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Tate was finishing up her warm-up stretches in the corner of the dressing room, talking casually to YN, who was lounging comfortably on a nearby chair, watching her intently. Tate was humming under her breath, pulling her long hair back and tying it up in a loose ponytail. Her face was already glowing with the hint of effort she was about to put into rehearsal.
"Wish me luck," Tate said with a wry grin, glancing over at YN. "I feel like today's going to be...intense."
YN chuckled, her eyes softening. "You've got this. I'll be watching," she promised, patting the spot beside her.
Once Tate finished getting ready, she and YN strolled to the rehearsal room, a warm anticipation hanging between them. The moment they walked in, Tate's gaze landed on the familiar, worn couch by the mirrored wall, and she let out a contented sigh, dropping onto it and patting the empty seat next to her.
"Come here," Tate murmured, eyes lighting up as YN settled beside her.
Without a word, YN tucked herself under Tate's arm, instinctively leaning her head against Tate's shoulder. She could feel Tate's steady breathing, the gentle rise and fall of her chest, and that warmth seeped right into YN, grounding her. Tate's arm tightened around her, hand softly tracing circles on YN's shoulder as they relaxed into each other.
YN looked up at Tate with a proud smile, catching the soft glow of excitement in her eyes. "You're going to kill it out there," she whispered, a quiet confidence in her voice that seemed to fill Tate with even more determination.
Tate's face softened as she turned slightly to meet YN's gaze, her thumb brushing over YN's knuckles as she held her hand. "Only because I've got my favorite person right here," she replied, voice barely above a murmur, as if the words were just for YN.
They stayed wrapped up like that for a few long, peaceful moments. Tate shifted, pressing a light kiss to YN's forehead, letting her lips linger for a heartbeat longer. YN smiled, heart swelling with warmth, and she nestled deeper into the curve of Tate's arm, feeling safe and perfectly content.
Just as they were beginning to lose themselves in each other's presence, the door opened, and the choreographer stepped in, clipboard in hand and a no-nonsense expression on his face. He glanced over at Tate, then tapped his pen against the clipboard, signaling it was time to get to work.
Tate took a deep breath, reluctantly pulling away from YN. But before she stood up, she leaned in and pressed one last soft kiss to YN's cheek, her lips brushing tenderly against her skin, as if she were storing up all the comfort and encouragement she'd need for the grueling hours ahead.
YN reached for her hand, squeezing it tightly. "I'll be right here," she promised, her smile a blend of pride and reassurance.
Tate smiled back, a quiet, grateful look in her eyes, and then she finally stood, giving YN's hand one last squeeze before joining the others on the dance floor. As she moved to the center of the room, YN could still feel the lingering warmth of Tate's touch, the imprint of those soft, unhurried kisses, and she settled back into the couch, heart full, ready to cheer her on through every beat and movement.
As the practice began, YN watched with admiration, her gaze never leaving Tate as she moved gracefully, her body attuned to the beat, losing herself in every step. Tate's movements were fluid, sharp, and expressive, her passion evident in every turn and jump. But as the rehearsal wore on, it was clear that the choreographer wasn't interested in giving anyone a break.
By the fourth run-through, YN couldn't ignore the signs. Tate was pushing herself hard, maybe too hard, and YN could see the gradual toll it was taking. Her girlfriend's breathing was quicker, sharper, as if every move required more effort than the last. YN had seen this before, knew that a lack of breaks in such a physically demanding routine wasn't just exhausting for Tate but dangerous given her asthma. Tate needed to pace herself; she needed those pauses to catch her breath and recharge, and it was painfully clear she wasn't getting them.
