HOBI POV:

With every bit of happiness came a bit of sorrow. With time we spent with (Y/N) I became painfully aware that she was hurting so, so much and trying to endure, trying to survive and trying to overcome. It was painful because it made me wonder whether I'd been spending time with her this entire time with my eyes shut, made me question and debate whether behind each smile had there been tears, had there been struggles?

And had I been so painfully oblivious to her hurting when it seemed clear the others were attuned to it? Where Jin hyung seemed to in both measures joke and tease but also fret and fuss over her, over her eating, over her trying to help. Where Yoongi hyung didn't say anything save for the fact he was taking (Y/N) out for some fresh air, face blotchy with dried tearstains and lips that were swollen. Where Joon seemed to be lost in thought a lot of the time, far more than his usual wandering, drifting mind- it looked like he was always turning questions over in his mind, the same set of questions and struggling because he couldn't solve them, couldn't find answers to them. I saw the way he looked at her, with equal parts longing and equal parts pain as if he harboured guilt for something. It made me wonder if there had always been blatant signs and clues and I'd been painfully ignorant of them. 

But even as those doubts and insecurities came to mind I couldn't help but think of that time in the dance studio. The sight of her dancing, pushing herself more and more, to dance again and again, trapped in a vicious cycle of her mind and thoughts, dancing as if her body was controlled by a puppeteer- no regards for how broken and battered her soul was, how much she was screaming and crying inside even if she never expressed it.

I couldn't forget that. Couldn't forget that painful instance of realisation that she hurt far more than she'd ever said and that decision I'd made at the moment, to help her. Not to open up if that's not what she wanted but to heal internally, to be able to break free of whatever control had her suffering and silent and alone.

And somewhere deep inside, my mind whispered that we'd all known to some extent she was hurting, that her silence came about from trauma, had hoped that one day she'd be free from it. And if there was anything I could do to help her, to ease her pain even in the slightest I'd do it.

Though when I entered the dance studio early, it was to get together ideas for upcoming competitions, to sort through songs and make rough ideas for choreo and concepts. And come to a stop when I push open the door and find it already occupied, music filling the soundproof walls as she dances, running through songs we'd choregraphed together. But there isn't that overwhelming passion and emotion that radiates out of each move, out of that beautiful power she holds over the observer, this time it's different. This time her dancing is agonising to watch, something that holds my eyes to her but because there's an ache, an agony in her eyes as she dances, eyes fixed to her reflection as she moves, jaw clenched and face tight, deep in thought. 

And this time it doesn't feel right to walk away. To pretend I didn't see. It feels different to the last time I'd seen her dance. Each move isn't full of a deep anguish, nor is it a fresh wound. It's as if she's dancing to forget her worries, to push them aside, to try and banish them from mind. And this time my feelings are clear and sorted. This time I can't walk away from the sight of our girl hurting.

I close the door behind me, every bit or urgency gone as I slowly walk into the studio, closer to her.

And the moment the song comes to an end, I'm reaching over for the remote to pause the next song from starting, pausing the endless loops she'd been trapped in.

And she starts.

Truly not having even realised someone had entered, her body turning to face me, the stiffness melting away to surprise and a small smile- that sparks warmth with how it cracks through the bustle of her mind to greet me.

"Hobi. When did you get here?" she asks, breathing heavy- chest rising and falling as she draws in deep much needed gulps of air, face and neck glistening with sweat. I walk over, tugging a water bottle from my bag and unscrewing it, bringing it to her lips and waiting for her hand to wrap around it when I nudge at her lips.

"Drink first. Breathe second. Then talk." I say, watching as emotion flashes through her eyes, lips curling gratefully as she nods, squeezing my hand in thanks before she takes the bottle and draws deep long gulps of it, steadily emptying the bottle.

It was attesting to the fact of just how much she must've been pushing herself, how hard she must've been dancing before I'd arrived.

She lowers her hand, lips slick with water and parted as she stares at me, as she tentatively smiles at me- face expressing the fact she knows I have something to say, she can sense whatever is bubbling under the surface and is mentally bracing herself for it.

