Eunwoo always arrives at rehearsal an hour before it starts.

When her fellow theater kids arrive, they always ask her what she’s doing in the theater so early. She says she likes the quietness of the space, that it’s easy to study in, and they because, well, Eunwoo really isn’t a ‘studier’. But they take her excuse anyway. 

In reality, Eunwoo never studies. Instead, when she arrives at the performing arts building, she enters from the back, into the shop, where all the sets are kept. She quietly weaves through leaning planks of wood and fake trees until she finds a doorway. That doorway takes her to a staircase, which leads up into a long cluttered hallway filled with lighting equipment, and to another staircase. That staircase takes her to the booth. As an actor, Eunwoo never goes in the booth. It’s where the lighting and sound people sit, in front of their fancy and complicated boards full of all sorts of mysterious switches and dials that she doesn’t dare to touch. Instead, Eunwoo grabs a rolling chair, and secretly watches the fairy dancer. 

The fairy dancer has never noticed her. Whenever Eunwoo arrives, she’s there, but if she notices anyone come in, she quickly leaves. She’s a beautiful girl—her long, dark hair always seems to be magically flowing in perfect waves, and the gentle slope of her nose results in a perfect profile when she turns her head. 

Eunwoo calls her the fairy dancer because she looks like a fairy, so delicate and soft, and, well, she’s always dancing. The first time Eunwoo had spotted her, she was grabbing something from the booth for the director, who was down in his office. The theater was empty, except for the stage, where twirling and leaping, was a beautiful girl in a white dress. There was classical music, playing from a phone speaker, which Eunwoo could just barely hear from her position in the back. Engrossed in this mysterious dancer’s movements, she could barely tear herself away. So she came back the next day, then the next—it became a routine. 

Sometimes, the girl played music through her phone. Sometimes it was through a bluetooth speaker. Sometimes, she had headphones on. The last was strangely Eunwoo’s favorite. There  was something about watching her fairy dancer’s movements, and imaging what they could be synced to, that excited her. The fairy dancer danced to everything—hip hop, ballet, a few times even tap. She even did partner dances by herself, twirling around to a waltz onstage, holding her invisible partner tenderly. 

Eunwoo is pretty sure she’s in love with her.

Today, the girl puts some music on over her phone, and does some warmup stretches first. It feels oddly intimate, and a sense of anxiety washes over the one audience member—it feels ok to watch her dance, because she’s performing, but is this crossing a line? 

She imagines, one day, she’ll enter from stage left, and with a deep bow, ask the fairy dancer to dance with her. In her fantasy, she’s got on a tailored tuxedo, and the dancer is wearing a flowing ballgown, one that spins around her like a glorious parachute. Maybe she even does one of those lifts she sees in movies, holding the dancer in the air. 

A voice suddenly cuts through her thoughts. It’s not a yell, more of a firm statement, and it comes from down below, but the acoustics of the theater quickly carry it to Eunwoo’s ears.

“You can come down and dance with me, you know.”

Eunwoo sits up straight. Right at the center of the stage, her fairy dancer is looking right up at her and into her eyes. 

“Or, if you want to watch a little closer, you could come sit down here.”

“I—I wasn’t watching, I swear, I’m sorry. I was just up here, um…” Eunwoo quickly picks a roll of duct tape that’s lying on the table. “Fixing stuff.”

The girl onstage chuckles. 

“You’ve definitely been busy 'fixing stuff’ up there for the past two months.” 

Eunwoo’s cheeks burn hot.

“But if you’d like, you could come ‘fix stuff’ down here, and maybe tell me your name.”

Hurriedly, Eunwoo picks up her backpack, and runs to the other exit to the booth, the one that doesn’t require a secret pathway, and just leads down to the theater directly. As she jogs down the stairs through rows and rows of red seats, she tries to calm her fast-beating heart. 

“I’m Eunwoo.” she shouts, careful not to trip over her own feet.

“I’m Jieqiong.” says the girl on the stage as Eunwoo gets closer. The fairy dancer—or Jieqiong, now, sits down, dangling her legs over the edge of the stage. “Why have you been watching me dance?”

Eunwoo looks up at her. She’s even prettier up close—her eyes sparkle, her thin lips curl into a welcoming smile, and the scoop of her t-shirt shows off her elegant collarbone.

“Well, um, you’re really good at it. I’m sorry, its creepy of me, I know. I can leave.” 

Jieqiong braces her hands and hops down from the stage, landing on the ground and standing in front of Eunwoo, putting them at eye level. She her head.

“I don’t mind you watching me. I just think it’s funny that you thought you were being all secretive about it.”

