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studi0a · 2 years

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Baila

Pairing: Dance Teacher!Huang Renjun x Fem Reader

Genre: Slow Burn, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Pinch of Angst, Suggestive, Lowkey College!AU

Rating: PG-13

Synopsis: You can count on your fingers the number of things you can't do. Can't date, can't escape school, and can't dance. But when your roommate convinces you to accompany her at a dance class to impress her crush, you had no other choice but to say yes. It's a pain in the ass, especially when the dance teacher becomes a distraction rather than a guide.

Warnings: Mentions of food and alcohol. Swearing. Heavily implied smut.

Word count: 11k

Masterlist

A/N: I'm not an expert at Latin dances, so my description of them dancing is quite general. If you're a dancer and feel uncomfortable with my portrayal of Latin dance, don't hesitate to inform me! Also I so have the hots for Renjun rn...

Dancing has never been your strongest suit, nor will it ever be your strongest suit. If most bad dancers had two left feet, let's just say you had two left feet facing opposite directions and liked to move on their own. So, when your roommate, Yejun, practically begged you to join her in a Latin dance class, there was only one clear answer.

“No.”

“What?” she gawks at you. “I am begging! Jeno invited me and this is my one chance to get him to finally fall in love with me. This is my future we’re talking about!”

“And this is my dignity,” you reply flatly, not wanting to argue any further. Although understandably annoyed at her pestering, you really couldn’t blame her for pining over the tall, easy-going Computer Science major.

Lee Jeno carried himself with a cool veneer; hair styled back just enough to make him look cute and not pretentious - according to Yejun. A lone beauty mark adorned his high cheekbones and if you got up close enough, you’d notice a sprinkle of freckles over his porcelain skin. He certainly was a sight for sore eyes. Unfortunately for you, Yejun made sure your ears were the main target of her lovesick fantasizing ever since meeting him. You half-wished you could take his name out of her vocabulary.

“But you have to! I can’t make it too obvious I’m joining just for him,” she whines, clinging onto your arm. Passersby turn towards the two of you, throwing daggers in your direction for ruining the lovely Friday peace and you quickly slap your hand over her lips. But she pushes you away, licking at your palm.

“Gross!” you shriek, wiping your hand off on your pants.

“Come on, man,” she groans, stomping her way towards you. “Can’t you just give in to this one thing? I’ll do your laundry for the rest of the year.” Her eyes grow wide, brows furrowed.

Looking at Yejun, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt for saying no almost immediately. It was obvious to nearly everyone that her crush wasn’t actually as unrequited as she thought it was and if one dance class was what it took, maybe you can spare her the time. Also, there was only so much you could take before you were forced to just spell it out for her.

“You’re gonna cover for me at The Buns and Burner for the next month, no more complaining when I ask you to cook, no more stealing from my cookie stash,” you start to list, her smile brightening, “and, yes. I would like it if you did my laundry for the rest of the year.”

“Promise! I love you so much,” she shrieks, arms enveloping you as she sways you around.

“Yejun!” At the sound of her name, you two turn around. Jeno, the man of the hour, looms over you both with a kind smile. Nodding towards you, he waves shyly. Nudging Yejun forward, she composes herself and smiles back. “So, you coming to that dance class I mentioned?”

“Of course! Wouldn’t miss it,” she replies bashfully. “Y/N’s joining us, by the way.” Jeno’s gaze moves from your giddy friend to you.

“Never pegged you as the dancing type,” he thinks aloud.

“Never was,” you retort jokingly. His smile widens.

“Well, hopefully you’ll enjoy it! My friend is the dance instructor and he’s super excited about the whole thing. It’s his first time hosting a class.”

Yejun is nodding enthusiastically at his every word and you have to physically hold yourself back from telling her to stop otherwise her head will fall off her shoulders. “We’re super excited, too! She was practically begging me to tag her along.”

You side-eye her, pausing minutely before humming in acknowledgement. “I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity,” you lie as Yejun hugs you closer to her side. Jeno laughs at your troubled state, not quite convinced by you.

“Anyway, I have to go! Class and all. See you guys next week!” Jeno walks away and when his figure is far enough, Yejun slumps into herself.

“Make it two months at The Buns and Burner,” you say plainly. She shoots up, mouth opening to protest. But at your pointed glare, she knows you weren’t giving her much of a choice.

“Jeno better ask me out after all this.”

Your earliest memory of dancing was when your parents enrolled you into a ballet class.

Retrospectively, perhaps it wasn’t the best idea especially when you started throwing tantrums in the middle of stretching. Your mother had to apologize endlessly to the instructor while other parents and little ballerinas started to grow impatient with your ceaseless crying. Ever since then, it’s been a non-negotiable that you go nowhere near dance classes unless needed to.

You didn’t hate it, per se. You just didn’t want to be placed in a vulnerable situation where your dancing would be subjected to the judgement of others. Which just made you dread the class even more.

Even before you made your way up to the studio, the tell-tale notes of Latin music were already bouncing off the walls. The glass door’s covered by a sheen of precipitation and when you crack it open, laughter seeps out into the hallway. Hesitantly, you make your way inside, a shiver coursing down your spine as the air conditioning blasts against your flushed cheeks.

It all feels off standing inside the large dance studio clad in a rumpled pair of leggings and a shirt at least 4 sizes too big. Yejun’s already talking it up with Jeno. Beside him, his friend Jaemin stands with arms crossed, joining in on their conversation. You inhale deeply, swallowing the last inkling of pride.

Eyes sharp, you scan the room. There had to be at least 20 more people. Catching your lingering form, Yejun lifts her arm and waves at you. Jeno and Jaemin smile over at you, watching you wobble over to them.

“Well, look who's here,” Jaemin pipes up. You were much closer to the bubbly, raven-haired Health Sciences major than Jeno, but his warm greeting doesn't make you feel any less out of place.

“Don’t start,” you warn. He laughs at your troubled expression, laying a hand on your shoulder. Jaemin quirks an eyebrow at you, silently anticipating you to run out of the studio before the class even starts.

“Don’t you just love third wheeling?” he jokes, nodding towards your roommate, attempting to lighten your mood. Yejun and Jeno were too deep in conversation to notice the way Jaemin looked over at them - or how you nervously teetered over your feet.

“She promised to do my laundry, so I can’t really complain at this point.”

“That’s not fair. I didn’t get anything out of this!” You laugh at him.

“There’s always a next time,” you mumble, patting his shoulder.

Jaemin lets out a noise of approval. “I hope you don’t mind being my partner for this whole thing,” he gestures around the room.

Knowing you knew absolutely no one else, it wasn’t hard for you to agree. “You’ll have to pry me off your side to catch me partnering myself off with someone else.”