Frustration, hurt, concern, anger, protectiveness. All rolling and combining and merging to become a dizzying mixture, all that I act immediately on by doing what I can only think of in that moment. Tugging her into my arms.

"Hobi I'm all sweaty!" (Y/N) protests as I fold my arms around her, feeling the heat seep out of her skin and through her dance clothes, a veritable furnace in the early spring, and I ignore the clamminess to her skin, the slight stickiness because right now she needs comfort.

And the sweat is just a testament to her hard work, to the hours and efforts she was pouring in. it was a sign of her endurance and strength. It wouldn't repel me at all.

For a dancer, sweat was proof of trying over and over, of pushing yourself to be better, of being consumed in that passion. And right now, this passionate dancer of mine needed a good long cuddle, preferably in my arms to stop her from getting up to move to dance again.

"Sweat means nothing to dancers (Y/N) my sweet baby, now shush and let me hug you." I retort, smiling when she relaxes and winds her arms around me to hug me back, head coming to rest against my shoulder.

"How long have you been here?" I ask as she slowly relaxes, body melting and coming to rest against me.

She stiffens, head darting up to shoot me a look; a flash of guilt in her eyes, the same any of the maknaes have when they know they weren't meant to be doing something.

I raise my eyebrows at her. Waiting for her to spill.

"A few hours...I think?" she says hesitantly and my arms tighten around her in response as I groan, dropping my head to tuck her close.

"Do you plan on running yourself into the ground before competitions?" I ask.

She stiffens and then mumbles a no, rather petulantly and defensively.

And when I draw back to shoot her a look she stares back equally as defensively and strongly. A silent challenge flickering in those expressive eyes. Testing and playful almost.

"You need to be in your prime during dance season. This is everything that we build towards as dancers, to display our strengths and passion." I say, trying to drive in the message but somewhat hesitant to turn full coach mode on her, knowing that when I'd walked in I'd caught her at a mentally trying moment.

I wasn't going to push her when she wasn't feeling best in terms of her mental wellbeing.

But her response is anything but shaky or troubled. Her words anything other than fiery and sweet and challenging.

"Oh but Hobi, who said this is my first time competing? Who said I don't know about being in my prime?" she asks, eyes filled with mischief and tease, silently luring me in, drawing out that excitement and curiosity to want to sit down and demand her to spill- just knowing by the twitch of her lips there are endless stories behind her comment.

And the next best thing I can do is tighten my hands around her before I'm plucking her up, laughing at her squeak before she grips at me and I'm moving with her to one end of the room, getting comfortable with my back against the mirrors and drawing her onto my lap.

But what is a pleasant surprise is the way she doesn't try escape but wriggles to get more comfortable, hands gripping my thighs as she moves her hips on my lap to get into a better position and curves back to rest against my chest. I fight back a groan at the way the action feels like a purposeful teasing but the sunny sweet smile she shoots me has me dismissing the idea, surely not.

"So...want to help choose dance styles and songs to narrow down the list?" I ask, hand fisting into my trouser leg when she leans back and turns to speak directly into my ear.

"That would be an honour Hobi." She murmurs, voice low and playful but before I can speak, her lips brush against my neck, a quick fleeting press of plush lips before she tucks herself in close.

"So...what songs were you thinking?" she asks.

I take a deep breath in.

Breathe. Stop overreading into things. There's no way shy sweet (Y/N) is purposely teasing me. Right?

----

Wrong.

So utterly wrong.

Because the feeling of her pressed close against my chest felt so right, so did the way she was curled up close, legs entangled with mine, her weight comforting as my arm wrapped around her midriff, head hooked over her shoulder as we watched videos together. 

But it was driving me insane the way her scent was dizzyingly heady, distracting because every time I took a breath I got a lungful of something that was intrinsically her. The sound of her slow deep breaths and the transition to something elated and full of wonder as we watched videos, something that caused her face to light up but came with a little wriggle. Something I felt so painfully clearly because of how closely we were pressed together, the movement sending a flash of desire to course through my veins- an electric feeling that made our seated position such a struggle.

