You had her at your fingertips.

• • •

"Oh Sehun."

She calls his name often, reflecting off the walls, ringing in his ears.

It’s becoming a habit of hers.

They like to sit, blocks away from the building after long practices and repetitive courses. Soojung buys him coffee and herself tea without even asking what the latter wants. He drinks it anyway. They sit side by side near the window where they can see people; although not so much like them, holding onto a routine far from theirs. Children walking in hand with their parents, lovers in arms with their lovers, the store clerk coming off from work. It all seems like an illusion.

He sees Soojung bury her face in her cup, letting the vapor warm her cheeks, her nose. She does this all the time, and he never asks why. Mostly because he doesn't need to.

“Sehun.”

He turns his head to see her face still deep in her cup, exhales echoing his name. There is a loose strand of hair on her shoulder and he picks it away. Her cup is probably empty now, he says to himself, eyes travelling from her head to her delicate hands.

She places it on her lap and sighs. When she turns to look at his face, he does too, leaving them to stay in a time where they just observe. And Soojung is better at the game than he is. His chest tightens, faint palpitations, but hers stay sound. She lets her eyes crinkle, her lips thinning into a line. He raises an eyebrow and twists his lip.

“Jinri says your profile is to die for. But I don’t see it.”

“She has good taste.”

Cynical, her eyes narrow into slits. She laughs and it is abrupt. It’s the one that goes a higher octave than usual and would end with her hands on .

He dismisses it as a compliment and takes a sip of his coffee.

• • •

Hair tied in a messy bun. Aqua blue shirts, white trainers. On some days, she would wear her hair down, long to her elbows, a hair pin to help clear her sight. Black tights for her jazz classes. Sweaters and sweat pants for most of the others. She’s no one less than ordinary but his eyes follow every move, his mind recording each detail.

Snap out of it.

A crowd gathers at the entrance of one of the classes one morning and he’s not surprised. Golden boy’s at it, again, and there is a sight of Jongin in his white shirt and loose pants. “Freestyle” is how he would describe it, the routines he pulls to impress a few trainees before making the rest his mortal enemies. Sehun thinks it’s his strategy to stardom.

He passes by after the commotion to congratulate his friend on another day of success.

“You know I’m doing this on purpose right,” Jongin says in between wiping his face and head. Sehun gives him the dullest expression he could muster because this is obviously nothing new.

“You are the subtlest person in this entire building.”

His face turns smug before he sighs, slumping down to the wooden floor. There is an air of defeat as he takes deep breaths, all sounding so pathetic after another.

“Did you put too much effort this time?” Sehun teases as he sits beside him. “Don’t worry, you’re almost there.”

Jongin laughs.

“Dozens of girls watch you dance.”

“Not her,” he says, fiddling with his shirt.

“Am I supposed to guess who she is?”

Before he could start deducing, Jongin’s gaze shifts upwards, to nearby footsteps and the shoes. She always had impeccable timing.

“Sehun?”

Her voice echoes like a mystery in his head and he has trouble realizing if she’s real or not. Hair tied up in a bun, loose strands decorating her cheeks. He can feel his friend stiffen and sees his eyes ease into wonder. Jongin tries to look away several times and Sehun can’t help raise an eyebrow.

Of course.

“A bit late to the party, are we?” He asks, putting up a front. “Freestyle ended ages ago."

Soojung stares back. “I’d rather be early to a proper lesson than a hot mess.”

Ouch.

Jongin’s expression doesn’t waver. He tosses a towel on her head before leaving and she puts it away in disgust, shoving it in her duffel’s side pocket. There are already a few in there, it seems.

“They’re all clean,” she says, ending his curiosity. “I tend to forget, so.”

Somewhere in his mind, Sehun can hear glass shattering.

“Sure.”

• • •