“Only one condition,” he says mischievously.

“What is it?”

“You don’t hit me in the face like what you did to Haechan.”

Of course Jaemin would bring up the time you accidentally sucker punched the Communications major in the face after getting paired with him for your interpretative dance elective. Poor guy had to say he got into a bar fight to save face despite having the confrontational skills of a baby duck.

“That was an accident!” you protest, hands coming up to cover your face.

“Exactly! You gave him a black eye on accident. I can only imagine what you can do on purpose.”

You quietly laugh, reassuring him that you’ll spare his face for the next few hours. “I’m more worried about my dancing than hitting you, if I’m gonna be honest.”

“Hey, you have me as your partner. I got you,” he coyly says, winking at you. Just as you’re about to let out a cry of distaste, the door swings open and the space falls silent. An unfamiliar face walks into the room.

Sporting loose clothing and a cap over his light brown hair, he carries himself with an air of professionalism that even has you lowering your gaze - as if to say he was here for business and business only.

Setting his bag down by the mirror, he's quick to set up the stereo and find his place front and center before removing his cap to reveal his face. Despite the man’s soft features, his hardened eyes catch you off guard. He scans the room, pupils glinting under the harsh fluorescent studio lights, sizing up the class.

You had half the mind to bolt right then and there. Having to dance was one thing, but having to endure this man’s seemingly austere demeanor was another. Suddenly, his eyes land on your group cooped in the corner and a smirk makes its way onto his lips. Your shoulders relax ever so slightly.

“Jeno, Jaemin,” he says, full on grinning, and makes his way towards the four of you.

“Hey, Renjun,” Jaemin greets from beside you, coming towards the dance teacher and pulling him into a hug. “Told you we’d be able to come.”

Renjun looks over at Yejun, then at Jeno knowingly, then at Jaemin, then you. His gaze lingers on you a beat longer. “You must be Yejun and Y/N?”

“That’s us! I’m Yejun,” your roommate says, coming forward and waving happily at Renjun like the social butterfly she is. “We’re roommates,” Yejun adds, pointing over at you. You spare him a curt wave, deciding to keep your greeting short.

Renjun simply nods, glancing at the wall clock before clasping his hands together and making his way back to the front of the class. “Sorry I’m late, everyone. Let’s get started!”

Thirty minutes later, you realize his delicate features were deceitful - soft voice even more of a trickery. You weren’t an expert at dance classes. A few Zumba sessions here and there led you to the ill-informed belief that all dance teachers would be cheery, middle-aged ladies with a knack for cracking jokes and offering reassuring nods through the mirror.

Renjun’s the complete opposite. He liked to remain quiet, taking note of every subtle mistake or misstep. Eyes like a hawk, he’d make his way around the room, counting under his breath as the music played and stopping every time someone missed a beat. Unfortunately for you, you were the source of most of these blunders.

“The counting is 1-2-3-and-4, not 1-and-2-and-3-and-4,” Renjun says firmly, coming up to you for what seemed to be the nth time. “And make sure to flex your toes to the ground on the last count."

“Sorry,” you mumble, pushing back a lock of hair that had stuck onto your sweaty face. “I’m not really good at dancing.”

“I can tell,” he whispers teasingly, but not in a tone that irks you. Regardless, your head whips towards him, mouth pursed in embarrassment. Behind you, you see Jaemin offer you a thumbs up of encouragement.

As you’re about to smile back at him, a hand finds its way to your hips. Renjun places his fingers onto your chin, turning your gaze towards the mirror. Meeting his eyes, your breath hitches and he takes notice of your tense shoulders against his chest. “Okay, go along with me. From the beginning.”

When he steps to the side, he nudges you with him. Your feet falter for a moment before they match his pace, moving somewhat in tune with the dance teacher’s quicker, cleaner footwork. His hand stays around the curve of your hip, steadying you whenever you lose balance. If it was possible for him to burn a palm print onto your skin, it probably would happen with the way his grip seemed to tighten with every count.

“Ready? 1-2-3-and-4.” He glides your two bodies across the dance floor, eyes never leaving your clumsy frame. When he suddenly takes your other hand and spins you across his chest, the action nearly makes you trip. Renjun catches you, steadying your body by wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting that -”

“No worries,” he replies, letting go of your shoulders and finding his place back to the front of the room. You catch sight of your flushed face before walking back to Jaemin, cowering into yourself.

“Shut up,” you warn as you find your place back beside your partner. His grin only grows wider, offering you his hand as Renjun continues with the class.

“I didn’t even say anything.”

When the class finally comes to an end, you feel a great weight lift off your shoulders. Sure, the memories of today will probably haunt you late in the night when you try to fall asleep, but at least the worst was over and Yejun would pay you back generously. The rest of the class trickles out of the studio; you stand awkwardly by the mirror, Yejun lingering by Jeno’s side, who’s already falling into friendly conversation with Jaemin and Renjun.

You probably looked like a child patiently waiting for your mom to stop talking to the friend she met at the grocery store with your hair disheveled, haphazardly hanging onto your bag as you awkwardly scratched at your elbow with your free hand. Their laughter echoes into the studio, Jaemin reminiscing some story about him and a boy named Chenle. But you don’t pay them any mind, thoughts wandering, tiredness starting to take over.

“ - right, Y/N?” You jolt awake. Mouth agape and clearly lost, you turn to Yejun with a questioning look on your face. Your confusion is further fueled by the apprehension of hers.

“Sorry, what was that?” you blink, scratching your head.

Jeno chuckles before saying, “You’ll join us for the next class, right?”

“Next…class?” your eyes shoot to Yejun, who tries her best to avoid your gaze. “What next class?”

Jaemin is the one to laugh this time, coming up to you and placing an arm over your shoulder. “Come on, are you seriously abandoning me after one class together?”

Jaemin and Jeno wait patiently for your answer, Renjun standing tall behind them. Realization dawns over you and you turn to Yejun, who’s simply smiling sympathetically your way. You’d love nothing more than to say no, but the expectant look on Jaemin’s kind face gnaws at your conscience. So, with great hesitation, you simply say, “Sure!”

Working at The Buns and Burner is both a delight and a pain in the ass. It was a dainty little bakery with laboratory-themed decoration and pastry designs. You could admit your favorite was the Erlenmeyer flask-designed sugar cookies. For both its aesthetic and taste. Yejun would argue that the colorful tea served in Florence flasks was the best part.

But while being enveloped by the smell of freshly baked goodies and getting to take home extra pastries free of charge every night could never get old, rush hour could.

Having the bakery situated just near campus, meant that it became a hotspot for professors and students alike to grab their quick fixes before running off to whatever lecture or meeting they needed to be in. It meant two things: the little shop was making good money on the regular; and every noon on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays you barely had time to sit down before rashes started forming on the heels of your feet.