“I thought you couldn’t see me in the booth! I can never see who’s in the booth when I’m onstage!” 

“That’s because the lights are off, dummy. You leave them on.” Jieqiong giggles. “But you’re a performer, huh?”

Eunwoo fiddles with the buttons of her jacket, looking down, too embarrassed to make eye contact with the other girl. 

“An actor. And I sing sometimes. I’m a theater major.” She looks up into the dancer’s gentle eyes. “Why haven’t I seen you around the performing arts department before?”

“Oh, I’m not a performing arts major. I’m a computer science major.”

Eunwoo’s jaw involuntarily drops.

“What? But you’re so good! I wish I could dance like you do.”

“You’re very nice.” Jieqiong tosses some hair over her shoulder. “But it’s just a hobby. I only come here when no one’s around. I used to dance in high school, but now, it’s just for fun.” Out of nowhere, she reaches out, grabbing Eunwoo’s hand firmly. “Why don’t you dance with me?”

Feeling choked up on her words, heart tumbling like its inside of the dryer, Eunwoo shakes her head.

“N-no, I can’t. I don’t dance.”

“Why not? You’re in the musicals, aren’t you?”

“How do you know that?”

“You’ve been watching me, I’ve been watching you back.” There’s a mysterious glint in Jieqiong’s irises.

“Well, I dance in those, but... I do lots of practicing, and I’m not very good at it. That’s why I don’t get the leads. I can’t dance like you do. You do it without even thinking. Like... a second nature.”

Eunwoo has almost entirely forgotten Jieqiong is still holding onto her hand, and she lets out a gasp when the other girl tugs it, starting to walk towards the stairway to the stage.

“Why don’t I teach you?” Jieqiong says. 

“Teach me?” Eunwoo has to slightly jog to keep up with Jieqiong’s tugging on her arm. The music is still playing from Jieqiong’s phone—a soft jazzy piano tune—she had forgotten it was there.

“Teach you how to dance.” Jieqiong leads her up the steps and onto the empty stage. 

“You can’t just… teach someone to dance.”

“Yes you can, idiot, that’s what a dance class is.”

“But you can’t just teach me to dance.”

“Who says I can’t?”

Jieqiong twirls around, and rests both her hands on Eunwoo’s waist. She starts slowly stepping back and forth, guiding Eunwoo around the stage, swaying their bodies from side to side. The less experienced dancer struggles, her clumsy steps trying their best to keep up with Jieqiong’s fluid energy. 

“What are you doing?”

“Making you dance, silly.” Jieqiong lets go of Eunwoo’s waist, and steps backward like she’s gliding on ice. “Let’s make a deal. You come here, tomorrow, same time, same place. Pick a song. Any song, your favorite song. Then I... will show you... how to dance."

•••

 

Nayoung has been spending half her monthly paycheck on coffee alone. 

It’s not because she’s been up late studying, or that she has a caffeine addiction. The coffee is for someone else entirely. 

It had started, simply enough, at Nayoung’s favorite coffee shop. 

Airplane Coffee was the one place she always went to to study. It was quiet, and peaceful, always open late—and most importantly, hidden in a little alleyway. It seemed Nayoung was the only student from the university that knew about it. The most important thing, however, was that her roommates didn’t know about it either. It’s not that she hates spending time with her friends, but sometimes, she desperately needs some time away from the house. At home, it’s loud, and energetic, a constant tornado of mood swings and noise. The coffee shop was quiet. The barista, Seungcheol, knew her name, and they chatted, but it was just pleasant chatter, meaningless conversation. She could sit and work, and no one would bother her with a pointless argument about which Death Grips album was the best. 

The day everything changed was one cool autumn Monday. 

Nayoung was finishing up a paper before her computer graphics class, when the pair of bells hanging off the door sent a light jingle through the mostly empty shop. Most days, she had earbuds in, but today was different, due to extraneous circumstances, she was headphone-less.

(The extraneous circumstances were that earlier that morning, Eunwoo’s pet hamster had gotten out of its cage, and chewed Nayoung’s headphones to pieces.) 

Lacking the distraction of music in her ears, she looked up to see who was entering. It was a girl, long black hair falling down her back, wearing a beret and tiny heart-shaped earrings. It took her a second, but Nayoung recognized her—it was Zhou Jieqiong. 

Jieqiong was another computer science major in Nayoung’s year. They had multiple classes together, and they sometimes exchanged notes or shared a quick conversation, nothing big. There were a couple things Nayoung knew about Jieqiong. First of all, she was gorgeous. Both boys and girls seemed to fawn over her, but she was, surprisingly enough, single. Second, she was extremely smart. She seemed to know everything about her field of study, and the professors always used her work as an example. Finally, she was always in her own little world. Nayoung often watched her space out during class, doodling in the corners of her notebooks, jolting back to reality whenever the professor called on her.  

