Prompt By: @MissMinew

-Title: Ballet of Life & Death

-Ship: XiuKai

Characters: [MAIN] Xiumin/Kim Minseok (EXO), Kai/Kim Jongin (EXO), Seulgi/Kang Seulgi (RED VELVET) [SIDE] Jisung/Park Jisung (NCT), YeoJin/Im YeoJin (LOONA)

Word Count: 3495

Warnings: Strong language; ual references

Summary: In which Kim Jongin breaks Kang Seulgi's expensive ballet shoes an hour before she's due to preform, and just happens to find the exasperated shoe store worker pretty cute.

--+--

Kim Jongin had been dancing since he was four years old.
   

Being twenty-four now, that not only meant he personally related to BABE by HyunA, 1024 by Koyote, and 24 by Lana Del Rey (all of which he had choreographed his own routines to), but he had been dancing for like, two decades. Don’t ask him if that math is correct, he’s not a math magician.
   

When his parents first stuck him in lessons, he started with baby ballet, and after the first forty-minute session, he had completely fallen in love.
   

His sisters found his little pirouettes hilarious, and yes, there is at least one photo of him somewhere in one of their old recital tutus.
   

However, ballet was just the gateway to Jongin’s relationship with dance, and by the time he was thirteen, he was doing almost 10 hours of dance a week, which included ballet, jazz, hip-hop, acro, theatre, and tap. When he turned fourteen, his parents awarded him with the competitive contemporary lessons he begged for as well, allowing him to do one comp a year.
   

After endless praise from his teacher and more begging (and just as many hours of cleaning as he did dancing), for his fifteenth birthday Kim Jongin’s parents emptied their pockets for another competition and lyrical lessons.
   

And here he was, at twenty-four, dancing competitively in the name of his country, atop helping part-time with baby ballet a few times a week and preparing for a musical audition.
   

“Nini, I guarantee you those shoes won’t fit you.” Kang Seulgi giggled, watching Jongin try to shove his feet into her pointe shoes (which were quite a few sizes too small, anyways).
   

“I just want to try them.” he argued, fiddling with the long ribbon laces. He tried his best to tie them up around his ankle properly, but he single-handedly ruined the entire ‘graceful ballerina’ image.
   

“Have you ever even done pointe?”
   

“Nope, but I’m about to.”
   

“You’re going to fall and break not only your toes, but your head open.”
   

“I have a feeling I’m a natural.”
   

“I have a feeling I’m not calling an ambulance for you.”
   

“That won’t be needed.” Jongin laughed, shakily standing up with both pointe shoes messily tied to his feet by pulling himself up with a nearby portable bar.
   

Despite the bars being designed to hold lots of weight (multiple people putting almost all their weight at once on them), Jongin had just stood on both toes when he and the bar came crashing down, the bar wheeling away and one side popping off of it and Jongin landing flat on his .
   

Both he and Seulgi loudly exclaimed an expletive, Jongin at the pain he felt in his tailbone and Seulgi at her shoes.
   

“Jongin!” she hissed, clambering over to him. “My shoes!”
  

He glanced down, and although the shoes were still tied to his ankles, the left shoe was busted open and the right heel ripped.
  

Although Jongin had never danced pointe (he couldn’t- he was too tall, heavy, and muscular to do so), he knew not only how precious these shoes were, but how expensive.
   

“Seulgi, I’m so sorry.” he pleaded, trying to untie one from around his ankle.
   

She reached over, swiftly untying both ribbons and snatching her shoes away, inspecting the damage. “I go on in an hour!”
   

“I’ll buy you new ones. I swear, I didn’t know they were going to do that, I’m so sorry.”
   

She shot him an exasperated look. “Where are you going to find me ₩170,000 pointe shoes?” She held the shoes up. “In these exact colour and model?”
   

“There’s a shoe store down the street. I’ll get them there.”
  