Today, you shared the shift with Yejun and Mark, a schoolmate you’ve shared a few general courses with at the beginning of the school year. Admittedly, stressful days on the job were dampened by the presence of the brazen and laughable boy.

“If someone asks if we still have croissants when there’s obviously a sign that we don’t, I’m gonna lose it,” he huffs, balancing empty trays in his arms.

“Do we still have croissants?” you call out, smirking when he glares at you.

“Give him a break. He was too busy flirting with that freshman to care about taking inventory, right?” Yejun chimes in from the baskets of baguettes.

Mark audibly flounders from the back. “I wasn't flirting!” Yejun turns to you, rolling her eyes.

“No, he's right. Because flirting usually ends up with the person being flirted with giving their number or something. All the freshman did was run away,” you add, chuckling to yourself.

Mark emerges from the stock room, ears red and sporting a pout. “You guys are being extra mean today.”

“Occupational hazard,” your roommate jokes.

You open your mouth to add when the familiar chiming of the bell signals to you that a customer’s arrived. Straightening up, you put on your best smile - the kind you use with the elderly and annoying soccer moms - and make your way to the front of the store. “Welcome to The Buns and Burner, where all our buns are always fresh out of the burner, how may I help you?”

The last person you expect to see as you look up is Renjun. Another cap covers his mop of hair, but today he wears something more casual with a pair of glasses framing his face. His eyebrows are raised in surprise and you falter, grin dropping slightly before he waves at you with a kind smile.

“Hello,” he greets.

“Hi,” you greet back. For some reason, your mind goes blank. So, you wait for him to speak again. But when you two spend a moment too long in awkward silence, you go, “Umm, bread?”

Renjun chuckles. “Yeah, bread.”

You nod, leading the way to the row of freshly baked goods and pastries. Yejun spots the two of you, raising an eyebrow but you simply wave her off. He looks over the goodies with a contemplative look on his face, the mingling of different aromas making it harder for him to choose.

“What do you recommend?” He suddenly turns to you, looking down at your frazzled face.

“Oh, well, garlic bread is always a classic.” He hums in agreement. “But sometimes it makes your breath stink.”

“That is a strong argument against garlic bread,” he jokes, craning his head to check the labels.

“We have sandwiches up in the front if ever that's what you're up for.”

“I was hoping for a simple croissant -”

“We don't have those,” you rush. He shifts his head to you, brows knitted. “Right now. We don't have them right now, but you can always come back next time.”

“Next time.” Renjun repeats, pressing his lips in a tight smile. “Sandwich it is.”

He leaves shortly after you ring him up and almost immediately, Yejun slides across the counter, ready to interrogate you. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

She lifts a palm, gesturing towards you as if that was enough of an explanation. “That!”

“I was just helping him,” you defend, tugging at your apron.

She scoffs, flipping her hair. “It looked like you needed help. It took everything in me not to save you from yourself!”

You stammered, heat creeping up your neck. “I didn't need help.”

“Baby, you did. I'm surprised Renjun didn't catch on.”

You back away from the counter, wanting to escape the conversation. “We're not here to joke around right now.”

Mark stands by the side with his arms crossed and the loudest laugh coming out of his mouth. If he weren't a good friend, you would have probably socked him.

“What was that you said about being bad at flirting?” he questions, mockingly bringing a finger up to his lip. So, you grab a stale piece of a baguette and chuck it over to him, smacking him straight on the nose.

Yejun doesn’t drop the conversation, taking any and every chance to tease you regardless of who else was around. Every moment she spent hinting at your awkward encounter with Renjun, it seemed as if your head was seconds away from exploding.

Thankfully, she spared you once you two found yourselves back in the dance studio, Jeno and Jaemin already waiting. Your body tenses when you notice that Renjun was also already there - a silent pep talk all you could give yourself before making your way to them.

Miraculously, Renjun didn't grill your dancing as much as he did the last time. Truth be told, you weren't sure if you were more relieved because you didn't have to be babied in front of everyone else or because you didn't have to come close to him again after the encounter at the bakery. That and the fact that he was looking incredibly attractive today.

The air conditioning had broken down in the morning, disgruntled faces complaining at any moment about the heat of the room. On the other hand, you were definitely not staring at the way Renjun’s Dri-FIT shirt had clung onto the crevices and curves of his body. You were definitely not distracted by the way he constantly ran his lithe fingers through his hair during the class, exposing his forehead as he slicked his bangs back. You were definitely not staring at his flushed face and exposed collarbones post-dance class, the loose shirt he’d just changed into exposing the skin of his chest.

You didn’t think it was possible for someone to still look so alluring even in the most displeasing situations. Yet, there he stood flushed pink and a bright smile adorning his face when he'd notice the class catching up. Next to you, he looked like he’d just walked out of a sports magazine. The bleach-stained shorts and messily-done ponytail did very little to make you feel confident. But before you know it, the class breezes by in a blur of Renjun’s meticulous counting, Jaemin’s jokes, and Yejun’s sly glances. You thought you’d escaped the worst of it when Jeno suddenly calls your name.

“Come over here,” he calls out, bodies slowly starting to flow out of the humid dance studio.

“Yeah?” you ask, hooking your bag over your shoulder. Renjun sees you first, offering you a shy smile that you return.

“Are you free later tonight?” Yejun asks, arm clinging onto you so you don’t escape.

“Yeah,” you reply confusedly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Great! I'm gonna have a small dinner tonight, it’s gonna be at The Midnight Bistro. Just wanted to ask if you can come?” Jeno asks, an expectant smile on his face.

“I don’t want to feel like I’m intruding,” you begin to protest, raising a hand and awkwardly smiling.

“Nonsense! You aren’t. Renjun and Jaemin are tagging along; plus, you need that pre-finals breather. Right?” Yejun asks you, nudging you slightly.

“I mean...if Renjun and Jaemin don't mind.”

“Of course I don't,” Jaemin immediately exclaims. Everyone else turns to the shorter boy, awaiting his response.

“No...no. Of course not, you’re welcomed there,” he speaks shyly, fumbling with the hem of his shirt. “I’ll even keep you company for the night.”

Renjun blushes. This time, it's his turn to stagger over his words.

“That’s not what I meant! Like, if you’re lonely...not that you would be lonely because people would like for you to be there, which is why we’re inviting you, but if no one talks to you, you can always talk to me - but I highly doubt no one would want to talk to you because you…,” he falters, gesturing over at you. The others watch over your little exchange in amusement.

His cheeks go impossibly redder. You smile in reassurance. “I’ll be there.”

