The small bell on the front door of his studio tinkles merrily. Kyungsoo smiles and calls out, “Be right with you!”

He clicks save and closes Photoshop, then sets the pic to upload onto his professional portfolio on his website. It’s the latest picture for his steampunk dolls series, and the model had nailed the photo shoot. Baekhyun had given his character both an aristocratic and rakish feel that absolutely worked with the dark atmosphere of the Irish bar background.

Leaving the computer to do its thing, Kyungsoo perches his glasses on top of his head and goes to the front desk. There’s a tall man in a black peacoat waiting at the front. He has his back to Kyungsoo, his attention consumed by the many photos on display on the walls of the studio. There’s a huge paper bag by his feet with pink tulle peeking out from it.

“Welcome to DoPixels,” Kyungsoo says. “How may I help you?”

The man turns elegantly, his motions like a dancer in a play, soft and controlled and beautiful. His brown hair shines gold in the sun coming in through the front glass windowpanes, but his smile is the most blinding thing in the room. He is pregnant and positively glowing. “Hello. Are you Do Kyungsoo-ssi?”

A weird sound comes from Kyungsoo’s dry throat when he tries to speak, so he clears it and tries again. “Yep. That’s me. Do. Do Kyungsoo.” What is he, James Bond introducing himself by his last name twice? Wow.

The man’s coat is open, and he settles a hand over his globe-like belly, smoothing down the soft white sweater. “My name is Kim Jongin. We spoke on the phone?”

Kim Jongin. The ballet photoshoot. “Ah yes! Mr. Kim, I remember.”

“Just Jongin. Mr. Kim makes me sound so old.” Jongin chuckles, his eyes turning into crescents.

The sound warms Kyungsoo down to his core, like a good cup of hot choco on a winter day. Kyungsoo smiles in return. “Jongin. Okay. I have the studio all set, so if you would follow me to the back.”

Kyungsoo switches the sign on the entrance and locks the door. Then he leads Jongin past his office and into the wide indoor space in the back where he does what he is good at.

He’s already set up the background canvas, pure white with no patterns, and the lights and reflectors are all connected and in place, ready to be moved or adjusted as needed. There’s a white fainting couch to the side, a rental he selected for this occasion, but they won’t use it until later. And his worktable has all the essentials: camera, extra batteries, assortment of lenses.

Now he just needs to get Mr. Kim…er, Jongin ready.

“I have the outfit here,” Jongin holds the huge paper bag up. “I just need to change.”

“Change! Yes, of course.” Kyungsoo shows him to the bathroom-slash-changing room. “You can change in there and I’ll be ready whenever you are.”

Jongin nods and heads inside.

They’d spoken at length over the phone about what Jongin wanted from this photo shoot. It wasn’t often that a client came to him with a full idea of what they wanted and how they wanted it. Most of the time he had to work through a brainstorming session before settling on an idea.

Not with Jongin.

Kyungsoo moves to his worktable to wait for him. That phone conversation had been more than interesting. Jongin had been lively and fun, chatting about the photo shoot, the idea, photography in general, dance, ballet. Everything. The hours had flown by with Jongin’s deep and soothing voice crooning into his ear.

A silly grin makes its way onto his lips. It had been a good talk, and he is excited to see how this photo shoot will turn out.

Kyungsoo is fiddling with his camera’s settings when a soft sound catches his attention. He looks up. Jongin approaches the middle of the shoot area wearing the outfit they’d discussed: black ballet tights with slippers, and a wide, soft-pink tutu made wider by his pregnant belly.

The tutu was Jongin’s idea to demonstrate the of the baby, and Kyungsoo had been one hundred percent on board with the idea. Seeing him now with his sleek, tanned, dance-made muscles and proudly displaying his pregnancy, makes Kyungsoo’s breath stall. Jongin looks amazing.

Jongin meets his gaze and smiles. “Should we start?”

“Ah! Yes, um.” Kyungsoo grabs his camera and comes forward. He fixes the glasses down on his nose and checks the lighting. “Right. Let’s begin with some simple ballet poses, nothing too strenuous or difficult, and then see where we go from there.”

Jongin nods.

“If you get tired at any moment, please tell me,” Kyungsoo says. “I get a little too into the zone and forget the time.”

Jongin chuckles. “It happens to me too when I’m dancing.”

“Then we better set up an alarm. Haha.” Kyungsoo configures the alarm on his phone and sets the device back on the worktable. “All set! Like I said, start with something simple.”

Jongin closes his eyes and breathes deep, his chest expanding and contracting slowly. He does it again and once more, before he opens his eyes. A change comes over him. There’s an intensity now that wasn’t there before. It’s like his presence has expanded radius, and anyone nearby is helpless but to look and admire.

