*pre-debut, 2014*

Your very first kpop dance class was today; in a few minutes exactly. Since you were debuting with a boy group, management scheduled you into the boys' class. You'd most likely fit in with their style than the girls' for several reasons-- and be able to avoid too many side-eyes.

As your manager led you down the studio hallway, you managed to glance into the girl's dance studio. Most everyone looked Korean (shocker!) with long hair and delicate, sometimes baby-ish oval faces. The music echoing through the glass window was extra-poppy, extra-bubbly; their sensual hip rolls and petite arms made beautiful shapes in the space. Everything was very safe and pretty; very feminine.

As you reached the end of the hall, your manager turned to face you, patting your back.

"You will do well. You may feel like an outsider because none of the members of your group are present, but everyone is nice here. Don't feel intimidated," he stated.

You nodded and glanced into the studio, hearing a popular American hip-hop song blasting through the speakers. Some male trainees were stretching while others were freestyling to the beat. They seemed to be rehearsing a hard-hitting routine learned before your arrival.

"Put your bag into the side cubbies, and I'll meet you here at Noon. Okay?" My manager said with soft eyes.

"Okay."

You said goodbye and walked into the hot studio, your black converse shuffling along the sidelines of the studio. You avoided a few eyes, marching to the small cubbies to place your bag inside one, along with your water bottle.

You were on the side with the stretchers, happy to be near a more calm group of trainees. This wasn't your first time in a dance class - you took plenty in America - but you weren't at home. You weren't the top of your class here. You'd have to work up the totem pole. Your usual position in front of the mirrors was occupied, so you chose an empty spot on the right side, not too far back so you could still see the instructor.

You begin stretching. A few neck rolls, then arm windmills, then side stretches. As you leaned to the side, your cap fell to the ground landing beside a trainee.

"Oh, sorry!" You nervously chuckled as you watched him pick up your hat.

He handed it to you with the prettiest smile and freckled face. Cutieeeee.

"No worries. Are you a Warriors fan?" The trainee asks. You glance down at your favorite basketball team's logo on the front of your cap before placing it back on your head.

"Yeah," you reply.

"Me too. Are you.. from America?" He asks, fixing his glasses.

"Yeah.." You reply with a shaky voice. You didn't know how foreigners were perceived in trainee world, but you expected the worst.

"Nice. My family traveled there once to celebrate my high school graduation. Los Angeles is where we stayed. Are you from there?" He asks in a hopeful tone, a grin on his face.

"Unfortunately, no. I'm from a small town in the middle of the country. Not very exciting," you shrug.

He chuckles. "I'm Daeho, by the way."

"I'm Milo," you reply as the instructor stands at the front, clapping their hands.

Everyone stands to their feet, focused.

"Hello, everyone! Welcome to another movement class. This week we'll focus on hip-hop technique." The teacher speaks quickly while jogging in place. "We have some new students, so please make room and be cordial."

You glance around the room. There had to be at least 40 trainees! You adjusted your khaki shorts, sneakily pulling out a wedgie, and turned your attention up front.

"Let's do some warm-ups!"

For the next hour, your instructor led the class through a series of exercises for cardio, flexibility, leg and arm strength, and core. It was a lot for a so-called "warm-up". After the last toe touch exercise, you were out of breath with sweat pooling on your forehead. You wiped your face with your shirt and rolled up your long sleeves.

"Feel the burn yet?" Daeho asks with a smirk, wiping his own sweaty forehead.

Catching your breath, you reply, "Oh, I feel something."

Daeho chuckles, his hands on his hips while shuffling his feet from side to side.

"Everyone take a breather - always remember to breathe! Now, we'll get started on this routine. Everyone find a partner!" The instructor calls out.

With a shy smile, you and Daeho look at each other.

"Partners?" He asks.

"Sure," you reply, internally feeling relieved to find somewhat of a dance buddy.

---

Two hours pass and you've finished learning the routine. It wasn't too long, or hard, but the instructor was strict about cleanliness and strong lines. He ran through each movement at least ten times to make sure the class executed it perfectly.

The routine was to an upbeat hip-hop song and included old-school as well as new school dance moves. There were a few moments of partner work and Daeho surprisingly danced incredibly well. A few times you had difficulty with the footwork and popping techniques, but he never judged and helped you learn quicker.

"Now it's time for exhibition. Show me what you got. I'll pick a few partners of each class to perform the routine -- you will be recorded -- and I'll critique you afterwards," the instructor says.

After everyone gets some water, the partner dances begin. The first couples seem to be the weakest dancers, some struggling with being clean and memorizing the moves.

"Honestly, that was horrible. I wouldn't pay money to see that," the instructor growls while crossing his arms.

You and Daeho exchange serious glances. This dude meant business.

The next couple of dancers performed slightly better, but lacked energy and emotion -- things the instructor critiqued them about. It went on like this until it was your turn.

You, Daeho, and three other couples walked to the center of the dance floor. All eyes on you. Nerves grew in your stomach, but you were confident in your abilities.

Daeho whispers to you. "We got this."

You nod and give him a smile before your fiery eyes latch onto your figure in the mirror. The dance was over before you knew it; after you finished the routine, the instructor turned off the music with a snort.

