There is something about dancing that is just so conflicting. You love the rush, the fluidity of your moves and steps, and the fun of it all. Yet. It's so tiring. There are days where you feel your calves ache and burn, reminding you that you do dance, frequently, and that you're going to dance again later. Myungsoo doesn't like dancing. He never has.

 

But it's become something mandatory for him now. 

 

After being accepted as a trainee under Woollim, one of the rising companies to idol stardom, he's been put under strenuous exercises. It's been three months since the acceptance. By now, he has a haircut, defined calves and a somewhat muscular build (he was skin and bones when he came). And he's a bit more confident in terms of his personality, but he's still awkward. 

 

"Myungsoo, hey, keep up!"

 

He skids, he falters and suddenly he's a beat behind everyone else in the practice room. He bites his lip and continues on as best as he can but he's jerky and unsure where to catch up to. His foot lands on someone else's, they groan in frustration, he groans in embarrassment, the dance coordinator slaps a hand over her face.

 

"Myungsoo!" she calls him out.

 

"S-Sorry!" he stutters.

 

Yep. Awkward as .

 

"Go get a break, please."

 

It's not even a suggestion, it's an order, so Myungsoo nods, sweatpants rolled to his knees and he shakes them down as he wearily stumbles out of the room, booming music becoming a hum once he enters the air conditioned hallway. It's a whoosh of soft, cold air that chills him comfortably, and he closes his eyes, breathing evenly. His head thuds gently on the door as he leans on it.

 

Today he's distracted. He doesn't know why, but he's distracted.

 

And he can't put his finger as to why. 

 

Despite not liking dancing at all, Myungsoo does it well. He isn't a effortless, dancing beast, like his friend (sort of; they rarely talk but it's enough for Myungsoo to consider him a friend at all). Hoya is on a whole 'nother plane; he could be thinking about what to wear the next day yet he can still pull off today's choreography with no problem. He's, in the simplest way to describe, a natural.

 

What makes Myungsoo good in dancing is that he practices, and practices, and practices. Simple. And his bruises on his legs are the immediate tell-tale signs he never really stops.

 

Distantly, he hears some muttering and clicks of shoes from the left side of the hallway, and thinking better not to show anyone he's slacking off, he opens his eyes and hurriedly lunges down to a stretching position.

 

The sounds of those shoes scream professional.

 

Myungsoo has trained his ears by now to know.

 

"And then you have a photoshoot with Dazed & Confused at five..." 

 

An idol. Myungsoo trails his eyes at the left side of the hallway and meets their eyes. 

 

Long, skinny legs, plump coral pink lips, beautifully shaped eyes, and a foreign model air about him. Lee Sungjong.

 

Myungsoo's heart thuds painfully in his chest and he's faltering all over again, eyes widening, muscles stiffening. He stands upright, casual and respectable as much as he's able, and as Sungjong and his manager are only a few feet away from him, he doesn't know why, but he bows. Sungjong was a year younger than him; Myungsoo was his hyung. What the hell was he doing?

 

But then again Sungjong has been Woollim's pride and glory. Since he was twelve, Sungjong has been under Woollim, his first hit and win only a couple of weeks after debuting. He's been a success; the boy every family wish they'd have in their family for his good nature, the boy every girl wanted because of his flower boy image, the boy almost every boy and/or man have a hard time admitting some attraction for. Myungsoo tries to keep his heart calm. Unfortunately, he was among those men. Sungjong is probably the sole reason why Myungsoo auditioned for Woollim, if not for the other fact Myungsoo was told constantly by his friends he should become an idol. With that pressure and then the idea of meeting Sungjong, being in the same company as him, maybe even making music with him, Myungsoo jumped for Woollim.

 

And now here he is. Bowing lowly in front of Sungjong, the only guy he's ever felt something for. They were only three feet away.

 

"Oh." Sungjong pauses, steps slowing.

 

"Sungjong, come on, you have no time." his manager rushes, reaching for his arm.

 

Myungsoo can only see Sungjong's new black converse and pink, flushed ankles. It seems like he came from dance practice too. He's wearing black shoes. Myungsoo blinks. Black is now his favorite color.

 

"Go ahead and wait for me in the car, hyung." Sungjong waves him off. "Let me speak to him."

 

(Sungjong's voice is soft just as it is on television, Myungsoo realizes.)

 

"What do you mean 'go wait for you in the car'? Do you even know this kid?" his manager grumbles. 

 

"I do." 

 

Myungsoo looks up. Sungjong winks at him. 

 

Maybe it's a nervous habit of his or something, but Myungsoo smiles weakly.

 

"Alright..." the manager began to walk off, still casting Sungjong suspicious glances. "I'll wait for you in the van. Giving you five minutes."

 

"Okay, hyung."

 

And suddenly, they are alone. Myungsoo holds an arm behind him and feels the flush of embarrassment hit him like a ton of bricks. He's so sweaty, his hair is all frizzy and his sweatpants are all saggy and loose. He should've looked for more fashionable...Sungjong came out of his dance practice yet he looks like he just came from CF shooting; his hair is neatly styled, his airy pink sweater fits him snugly (and Myungsoo can't believe he's kinda seeing the infamous s-line), and his shorts...his shorts are tight around his thighs. He's wearing spandex.

 

"Are you a trainee?" Sungjong's voice breaks his thoughts.

 

Myungsoo jerks, alert. "Oh. Oh, yeah, I'm, uh. A trainee."

 

Sungjong raises an eyebrow, lips slowly curving to an amused smile. 

 

"What's your name?"

 

Myungsoo was about to nod before he stopped himself, feeling himself getting redder by the second.

 

Gotta be cool, L Kim. He tells himself. Be cool.

 

"L." he mutters (musters), in a disinterested voice. 

 

"L." Sungjong pronounces. 

 

Myungsoo can't believe Lee Sungjong just said his name. Well, his nickname, but same thing. 

 

Sungjong outstretches a smooth hand, smiling prominently now. "Mine's Lee Sungjong."

 

Myungsoo nervously stretches a sweaty hand, cursing inwardly at the fact that his hand is sweaty and Sungjong would feel it and he just wished the world could swallow him up now--

 

"Kim Myungsoo!" The door behind him opens and the loud thump-thump of the music meets his ears.

 

His dance coordinator is staring at him lividly and he opens his mouth, turning halfway but she's already looking away from him. Her angered face quickly slips into a gushing, thrilled one.

 

"Sungjongie-ah!" She beams.

 

In an instant, Myungsoo is pushed into the studio and the door is closed in front of him, the dance coordinator outside with Sungjong.

 

Myungsoo's eyes are wide, confused at everything that has happened in only a matter of minutes.

 

"1, 2, 3, 4!" The back-up coordinator is already yelling.

 

Thoughts still disarryed, he scrambles over to his spot and of course, effortlessly, messes up again.