Seungwan stood outside the studio door. It was late; the only sound in the hall was the buzzing of the lights overhead. She didn’t think there was anyone else in the building except her, and Joohyun inside the studio.

There was no music playing. This wasn’t the first time Seungwan had seen Joohyun practicing, but normally she came during classes when the instructor played songs to keep tempo, or clapped the beat themselves. But tonight, there was nothing but the rhythmic thumping of Joohyun’s feet against the wood floor, shockingly steady. Through the window, Seungwan could see her girlfriend’s eyes were focused unswervingly on the mirror. Joohyun had told her once that ballet was about form, that as she danced, she thought about the shape of her arm, the curve her leg traced in the air. She imagined Joohyun doing so now, committing each form to muscle memory in the same way she pressed melodies into the contours of her vocal range.

Joohyun was good at what she did. Seungwan had no real context for what exactly it meant to be a good ballerina. What she did know was that Joohyun was a prima ballerina, the phrase sounding like a childhood dream. When she told people this, everyone was appropriately impressed even though they and she both had never been to more than a few ballets.

To her, it meant most nights they spent together led to mornings where Joohyun rose before the sun, leaving Seungwan most of a full pot of coffee. It meant the fridge was full of lean meats and vegetables, Seungwan’s baking parceled out to friends. It meant Joohyun’s feet were scratchy with callouses when Joohyun wrapped her legs around Seungwan’s. It meant an endless rotation of pointe shoes and tights and thin filmy sweaters, seeing each other in selfies and Facetime more than in person, quick dinners they scarfed down while trying not to fall asleep on the couch.

Maybe the scant time together would hurt more if Seungwan didn’t intimately know the cost of being a performer. It wasn’t as though she didn’t have her own late nights in the studio, whether it was recording or learning choreography. There were nights Joohyun came home early while Seungwan could only text while grabbing a drink of water in between takes. She also knew what it was like to chase a dream.

There was something more intimate about the studio at night, when nothing was driving Joohyun but herself. Seungwan didn’t know what music played in her head or what beats she was counting out. She didn’t know what Joohyun was practicing for. She just saw leaps and spins and careful glides. Joohyun would cross the room in a second, only to spend a full minute raising her leg in a straight line behind her. But there was an underlying tempo to it that even Seungwan could feel in her watching.

They had met for the first time over an app Seungwan had downloaded at Joy’s insistence. She had set up a profile under her and Yerim’s guidance, picking a selfie that wasn’t public already and writing a profile that was vetoed five times before Yerim took the phone from her hands and did it herself. She’d spent a few days flipping through profiles during breaks before forgetting about it altogether when her inbox was filled with accusations of catfishing. It was understandable, since she was an idol after all.

Luck was on her side; Joy had flipped through her inbox out of boredom and because ‘What was the point of me and Yeri getting you set up if you won’t even use the app?’.  Seungwan remembered her rushing over with a wide grin and shoving the phone in her face, that she had sighed at Joy’s antics before her jaw dropped of its own accord. There was no way someone as beautiful as ‘Bae Joohyun’ existed for real.

But she was real, and a ballerina. And also kind, and funny, and didn’t find Seungwan’s tendency to chatter annoying. They met at a café, the older girl looking askance at Seungwan’s face mask. But her eyes were bright as she nodded along to Seungwan’s nervous rambling and they left with another date set for dinner.

Joohyun was an absolute dream.

Even the fluorescent lighting of the studio and the bags under her eyes couldn’t disguise Joohyun’s beauty. No matter how long they’d been dating, the sparkle of Joohyun’s eyes, the blush in her cheeks, the curve of her lips all left Seungwan breathless. Sweat plastered stray hairs to her face, but Seungwan’s eyes still traced the paths left gleaming down Joohyun’s neck and shoulders.  

She was wearing a pale purple lavender leotard pilling with age, the knitted shrug whose holes Seungwan had tried and failed to patch lying by the wall. Her face and chest were flushed red with exertion. She was slouched over with shoulders hunched, elbows on her knees as she caught her breath in harsh pants.

She still looked like Aphrodite.

Seungwan never stopped wondering how she’d gotten so lucky in life.

Joy and Yerim had of course insisted on meeting Seungwan’s new girlfriend. However, they had the schedules of three idols and a ballet dancer to work around, and so in the end it was only Joohyun, Joy, and Seungwan after a full month of planning. Under Joy’s insistence, they took the opportunity to go to a fancier restaurant. When Seungwan had seen Joohyun all dressed up at the restaurant, she had almost wanted to call Joy and tell her not to come because she wanted to keep this Joohyun in a sleek, backless dress all to herself.

She had dressed more conservatively, but she had seen the way Joohyun’s eyes darkened and her smile sharpened. It really was a shame they had to meet Joy.

It felt like Joohyun was meeting her parents in way, given that her actual parents were in Canada. Joy was one of the people she was closest to alongside Yerim, and she had prayed they’d get along. She didn’t know how Joohyun would fair under Joy’s teasing, but it had only brought out the competitive side Seungwan had only seen a few times. This was the side Seungwan imagined had gotten a girl as soft-spoken as Joohyun to the top of a fiercely competitive field. She had turned aside Joy’s pointed jokes with ease, made her own scarcely sheathed comments, and by the time their dinner was served, they were both laughing together like old friends.

Seungwan had turned to Joy when Joohyun had excused herself to the bathroom. But Joy’s grin only got brighter with Joohyun’s absence.

“I like her. You should keep her.”

“Do you really think so?” she had fretted. And then her more pressing concern. “Do you think she’ll… want to stay?”

