Comin' Up

1

I've never been exceptionally lucky. See, there are several types of people in this world. The ones lucky enough to get their life handed to them on a silver platter, the ones that work their ass off so they'll have a perfect life eventually, and the ones that just don't care.

I'm definitely the second one.

My family never really had much money, my father was a music producer and we were pretty well off while he was alive. He left us when I was seven, gradually taking my mom away from getting her masters degree and putting her the world of double shifts and dozens of odd jobs. I learned to be self dependent, not asking for her to tuck me in because she was getting ready for the night shift at the convenience store down the street.

Eventually I came to the conclusion if I needed something done I had to do it myself.

In high school I really didn't have many friends, it wasn't really something I was that good at. While most people were going to raging parties and hooking up with strangers I was home alone, studying and making sure my mom had it the easiest possible.

The one thing I always used as a break to get away from our apartment was a small dance studio in downtown Seoul where I would clean up after classes in order to get my own dance time after hours.

That's kind of when I found what I wanted to do. You know how if you ever need a break from something you have a sport, hobby or some way out? Dance was mine and I would be in that dance studio for hours, twisting and swirling my body to the beat. It was awkward at first, but I eventually found how to turn all my movements fluid and literally move with the music.

I don't think anyone actually saw me dance until my junior year of high school when my lab partner in science was talking about the dance team tryouts. It wasn't a big thing and was not extremely popular, but when I heard it I knew I had to do it or I'd regret it for my whole life.

I remember when I entered the practice room, all of the kids turned and wondered what Lim Emma was doing in that room. The stubborn girl with the dyed blonde hair who was the definition of a loner. I remember that, but I also remember all the looks on their faces after I killed the audition song. My lab partner, Park Horong, looked at me as if I was a different species entirely.

I got a spot on the team.

The next two years of high school were some of the happiest of my life. I got to hang out with the same group of girls every day doing what I loved, and after a while I found myself stopping to judge them and looking forward to seeing them again. We were the dance team, and practically family. One of our members got pregnant senior year, and I remember us getting her through all of it and when she had the baby all eight of us had piled in her hospital room to see her.

If only high school had lasted.

Almost all of my friends went to college. Some of them even left Seoul, or South Korea entirely. Horong moved to America.

I moved out of my moms house and straight into downtown Seoul. I started online university and started looking around for jobs.

I remember it specifically, I was sitting in my apartment and looking through some of dad's old stuff that I had taken with him. There was a picture of him with some of the people he worked with. I ended up looking up the entertainment company and into the job openings. There was an application to be a choreographer, and that's where this whole thing started.

*

I checked my phone, stepping out of the cab and into the cold. Early December in Seoul wasn't bad, but I was a cold person in general. I shut the phone off, pushing open one of the glass doors at the entrance to the KQ building and fishing around in my jacket pocket for my ID. The receptionist checked it quickly and I hurried over to the elevator, pushing the button three times for good measure.

Today I was scheduled to meet with a member of an about-to-debut boy group to come up with the base choreography for their new song. The doors opened and I stepped into the empty elevator, slipping a bit on the smooth floor and uprighting myself with the handles stretched along the wall. I was a smooth and flawless dancer however sometimes walking proved difficult for me.

It said on the email the specific dance studio, so I pulled out my phone, standing stupidly inside the elevator without pushing any buttons. Finally I jammed the one for the eleventh floor, and off it went.

The dance studio was easy to find by the numbers on the doors. I was clearly early, it was deserted.

My reflection looked back at me, dyed blonde hair and reddish lips. I looked away quickly. I hate seeing myself in mirrors, let's just say my self confidence isn't the highest.

I ignore all the mirrors, pulling my jacket off and stretching, pulling my arms behind my head and then slumping to the floor, pulling my chest to my legs. I pulled my phone swiftly out of my pocket and checked the time.

That boy group member was late.

I scrolled through my phone for the bluetooth speakers link for this studio, connecting and opening my playlist and firing up the first song that caught my eye. Boy In Luv started blasting from the speakers and I set my phone down, closing my eyes for a second and then launching straight into the fast paced choreography I had made up on my own.

Throwing my body around to the fast paced lyrics, I felt the same sense of calm I feel every time I dance. The song gets faster towards the end and so does my hip-hop choreography. I end it off strong, sinking down to the floor in an ending position, my hair flopping over my face. I look up, pushing my hair out of my face. Something in the mirror catches my eye and I spin, slightly startled and a tall boy is standing in the doorway, his black baseball cap on top of black hair. He has a cute air about him and stands there with a look of amazement on his face.

"Sorry, I was warming up." I apologize, pulling my blonde hair backwards and up into a ponytail. "I'm Emma Lim, I'll be working with you on choreography." He steps inside, closing the door and setting his bag down near my jacket.

"I'm Yunho," he sticks out his hand with an adorable smile on his face. I'm reasonably tall, but he is way taller. I shake his hand politely, his hand dwarfs mine.

"Nice to meet you," I say. "Do you need to warm up?"

"I'll just stretch."

"OK," I watched curiously, almost ever dancer has a different stretching method. "Want music?"

"Yeah!" He says breathlessly.

"Anything specific?"

"Nah, whatever you want." He talked to me easily like he didn't realize the fact we had met about three minutes ago and I was a total stranger. I envy people that talking comes easily too. Everything I say out loud scares me, you can take back many things but never words. I hit the shuffle button and Forever Young blasts. I clutch my phone, embarrassed at the Blackpink song. Who knows if he's a stan or an anti, I would be safer with something more recent or popular like BTS.

"Sorry," I mumble, flustered and skip the song.

"Hey, that was a good song!" He makes a pouty face and my inner fangirl just about dies. My face turns even brighter red.

"I'm s-sorry I didn't know if you were a BLINK, I can go back." I fumble with my phone.

"Hey," he stops me, his hand on mine. "you are fine. Just let it play, I like your music taste already." My face will not turn back to normal especially at how close he is to me, its not even that close but I'm not good with boys.

"Okay," I stutter and place my phone down.

"Just dance it out," he does a silly twirl as Best of Me by BTS comes on. I grin and the song starts. When you say that you love me... My body immediately picks up on the beat and my hip-hop and contemporary talent comes out.

I can see Yunho out of the corner of my eye, his black baseball cap and lanky figure. He's not bad looking, to be honest, but you never know with idols. He dances like he means it, way more emotion and energy than precise choreography. I stop, pretending to get water, and watch his face. You can tell if someone really loves something by the look on their face when they are doing it.