Not Your Boyfriend (2PARK✔️)

prelude

"Hyung, why can't you just keep teaching me? We've been dancing through the steps for days already, why should I have someone else come in if they don't even know it yet? How're they going to help me?"

A slender hand drops onto my shoulder in comfort, Jisung's lips curled in a curt smile. "He's a better dancer than I am, that's why. And because you need a friend your own age. I'm too old to be running around after you."

I try to not take offense, as if he's had to chase me round our small studio in an effort to mold me into a better dancer. "But that still doesn't change the fact that this new guy won't know my choreography-"

The frosted door to the studio clicks open behind me, the mirrors in front of me revealing a young, tanned face tucked into a blue mask. "I choreographed this dance, actually. Or did you actually think that this Hyung could create something so elegant-"

"Hey!" Jisung snaps his fingers, jabbing a finger through the air at the stranger. I haven't turned to face him, eye contact through the mirrors are enough for me. "If I really tried, I could be a world-class dancer on an international stage."

A snort from the stranger makes my left eye twitch, my fingers scrunching into tight fists at my sides. Making a sharp turn on my heel, I stand as still as possible, eyeing the new face carefully. I can only see his eyes and round cheeks, the lower half still shrouded by blue cloth. "Do you need that?" I ask around a sneer, indicating the mask with a nod.

His dark hand taps at his covered chin in thought before his head bobs in a nod. "Yes. I have a cold. Be thankful I care enough to wear this." He gives a half-hearted cough before striding confidently towards me, extending a hand to be shaken. "Park Woo-Jin."

"What year were you born?" I ask before thinking, blinking back my own surprise at the question. 'Great, make sure he knows about your asshole complex early on', Jisung's voice says in the back of my mind.

"Same as you," Jisung answers before the new face can. "So don't start giving each other crap about who's older. You're only months apart-"

"Park Ji-Hoon." I introduce myself around Jisung's words. I don't want to hear a drawn-out speech about respecting my peers right now. I glance down at the dark hand that's still held out towards me. "Aren't you sick?" I ask snidely, raising my eyes to his, maybe an inch above my own.

"Very," he replies curtly. Another fake cough is tossed my way before he drops his hand. "Hyung, you can leave now. Thanks for the practice space." His eyes have the ability to soften the moment they hit Jisung's face, like looking from an enemy to an old friend. Good thing he understands my feelings towards him already.

With a hand on the new guy's shoulder, Jisung leads them a few feet away, lowering his voice and dipping his head to talk directly to the dark boy. I don't bother listening. Surely it's something about my anger towards the situation. Maybe Jisung will even give the new guy some rules.

"Don't feed him after midnight, and no spicy foods. No matter what."

I roll my eyes at my own self-mockery, grimacing at myself in the mirrored wall. "Aren't you leaving?" I ask loudly, having listened to Jisung's whispers for almost a minute already.

"Calm down, kitten," the new face says around the mask. "My dear mother is just making sure I have your feeding and washing schedule."

Jisung snorts, my eyes narrowing on the pair. I hate that his joke is similar to the one that ran past my own mind moments ago. Moreover, I hate that he can make a joke while I'm giving him my best glare.

"Hyung, he's right. You should go. I'll be fine here." They share pats on the arms, a tanned hand waving Jisung out quietly. "Finally!" He whisper-shouts the moment the door has shut behind Jisung. He leans back, allowing a bag to fall straight from his shoulders onto the floor. "He earned the title of Ahjumma among our friends for a reason-"

I block his words out, striding over and kicking his bag aside, making a solid thud against a far wall as it collides against the plasterboard. "If you're here to train me, then that's what we're going to do. Don't make friends, and don't make jokes. If you're here for the same reason as I am, then you'll know how important this dance is to me. I can't debut if I can't do something as simple as-"

"Yeah fine. If we aren't here to make friends, then I don't need to hear your life story." I almost break his tanned fingers off when they pass in front of my face, successfully silencing me. "And we aren't similar in that sense. A reason for being here, I mean. I don't need a debut in my lifetime. My only purpose in this room is..."

He trails off mid-thought, staring at something behind me. "What?" I ask, sending a curious glance over my right shoulder. The only thing behind me is the stereo system for our music, but that wouldn't be such a big deal-

"Do we get to use that setup?" He asks in awe, his mouth clearly agape despite the mask.

"Yes. But I'm handling that, not you. Only trainees and members of the company can touch their technologies..." I trail off now, watching as he wanders away, towards his abandoned bag. "What now?"

He rummages for a few moments, before turning back with an mp3 in hand. "Here, your Highness. Track 36, put it on repeat and hook it up to the AUX."

He's ordering me around like I'm years younger than him, despite having been assured of our shared year. Finding no point in arguing, I switch the device on and move towards the computer stereo setup, grumbling all the way as I shuffle through his music. When I finally come across the right song, starting it on a loop over the speakers, I almost jump in surprise.

"Hey New Guy, this isn't the song that Hyung taught me the dance to-"

"No. This is the song I created the dance for." I watch as he steps into the very center of the room, stretching his arms above his head and rising on tiptoe. Glancing at me through the mirror, he narrows his eyes. "Are you coming or what?" He calls over his shoulder, continuing his stretches.

I roll my eyes, scuffing my sneakers against the floor to meet him in the center. "I already know the basic steps, I'm just not fluid in the transitions yet-"

"Shut up, your Highness. Just start with the steps so I can see where you're at. I can't see how shit you are if you're just flopping your mouth uselessly." My lips purse as I watch him step out of my way, his tan face clearly smiling behind the blue cloth.

"Fine,"I say under my breath, counting out the beats and finding where in the dance I'm meant to start. Lifting up my right arm and preparing to dip forward, a voice is already calling out over the music.

"Stop! Stop, stop, stop."

I've made one move and I'm already prepared to slap this guy. "What did I do wrong?"

"How long have you even been training? You look like the Tin Man when he's in need of oil." I watch as he stalks towards the stereo and unplugs his mp3, my mouth glued shut too tightly to tell him off for touching the equipment. "Did you even learn any of the basics of dancing?"

I block out his words, turning away in slight embarrassment. "I've been training for around a year," I answer quietly. "My coaches have focused on my voice for most of my time here, that's why I've been practicing with Hyung everyday on this dance. I can't afford to get tossed from the agency because my actual performance is lacking."

I watch the New Guy through the mirrors, his tan hand scratching at the back of his neck in thought. "If this is your current level, then you're not going to make it through this choreography. Not without more training." I turn my gaze towards the floor, holding my breath to keep from spewing curses at him. "So we'll just have to start with counting through the waltz and see where to go from there."

He fakes another cough before waving me towards him. "Lesson One: Counting."