Seulgi sighed as Jongin tugged his sneakers on (the old ones- the new ones were for his hip-hop number. He wouldn’t dare wear his hip-hop shoes outside). “You won’t find pointe shoes at any old shoe store.”
  

“I’ll look. If not, I’ll ask around the other dancers and buy them off someone.”
   

“Do you know how many other countries are here? Like, a lot.” Here, dear reader, it is important to note that Kang Seulgi, also aged twenty-four, was worse at math than Kim Jongin, and had actually flunked high school math three times. “You speak those languages? Do you speak Russian, Jongin?”
   

“I do now.”
   

Seulgi sighed again before turning to her bag and rooting through it, producing a plastic Ziploc bag, which she opened, dumping a pen into her palm.
   

She reached forward and grabbed Jongin’s hand, scribbling on it.
   

“That’s the model, colour, and size I need.” she said, pointing to it. “You have one hour, Kim Jongin.”
   

“I’ll be back with even better shoes before you know it!” he boasted confidently, and then went running out of the building.
   

At a jog pace, it only took Jongin about ten minutes to reach the shoe store. The minute he stepped into the store, he not only noticed the sign that loudly proclaimed ‘WE SELL DANCE SHOES’, but the man behind the counter sighing.
   

“I only speak Korean!” he exclaimed, loudly and slowly.
   

“It’s okay, I only speak Korean, too.”
   

The man laughed, leaning forward onto the counter and dipping his head. When he looked back up, he ran a hand through his muddy blond locks (Jongin was unsure on whether to actually call it a blond, as he could clearly see the long-abandoned dark roots growing in).
   

“Sorry.” he apologized. “I’ve had like, five different foreigners come in in the past hour and I had no clue what they’re saying. There’s apparently some huge international dance competition down the street.”
   

“I know.” Jongin blinked, walking further into the store. “I’m in it. Hence why I’m here. You don’t happen to have any pointe shoes, do you?”
   

“We have a truckload.” he said, pointing to the sign. “What size do you need?”
   

“About a 36 maybe?”
   

The man walked out from behind the counter, and looked Jongin up and down. “I’m no expert on dance shoes, but I’m pretty sure you’re way bigger than a 36.”
   

Jongin laughed, and a faint red blush dusted his cheeks. He was unsure if he blushed at the way the man had phrased his statement, the strange foot comment, or if Jongin was really just that awkward and easily flustered.
  

“They’re not for me.” he explained quickly. “I kinda busted my friend’s shoes- I can’t dance pointe.”
  

“Makes sense.” the man shrugged, and then made off down an aisle, making a swooping motion with his arm. “Follow me. I’m Minseok, by the way.”
   

“Jongin.” he said blandly as he blindly followed the man into the back of the store.
  

“You said you were dancing at the competition?”
  

“Yeah. I danced an acro and jazz group yesterday, and I do my ballet solo and group today.”
  

“Is that all you do?” Minseok asked as he began pulling box after box off of a shelf.
   

“No. I do hip-hop group tomorrow and then I have a tap solo Thursday and a musical theatre group that day, too, and I finish Friday with ballet, contemporary, and lyrical duets.”
   

“Holy, that’s a lot.” Minseok muttered as he e of the boxes over.
   

“It’s not a lot, really.” Jongin frowned. “I only have two solos this year. I feel a little cheated, honestly- especially because my dance teacher gave the lyrical solo and jazz duet to someone else. I’ve done the lyrical solo for the past five years. That’s longer than that guy’s been dancing.”
   

“You sound really pressed.” Minseok commented. “Anyways, is there a certain style of shoe you’re need or…”
   

Jongin glanced at the back of his hand. “Suffolk’s Solo Prequel Standard Shank Pointe Shoes in light pink.” he read.
   

“Specific.” Minseok muttered, rolling his eyes as he sifted through the boxes. Eventually, he held one up, handing it to Jongin. “The colour’s a number, but it looks the same.”
   

Jongin took the box, lifting the top off and peering at the shoes. “They do look the same.”
   