Jieqiong walked up to the counter. Her cheeks were flushed red—probably from the cold autumn wind whipping at the tree branches outside.

“Can I get a 12-ounce mocha to go?” Jieqiong asked Seungcheol. 

Nayoung wondered if her staring was creepy, but her classmate didn’t seem to notice—she was too busy digging through her messenger bag, trying to find cash.

“Ah, . . I left my wallet at home.”

Nayoung doesn’t know why she did this—she can’t remember what spurred this moment of kindness that seemed to come from some small place within, but she stands up. 

“I’ll pay.” she said.

Jieqiong turned around. 

“Oh my gosh, Nayoung! Hey!” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Seriously, though, you don’t have to do that.” 

 “No.” Nayoung reached into her jacket pocket, pulling out a five dollar bill. “Let me. I know how hard classes can be without coffee.” She handed the five to Seungcheol, who nodded and started on the drink wordlessly. 

“You are literally my savior. Thank you so much.” Jieqiong gasped with excitement, and she wrapped her arms around Nayoung, taking her by surprise. Nayoung isn’t usually one to accept affection from almost-strangers, especially hugs, but she let this one slide, mostly because it’s making her heart rate jitter and shake out of control. 

“You’re uh… welcome.” Nayoung’s arms awkwardly hung at her sides, unsure what to do, but she strangely thinks she’s enjoying this, this burst of affection from a nice, pretty girl.

Nayoung doesn’t get crushes, and she doesn’t really flirt either. There was one girl at her Catholic all-girls school, Huihyeon, who had quietly kissed her under the stairway in the math wing. Nayoung had thought she was in love for a moment, but then it passed, and she ignored it to focus on her studies. She wasn’t like Eunwoo, who fell in love at the drop of a hat and chased down girls at every chance. 

But Jieqiong—Jieqiong was different. Something itching at Nayoung wanted to impress her, give something of herself away. 

So, the next day, before the coding class they had together, she went to the coffee shop again. 

“One 8 ounce black coffee, and one… 12 ounce mocha.”

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow at her, but he didn’t say anything. 

When Nayoung brought the coffee to class that morning, Jieqiong squealed with excitement. The dopamine rush that came with making this random girl happy started becoming an addiction. Before every class, Nayoung would run to the coffee shop. She stopped even buying coffee for herself—that had become no longer important. She didn’t know why she was doing this, but the more coffee she bought, the more Jieqiong gave to her. Longer conversations, sitting by her in class. Waving to her in the hallway, giving small smiles even from far away.
Jieqiong constantly insisted she didn’t need the coffee. She could afford it on her own, she’d say. But when Nayoung asked if she wanted to be left alone, if she was being creepy, Jieqiong would shake her head. 

“I like your attention.” she'd say, lips curling into a little smile. “I just feel bad giving you nothing in return.” 

“You give me plenty in return.” Nayoung had said softly, trying not to make eye contact. 

By the second week of coffee gifting, Jieqiong started bringing coffee too. A black coffee, how Nayoung liked it. She wasn’t sure how the other girl knew her order, but she didn’t ask. It became an exchange—a swapping of cups. Sometimes it was in the hallway, sometimes it was before class. It became part of a routine, a strange unexplained dance she was completing with Jieqiong. 

Today, Nayoung runs into the coffee shop—she’s a little late for class. Seungcheol already knows what she’s ordering, and he starts on the drink as Nayoung digs into her bag for her wallet. He watches her for a moment, a look of concern in his eyes. 

“This one’s on the house.” he finally says after a couple moments spent lost in thought. 

“What?”

“It’s on the house. You don’t have to pay.”

“No, no. I’ll pay.”

“Nayoung, seriously. Take the free coffee.”

“Why?”
“I’m worried about you.”
“I spend this much on coffee already, why do you care?”

“I’m worried, because I am scared that you are a robot, and this is what you think flirting is and this is how it works.”

Nayoung’s brows knit together.

“What do you mean?”

“You keep buying coffee for this girl. Just ask her on a date.”

“I don’t—I’m not—I’m not flirting.”
“Well, that’s obvious.”

“I mean, I don’t like her like that.”
“Sure, keep telling yourself that.” He hands her the mocha with a shrug. “Listen. Just ask her to hang out. Have a real conversation. Spend some time together. You don’t get girls just by buying them coffee.”

“I don’t need your advice, but thank you.”

However, Nayoung leaves the coffee shop that day, head whirring in thought. When she approaches Jieqiong with the coffee, the other girl gives her a big grin, handing Nayoung her coffee in return. Nayoung takes a huge breath in.