The Midnight Bistro is a fancy little restaurant atop one of the highest buildings in the city. Unironically, it was one of those spots you would find wannabe hipsters crowded in and fighting over bitcoin and which Indie artist was more underground than the last.

It was a miracle Jeno even got to book a spot on a weekend, but you supposed it was gonna be jam packed either way. The rest of the group was already there. Having been left behind to deal with schoolwork, you were already rushing to find a parking spot.

7:28. You were half an hour late. Grabbing the bottle of wine you bought as a thank you gift on the passenger seat, you quickly make your way into the building and into the elevators.

“Hold the doors!” A voice says just as the elevator nearly closes. Leaping forward, you press onto the button, the doors sliding back to reveal Renjun. In a white turtleneck and suit jacket, hair pushed back. “Hello,” he cheerily greets, adjusting the front of his jacket.

As soon as the elevator doors close, his scent fills the air. You didn't mean to be creepy but when his shampoo smells like mint and his perfume boasted notes of wood sage and sea salt, it was hard not to lean forward to catch a whiff. But you weren't creepy.

Stepping back, you greet him back with a small “how are you?”

“Good,” he says, looking over at you. Spotting the bottle in your hands, he looks down at his empty arms and chuckles. “I sort of feel bad I don’t have a present with me.”

“It’s okay,” you mumble. “I just figured I'd bring this since the wine options up there might cost more than my monthly rent,” you attempt to joke. It works, Renjun laughing lightly as his eyes move to your face.

“I'm sure Jeno wouldn't mind splurging a bit tonight.” There's a pause and you wish you were better at keeping conversations. Just when you think the rest of the ride would be in silence, he adds -

“If you’re still up for it, I’d be happy to keep you company tonight.”

Your hands go clammy, slipping over the smooth surface of the wine bottle. The elevator was taking awfully long getting up the floors. Just 15 more floors.

“What got you into dancing?” Renjun’s eyes widen, not expecting the sudden probing into his life.

Fourteen more floors. “Well, my mom was also a dancer and as a kid I joined her classes a lot and I guess it just...stuck with me, you know?”

You nearly giggle at the image of a little toddler version of Renjun dancing along to his mother, a giddy feeling enveloping you at how cute that would’ve looked. “Why Latin dance?”

“Picked it up when I moved here and loved it ever since. But I do other genres, too. You can just ask me if you'd like to join some of those classes too,” he says carefully, looking over at you.

Eleven floors. Eleven more floors and you were running out of questions already. Can this elevator go any slower?

“Thoughts on my classes?” he playfully asks, elbowing you. “You seem pretty out of it sometimes.” There’s a pout on his lips when he says this. In the background, you hear the music playing low. For some reason, the elevator doesn’t stop on any floors.

“They’re fun! I’m just inexperienced,” you reason out, shrugging your shoulders. Nine more floors. “But I guess that’s okay because I have a really good teacher.”

Renjun chuckles, looking down at his shoes as a blush makes its way onto his face. “What do you study?” you suddenly ask.

“I'm from the Fine Arts department,” he says proudly, puffing out his chest. “You?”

“Oh, me? Pfft,” you wave him off. “Plain, old Social Sciences department.”

“I’m sure there’s something fun with that department!”

“Like what?”

He breathes in deeply, lips pursing as he goes deep in thought. “You’re right, I have nothing.”

Laughter fills the small cube and you playfully nudge him with your shoulder. “Writing a bunch of essays all the time is fun, but that’s about it.”

“Does The Buns and Burner offer a grand escape from essays,” he asks, smirking. “What was the tagline? ‘Our buns are always fresh from the burner’?”

“Oh, gosh,” you blurt, covering your face. “That was my idea, but it was a joke - I didn't think they'd actually make me use it!”

“I think it's quite cute. Except that you guys didn't have croissants.”

You playfully roll your eyes. “I'll save some just for you next time.”

“You know, if ever you get tired of all the buns and burners, we actually have an opening in the studio. Maybe you’d be interested in it?”

Raising an eyebrow, you look up at him. Under the dim lights, you see a mischievous glint in his eyes. “What’s it for?”

“Freestyle dance,” he jokingly says, waving his arms around. You throw your head back and laugh, lifting an arm to playfully hit his shoulder.

“I can’t be that bad,” you say defensively.

“I’ve handled worse,” he says with a smirk.

“Thank you, what a lovely compliment.”

Suddenly Renjun shifts, leaning against the railing of the elevator and looks down at you with a soft smile. A lock of hair falls onto his face. Before you could stop yourself, you lean forward and bring a hand up to delicately push it back in place. Your hand grazes his cheek as he tilts his head to the side, looking at you with amusement.

He opens his mouth to say something, but before he could get the words out a loud ding sounds from the speakers and the doors open. A sea of bodies flows before the two of you in an endless sea of suits and cocktail dresses.

Quickly, you bring your hand down as if you’d just touched a burning stove. Eyes looking around, you try to spot Yejun. Renjun places his palm on the small of your back, pushing you forward and out into the restaurant.

Maybe it would’ve been better if the elevator went a little slower.

The next class wasn’t as dreadful as the others before it. In fact, it was the complete opposite - although at the expense of not being able to concentrate right.

Renjun kept to his word that night at The Midnight Bistro. Superglued to each other, you had your own little world amidst the chatter and sound of traffic down below. And when the flutes of champagne piled onto the glass topped table, bubbled in your tummy and made your laugh just a little more carefree, your attention was only on him.

An endless blanket of deep blue hung over you that night, bright stars winking while the moon shone bright in the sky. Funnily enough, the only space left when you arrived was the loveseat.

It was so easy for you both to just get lost in each other. The alcohol brought a buzz that pulled out a side of you you hadn't seen before - a side that clung close to him even before Yejun’s teasing gaze.

He laughed and he shared and he reminisced and he listened. Renjun listened with so much intent when it was your turn to speak. You talked about just how much the night afforded you. Running through your early college life, your family, your dreams and hopes, and whatever else he would ask. That night, with his jacket hung loosely around your shoulders to keep you from shivering, any speck of awkwardness melted away.

And every detail seemed to have engraved itself into your mind. The way his eyes sparkled in the candlelight; how full his cheeks would go with every bolstering bout of laughter; the birthmark on his right hand that he flaunted to you before you ran a careful finger across it; even his arm dangling haphazardly behind you, toying with the tips of your hair.

Now, without the liquid encouragement, the girl you were nights ago seemed like a fever dream.

Throughout the class, it was an impossible task to keep up with the counting when you’d catch Renjun looking over at you through the mirror in the corner of your eye. You tried your best to reel yourself back in, especially for Jaemin’s sake, but Renjun’s gaze was enough to make you want to cower into yourself.