“They’re ₩115,680.”
   

Jongin’s heart skipped a beat, and again, he was unsure if it was because of the high price or how he started to notice the man’s (strikingly beautiful, although Jongin wasn’t about to admit that) eyes.
   

“Th-that’s fine.” he managed to stammer out, carefully closing the lid on the box. Jongin didn’t need to eat for the next month, did he?
   

Minseok quickly stuffed the other boxes away and led Jongin back up to the counter where he rang him up.
   

“Did you say you were dancing today?”
   

“Yeah. Ballet solo and group today.”
   

“You like ballet?”
   

“It’s my favourite.”
   

Jongin tapped his credit card against the machine while Minseok dropped the box of shoes into a bag at the same time Jongin’s heart and overall bank savings dropped.
   

“When do you dance?” Minseok asked, handing the bag out and over the counter at Jongin.
  

“Today.” Jongin said as he took the bag, tucking his card and wallet away.
   

“I mean like, what time.”
   

“Oh. In like, an hour and a half.”
   

“I clock out in fifteen minutes. Maybe I’ll come watch.”
  

“Here, I’ll give you the stage information.”
  

Sliding a pen out of the pencil holder near the register, Jongin took Minseok’s hand in his, writing the exact time and stage name on the back, like Seulgi did the shoe information.
  

“There.” he said proudly, capping the pen. “I’ll make sure to look for you.”
   

Before Jongin could anything up, he ran out of the store, faintly hearing Minseok call out after him.
  

“What are these last numbers for? Is this a phone number? Is it yours?”
   

Barging back in, Jongin dropped the bag of shoes in Seulgi’s lap. “Guess who just spent ₩115,700 on shoes and gave a boy his phone number.”
   

Seulgi’s eyes widened, and she glared at the bag of shoes and then flicked her gaze up to Jongin. “You did not.” she whispered.
  

“I so did!” Jongin exclaimed excitedly, dropping to the floor beside his friend. “And he’s coming to see me dance. I’m so glad I ruined your shoes now.”
   

“No, no, I don’t care about the boy!” Seulgi cried, dumping the box out of the bag and throwing off the lid. “You actually found and bought me shoes?”
   

Jongin nodded, oblivious. “I said I would after I broke yours.”
   

She picked one of the shoes up, carefully looking it over. “Exact colour, make…everything.” she breathed, and then looked over at Jongin painfully. “I-I-I didn’t think you were actually going to find shoes. I have a back up pair.”
   

Jongin didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh, cry, scream or die more. Spoiler alert: it was most likely die.
   

“Are you kidding me? I spent so much money on those!”
  

“I’m so sorry!” Seulgi cried, laughing behind her hand. “I didn’t know! Here, you can take them back.” she held the box out to him, and he took it.
   

“I’m going to take this box down to that store so I can talk to that cute boy again, and then I’m going to pretend I got a text from you saying you really do need them. That should be enough time for you to go around back and take exactly-“ he paused, fishing the receipt out of the bag. “₩115,680 out of the ATM.” he flung the receipt out at her, and she snatched it, glaring at him.
   

“I’ll give you half.”
   

“Deal.”
   

Ten minutes later, Jongin strolled back into the shoe shop, slamming the box of shoes onto the counter.
   

For some reason unknown to Jongin, Kim Minseok was crouched under the counter, and when Jongin loudly proclaimed “I need my money back”, he jumped, hitting his head on the top of the counter and loudly cussing.
   

“Sorry.” he muttered once he was upright, his hand massaging the top of his head. “What do you need?” he looked over and registered Jongin. “Hey, you-“
   

“I need my money back.” Jongin repeated, pouting a little for emphasis. It was a pleading/begging technique he always used, and almost always managed to get his way. It worked on his parents, his sisters, his teacher, his ex, Seulgi, and now, the hot shoe store cashier.
   

“Why?” Minseok demanded, glaring at him. “And what is this?” He flashed Jongin the back of his palm, pointing to his phone number.
   

