Not Your Boyfriend (2PARK✔️)

Lesson Two: Connecting

I mope down the building's halls alone, passing dance studios on my left and recording studios on my right. The agency's name is plastered on every door, just to ensure we know where we train. Teacher Seo's words on my solo performance play in the forefront of my mind as I stop in front of the same room New Guy and I practiced in yesterday. Or stretched in, I suppose.

I grab at my freshly ace-wrapped shoulder in thought, Teacher Seo's advice slapping me across the face as I close my eyes.

"Jihoon. I can't even tell if you're passionate about dancing. The song you chose... It didn't go with the flow of the movements, and you looked a bit absent."  Paired with that disappointed, almost blank stare he tends to wear, I felt almost worthless in front of my teacher.

I can picture the way he scratched at his light shadow, the sound of his hand against stubble like rough sandpaper. That sound alone made me want to sulk into a corner and hide.

"I want to witness an emotional connection in your next solo. I want you to perform the same dance next week at the agency's showcase. Pick a new song, and figure out a new flow. Connect to it, please."

How the hell am I supposed to connect to anything with this wrap on my shoulder and New Guy hovering behind me almost all the time? Striding into the dance studio, I await the impending arrival of the tanned devil himself, his bags still sat in the corner like yesterday. "If he said to meet at ten in the morning, he should at least arrive on time," I mutter to myself as I pace in front of the mirrors.

I stare at my own reflection, my freshly blackened hair, my plain brown eyes, my thin red lips. Nothing about me is incredibly striking, aside from maybe my cheekbones. But even then, who focuses their attention on something like cheekbones?

I scrutinize my thin shoulders, slightly flabby upper arms, and ill-fitting shirt. I'm too thin to fit into my own size, but too fat to smile at my own reflection. So I turn away instead, sliding my back down the mirror until my butt hits the floor. The cold wood settles some of the nerves in my stomach, though why I would be nervous is beyond me.

I close my eyes at the sound of the studio door opening, peeling them apart again as footsteps enter the room. "Morning, Your Highness!" His voice is less muffled behind his usual mask when he shouts like that. He almost seems to be in a chipper mood, while my morning is a bleak blue.

"You're here," I mumble, not bothering to stand from the floor, my arm too stiff to help me much. I spread my legs out to act like I'm stretching them out, leaning forward as if I'm reaching for my toes. "I just got here, so-"

"I know, I saw you when you came into the building like twenty minutes ago. You've been wandering?" It sounds like a question, the inflection is there, but it doesn't sound like he actually wants an answer. I shrug, my nose scrunching at the pain in my left shoulder. "Did you end up going to a clinic last night, like I said?"

I nod slowly, clearing my throat uncomfortably. "I went early this morning. And I wasn't wandering the building, by the way. I had to get my evaluation from Teacher Seo."

He crosses the room to get to me, crouching down until he can sit comfortably just a foot from me. His hands rest calmly on his knees, both playing along to a beat only he can hear. "So what was the verdict?" He asks, referring to my evaluation.

"Connection," I reply, the word burning like acid on my tongue. "I need to form a connection with the dance, and the music paired with it. I don't have any emotions-"

I'm cut off by New Guy's snort, his hand coming up to slap his mouth through his mask. It's black again today, making his tan complexion look exceptionally dark. "Sorry, it's just-" He stops himself, averting his gaze as he chuckles darkly. "It just isn't wrong. You dance like you're being forced."