Kyungsoo is star struck for a moment. He wonders if he’s even good enough to capture this being that has appeared before his eyes. His heart is beating fast now, and he doesn’t know if it’s because of the challenge presented or the way Jongin moves into his first pose. He raises his camera, looks through the eyepiece, and presses the shutter over and over again.
 

♦   ♦   ♦

The shoot goes wonderful. Jongin is very limber and graceful even in his pregnancy. Kyungsoo gets some amazing shots of him dancing ballet and holding positions to the soft music he put on as ambience. It all looks effortless, but Kyungsoo soon notices the soft sheen of sweat over Jongin’s limbs and how his breaths start coming out harsher. The alarm hadn’t sounded yet when he calls for a break.

Kyungsoo sets his camera down and quickly moves over to help Jongin out of the tutu. He leads the man to a seat and hands him a glass of water.

“Thank you,” Jongin says after taking a long drink.

“It’s almost lunch time,” Kyungsoo says. “Are you hungry?”

Jongin laughs. “I’m pregnant.”

“Right! Why am I even asking?” Kyungsoo chuckles. “So, what would you like? I know a Chinese place, a Pizza place, and a Chicken place.”

“Hmm.” Jongin drinks more water. “Chicken?”

Kyungsoo finds the correct takeout menu in his office, makes the call, and lets Jongin order whatever he wants, which turns out to be a lot. The blush that takes over Jongin’s cheeks when he hands back the phone is enough to make Kyungsoo not care how much he’ll spend on the food.

While they wait for the delivery, Kyungsoo goes into the storage room and drags out an empty crate box to use as a table. He also digs up one of the soft blankets he uses for baby shoots so Jongin can cover himself during the short break. So much tanned skin. It’s beautifully distracting.

“Thank you. Again.” Jongin drapes the blanket around his shoulders and settles back in the chair. He starts humming and rubbing his belly, a small crease of concentration between his brows.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine, fine,” Jongin says, a tiny smile tilting his lips up. “She likes to kick really hard when she’s impatient.”

Kyungsoo moves a seat for himself closer to the crate. “Impatient?”

“For food.”

Kyungsoo laughs. “They should be here soon. Sehun likes to drive like he’s in Fast and the Furious.”

“Sehun?”

“The delivery guy,” Kyungsoo says. He takes Jongin’s glass and refills it with water.

Jongin tilts his head and accepts the glass. “First name basis. You buy a lot of takeout for clients?”

“I eat a lot of takeout,” he smiles, “Not much time for cooking.”

“Business is good then?”

“It keeps me fed and with a roof over my head,” Kyungsoo says, taking a seat. “I’m never short of work. When it’s not graduation season it is wedding season, or baptisms, or sweet sixteen parties, or people wanting professional pics for their web pages.”

“Hmm. Do you ever get tired of it?”

“My body gets tired, but I love it,” Kyungsoo admits. He could be sleepless, bone tired, and it only takes a camera in his hands for him to forget all his troubles and shed any tiredness.

Jongin grins. “I’m the same with dancing.”

“It shows,” Kyungsoo says. “I mean, I could hear it in your voice when we talked over the phone the other day. But now…the way you move…I can feel the emotion behind each gesture. It’s really amazing. I hope I captured it.”

“You’re very good at what you do, Kyungsoo-ssi,” Jongin says, rubbing his belly again. “It’s kind of embarrassing to admit, but I’ve been a fan of yours for years. I first saw your work in a magazine. The article was about the School of American Ballet and the show they presented here in Seoul.”

Kyungsoo tries not to get too excited about the fact that Jongin had been a fan for years. That SAB article had been one of his first works. He had a copy of the magazine somewhere in his file cabinet. “It’s how I started out, by freelancing for magazines. That was a long time ago,” he says. “And please, no need to be formal. Just call me Kyungsoo.” It was a little forward of him, but after all they’d talked about on the phone and the nice time they were having now, he felt as if they’d grown closer already.

“Kyungsoo,” Jongin says, drawing out the name slowly, his eyes not leaving Kyungsoo’s.

Kyungsoo swallows. “Yeah?”

Jongin holds the gaze a bit longer before smiling. “Nothing. I just wanted to try it out.”

Before Kyungsoo can sputter out an incoherent response, the back door buzzer sounds and makes them both jump. They laugh awkwardly while fighting down heavy blushes.

“Food’s here…um, yeah, let me just….” Kyungsoo hurries away.

Sehun is waiting outside, dressed in his usual jeans, ratty t-shirt, and leather jacket. “You photographing an in there?” he says as he hands Kyungsoo the bags. “Why so much food?”