“My phone number.”
   

“Why?”
   

“Don’t you want a cute guy’s phone number?”
   

Jongin instantly regretted that. There was so many ways Minseok could answer that- one of which led to them having in the back room and another which led to Jongin’s self-esteem being completely and utterly crushed (not that there was much to begin with).
   

“I hate to admit it, but you are kind of cute.” Minseok sighed.
   

Yes! in the back room, that I keep in my wallet would finally come in handy, if you catch my drift.
   

Jongin fought down the blush as Minseok spoke again. He spoke so casually, as if oblivious to the man having a mini-heart attack on the other side of the counter.
   

“So, is this like a call and text kind of number, just one, or…”
   

“Call and text, but no fax or tea provided.”
   

“That was single handedly one of the worst jokes I have ever heard and I’m friends with Kim Junmyeon.”
   

“Who the is Kim Jinmyung?”
   

“Junmyeon.” Minseok corrected. “And someone with jokes so bad Amy Schumer starts to look hilarious.”
   

“I’m so sorry for you.”
   

“But he’s like, crazy rich and whenever I go out with him he pays for everything, so really, it’s a small price to pay for my like, entire student loans.”
   

“He paid off your student loans?”
   

“No, I didn’t actually end up taking out any loans, he just gave me the money and told me I could pay him back by coming over and helping him with some redecorating.”
   

“That sounds like a kid-friendly sugar daddy.”
   

“The best kind of friendship, really. Anyways, what did you say you were doing here?”
   

Panicking, Jongin pulled out his phone and grabbed the shoe box.
   

“Never mind, I gotta go!” he exclaimed as he ran out of the store.
   

“Why do you keep doing this?” Minseok called out after him.
   

Jongin saw Seulgi sitting on the floor, leafing through the wad of bills as he the box back at her.
   

“Take your shoes and never talk to me or my son ever again.”
   

Seulgi took the box, handing him the money. “How’d conversation number two with cute boy cashier go?”
   

“Okay. It lasted like, a minute and I made a bad joke about my phone number and sugar daddies and ran out.”
   

Seulgi sat in shocked silence for a moment before speaking. “This is single handedly why Kyungsoo broke up with you, Nini. Seriously, that’s what he text me.”
   

“He text you?” Jongin asked, hurt lacing his voice.
   

“Yeah, and I banged him three months after you two got together.”
   

“You’re a horrible friend.”
   

“I’m your only friend.” Seulgi corrected, standing up. “Now, if you excuse me, I have a dance competition to win.”
   

She was wearing her pointe shoes (the back up pair- the new ones weren’t worked in yet), and she stood up, bending her knees a few times before swiftly kicking up in the air, hitting Jongin square in the jaw.
   

“Seulgi, what the hell?” he cried, holding his chin.
   

“Sorry.” she shrugged, hurrying away as fast as the pointe shoes could carry her.
   

Jongin didn’t bother chasing after her- he had his own category to win, and a cute boy watching him.
   

He not only needed to warm up, but mentally prepare himself.

“That was so good!” Minseok exclaimed as he met Jongin at the door of the arena. “I loved the part where you did the thing.”
   

Jongin laughed, adjusting the dance bag he held on his shoulder. “What thing? I did a lot of things.”
   

“The cool thing. I dunno what it’s called, I’m not a dancer. But, you know like, the-“ he waved his pointer finger around in a circle. “woo-oo-oo thing.”
   

“A pirouette?” Jongin asked, laughing.
   

“Yeah, that thing.”
   

“That’s like, ballet 101. A few of my baby ballerinas can do them.”
   

“You teach baby ballet?”
   

“Yeah. You’re short enough, you should come out some time and I’ll teach you.”
   

Minseok punched him square in the shoulder.

~•~
 

A week later, Kim Jongin sat on the floor of his dance studio, leaning over and stretching before baby ballet when the bell attached to the studio door dinged.
   