While practicing a particularly difficult portion of the routine, you couldn’t help but let out a series of frustrated sighs. The footwork was difficult and your feet were behaving very un-feet like today.

“Is it right over left, then step forward and left over right, spin?” you ask Jaemin helplessly.

“It’s sort of like this,” he says, casually doing the steps like he’s had them memorized all his life.

Amidst your troubled state, you try to move your feet just like his but only end up looking even messier. Then, a pair of hands land on your hips. You think it’s Jaemin, but when you suddenly look up and the top of your head bumps onto someone’s chin, a groan erupts that is definitely not from Jaemin.

“Renjun, I’m so sorry!”

“I didn’t think I scared you that much,” he says through a pained laugh. “I’m fine. Here, let me help you.” And just like the first time, he guides you through the steps with your gaze at the mirror and his hand resting on your hip. Except this time, there’s an encouraging smile on his face.

“Pause at count 8. Now, just move your hips side-to-side for 4 counts.”

“I don’t know if I’m gyrating my hips right…,” you mumble, rather lamely.

“I’m gonna hold you here again, okay?” he asks. At your nod, he firmly holds onto your waist. Squaring your hips, he starts moving you around to get you familiar with the feeling. When your body flows on its own, his hands go up to shift your shoulders and straighten your back.

Your head was spinning. It’s not because of the movements of your body or the fact that eyes are now once again on you. It was the cheeky, playful, dazzling smile that he flashed your way from the mirror that made you go dizzy.

Yejun was a little surprised that she didn't need to get on her knees to bring you to more classes. Even more surprised whenever she’d see you patiently waiting for her on the couch, already dressed up and ready to go like an overzealous toddler on her way to the park.

Over time, it became you who had to tug her out of the apartment and into the studio. Although, she didn’t have the heart to tell you Jeno had already asked her out, rendering their trips to Renjun’s class unnecessary - but it was fun watching you pine over the guy.

She definitely wasn’t complaining when you’d accompany her to shifts at The Buns and Burner, making her work less of a hassle and more of a joy especially when Renjun would make short daily trips and you’d end up stumbling over your words whenever you’d explain the preparation differences between èclairs, cream puffs, and macarons.

“Just ask Renjun out,” Yejun says casually.

“Are you crazy? This isn’t a Step-Up movie, he’s not gonna love me just because I pulled some dance moves,” you harshly whisper, working quickly to restock the shelves of bread before lunch.

“No one said anything about love,” she slyly remarks. “I saw the way you guys were cuddling with each other at the Bistro. And at classes too! If you’re not gonna ask him out soon, he’s gonna think you’re not interested.”

“How do I even know he’s interested in me?”

She pauses to look up from the cashier, looking at you quizzically. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. You’re so dense sometimes, no wonder you’re single.”

With a sigh, you toe at the carpet below you, sticking out your tongue playfully. “I should’ve stayed home if all you're gonna do is interrogate me.”

“Interrogating is different from encouraging, get your head right,” she starts with a smirk, “unless all you're thinking about is Renjun, then be my guest.”

Quickly, you move away from her judgemental stare. Yejun’s impish brown eyes follow you. “We’re supposed to be working, now if you’ll excuse me.”

Retreating behind the shelf of loaf bread, you let out a sigh. Yejun’s words circle your mind, stomach churning at the thought of your fledging of a crush. Realistically, it wasn’t love with Renjun, but it was something you hadn’t felt in such a long time. And like anything novel, it was strange and indecipherable.

Mindlessly, you shove pastries into their designated trays. Maybe Yejun was right. It had been so long since anybody made you feel this way, so perhaps it was time to take it as a sign that it was time to put yourself out there again. But you were the last person who could be trusted with dating.

“What am I supposed to say?” you wonder aloud, nibbling at your bottom lip. “‘Hey! I really like how you dance, wanna go on a date? Here’s a croissant’ No - what the hell?” you chastise yourself, shaking your head. “‘Remember when you had to hold onto me because I couldn’t get the moves right? Yeah, that lowkey made me like you -’ what am I doing?”

Suddenly, the familiar bell rings and you reflexively look up at the wall clock. 11:48. Silently, you thank yourself for packing an extra pair of band aids this shift. “Welcome to The Buns and Burner, where -”

“ - all our buns are always fresh out of the burner,” Renjun finishes playfully, hands tucked in his pockets as he looks at you, a grin tugging at his lips. “Can you help me?”

His perfume overpowers the sweet aroma of the custard puffs in your hands and you hesitate for a moment. Sunlight filters through the warm tinted windows, casting a golden hue against his delicate features. Looking over your shoulder, you’d hope to see Yejun but her missing figure only provokes a stirring in your chest.

“Sure,” you whisper, feet taking you closer to him.

“I see you guys still have croissants,” he remarks, pointing over the steaming batch.

“Fresh out of the burners,” you laugh. “But we have other goodies; maybe you’re getting sick of croissants.”

“Indulge me,” he smiles, turning to you.

And you do. There’s a comfortable lull to the conversation as you make your way around the shelves, his eyes never leaving you even when you get overenthusiastic over some of the recipes you’d helped develop.

Silently, he listens, taking note of your favorite pastries; the ones you’d talk about with a wide grin on your face; and, somehow, you’d venture into talking about each other as he stood by the counter with two loaves of bread in his arms and a basket of biscuits below him. He looked quite comical - eyebrows furrowed, calculating just how he’ll be able to consume all of this before they went bad.

“I think this is enough to last for the rest of the week,” you joke.

“Trust me, with Jeno and Jaemin around I’ll be surprised if this even lasts two days.”

“We have brownies, if ever you're looking for something sweet. I think a batch of cookies is finishing up in the back right now if you're not in a rush,” you offer kindly, about to pivot on your heel to retrieve the desserts.

“Are you just trying to make me stay longer?”

Renjun’s eyes widen. He didn’t mean to say it out loud, but there was no use escaping now that the words hung heavily in the air. When you remain silent, he shakes himself out of his reverie, reaching behind him for some money.

“Maybe,” you finally answer. It’s difficult to hold back the shy smile threatening to break across your lips, so you don’t.

Renjun reaches forward, offering you a crisp bill. Your hands momentarily brush against each other, skin igniting with his touch. He nods, chewing on his lower lip. “I’d stay even without the cookies.”

This surprises you even more and you lamely blink up at him. Your head spun, shyness washing over you.

Suddenly, a thump sounds from behind you. Turning around, you catch Yejun quickly bolting back into the back, her giggles fading the farther away she got.

“I’ll see you next class?” he questions hopefully, slowly backing away.

“Of course,” you reply curtly. Renjun continues to bob his head, even as he backs into a shelf of pies and tarts. You gasp, worry creasing your forehead.