"Not bad," the instructor smirks while rubbing his chin. "Okay, last group. For any newbies, this last group is what you should strive for. Watch every movement, every turn, every facial expression. Junsun, let's go!"

He calls for one of the trainees who walks confidently out to the center of the floor, followed by three other dancers. Their expressions are serious; their stances strong and powerful. You heard a few mumbles and whispers from the other trainees around you. 

"Junsun is the guy in the middle, top of the trainee class. One of the best dancers here," Daeho informs you, answering your inner question without you having to ask.

"Oh, I see."

As the music started, you REALLY began to see. This dude was amazing. His movements were hard hitting, footwork was powerful, and he had a certain confident swag that made you want to watch his every movement. And he was pretty good-looking. The entire class erupted in applause once the routine was done. You see Junsun get a pat on the back from the instructor, who was beaming with pride.

"Gentlemen, take notes." The instructor wears a smug smile. "He's sweeping the floor with you all."

Your face distorts. Maybe the instructor is hyping him up a little too much?

You tsk and mumble to yourself. "Ha, he's no better than me."

Somehow your mumble must've been on speakerphone, because a handful of other trainees gasped and looked back at you. You shrugged, feeling your face grow hot as you glanced at Daeho. "What? He's good, but we're good too."

Daeho nods, wiping sweat from his forehead before whispering: "Don't take it to heart. The instructor has always favored Junsun."

"Let's do a few more run-throughs. Maybe one of our newbies wants to take a chance and dance with our elite trainee. If you can keep up, I'll add extra points to your overall grade," the instructor exclaims, looking around the room at the nervous sweaty faces.

"Grade? We're being graded?" You ask, completely shocked. You thought this class was just for training, just a check off the list of things kpop idols had to do. But graded? Is this school?! Are you gonna be tested?

"Yeah... the instructor reports our weekly results to our management, in order to decide who to cut and who to keep," Daeho whispers.

"Wow..."

"No takers? Not even for a free meal card?" The instructor asks. The trainees get a little more talkative, excited for a chance at a free meal.

But no one raises their hand. But how "scary" could dancing with this guy be? You're all equals, right? And this is a class to push yourself. Dancing isn't about perfection, it's about practicing to get better and better.

"Why not?" You raised your hand, causing heads to turn once again. 

The instructor notices you in the crowd and chuckles. "I see you're a fan of public shame."

A few chuckles erupt from the "more experienced" dancers. But it doesn't faze you.

You shrug. "I mean... I'm just a fan of dancing."

Junsun chuckles and nods toward you. "Alright, newbie. Let's dance."

Your palms were sweaty and your heart was beating a mile a minute. This was your opportunity to prove your worth -- not only to these laughing hyenas, but to yourself. You were born to dance, and you wouldn't let anyone tell you different.

"Can we have another volunteer?"

"I will." 

You turn to see Daeho walking out to the center of the floor behind you, his hand raised. You grin as he stands beside you.

"Daeho? Wanna make that mistake again? Haha, alright bro," Junsun laughs.

Mistake? Again?

Daeho rolls his eyes and adjusts his glasses. You feel weird tension between the two, but ignore their back and forth. 

"Hey... everyone deserves a second chance," the instructor says before turning on the music. With Junsun in the center, and you and Daeho in back, you prepare to dominate the dance floor.

Your dance:

Everyone began to clap as the song finished, all eyes on you and your partner. With a sigh of relief, you bump fists with Daeho breaking out into a smile. The instructor looked pleased at your performance, giving you a soft "Nice Work" while sizing you up.

"Looks like I got some competition. What's your name?" Junsun asks you while smirking.

"I'm Milo," you reply, catching your breath.

Junsun's mouth falls as he shakes his finger at you. "Ahh, you're the new trainee joining bangtan sonyeondan?"

Your mouth also falls as you eye Daeho. "Uh, yeah! How did you know?"

"Word gets around. But I gotta tell ya... you could be their secret weapon." Junsun compliments you. Then he hits Daeho on the arm. "Milo saved you, bro. Better take notes from the rookie." He lets out an evil chuckle before walking away as the entire class disperses.

You and Daeho walk towards the cubbies for your belongings, out of breath and dripping with sweat. You grab your water bottle and chug it down.

"Nice job," Daeho says. "People rarely challenge him; you're new and you had more balls than me."

You fling your bag over your shoulder and look at him wiping his face.

"Well, thanks... but you did amazing, too! I don't know why the instructor is so... unsupportive. Talking down about us and acting like Junsun is some god. That's not okay," you complain.

Daeho meets your eyes and softly chuckles. "You're bold, Milo-ssi."

You grin. After a small pause, you both walk out of the rehearsal room and into the hallway. You immediately bump into your manager who is ready and waiting for you.

"Hey. Ready to go?" Your manager asks, texting on their phone.

"Yeah," you say with a small nod.

"It was nice to meet you. See you Thursday!" Daeho nods and waves goodbye, disappearing down the hallway.

"Bye!" You call after him. Internal sigh.

Your manager checks you out. "Have a good workout? Seems like it was intense."

You look down at your sweaty attire, grinning. "Yes."

"Seems like you made a friend too."

"Yeah. H-His name's Daeho. He's cool," you reply, feeling your cheeks warm up.

"That's good. Let's get you to the dorm. Do you want us to pick up anything to eat...?"

....

-Fade Out-