But I didn't want to change it for the world either.

And it's when we get to a contemporary piece that the damned wriggle comes again. I tilt my head back, clenching my jaw shut to keep any sound from slipping out, praying for respite and relief.

But a glance at her ducked down figure and intent eyes has me immediately clicking that this is a different sort of wriggling, a shy almost tentative excitement making its way onto her face.

I loop my head over her shoulder, turning to press a kiss to her cheek and smiling when she startles and turns to me, face sweetly shy. But I don't like the hesitance in it. Would do anything to remove it.

"Something the matter sweet cheeks?" I ask. She ducks her head, shaking it.

I lean forward to nudge at her cheek and neck with my nose, brushing soft kisses to them, wheedling and soft.

"Come on tell me~" I wheedle.

She turns to me.

"I...I'd love to dance something like that." She confesses, the passion in her voice a sudden burst of emotion but the wide-open eyes she looks at me has me softening, has me leaning in to peck her nose.

"Then why don't you? Why don't you enter as a solo dancer or duo if you want to?" I ask.

Surprise flashes across her features.

"It...it wouldn't bother you?" she asks.

I shake my head quickly. She should never feel that way.

"Of course not! Dance isn't just about advancing as a team, it's about advancing as a person, as an independent dancer as well. We all participate in solo competitions occasionally too." I explain.

She nods. And then tilts her head.

Eyes curious.

"A duet...with who?" she asks, a smile stretches across my lips.

"Well sweet girl, our Jiminie is experienced and trained as a contemporary dancer. I'm sure he'd love to dance with you- he couldn't really compete in duets when it was the three of us. it's not our field of expertise." I say wryly, watching as the giddiness and hope grows on her face, a seed of hope that before my very eyes was sprouting and growing into a beautiful blooming flower.

I'd do anything and everything for that look to remain there always.

Her hand comes to clutch at my shirt, a bright smile on her lips.

"You really think so?" she asks, practically vibrating with excitement, with elated hope.

"I know so." I correct, laughing when she throws her arms around me in a squeezing tight hug, the tinkle of her laughter as she hugs me, crushing herself into me and when she moves back, her eyes sparkle and burn with that consuming emotion of happiness- as if my words have made her day.

And she's taking me in, a burning trail over my face with those emotive eyes before her hands fall to cup my cheeks and she's pressing her lips to mine, a quick brush of lips as she smiles against my mouth. A peck and then two. Giddy kisses as she laughs and smiles against my mouth and murmurs thank you over and over. The sweet softness of her lips pressing to mine over and over has me jolted out of the stunned haze before going to wrap around her waist, to draw her closer and chasing after her lips, her laughter and enthusiasm infectious as I press my lips to her, messy and giggly as our lips chase each other's, pressing together for longer, tongue swiping at her lips playfully and her own reciprocating, swiping and teasing by running over the seam of my lips, darting away when I chase after it.

She giggles when her slick lips move back, rosy plush pillows that teasingly smile at me.

"Something the matter Hobi—" she playfully questions at my huff but falls silent when my hand cups the back of her neck and draws her lips back to me, silencing her giggling when my lips move against hers, quickly as if she'll slip away, as if she'll tease and taunt by taking away the taste of her from my mouth, her giggled huff swallowed by my mouth descending on hers, head tilted up towards her and gripping her tightly, drawing her close.

"You. Are. Going. To. Be. The. Death. Of. Me." I gripe out between kisses, lips sliding away only momentarily to murmur to her before the sweet rosiness of them tempt me back, draw me back to press kisses to the plush softness of them.

She smiles against my lips, leaning in closer, each press of lips lasting longer and longer, lingering against each other's mouths.

It's so sweetly perfect and whole. So lost in tasting each other, in that magnetic pull to each other, the feel of her body moving to get closer to me, hips flush against each other, lost in each other, at the sensation of her fingers running through my hair, tugging at strands as she lowers her mouth towards me.

