He was a Punk. He did Ballet. |nomin|

Seven

It was Monday, the start of a humiliating new week.

Jaemin took it easy during the weekend so he could be fully rested for another day of rehearsal. His ankle wasn't a hundred percent healed but he was now able to walk correctly without the aid of painkillers. He got up early and dressed in his unitard and shoes. After zipping up his jacket he put the strap of his duffel bag over his shoulder and made his way outside.

Today, Jaemin's ballet instructor wanted everyone to meet in the theater, which will be their venue for the show next month. The theater was further downtown so Jaemin had to flag down a taxi to get there. It was a cold, foggy morning with light rain. When he got into a taxi, Jaemin told the driver where to go and rubbed his hands to warm them.

During his long, tedious weekend, Jaemin did a lot of research. He had looked up Nightshade and found a lot of web articles talking about this new up and coming band that was taking the city by storm. Despite them being small, they were earning their spot in top-ten music charts for indie artists, which Jaemin found to be insane.

They were only a band for two years, yet their popularity was steadily rising. Meanwhile, Jaemin had been doing ballet for thirteen years, yet he couldn't finish a choreography without screwing up and hurting himself.

Jaemin understood the hype though. Because he couldn't stop listening to Jeno's newest song. He loved it so much that it became an ear worm, and he listened to Jeno's other songs to stop it. But as much as he adored them all, the ear worm refused to leave his head. Jaemin had grown attached... but he refused to call himself a fan.

That crazy Friday night replayed in his mind over and over again. It was an eventful night that he, frankly, did not regret. Jaemin grinned slightly, knowing how proud his mother would be. So he took his phone out from his jacket pocket and searched for her contact in an app. It was night time in America, so he decided to send her a text message.

"Hey mom. Something happened. Remember when I called you? And you told me to meet someone new? Well... that night, I did meet someone. I met him at a club... he's a singer there. He would not stop watching me from the stage. He gave me a ride home, and he gave me his number too. He thinks I'm interesting... but I don't understand why. Well anyways, he's coming to see my rehearsal... I hope he shows up. I'm very nervous."

Jaemin bit his lip and pressed send. He locked his phone and stared out of the window. He didn't want to give her all the details yet, but he knew he would be getting an excited call about it later. Speaking of Jeno... Jaemin unlocked his phone again. He looked up Jeno's contact information, his pulse picking up speed just by looking at the name. Opening up a new chatroom, Jaemin's brain screamed for him to stop, but his heart wanted to send something to the handsome singer.

Jaemin began to type: "Good morning. This is Jaemin. Not sure if you remember me." And he pressed send. Jaemin tossed the phone beside him on the leather seat. He began to bite his nails. His leg bobbed up and down. He sighed several times in between bites, trying to swallow as much oxygen he could. The taxi driver had no idea how close Jaemin was to a panic attack.

Then, his phone vibrated.

Jaemin snatched it back up and looked at it. He almost gasped. He got a reply.

"Good morning, pretty boy. I didn't forget you."

Jaemin sank into the seat. How the hell did Jeno answer so quickly like that? Jaemin adjusted his scarf and then went off to reply. "Sorry to bother."

But of course, Jeno replied even faster. "You're not bothering me, I just got up. How are you doing?"

Now, why would he ask Jaemin that? Whatever the reason, Jaemin knew it was time to put a stop to this conversation immediately. He just wrote, "Good. See you later."