“Jongin?” the voice called out, and Jongin could hear his footsteps coming up the stairs as he switched feet.
   

“I’m in here!” Jongin called.
   

“What’s the emergency? I got your text and brought the shoes, they cost me-“
   

Jongin stopped stretching and stood up, looking inquisitively at Minseok. “The emergency is is that you don’t know how to dance.”
   

“I’m not getting paid enough for these stupid jokes of yours, Kim Jongin.”
   

Jongin laughed, brushing off the comment as he reached for Minseok’s hand, pulling him into the middle of the studio. “Okay, put the shoes on.”
   

“I don’t know what you’re doing, but I don’t like it.”
   

“Just put the damn shoes on before I do it for you, Cinderella.”
   

Despite standing behind him, Jongin could sense the eye roll as Minseok leaned forward, peeling off his shoes and shoving his feet into the shoes.
   

As he straightened up, Minseok glanced down at Jongin’s feet. “What the are those?”
   

“Half soles.” Jongin said, moving his foot. “I had lyrical before, and then I teach baby ballet, so I use those so I don’t have to change.”
   

“They’re ugly.”
   

“That’s not the point, Minseok. Now.” Jongin pressed himself against the other boy, stretching himself out along him. “I’m going to teach you like I do baby ballet, and how I was taught.”
   

Jongin kicked at Minseok’s feet, facing them out sideways. “Put got feet together at the heels.” Minseok did as he was told, and holding onto his wrists, Jongin lowered Minseok’s arms. “This is first position.”
   

Jongin moved their arms and legs out, Minseok half-following (the other half was being dragged) him. “Second.” Jongin instructed, and then brought their feet back together, raising one arm. “Third.”
   

“Fourth open.” was formed by moving one foot forward and switching the arms, and the arms above the head and feet together, legs crossed and toes touching, was what Jongin called “Fifth.” Jongin set them back to first. “Got that?”
   

“Not really, I think I need you to do it again.”
   

Jongin did all five positions through three times before he realized Minseok actually got it the first time, he just wanted Jongin to keep moving with him.
   

“That was kind of hot.” Minseok whispered. “You do that with the babies?”
   

“Not exactly.”
   

“‘Cause I have a feeling a few mothers would call that ual harassment.”
   

“And what do you call it?” Despite not having moved much, Jongin felt his heart rate quicken, beat so much he thought it’d burst out of his chest.
   

His stomach plunged, twisting and turning he thought he felt sick.
   

“I call it just .” Minseok said quietly, turning and placing both his hands on both sides of Jongin’s face, pulling him down and kissing him.
   

The kiss was messy and sloppy, but not in a ‘I don’t know how to kiss’ or ‘I’m piss drunk’ sort of way, but more like a hungry, ‘I can’t get enough of you’ kind of way.
   

Jongin didn’t think twice about kissing him back, and as he was pressed against the mirrors, the bar digging into his back, Jongin wrapped both his arms around Minseok, bringing him as close as possible.
   

For a few moments they stood like that, both of their lips moving together like someone trying to follow along to a dance for the first time.
   
“I have a in my wallet we can use.” Is what Jongin found himself blurting the minute Minseok’s hands found their way a little too far down south.
   

“Come on, Jisung.” Is what a mother, who showed up early for baby ballet, wanting to buy her son new shoes, said when she laid eyes on the two men making out in the dance studio. “Looks like they’re still busy with another class. We’ll come back in a little bit.”
   

“You’re hurting me.” “Stop moving.” “You’re not doing it right.” “Touch me here.” “I wanna try a new position.” Is what another mother heard when she made her own way up the stairs with her daughter for baby ballet. Judging by the sounds of sloppy kisses in between, she assumed the two men were not dancing (albeit, indeed they were).
   

“Yeojin! Mommy just remembered the studio is closed today. We’ll have to come back next week.”
   

It wasn’t YeoJin who came back next week, but Minseok.
  

FIN