And between moments of stolen breath, of shared air as we part to breathe comes an unimpressed voice, heavy with both tease and petulance.

"This is what getting in early to work means Hobi hyung? Dance captain...don't you think you pulled a dirty move on your team?" Jimin's voice rings out into the now silent studio.

Our heads turn to face them, Jimin leaning against the wall staring with dark intense eyes and behind him, Kookie who takes in the sight with an amused tilt to his lips as he ducks around Jiminie to bound forward.

Kook rolls his eyes as he moves close, deftly sinking into a crouch in front of us.

"Getting started without us hyung? (Y/N) you know I like starting on an even footing, how could you?" he asks the two of us, dragging his lips into a pout when (Y/N)'s eyes flicker to him, eyes dancing with amusement and mischief.

"Shush you." (Y/N) easily replies, leaning forward to press her lips to his, an exaggerated mwah sound as she fists her hand into his white tee and tugs him forward. He, very enthusiastically, follows leaning into the kiss before she's leaning away.

Behind him I watch as Jiminie's eyes widen, burn with longing as he takes in the sight.

I hide a smile.

Oh Jiminie. You have no idea what's waiting for you.

If this is how things ended when (Y/N) was just happy to hear a yes, I couldn't wait to see what would happen if and when he said yes to her question to be a duet partner.

And beyond that I couldn't wait for the sensational performance the two would bring.

And the way her eyes fell to him, the way she smiled and called out for him to join, I just knew Jiminie was in for a hell of a ride.

I didn't know it before for sure but I knew it now with a certainty.

(Y/N) had fire in her. Behind that shyness was a burning passion and confidence that engulfed you and consumed you whole. It was a fire that sweetly enticed for others to come towards it and let the heat lick against skin and tease against you until it was too alluring to ignore.

Until you too became part of the flames.

And I loved seeing this side of her.

Couldn't wait for it to come out more.

And was glad that whatever had been bothering her when I'd entered- not even a shadow of it remained now. Not even a flicker of a troubled mind.

And realised that sometimes healing and respite came in the form of others.

I'd gladly be that respite for her.

I'd gladly be consumed by those flames.

(THERE WE GO! A TEENSY BIT SHORTER THAN THE USUAL THESE DAYS BUT I SWEAR HOBI WAS NOT LEAVING- HE DEMANDED THE SPOTLIGHT AND WELP! JUST REMAINED FOR THE ENTIRETY OF THE CHAPTER I GUESS! I HOPE YOU LIKED THEIR GIGGLY KISSIES AS MUCH AS I DID WRITING THEM! AND!! WE ARE GETTING THERE...CLOSER AND CLOSER TO HER SIZZLING PERFORMANCE TO COME OUT! AND OH DEAR MINNIE... I AM PRAYING FOR YOU TO MAKE IT OUT IN ONE PIECE IF BABY SIREN TURNS HER ATTENTIONS ON YOU LIKE THAT! WONDER WHAT SORTA STUFF SHE'LL DO TO CONVINCE HIM! LET ME KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS AND REACTIONS TO IT ALL! ARE THE KISSES IN THE BOOK SUBPAR- NOT QUITE INTENSE OR EMOTIONAL?? I DO WORRY THAT MY LACK OF EXPERIENCE IN WRITING ROMANCE SHOWS IN MOMENTS LIKE THESE...LET ME KNOW IF THEY'RE WORKING OR NOT!! AND POOR HOBI...ALL THAT WRIGGLING, I WONDER IF IT'S INTENTIONAL~ APART FROM THIS JUST GIGGLY HAPPY CHAPTER BETWEEN THE TWO- HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED, TAKE CARE AND STAY SAFE LOVES!)

QUESTION...A GOAL YOU'RE STRIVING FOR WITHIN A TIME LIMIT?

Mine is...I've got quite round full cheeks, so losing some of that by my 20th! Tbh...it's just generally losing roundness all over by then...but there is only so much you can do at home with lessons happening all the time and VERY LITTLE restraint!

Borahae! 💜💜💜

PurpleQueenie <3