⁺◦ 𝔥𝔬𝔱 | 𝘀𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀 .

↳ 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝟖 .

three, long days have passed since you've gotten any sleep. you're practically running on fumes, but at least you're still standing. well, semi-standing.

as time stands, your hand sits on the barre. somehow, it's holding you steady while you go through warmups. your legs nearly give out when you attempt to do a plié, but you refuse to let yourself lose balance. you're usually punctual, but today you're overly-punctual.

it is four thirty in the morning.

the sun is nowhere to be found in the early morning sky. it remains dormant, just like most of the establishments that surround the studio. you are barely awake. unlike you, the studio is wide awake, its bright lights lights reflecting off the mirrors.

time ticks away rather sluggishly.

fifteen minutes pass once you hear the door sweep open.

"good morning, ms. kim."

you don't get a quick response. nothing besides the door creaking to a close is all you hear, just before it dawns on you who just walked into the dance studio.

"what are you doing here so early?" you drag out the you in the sentence, not filtering any of the disgust in your voice.

minghao strides towards you. he doesn't even seem to be offended by what you've said or how you've said it.

"i could ask you the same thing." minghao replies.

"you could, but i wouldn't answer you." your hand drops from the barre.

the urge to stretch presses down on you. so, that's exactly what you start doing. you move to the center of the floor. your legs fall right in front of you once you sink to the floor.

"would you like me to help you stretch or-"

minghao roams over to the center of the studio.

"no, i don't want your help with stretching or anything else for that matter." you try to sound as rude as possible, but it doesn't scare minghao off.

why won't he take a hint? why won't he just leave me alone?

before minghao showed up, you avoided looking directly in the mirror. you know that your reflection will be a frightening reality that you don't want to face, so you kept your eyes  downcast. now, you keep checking the mirror to make sure that he hasn't inched closer to you.

a huge smile paints minghao's face and you think he's really lost it now. you're certain that you're seeing things, but you know that your ears don't fail you when you hear him giggle.

"why are you so stubborn?" he asks, once he finally ends his giggling fest.

you shoot up at his words, putting your stretching routine on the back burner. "i am not-"

"i thought we've already been through this, princess." minghao cuts you off.

"my name is (y/n)." you smugly speak.

"if you didn't need my help, i wouldn't be standing in this studio right now." minghao looks proud of himself.

he seems proud that you're in a position where you have to rely on him. he even stands straighter while he speaks. you grow tired of having to look up at him because you realize that it mimics the exact power dynamic that's going on between you two.

you get to your feet, then steady yourself.

you laugh a forced laugh that sounds more like a gurgle than a laugh, "i could go onstage without you and win that competition all by myself, minghao."

"no, you couldn't. you'd get disqualified for not following basic rules before you even start dancing."

"maybe that's what i want." you argue.

on the way to your dance bag, you bump minghao's shoulder. this action may or may not have been accidental.

minghao sighs rather loudly, then a quietness blankets the studio for a little while. you reach into your dance bag, then minghao starts walking towards you.

there's this look on his face that seems different than the smug smirk that he's fashioned into his default expression. this look seems empathetic.

"so, how's chan doing?"

he takes a different approach, a more heartfelt one. this approach stops your hands from shuffling through your dance bag to locate your pointe shoes. this one question causes a wave of goosebumps to rise upon your arms and shakiness to derail the steadiness of your hands.

"are you kidding? is this some kind of twisted joke, minghao?" you desperately ask, trying hard to push down the lump in your throat that shows up just before you start crying.

"no, i-" minghao falters.

"because if it is, i don't find it funny whatsoever." you say, while wiping a rogue tear that slid from your eye.

you blink and minghao's hand is nearing your face once you open your eyes. you flinch at his touch, but that doesn't stop him from trying to wipe away your tears.

there are more tears? have i been crying this whole time?

"i was being serious. i really want to know how he's doing."  minghao's voice is as feathery light as his touch and you swear that he looks unreal.

he looks like a completely different person, but that doesn't stop you from swatting his hand away. his kindness doesn't stop you from being awfully mean to him.

"it is none of your business how he's doing. actually, i don't even want to hear you say his name when you're around me." you sniffle, then wipe away any tears that still sit on your face.

you rummage through your bag like a scavenger, clawing at everything just to reach your pointe shoes. the tension in your shoulders loosen only when you know that minghao's moved away from you.

"okay, it looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today." minghao pipes up, but he's put a generous amount of space between himself and yourself.

that guy, the one that you swore didn't exist before today, is gone. he leaves in an instant. there isn't even a warning when he goes and that's what catches you off-guard.

your hand wraps around a pointe shoe and you smile to yourself.

"no, i didn't. i was fine until you walked in and interrupted my warmups."  you argue with minghao since it's what you're supposed to do.

"so, maybe you didn't get any sleep at all because you seem angrier than usual." minghao retorts.

"would you just be quiet, minghao?" you say, while finding the second pointe shoe.

"good morning!" a brassy, cheery voice echoes in the small space.

ms. kim finally decides to show up.

"i hope you don't mind that i've brought a guest to sit in on your rehearsal." ms. kim says with a hearty smile.

you're just about to finish tying up your pointe shoe when the guest walks in. "why would we mind-"

the identity of the guest is what snatches the confidence right out of you, leaving you silent and spookily still.