“Sorry,” he laughs out, steadying himself. “I also like tarts.” It comes out so awkward and when he looks up, a shadow of embarrassment flashes across his dark eyes. “I'll go now.”

“I'll see you soon,” you wave, voice soft. Yejun peaks her head from the back again, laughing at the way you bounced on the balls of your feet. She doesn’t notice the smell of burning sugar - not until the smoke detector suddenly goes off.

“Yejun!” She disappears once more to the back, fanning at the oven.

“Sorry!”

You didn't know what to expect with the next dance class. Actually, you sort of did. Given that it had already been a couple of weeks and the routine was just about finished, Renjun was intent on cleaning up the entire dance. You were happy because 1. That meant no more new steps to learn; and 2. Getting to see him again.

What you weren't expecting was to find a new face in the studio. A woman, dancing along Renjun as you all filed into the room. They seemed close. And she was very pretty.

Her long hair cascaded down the smooth expanse of her back and you could swear you'd never seen teeth so straight as she flashed you all a welcoming smile. Bright eyes scanned the room, a blush on her cheeks that made her look all the more friendly. Reflexively, you look into the mirror and catch the reflection of your torn up t-shirt and washed out sweatpants.

Pushing down the jealousy aside, you will yourself to pay it no mind. You can't be jealous, you have no right to be jealous. Renjun wasn't your boyfriend. You weren't his girlfriend. He just liked to stop by the bakery all the time and crack jokes with you, but that virtually meant nothing.

“Time to clean everything up. This is my partner, Minji,” Renjun says, pointing over at her, his eyes squinting as he smiles. “We don’t have all day, so let’s get started.”

This wasn’t normal. No longer were you the rational, level-headed person you often were. Every single thing Renjun did with Minji, you watched and theorized what could possibly be the meaning behind it. Grazed his hand over her arm? They must be in love. Patted her on the back after running through the routine. They must be in love. Laughing at her jokes? They have to be in love. You would be lying if it didn’t make you pause on the spot and wonder if you were the funnier one compared to her.

Compared to her?

No, you were not insecure, thank you very much. It was just a curious case of trying to get to know a person without actually talking to them. Besides, there was nothing between you two. There were no whispered agreements or promises. He was not liable to the thoughts you tried so desperately to silence and he was definitely not liable to your assumption that he liked you back.

But shaking your thoughts away did little to get you to focus, always creeping back into the forefront of your mind moments later. If you weren’t trying your hardest to reel yourself back in, you would’ve spent the entire practice messing up just so Renjun had a reason to come up to you, but the thought of kicking Jaemin’s shins and elbowing him in the face on purpose was too cruel.

Unless -

“That’s it for today, thank you!” Renjun calls out, waving at the class with his boyish grin. Before you can walk away, Renjun is already making a beeline for you and as he clasps his hand in yours, the looming questions cease. “Hey, you,” he says, bringing a hand up to pat the crown of your head “Tired?”

Behind him, you catch a glimpse of Minji talking to Yejun and even your own friend seemed just so enthralled by the long-haired beauty. Stepping back, you notice Renjun’s smile crack, but he’s quick to recover and dig into his pockets as he waits for your answer.

“I’m fine,” is all you say, a tight smile following your ambiguous answer. Why were you so pissed? You kept trying to repeat to yourself that he wasn’t your boyfriend. That you were acting like a pissy teen. But the way he cocks his head as if to say that you can trust him doesn’t help the surging of your emotions. “Just...school,” you add with an awkward laugh.

If he’s doubtful, he doesn’t show it. “Do you wanna have dinner together?” he says shyly, rubbing the nape of his neck.

“I can’t, homework,” you say apologetically. Although that was a lie, you didn't have any deadlines until next week.

“Tomorrow,” he says, just a little more optimistically.

“Studying.” Another lie.

“The next day?” he questions doubtfully.

“I...I’m sorry, I’m busy.” It was pathetic how hard you were trying to escape him, even when you knew he could see through your lies. But he takes them anyway, accepting them with a nod of his head.

You hear Yejun call your name. Minji is waiting patiently for Renjun by the mirror. “I have another class in a bit,” he explains, fixing the cap on his head. “Just text me when you’re free?” You quickly nod. He moves forward to hug you, but you quickly sidestep away.

Renjun doesn’t want to feel offended by what just happened, so he stands there in silence and waits until your form exits the room without a wave goodbye.

Guilt gnaws at you, but a realization presses even deeper. Renjun didn't like you. No, he couldn’t have. He was just being a nice person. He was just doing his job as a dance teacher.

The night air bites at your bones, its bitterness seeping through your jacket and making your nose go dry. Above you, the restaurant’s neon lights cast a sharp tinge of pink onto your face.

Jaemin, Jeno, and Yejun are sitting in front of you, just finishing up their plates of dinner. The three noticed your change in mood back at the studio and agreed among themselves to take you out despite your protests. A full stomach, slice of cheesecake, and the first smile you cracked in the last 5 hours later, you were all ready to head back home.

“My button is hanging on for dear life,” Jaemin exclaims from beside you and the others chuckle as he rubs his belly languidly.

Silently, you thank the three of them for dragging your ass out otherwise you’d just end up wallowing in your bed. Above you, the sky dazzles full of stars and for a moment, you’re brought back to The Midnight Bistro.

"Why am I so pensive about him?” you wonder, fumbling with your fingers. You ruminate over the thought, flipping it over and over and over and over again only to find nothing underneath because there’s absolutely no way you can come up with any other explanation other than you’d hoped you’d get a chance with him.

It was silly how you collected his smiles, shared conversations, and kind eyes, wrapped it all together, placed a bow on top and called it a crush. Well, the class was coming to an end and as you observe the way Jeno and Yejun curved into each other with more than just friendliness, you smile. At least one of you got something out of dancing other than muscle pain.

The waiter places the bill presenter onto the deep, mahogany table and on instinct all four of you reach into your bags.

“I’m gonna need to eat ramen for a week after this,” Jeno laughs under his breath.

"Let me just remind you that the stash in the cabinet is mine, not yours,” Jaemin warns jokingly, pointedly looking over at the taller male.

You barely hear the playful banter that’s tossed between the two men as you pat over your bag and pockets, not feeling the familiar bump of the item you were looking for. Even when you dig a hand deep into your bag.

“You good?” Yejun asks, sensing your panic.

“Damn it, I can’t find my wallet,” you reply, getting up and rummaging through your backpack again.

“Where did you last leave it?” Jaemin asks, patting down his own pants in case he'd accidentally taken it.

“Obviously, she doesn’t know, dumbass,” Jeno retorts, lightly shoving him.

Recalling your previous steps, a vague memory of leaving it on the studio floor and never putting it back into your bag comes to mind. You sigh out, already getting up from your seat.

