#how do u tag things on kpopblr.... i refuse to use the word scenario bc it makes me wanna kms

[stolenslumber]

pas de deux (psh) (preview)

Fresh off of an ankle injury and all too cognizant of the time you have left in your professional ballet career, the last thing you want to do this Nutcracker season is dance opposite some boy band idol sensation who can't even do a split. You're sure Park Sunghoon can serve no purpose in your life other than being a nuisance and standing around looking pretty to bring in more ticket sales, but there are 10 weeks of rehearsals ahead of you, and he's determined to change your mind.

PAIRING: park sunghoon x female reader GENRE: one-sided professional annoyance to lovers, pining (sunghoon falls fast and hard lol my guy is chomping at the bit), some angst but mostly of the career malaise flavor, romance as always but trust me there's an Actual Plot this time i swear WARNINGS: swearing, kms/kys jokes, kissing and suggestive content/sexual themes WORD COUNT: ~2.8k preview (final wc... who knows? that's between me and god)

When you get the news, you’re just leaving a physical therapy session that went worse than you had expected, so you’re already in a bad mood. 

Kazuha calls you as she’s making dinner; you can hear pots and pans clattering in the background as she attempts some new pasta sauce she saw on Instagram. You let her chatter on for a while as you stew in your thundercloud of frustration about your PT session and your anxiety about the upcoming Nutcracker rehearsals, so you’re barely paying attention when she starts saying something about idols and boy bands.

“... can you believe it? Oh my god, I hope it’s like… Jimin, or Taemin! I would probably pass out if I saw them at rehearsal, though.”

“Huh? What’s this about passing out at rehearsal?” 

Kazuha tsks. “Were you not listening to me? I just told you the company has invited a male idol to feature in a couple of Nutcracker performances this year! It’s part of an effort to spread more appreciation for ballet among the general public, or something.”

You scoff. “The general public coming out to see the same show for a month straight doesn’t show enough appreciation for ballet?”

“Oh, come on, you know our Nutcracker sales have been down lately. I’m sure this idol thing is going to shoot them through the roof, though.” Kazuha sighs dreamily. “I hope I get his signature, whoever it is.”

“Whatever. As long as he doesn’t drag our rehearsals down,” you mutter.

“It’s supposed to be someone with at least a little bit of a ballet background, and all idols dance, so he can’t be that bad.”

“What is he even going to do? Dance with the studio company kids? He’s going to look so out of place.” You laugh to yourself, picturing some fully grown man amongst a throng of young ballet students. “Not my problem, I guess. Hey, I’m going to get on the train, but I’ll see you on Monday for rehearsals, yeah?”

“Happy Nutcracker season!” Kazuha sings gleefully.

“Happy Nutcracker season,” you echo, though you’re much more subdued. It’s not like you can really complain— you’re lucky enough to be one of two ballerinas in the role of the Sugar Plum Fairy this Nutcracker season. Lucky, because you tore an ankle ligament six months ago, and the company still entrusted you with the role. It’s your third time dancing it, but the pressure feels more intense than ever; Nutcracker sales have been down lately, and more than that, you know everyone is watching to see how you’ll perform after your injury.

Your phone vibrates in your hand, pulling you out of your mental checklist of things you need to bring to rehearsal on Monday. An email from your ballet company’s assistant manager sits at the top of your screen; probably a reminder to shut the doors properly when entering and exiting the building as the weather gets colder. You tap at the notification just to get rid of it, but you’re surprised to see your name pop up near the top of the email.

Looking forward to Nutcracker rehearsals… blah blah blah… something about an exciting collaboration…. ah, there it is. “This year, we are pleased to welcome Park Sunghoon from ENHYPEN as a special guest in The Nutcracker,” you read under your breath. “He will dance the part of the Sugar Plum Fairy’s Cavalier, alongside— motherfucker. You’ve gotta be kidding me.” That’s your name. 

Visions of a perfect Nutcracker season leading to your dream role as Odette/Odile in next year’s production of Swan Lake come crashing down on you in an instant. The only thing you can think of is: Who the fuck is Park Sunghoon?

find my friends: don’t leave xx break version (heeseung, jay, jake, sunghoon, sunoo, jungwon, and niki)

sunghoon: RISE AND SHINE MY BEAUTIFUL BEST FRIENDS

heeseung: kys

sunoo: jeez what crawled into your bed and died

heeseung: i did. i am.

