Sehun didn’t like Kai the first time he saw him.

He didn’t hate him, though; he just didn’t care. He simply continued walking past the corridor, thinking he was just another stranger he never needed and would never need to meet.

He then stuffed his earphones into his ears and drifted to his peaceful wonderland of oblivion, droning out all the outside noises of the real world, missing the longing stare the other held on him for the longest time as he exited.

The second time was another short stumble; a tiny two-second duration of it.

Sehun was walking past labyrinth halls lined with millions of doors to who knows where. He was trying to look for the mini cafeteria where he and his co-trainee friends use as a lounging area. He was pretty sure he was never going to get to his destination before the drinks in his hands turn warm and so he just sipped on his bubble tea and went wherever his feet felt like going.

He was half-way done with it when the silence was subtly replaced with music. As Sehun walked closer, he could hear it louder – the consistent drum machine-backed rhythms, the distinct sound of the saxophone passing by every so often (which sometimes Sehun associates with those scenes), and the smooth voice that fits into the song perfectly.

There was also the occasional high-pitched squeaking of sneakers against the floor which meant someone was definitely in there.

For some unknown reason he knew, probably from personal experience, that whoever this was, he or she doesn’t want to be disturbed. But oh his stubborn self, succumbing to his feet’s wishes that started to drag him to the door with light and music streaming out of it despite his inner conscience telling him to turn away then run really quickly because someone dangerous might be inside and he doesn’t want enemies.

Sehun’s not stupid. Really, he’s not. He has heard a lot about the infamous cat that got killed out of curiosity. But curiosity is an elusive being, and he, too, likes to live dangerously.

Taking a brave step and a swift sneak peak in, all he saw was a boy around his age dancing to the music flowing from his mp3 player. He didn’t think of it any special. It was just someone dancing. What do you expect from an entertainment company? Monkeys?

Oh, yes, juggling monkeys. That’s what you expected, didn’t you? Well, sorry, that’s not what the young Korean population mostly sees as entertainment.

He didn’t think of his dancing as anything special, either. He’s seen a lot of great dancers, and maybe if he sticks long enough he would appreciate this boy’s style, but he had enough of watching other people dance in rooms with gigantic mirrors as walls; all the other wooden ones covered with posters of the company’s idols.

Thus, he leaves again uninterested while the boy in question stared at the reflection of his departure, eyes filled with admiration and something akin to gloom.

The once pungent patches stuck to his back to relieve the pain were starting to come off, probably wet with sweat. His shirt was drenched, too. So drenched, it couldn’t hold in the amount of sweat seeping out for hours, resulting to the pool beneath him. Surprisingly, he didn’t slip even once.

He shook his head and ruffled his hair, causing droplets to rain. He stood there, panting, chest heaving, tired from all the trying – trying to dance with all his might, trying to get his attention.

Let’s make this clear: Sehun’s not stupid. Really, he’s not.

He’s an idiot.

A/N: Hello. I just came to say that I'm still alive and also to check if anyone is still reading this. Thank you :)

Don't ask me what the difference of stupid and idiot are because the only thing I can say is that the former is an adjective while the latter is a noun.