“I think I left it in the studio,” you admit, looking over at Yejun. “Can I pay you back tomorrow, I promise I won't forget,” you plead with an apologetic look.

She looks up at you with a smile, already handing the bill to the waiter. “Don't worry about it, just go get your wallet back before I change my mind.”

It was well past opening hours when you arrived back at the studio, the entryway already dim, not a person in sight. Making your way to the door, you're surprised to find it unlocked and you step in to look around for anyone who can help you.

Soft music plays in the background, coming from the familiar practice room you’d been using for the past few weeks. Peeking through the glass panel, you make out the familiar shape of your wallet on the ground and quickly step in to retrieve the lost item. But you didn't notice the other figure standing in the room until you're inside.

Renjun is situated in the middle of the studio, bobbing his head to the beat of the R&B song playing softly from the speakers. He doesn't notice you walk in. Definitely doesn't notice you as he lifts the end of his shirt up to his forehead and wipes away the sweat dripping across his hairline.

It's hard for you to look away as the low, warm studio lights shine against the skin of his torso, a sheen of sweat glistening against his chest, droplets trailing down his stomach as he breathes harshly from the routine he’d been practicing. Dropping his shirt, he brings his hands to push back his damp hair, still not noticing your presence.

Your throat dries up, mind just trying to unpack what you just witnessed. But your feet are already moving, turning around to exit, wallet completely forgotten. Caught up, you don't notice just how close you were to the door and as you turned around, you collide with the glass, banging your head against the panel, startling Renjun.

“Who’s there?”

Without any means of escaping, you turn around. Ears and neck starting to heat up, you face him with an awkward smile. He returns your smile with a pensive one, an eyebrow raised.

Moments pass by in silence, Renjun still waiting for you to speak as you find your voice. “Can I ask what you're doing here?”

Opening your mouth, not the faintest sound comes out. Willing yourself to speak, you let out a small laugh, eyes looking around the room.

Wallet. You were here for the wallet.

Pointing towards the item, Renjun follows the direction of your finger and spots it immediately.

“That yours?”

“Mhmm,” you nod, walking towards the table, maintaining distance from your dance teacher lest you combust on the spot. Mentally, you were kicking yourself. It was just skin. Everyone has skin. For God’s sake, you’ve been on multiple beach trips with your friends before and skin was all you saw!

You quickly stuff the item into your bag, scrambling for the door but just as you're about to make it out, he calls out for you. Freezing on the spot, you breathe in deeply.

“Get your shit together,” you think to yourself.

“Yes?” you reply waveringly, hands tight around the strap of your bag.

Leaning against the mirror, the lights cast a shadow against his angular face. He smiles lazily - like he knows, like he can read your mind and has known every single thought you had ever made about him. But then again, maybe it didn't take reading your thoughts to know what you felt about Renjun.

“Would you like to join me?”

“For...what?” you croak out, knees nearly giving in from under you.

Renjun is already walking towards you, clasping your hands in his and bringing you to the center of the studio. Shrugging off your bag and coat, he takes them in his arms before setting them aside. Next thing you know, a soft, sensual beat plays from the speakers. The music plays loudly enough that you can feel the floorboards below you vibrate with the bass. Renjun turns around, looking at you under hooded eyes.

You recognize the melodic hum from all the other songs he’s played. He wants to dance the bachata. He wants to dance with you.

“Join me?”

You let out yet another awkward laugh, backing away from him. “You know I can't dance,” you say defensively. But he shakes his head, smirking while he beckons at you with a finger.

“Bullshit, I've seen you,” he replies, moving forward. It isn't until your back collides with the cool surface of the mirror that Renjun traps your head between his hands, face inches away from yours. “Now, dance with me.”

Renjun’s hands move down to your sides as he looks at you, as if to ask permission. When you nod, he presses his fingers against the crevices of your hips, peeling you away from the mirror and against his firm chest.

You feel his breath against your neck as he moves your hair off your shoulder before sliding his hand down the small of your back. Your breath hitches, blinking up at him as he looks down at you with a look in his eyes you had never seen before.

“The dance is pretty simple,” he lets out, fingers drumming against you. “Let me guide you?”

Not trusting your voice, you only nod.

“Just move like this with me.”

So, he leads the dance. With his hand pressed against your back, the other on your shoulder. He sways you back and forth, your feet suddenly having a mind of their own and moving with him - minus the stepping on his toes.

“Good, now you can try moving your hips.”

Gently, his hands find their place on your hips and guide them with the beat of the music and with his own body’s movements. His hands come up to lift your arms over your head before he smooths his palms down your back, a hand coming underneath your thigh to hike your leg over his waist. He dips you back slowly, taking his precious time bringing you back up as he traces his nose along the column of your neck.

“Wrap your arms around me.”

Like some spell, you follow his every instruction without question. You bring a hand against the damp crook of his neck. His skin is hot to the touch, your fingertips buzzing as you glide your arms over his neck and around his shoulders. Hesitant, you wait for him to lead the dance and as he steps forward, the hand on your hip pushes you back slightly, matching his movements. He smiles down at you brightly, you couldn't help but smile right back.

Suddenly, he twirls you around, bringing your back flush against his chest. “Look at us through the mirror,” he commands teasingly.

In the mirror you lock eyes with him, your breath hitching in your throat. Renjun traces patterns across your stomach until his palm closes on your waist and he’s swaying you along with him, his nose digging into the crook of your neck, hot breath fanning against your skin, raising goosebumps.

It’s so sensuous, so intimate, so unlike you. You barely recognize the way your body moves along with him and if it were anyone else, you’d already probably be running for the hills and blasting whatever noisy song you had onhand to erase the memory. But that wasn’t needed here; you'd very much like this memory to be burned into your mind.

Even as the song finally comes to an end, you don’t pull away. Renjun continues to sway you against him while you bring a hand up to cover his, intertwining his fingers with your own as he turns to face you. Renjun places his fingertips against your chin, resting his forehead against yours. Eyes locked, you see that same look from minutes ago - but this time you know exactly what it means.

“If you don't want me to, just tell me,” he whispers breathlessly, mere inches away from your face that the tips of your noses brush ever so gently. But you want him to. You've been wanting and hoping for it for so long. And when you lean it and capture his lips against yours, he doesn't hesitate to bring his hands against your back and push you flush against him.

Kissing Renjun is exactly what you imagined it would be. Sweat stains his lips salty but there's a hint of the taste of custard on his tongue - like the custard you gifted him the other day. He smells of sage and sea salt and burnt sugar and The Midnight Bistro. It lingers against your lips, threatening to push you over the edge.

