for your sake, and for my own sanity." 

-

At precisely four p.m. on Wednesday, Taemin's phone vibrates.

Beef or pork for dinner? 

The message syncs to his laptop too, persistently appearing on the upper edge of the screen, covering his long document of notes. He dismisses the first notification, but they just keep coming—so he silences it. He turns off the notifications on his laptop—and shuts his phone off as well. Right now, the dancers in front of him need his attention more than Jongin's texts do. Next week is the opening night for the last showcase in the spring program, and there's still so much to improve. It's stressing him out, honestly—but that's good. That means he doesn't have as much time to stress about other stuff.

He continues taking notes, quietly typing them down into his computer in fast as he watches for mistakes or spots that need some work. He doesn't stop them until two hours later, when they've finished the first run.

"Get some water," he says to the room full of heaving dancers, speaking for the first time after he told them to start two and a half hours ago. "Take a break and be back in fifteen for notes."

Everyone immediately disperses into all directions to go find their things. Some leave the room, and some stay inside, plopping onto the floor one by one in the corners of the room.

Now that he has some time, he finally turns his phone back on, to find the last few texts Jongin left him.

You got caught up in work didn't you, reads the first text. It arrived only fifteen minutes ago, and another one comes in right as he reads the other ones.

Lmk if you can't make it 

. Just yesterday, he told Jongin he'd be done before six—and now it's five minutes past six, and he's not even halfway through the rehearsal.

He walks out of the studio and heads to a quieter place, somewhere he could be alone instead of being scrutinized by all his dancers. He winds up in the emergency staircase—it's been his and Jongin's spot since they first got here years ago—and presses call on Jongin's contact as soon as he's made sure he's alone.

"Hey, Taem—"

"Jonginnie, I'm so sorry. I