“Would you like to hang out sometime?” she suddenly blurts out. 

 

•••

 

It’s been three days since Minkyung gave Yaebin her number.

But Yaebin still hasn’t found the courage to call her.  

It’s not a fear of rejection. She’s already been rejected. It’s not that she doesn’t want to be friends with Minkyung, either. She wants to see her again.
She’s just nervous. Minkyung is so pretty and kind, and Yaebin wants to make a good impression, not make an absolute fool of herself, even if she has no chance with her.  
Yaebin gazes at her phone, which sits on the coffee table in the middle of the living room, and sighs. 

“Dinner is served!” Wonwoo loudly yells from inside the kitchen. Yaebin grabs her phone, shoving it in her pocket, running into the kitchen, and taking a seat. Eunwoo and Nayoung are close behind, emerging from their respective rooms. 

“Spaghetti again?” scoffs Eunwoo as she scoots into her chair. She looks kind of sweaty, Yaebin notices, and she’s wearing some sort of workout gear—track pants and a t-shirt.

“You make dinner then if you’re so mad about it.” Wonwoo says nonchalantly, unfolding his napkin and laying it on his lap. 

“I think it’s great, Wonwoo.” Nayoung says, using the metal tongs to yank some noodles out of the pot on the center of the table. “I really appreciate you making dinner every night.”

Wonwoo twists his noodles around his fork. 

“Someone gets it.”

“Pssht, whatever.” Eunwoo says, then pauses when Nayoung glares at her. “I mean… sorry.”

“So, how was everyone’s day?” Yaebin interjects, attempting to break apart the tension.

“Pretty good.” Nayoung shrugs.

“All right.” Wonwoo hums. 

“Good!” Eunwoo smiles.

Yaebin looks at Eunwoo suspiciously. 

“Have you been working out?” she asks, gesturing to the athletic clothing her roommate has on. 

“What?” Eunwoo replies. “No way.”

“…Then why are you so sweaty?” Nayoung inquires.

“I’ve been, um… taking dance classes.”

“What?” Yaebin gasps. Eunwoo was never a dancer. She sang and danced in musicals, but she was far more passionate about singing than dancing, and usually ended up in smaller roles with less dancing in them. 

“Why would you do that?” Nayoung asks, genuinely curious. 

“What do you mean? I need to be a better dancer for the musicals anyway.” Eunwoo looks down at her plate, avoiding eye contact with the rest of the table. “But for your information, I was just upstairs, practicing.”

“Well, I think it’s good you’re stepping out of your comfort zone.” Wonwoo says with a shrug.

“I still don’t believe you’re dancing just to get better at it. You’ve got an ulterior motive here, I know it.” says Yaebin.

Eunwoo folds her arms and leans back in her chair.
“Okay, maybe the instructor is kind of cute…”

“Ha! I knew it!”
Wonwoo snickers, but he doesn’t say anything, just gets himself another serving of salad.

“Where are you taking these?” Nayoung asks. 

“With a student at school.”

“I see how this is.” Yaebin smirks. 

“Oh? And how is your little love story going?” replies Eunwoo.

“Not a love story, and it’s fine.”

“I think you should text her.” Nayoung says firmly.

“No, no way. I can’t. It’s weird. She’ll think I’m weird.”

“She’s the one who gave you the number, isn’t she?”

Yaebin looks down at her hands, which are fidgeting on her lap.

“Yes, but…”

“Just hang out once. Get a fresh look at the situation. If you really think it’s weird, just drop it. It’s not like she goes to the same school. You’re not gonna see each other unless you really are trying to.”

Yaebin sighs. 

“Yeah, I guess so. It’s just hard to get over the nerves.”

“I mean, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to.” Wonwoo says. “She’s kind of… weird. I don’t know.”

“All art school kids are weird, though.” says Eunwoo. “Like you, loser.”

Yaebin tentatively reaches into her pocket for her phone. 

“I’m ok with weird. I live with all you nerds.” Yaebin says.

“Points made.” Wonwoo says. “I’m just saying, she doesn’t have a great history.”

“It’s not like they’re arranging their marriage.” Nayoung says to him. “They’re just hanging out one time. None of us have a good history. We wouldn’t want anyone to judge us like that.”

The table is silent for a second as the heaviness of Nayoung’s words sink in. 

“You’re right. Sorry.” Wonwoo murmurs. 

The sound of cars passing down their street hums in the distance.

Yaebin inhales a determined breath.
“I’ll do it. I’ll text her.”

 

a/n: i am aware eunwoo is a fantastic dancer irl dw this is for Fic Purposes