Kyungsoo slaps his arm, before taking the takeout and setting it on the floor inside. “My client is a pregnant man.”

“Yours?”

Kyungsoo frowns and takes the next set of bags. “What?”

Sehun wiggles his brows. “Is the baby yours?”

Kyungsoo swings to hit, but Sehun dances back. “You’ll have to come closer to get the money.”

“No, I don’t! I’ll put it on your tab! Bye, hyung!” Sehun waves him goodbye and jogs back to his car.

Kyungsoo shakes his head and closes the door. That brat. He’ll have to go over to Chanyeol’s shop tomorrow and pay his tab. For now, he hauls all the food over to the crate, and between Jongin and him, they spread everything out. Most of the containers end up on Jongin’s side.

“This is good,” Jongin says after demolishing a chicken drumstick. “I’ll have to write their number down.”

Kyungsoo grins. “I’ll get you their takeout menu. I have tons.” Chanyeol forced him to take the flyer menus every time he dropped by. He dips another wedge fry in his ketchup lake, and eats it. “Is she happy now?”

Jongin looks up, surprised, and then laughs. “We’re both very happy now.”
 

♦   ♦   ♦

The second part of the photo shoot consists of a mix of full body shots of Jongin reclining on the fainting couch and portraits from the waist up. They decide to leave the tutu as a prop item at the foot of the couch since it’s quite uncomfortable to sit and lie with.

Kyungsoo falls a bit deeper when he discovers that Jongin dances even when he is not dancing. Even sitting, the way he moves and changes from one pose to another is nothing short of precise and artistic. There’s no awkwardness between the changes, no hesitation. There’s no need for instruction, and Kyungsoo is more than happy to keep quiet and focus on finding the best way to capture all that is Jongin.

Kyungsoo gets lost in his own thoughts and ideas. A new series of photographs. Dancers this time. Maybe not just ballet dancers, but different kinds of dancers. Perhaps there could be a recurring character in every shot, like someone who is learning all these new moves and styles. And the final shot...a ballerino in full outfit under a bright spotlight with the shadows of all the other dancers as backdrop.

His mind is running a mile a minute with all the people he’ll have to call, the estimated budget for a project of that size, the hours he’ll have to divide between it and the studio. He needs a title for the project too. Dancers of the World. Too generic. A Dancer’s Dream. Better, but not quite.

Jongin curls in on himself, cradling his tummy, and looking up at the camera from under the brown strands of hair falling carelessly over his forehead.

Kyungsoo’s heart beats faster. “My Beautiful Ballerino,” he murmurs. That’s it. That’s the title.

“What did you say?”

“Huh?” Kyungsoo comes out of his brainstorm and pulls the camera away from his eye to find Jongin completely motionless, staring at him with a conflicted look. “Oh, I’m sorry. I just had an idea for a new photo series about dancers. I didn’t realize I was muttering.”

Jongin looks away. “It’s okay. It’s just...someone used to call me that, but it’s okay.”

However, as they continue with the shoot, it’s clear that things are not okay. The light has gone from Jongin’s eyes. That warm glow he carried with him this morning, has dimmed a lot. The pictures are coming out flat, lifeless.

That sometimes happens with clients. They get too much into their heads, too much into the scene they’re doing. It’s up to Kyungsoo to bring them back out, especially now that Jongin’s mood change seems to be his fault.

“Talk to me,” Kyungsoo says lowering the camera.

Jongin blinks and his head. “About what?”

“About anything.”

Jongin bites his lip. He looks innocent and vulnerable, a little bit nervous, but this is not the emotion Kyungsoo is looking for.

“Talk to me about dancing,” Kyungsoo says. “How did you get started? What were your dancing plans?”

“Dancing plans?”

Kyungsoo adjusts his glasses. “You know…your goals and, um, dreams.”

That does the trick. Jongin’s eyes light up as he looks at Kyungsoo, and Kyungsoo raises the camera once more.

“It all started one Christmas, after my parents took me to see a show of The Nutcracker. I was too little to appreciate what I saw that night,” he says. “But there was this feeling in my chest, this pull that started that night. I wanted to be on that stage dancing, jumping, and twirling. It all looked so fun.”

Jongin lies down completely on the couch, slightly on his side, before continuing. “I begged my parents sent me to ballet school after that, and I loved it. I didn’t mind that I had less free time or fewer friends than other kids, because I was too busy with school and dance. Dancing was my playtime, my friend. Things got a bit harder later on….”

“Harder? Why?” Kyungsoo asks, stopping momentarily.