A hand comes up to press against your neck, bringing you impossibly closer against him. It's soft and warm and gentle. Plump lips guiding you, dragging you into some trance. Next thing you know, he has you pinned against the mirror, his free hand now holding yours against the glass. The music drowns out the soft mewls and moans that escape your lips, and when he pulls back for air, your lips reach out for him.

“I know Jaemin is my friend but it really bugged me that he got to dance with you all the time,” he confesses, Adam’s apple bobbing.

You pause, suddenly remembering Minji. In the time that it took for you to recollect yourself, Renjun realizes just what was bothering you and he brings a hand to cup your cheek. “She’s just a friend. I wouldn’t spend all that money at The Buns and Burner if I didn’t want you to be more than.”

You gulp, mind racing. “Are you for real?”

Instead of answering you, he presses his lips against yours. Melting in his arms, you’re drunk on his taste.

“Where are you going after here?” he mumbles against you when he pulls back. Renjun brings a thumb to trace your bruised lips, grazing over the smudged lipgloss.

“I was...I was just gonna head home,” you reply out of breath.

“Okay,” he states, the tip of his tongue darting out as he kisses his teeth. “You're coming home with me.”

In the comfort of Renjun’s apartment, your hands fumble against his, quickly making their way underneath his shirt and upwards, lifting up the black fabric over his head and tossing it towards the floor to join your own clothes. Fingertips lightly dance across the expanse of exposed skin, leaving a hot trail in its wake until all you feel are his hands on you. All you want to feel are his hands on you.

The room fills with hushed laughter as he makes his way down the sides of your waist - ticklish and delicate, they trace dainty patterns, goosebumps rising with every soft touch. Feverishly, he kisses you again, leaving little room between your bodies as he lays you against the plush pillows, mattress bouncing underneath you. Curling your fingers into his hair, you pull him in deeper, breathing him in at any moment, the light from the streetlamp bleeding through the curtains, glowing across his delicate skin.

“Renjun,” you moan into his neck, a soft whisper mingling together with his heavy breathing while his tongue, lips, and fingers explore you, igniting a fire in the pit of your stomach that only grew with desire with every teasing pause he takes.

Renjun hums against your jaw, smiling to himself as he lightly trails the outline of your face with his lips. The air is so thick, so filled with lust that you’re sure you’re dreaming. This has to be a dream.

He brings a hand up to gently caress the side of your face, nuzzling his cheek against yours. Safe in the secrets of the dark, you allow him to lead you, play with you, tease you. It's so pathetic how easily you give into him, how easily he pulls moan after moan out of your lips as his hips collide with yours, skin burning against you. And when he pins your wrist against his pillow before snaking his fingers into yours, your mind only recalls his name. Just like in the studio, he leads with an air of dominance that has you lightheaded.

“So pretty like this,” he gasps, fingers digging into your hips, your nails pressing crescents into the smoothness of his back. Shadows dancing onto the plain surface of the wall, his lips close around yours and captures your every mewl, bringing you to a high that only leaves you begging for more. It's safe to say dancing isn't Renjun’s only skill.

Sealing the night with a final kiss, he lays beside you, pulling your bare body into his chest as he plays with your hair. “Stay the night,” he whispers against your shoulder.

Too tired to protest, you nod, curling into his chest. Not that you’d have it any other way.

In the morning, when the sunlight seeps in and shines harshly against your eyelids, you reach out to a vacant bed - save for the pillows haphazardly strewn across the sheets. Rubbing your eyes, you try to make sense of where you are when the memories of last night all come flooding back.

As you're about to get up and hunt for your clothes, Renjun walks in with a cup of coffee and a plated pasty, his hair messy as he sports a cute smile. Very unlike what he was hours ago.

“Good morning,” he greets, coming beside you and setting the mug down on the bedside table, a hand coming down to gently fix your bed head.

“Morning,” you let out with a raspy voice.

“I remember that trick you taught me to make old cream puffs taste fresh out of the oven and I wanted to try it,” he remarks, bringing the puff up to your lips. You take a bite, humming at the softness of the bread, filling melting on your tongue.

“Did I do good?” he asks curiously and smiles bright when you bring a thumb up.

“Good job!” you mumble. Renjun brings a hand up, wiping at the cream by your lips before sucking it off his fingers. You gulp. Instantaneously, you're hyper aware of your bare body.

“This is not how I expected my Friday night to go.” you ponder out loud.

He smiles at you, leaning forward to plant a kiss against your lips. “I hope you still liked the unexpected turn of events.”

Humming, you wrap your hands around his neck, dragging him back into the sheets. “I'm not sure. Maybe a replay of what happened can refresh my memory.”

“Happy to comply,” he mumbles against your lips with a grin, coming under the covers with you.

To save you from the embarrassment of having your first walk of shame, Renjun accompanies you to your apartment. Coming home in a disheveled state has to be one of the most demeaning things to ever do, but there was a skip on your step as you walked into the complex, pinkies linked with him.

“You can come in if you’d like,” you mumble, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“I’m afraid that if I do, we’ll just be in bed all day.”

“And you wouldn’t want that because…?”

Renjun tilts his head upwards, eyes closed as he feigns contemplation. “You’re right, there’s no argument here.”

In the quiet air of the early morning light, you were hoping you wouldn't be caught tiptoeing into your apartment. But Yejun was already in the kitchen, a robe wrapped tightly around her torso as her sleep-stricken face glared at you.

“Where the hell were you?” she scolds, arms crossed over her chest.

“I was just out -”

“I've been trying to call you, but you wouldn't pick up. Imagine how worried I was!”

“I'm fine. See?” you twirl, showing her absolutely no damage to your body. “Perfectly fine.”

“Still, the least you could’ve done was call. I had to ring up Jaemin and Jeno last night to ask if they heard from you -” she suddenly pauses, the anger having fully woken her up, her vision clears now that her mind was no longer clouded with alarm and sleep. She spots the purple bruise on your neck. When you take notice of her gaze, you bring a hand up to cover the hickey, cheeks flaring up.

On cue, Renjun rounds the corner and smiles boyishly at your roommate.

Before you can stop her, she screams: “OH SHIT!”

“Shut up!”

“You guys slept together!” she shrieks loud enough to awake the rest of the house. Maybe the entire neighborhood. “You guys slept together,” she sing-songs giddily, dancing around in the kitchen. Shoving him towards your bedroom, Yejun’s teasing continues to echo even as you slam your door shut. Renjun doesn’t seem to mind, giggling as he lays you onto your familiar covers. He places soft pecks against the crown of your head while you two doze into a deep slumber, a smile etched on your face.

Thank you so much for reading this fanfiction! I hope you enjoyed it just as much as I enjoyed writing it. Don't be afraid to send in critique or comments, it's my biggest motivation to keep writing these stories. 💖

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