jake: don’t mind him he was gaming until like 5am lmao

jungwon: what’s up sunghoon? usually u only call urself beautiful…

niki: LMFAO GET WRECKED

sunghoon: how is that getting wrecked? i AM beautiful

jay: okay anyways! is this about that press release about you doing ballet

sunghoon: jay MY ONE AND ONLY UNIT yes that is exactly what this is about

jungwon: we’re thrilled for you

sunghoon: you don’t sound very thrilled…

jungwon: YAY SUNGHOON HYUNG YOU’RE GONNA BE SOOOO COOL WE LOVE YOU TWINKLE TOES

sunghoon: okay that’s not exactly what i was hoping for but i’ll take it

sunghoon: rehearsals start on monday i’m so EXCITED

sunoo: ur kind of cheating on us if u think about it… rehearsing with other people </3

sunghoon: first of all i see you guys like all the time 

jake: right like we’re supposed to be on a break sunghoon get out of my apartment

sunghoon: i’m literally cleaning your living room rn you ungrateful whore i can’t watch you live like this anymore

jake: that’s jay’s mess not mine

sunghoon: whatever. second of all these are BALLET dancers!!! refined elegant sophisticated ballet dancers. they are not remotely in the same league as you smelly stinky gross losers 

niki: dude they’re just regular people they probably sweat and stink just as much as we do

jay: yo i’ve seen pictures of sunghoon’s ballet teacher from when he took lessons for ice skating… she’s a milf if i’ve ever seen one. maybe he’s still hung up on her and he’s projecting that onto all ballet dancers everywhere

sunghoon: wtf don’t put miss tatiana’s name in your dirty mouth

sunghoon: also i’m ngl the dancer who’s going to be my partner is a hottie lol

sunoo: never say the word hottie ever again

heeseung: please god LET ME SLEEEEEEEEP

Against your will, Monday arrives exactly on time. So, too, does Park Sunghoon, whom you don’t even notice in the middle of your stretches.

He notices you, of course. He had looked you up as soon as he heard the news, but all he could find was a perfunctory biography of you on the ballet company’s website and a private Instagram account. In your headshot on the website, you had appeared dignified and serious in black-and-white. In person, you seem… frustrated. A grunt escapes you when you go on pointe for the first time in a few days, and your eyebrows seem permanently furrowed as you go through the motions of various stretches. 

Still, your mastery of your profession is undeniable. Sunghoon watches from a corner of the cavernous studio as you and at least fifty other dancers are led through a series of warm-ups by someone who he thinks is the ballet mistress, accompanied by a live pianist hidden from sight by the tall back of the piano. Sunghoon’s eyes meticulously follow the lines of your arms and legs through tendus and jeté rond de jambes; the repetitive movements draw him into something of a trance, and he’s reminded of adjusting the tilt of his head over and over again to match his members, and even further back in his memory, he thinks of endless circles around the ice skating rink. Truthfully, he’s not sure if he has ever made the motion of his body look as beautiful as you do.

He feels like he hardly blinks before thirty minutes have gone by, and then everyone is dispersing for a short break. He spots a petite ballerina approach you and whisper something in your ear; that’s Sieun, he thinks, based on his deep dive into the company’s website. He doesn’t have much time to continue matching faces to pictures and names, though, because your eyes meet his for the first time just then, and he can feel himself shrinking underneath your steely gaze.

By the time you’ve approached him and greeted him and his manager, you’ve gotten your expression under control. You are no longer looking at him like the dirt beneath your shoe, so that’s progress. He hopes.

After the customary round of introductions, Sunghoon bows to you again. “Thank you in advance for your guidance and support,” he says robotically. 

“Of course,” you respond, equally as robotic. 

The ballet mistress comes over at that point, so it’s another round of introductions. Sunghoon takes the time to peek at you out of the corner of his eye, flitting his gaze over the neutral set of your mouth, which belies the impatient tapping of your right index finger against your left wrist behind your back. 

Sunghoon tunes back in when the ballet mistress begins talking about his schedule for the day. “You will watch us complete the morning class, so that you may get a feeling for the movements you will need to learn. Afterwards, I will assess you in a personal session, and I will pair you with one of our studio company students to start you on the basics. At the end of the day, you will meet us back here, where you can watch one of our Cavaliers demonstrate the pas de deux with the other Sugar Plum Fairy, as that is what you will be doing in ten weeks’ time.” The ballet mistress claps her hands. “Any questions?”

Sunghoon resists the urge to raise his hand; that would be so dorky. “Um, yeah— where’s the bathroom?”

The look you give him could wilt flowers.

Sunghoon barely sees you for the rest of the week, although he’s not sure if that’s due to your schedule or his. Some teenage kids from the ballet school who remind him of Riki when they first met are putting him through his paces; Sunghoon re-learns basic ballet steps five hours a day, every day. An additional hour every day is spent stretching and strengthening his muscles to a level of flexibility he has never approached before, and the final hour of every day is spent in a personal teaching session with the ballet mistress. It’s the most exhausting thing he has done in a long, long time.

In the hour that he gets off for lunch, he tries to look for you in the various hallways and studios in the building. Sometimes, he spots the back of your head as you’re entering or exiting the building, but so far, he hasn’t found a good opportunity to actually talk to you.