“Competition.” Jongin sighs. “Everything was a competition; to see who danced better, who got lead parts in shows, and sometimes just to show off. I really hated that part. I just wanted to dance.”

“Were you good?” He needs to bring Jongin back to happy memories. “I mean, it seems like you were good. Did you get many lead parts?”

Jongin tilts his head back and grins, his hands returning to his stomach. “I did. I was set to appear in The Nutcracker this Christmas for the fourth consecutive year, but then…I discovered I was pregnant.”

“I’m sure you’ll get another shot at it next year,” Kyungsoo says, taking another picture. “I bet you’re eager to return.”

Jongin’s hands stop soothing over his belly and he sits back up carefully. “Actually, I was let go from the company,” he whispers. “When I told them about the pregnancy, they said I should take my leave and never come back.”

Kyungsoo stops shooting completely. “Did they tell you why?”

Jongin’s arms tighten around his round middle. “The father…the guy I slept with was the son of the head dance teacher. She didn’t want the scandal.”

He’s afraid to ask, but Kyungsoo says, “And the guy?”

“A mistake.”

“I’m so sorry,” Kyungsoo says. “It really is their loss. You weren’t even dancing here, just posing and I’m still in awe of your skill. They are all idiots.”

“You’re too nice,” Jongin says. There’s something shining in his eyes.

Kyungsoo panics when he sees they are tears. He grabs the blanket he’d brought before from one of the tables and places it around Jongin’s shoulders just as the man starts to cry. Kyungsoo sits beside him on the fainting couch and does his best to hold Jongin as he sobs.

“I’m sorry,” Jongin blubbers. “I didn’t mean to—I’m just…hormonal.”

“Shh. It’s okay.” Kyungsoo pulls the edge of the blanket up.

Jongin grabs it and wipes his face. “I’m such a mess. I don’t even know how I’ll be able to do this on my own. I’m not strong enough.”

“I have to disagree,” Kyungsoo says, keeping his voice low. “I already know that you are strong. You spent years dancing and never gave up, even when things got rough. It takes dedication and a strong will to stick with something as hard as dancing for so many years.” He rubs a hand up and down Jongin’s back. “You’re strong and you’re going to get through this. And your baby girl will be the luckiest baby girl in the whole world, because she’ll have you.”

Jongin groans and fully covers his face with the blanket. “Do you want me to cry some more?”

Kyungsoo chuckles. “Sorry. But it’s the truth.”

It takes a few more minutes for Jongin to calm down, his breaths coming easier, his tears stopping completely. His cheeks are flushed and there are tiny droplets trapped in his eyelashes.

Kyungsoo wants to kiss the lingering sadness away, but it would be all kinds of inappropriate. “Why don’t you go change and get into some warm clothes,” he says. “I think we got all the photos we needed.”

With Kyungsoo’s help, Jongin stands and moves away to the bathroom. Meanwhile, Kyungsoo sets about to get ready for closing. He puts the camera in his bag and the lenses in the big case, turns off the light and reflector power outlet, and finally picks up the leftover food.

When Jongin returns all dressed up, Kyungsoo hands him a takeout bag. “What’s left of lunch in case you and her get hungry later,” he says. “I also put the menu in there, so you have the number.”

Jongin takes it, his fingers brushing against Kyungsoo’s. “Thank you, again. You’ve really done too much.”

Kyungsoo laughs and runs a hand through his hair. “It’s nothing.”

They move to the front of the store and Jongin waits until Kyungsoo turns off the computer, grabs his bags and the keys. It’s night outside and a bit cold already. Kyungsoo shivers in his coat as he locks the front door, and when he turns, Jongin is still there.

“Thank you, again,” Jongin says softly. “For everything.”

“Anytime.” Kyungsoo shoves his hands in his pockets to keep them from reaching out to Jongin who looks like he needs a hug again. “I’ll have the prints ready later this week.”

Jongin bites his lower lip. “You’ll call me?”

Kyungsoo’s eyes widen. “Ah? Yes. Yeah, I’ll call you.”

Jongin smiles. “Goodnight, Kyungsoo.”

Kyungsoo waves awkwardly and watches Jongin leave, a lonely figure slowly dancing away. The picture tugs hard at his heart and he takes a step towards Jongin. He’s never been one to follow impulses, but this time the call is too strong. Every single cell in his body is calling him to action, and he just opens his mouth and…

“Kim Jongin!” Kyungsoo calls out and waits for the man to face him. “Would you like to have dinner with me?”

Jongin’s laugh is full and free, and it makes the butterflies in Kyungsoo’s stomach flutter at maximum speed. “I’d love to.”

---
The end. Fin. No sequel ^^;

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