“Look at me, unnie. I’m beautiful, aren’t I?” And of course, Seungwan had nodded her assent. “I did a full face of makeup. I’m wearing this dress that I know shows off my figure perfectly. People would pay me to step on them right now.”

She had paused, making sure to pin Seungwan with her gaze before she continued. “But Joohyun hasn’t taken her eyes off you for a second. She looks at you like… like you are her sun and moon and stars all together. And that’s the only amount of attention you deserve. So I like her.”

Seungwan hadn’t been able to think of a response.

“Did something happen?” Joohyun had asked when she had returned, and thankfully Joy wasn’t as stunned as Seungwan, letting the serious moment drop away with a smile.

“I was asking unnie for her advice. I met this girl and I want to contact her but…”

Joy had launched into her story, and Joohyun offered her own opinion. But after Joy had pointed it out, Seungwan couldn’t help but notice the way that Joohyun’s eyes wandered to her, and her heart felt warm.

When she finally introduced Joohyun to Yerim a few months later, Joohyun adopted Yerim immediately. Joohyun had brought along her best friend Seulgi, and Seungwan had immediately taken a liking to the gentle girl with a smile like sunshine. Getting along had been as easy as breathing.

Seungwan’s phone was still full of photos of the trio clowning around that afternoon as they all drank bubble tea and wandered through a nearby park. She couldn’t believe that this was her life.

After a short break, Joohyun straightened up again, the angles of her body becoming long clean lines. It looked effortless, but Seungwan knew that it wasn’t wings that held Joohyun aloft, but torn muscles reknitted stronger than before. She knew that Joohyun didn’t have a steadying axis to pirouette upon, but instead only her pointe shoes and the bloody toes encased within. It felt like Joohyun had been born from the mold of a perfect ballerina, but it was simply a dream with years of practice, drills, and rehearsals built upon it.

Anything worthwhile was built from steady work. It showed in the precise spread of her fingers, the shape of her muscles, the expressions flowing over her face. Everything was regimented, practiced, and polished.

Seungwan didn’t understand ballet, but she tried to read the lines it wrote in Joohyun’s body. She didn’t understand it, but she loved it because she loved Joohyun, and Joohyun loved to dance.

“You want me to sing for you?” Seungwan had asked, surprised.

It was a rare evening when they were both free, and so they had spent it together, lazing about in Irene’s apartment. They had been curled up on the couch under the same blanket, one that had been transplanted from Seungwan’s apartment ages before. Joohyun’s head had been a soothing weight on Seungwan’s shoulder.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you in person,” Joohyun had explained. “Just humming when you do the dishes sometimes.”

“You’ve heard my albums, though. You told me so.”

But Joohyun had only pouted. “Sing ‘Last Love’,” she demanded, and Seungwan gave in with a chuckle.

It was an impromptu song, and so Seungwan didn’t bother to chase Joohyun off her shoulder before she started. But Joohyun sat up on her own, and Seungwan hadn’t been able to classify Joohyun’s wide eyed expression.

She didn’t speak when Seungwan finished, and she had to prompt the other girl. “How was it?”

“It’s even better,” Joohyun had breathed. “Sing another one.”

That night, Seungwan sang until became dry and scratchy. Joohyun listened intently, arms wrapped around her knees with their shared blanket sliding down her legs unnoticed.

“You have a voice like an angel,” Joohyun had told her, trailing kisses from to . And later, as they were saying their good nights, “As long as you sing, I’ll listen.”

Seungwan must’ve been outside the door for almost two hours when Joohyun finally picked up the worn shrug and pulled it on. Joohyun didn’t notice her until she was already reaching for the doorknob. She jumped when she caught sight of Seungwan through the window, eyes wide.

“Seungwan!” She sounded angry still, and Seungwan swallowed hard. “What are you doing here?”

Seungwan backed up quickly as the door swung open wide. She held out the thermos she’d been cradling in her hands. “I brought hot chocolate. And a bar.”

Joohyun’s expression settled into bemusement as she took the thermos so Seungwan could rifle through her bag for the protein bar. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” She found the bar, the first one she’d seen in the cabinet before she’d rushed out of the house after Joohyun. “Here. And a sweater.” She handed the sweatshirt over, waiting as Joohyun shrugged the it on.

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” Joohyun admonished her, but took the bar eagerly. “You could’ve just let me know you were here.”

“I know, but I’m sorry." She sighed. "I wasn’t really mad at you missing my birthday, before. I just missed you.”

Joohyun nodded as she finished her mouthful. “I missed you too. I should’ve called before I went to sleep at least.”

“It’s okay,” Seungwan said. It really was okay.

She rifled through her bag again, finding a small red velvet jewelry box. Opening it, she got down on one knee. Joohyun stared down at her in shock, still chewing her protein bar.

“Bae Joohyun, will you marry me?”

Joohyun winced as she forcefully swallowed. “It’s 2 am and we’re in an empty ballet studio because we fought earlier. And now you’re proposing to me?”

“I mean, I guess it’s not the most romantic setting,” Seungwan admitted. “Or timing.” She started to stand back up, only for Joohyun’s hand on her shoulder to push her back down.

“No, do it again.”

“Um, okay…” Seungwan cleared , which had suddenly gone dry. “Will you marry me?”

“Of course.”

Joohyun was still clutching her bar in one hand as Seungwan stood up to slide the ring onto her other hand. Joohyun’s lips tasted like salt and chalky chocolate when they kissed, hands clasped together tight.

It was more perfect than anything Seungwan had ever dreamed of.