In the debate world, there are five unspoken rules. The first four are trivial; simple social laws that every sane person would understand.
But the last one. Now that's something.
Rule Number Five: Never, ever, under any circumstances, date your d...
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today's theme: success
Marcus slumped against the wall, clutching a bottle of water. He had taken off his jacket an hour into the class, and sweat stains were visible against his shirt in many different places.
He would tell himself to never wear a white shirt to dance ever again, but he was never dancing again.
How did these people do it every day? It was fucking mind-blowing.
He chugged down another gulp of water. "Staring at him isn't going to make him come over to you."
Jisung gritted his teeth. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Break started ten minutes ago. Your eyes have been following him the entire time, and you have not stopped glari—actually, you know what, this is another piece of evidence for you."
"Great." He picked a stray piece of lint off his sweatpants. "I'll add that to the list."
The first half of class was, in some ways or others, pure torture—but in very different contexts for the two of them.
For Marcus, it was a matter of literal physical extortion. Pandora was absolutely right when she said it was in his best interest to never try anything involved with body coordination: when it came to matching his two left feet with his equally stiff torso, it was an absolutely hilarious sight to behold.
Thank god they were at the very back.
Jisung, on the other hand, was faced with the scarring mental challenge of keeping his cool—which, when it came to matters surrounding Minho, almost never happened.
This dance had no business being so intimate. The amount of waist-grabbing, hand-holding, and intertwining body movements included were damning enough, and it pained him to even see Minho do it alone.
But a partner was just infuriating. He held Rina in such a delicate way, her frame fitting right into his as they gave demo after demo, it tightened his chest and squeezed his patience into a corner.
By the time they had reached break, the third rule was pretty much confirmed. It was all over his face and his mind, from the way he was silently cursing to the clenching of his fists every three seconds. When he had whispered to Marcus his affirmations, the boy had given him an exasperated look and a bored 'finally'.
Jumin had told him the other four would come to him much easier than the first. But he hadn't told him that the third one would be so painfully aggressive on his emotions—it was a complete bitch.
And most of all, Jumin certainly did not say he would end up sulking against the dance studio while he watched his maybe-crush pay attention to other people, leaving him abandoned like that in the corner.
Marcus sighed. "He's a teacher, not your friend. He obviously doesn't have time for you right now."
"I know," Jisung snapped. "I'm not dumb. Just let me boil over it."
