Somin | Ateez 9th member.

First Meet: Wooyoung.

Somin & Wooyoungs first meeting.

Word count: 574

The dance studio at KQ Entertainment was a chaos of flailing limbs and shouted counts. Somin, perched on a worn-out speaker in the corner, meticulously copied down notes in her overflowing practice journal. She was new, barely two weeks in, and still trying to figure out the unspoken rules of this intense world. Her previous agency had been strict, but this was a whole new level of dedication, a palpable hum of ambition that vibrated through the very floorboards.

"Seriously, Wooyoung, again?"

Somin looked up to see a tall, lean boy with bright, restless eyes, laughing as he stumbled out of a spin, nearly colliding with a bewildered-looking girl. He was all angles and energy, an uncontained spark in the otherwise disciplined environment. He pushed a mop of dark hair out of his eyes, grinning unrepentantly. "Just one more time, I almost had it!"

The dance instructor, a formidable woman with a voice that could cut through concrete, merely sighed and gestured for him to rejoin the formation. Wooyoung, as Somin now knew his name, jogged back with an exaggerated salute, his movements fluid even in their haste.

Somin watched him. He wasn't the most polished dancer in the room, but there was an undeniable magnetism to him, a joyous abandon in his movements that made him stand out. While everyone else was focused on precision, he was focused on feeling the music, letting it consume him.

Later that evening, after the last practice session had finally ended and the studio was almost empty, Somin was still there, running through a difficult sequence she couldn't quite nail. Her muscles ached, and frustration was a hot knot in her stomach. She stumbled, nearly fell, and let out a small, unladylike groan.

"Need a hand?"

She jumped, startled, and spun around to see Wooyoung leaning against the doorframe, a half-empty water bottle dangling from his hand. He had changed into a comfortable hoodie and sweatpants, his hair still damp from a shower.

"Oh," Somin managed, feeling a blush creep up her neck. "No, I'm just... trying to get this part down."

He walked over, his gaze assessing. "The hip isolations? Yeah, they're a killer. Want a tip?"

Before she could answer, he was demonstrating, his hips moving with a surprising, almost hypnotic fluidity. "It's all in the knees," he explained, his voice softer than it had been during practice, more focused. "Don't try to force it. Let your knees lead, and your hips will follow."

Somin tried it, mimicking his movements. It was still awkward, but there was a subtle shift, a new understanding blooming. She looked up, a small smile touching her lips. "Thanks."

He grinned back, that same bright, restless energy in his eyes, but this time it felt less chaotic and more... inviting. "No problem. I'm Wooyoung, by the way." He extended a hand.

"Somin," she replied, shaking his hand. His grip was firm, warm.

"Welcome to the asylum, Somin," he said, a playful glint in his eyes. "You'll get used to it. Or you'll go crazy. One or the other." He laughed, and the sound filled the quiet studio, a bright counterpoint to the day's intense training.

Somin found herself laughing too, a genuine, unburdened laugh that surprised her. In that moment, surrounded by the echoes of a long day's work, she felt a flicker of something new – not just the daunting challenge of training, but the unexpected promise of connection.