He gets lucky on Friday afternoon, just as he’s about to leave for the day. It’s technically after hours, but you’re still in the big studio where he met you on the first day. Sunghoon has watched enough videos and actual rehearsals of The Nutcracker to know that you are not dancing any of your Sugar Plum Fairy parts in it. In fact, he’s certain that you are dancing something entirely otherworldly.

The song is hauntingly beautiful, as are your movements. He watches as you fold forward on the floor, one leg extended in front of you and the other tucked underneath you. Your arms flutter down to your extended leg, which then sweeps behind you as you rise to straighten your torso, and then your back arches so that you fold backwards. Notwithstanding the physical prowess of it all, he’s more shocked by the look of exquisite joy on your face, and the way it transforms into wrenching sorrow as you bend forward again and sweep your arms across the floor. He continues watching until the very end, transfixed by the intense emotion in your expression and in each of your movements; he doesn’t realize he’s crying until it’s over, and you’re folding forward on the ground again, arms quivering to a stop at your toes.

It feels like watching a dying thing; some creature far too magnificent for this world leaving it, at last.

The applause that bursts from his hands is instinctual. Your head jerks toward his direction immediately, so he waves awkwardly. Somewhere in between him wiping at his eyes and trying to figure out what he’s going to say to you, you make your way to stand in front of him with your arms crossed and your eyes narrowed.

“What are you doing here? Wait— are you crying?” You come in much closer to see for yourself, which certainly does not help him feel less nervous.

“I, uh, yeah… It’s been a long week,” he offers weakly.

You uncross your arms as you pat his shoulder, also a little awkwardly. “It’s always hardest when you start again after not having danced in a long time,” you say. The words are generic, but you’re not sure what else to say to him. The last thing you expected to see today was Park Sunghoon tearing up in front of you. 

“Yeah, for sure.” He clears his throat. “But, um, to be honest… I was just watching you dance, and I guess I was, like, moved to tears?” He laughs at himself. “You’re really good. I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

You flush from the unexpected praise. “Oh, well, thanks. The dance is called The Dying Swan; you can look it up on Youtube if you’re interested. It’s supposed to portray a swan in its last moments, so it can be quite… emotional.” You have to look away from his admiring gaze. “I’m… glad you liked it.”

“Liked it?” He scoffs. “I literally cried because of it. Seriously, I didn’t even know anything about it, and I could tell that it was incredible.”

You make a face at him. “Thank you, but you’re kinda freaking me out right now.” When he tilts his head at you in confusion, you’re surprised to find the sight a little bit cute. “I’m not really good at accepting compliments,” you explain. “Comes with the territory, I think.”

“Always expecting critiques instead, right?” He chuckles at your surprised look. “I was a professional ice skater before I became an idol trainee, so I know a little bit about the endless pursuit of perfection.”

You nod thoughtfully. “Is that where your ballet background comes from? Ice skating?”

“Yeah, but this week has made me question whether I really deserve to call it a ballet background.” He frowns in the form of a pout; cute, again. “These kids who are, like, maybe 15 years old are absolutely kicking my ass.” 

Unexpectedly, that makes you laugh, and he smiles automatically in return. “The studio company kids will do that to you,” you say as you start to untie your pointe shoes. “The advantages of being young, I guess.”

“Tell me about it. I don’t think I’ve ever been this sore in my entire life.” He winces when he hears your hip pop in a stretch. “Yep, I’ve heard that too many times this week.”

It’s silent as you finish your stretches. He takes the time to work out his next move in his head— what’s the best way to express to someone that you want to have a good working relationship with them, but you also think they’re really cool and pretty, and you’re also a little terrified by them, and you also want to learn from them? 

He ends up going with, “So, do you have any dinner plans?” 

You pause in the middle of zipping your bag. “I’m going to PT for my ankle right now.”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you were hurt!”

“Relax, Sunghoon. Injuries are fairly common in ballet, as they were in skating, I’m sure.” You sigh. He looks so forlorn and apologetic that you find yourself adding, “But I could have dinner afterwards, if you don’t mind a later start. And as long as you’re paying with that idol money, pretty boy.” You wink at him to let him know you’re just teasing, in the hopes that it’ll get him to loosen up, but he seems to only get more flustered as a result. 

“No problem,” he ekes out. He’s just glad he didn’t stutter. “I’ll text you a place, then?”

You raise an eyebrow. “You don’t have my number.”

“Riiiight.” Sunghoon smiles sheepishly. “Uh, do you want me to, like, email you instead…?”

“Oh my god, who knew you were such a dork.” You roll your eyes and hand him your phone. “Just put in your contact info. What would your fans think if they could see you now?”

Sunghoon huffs. “I don’t give my number out to just anyone, you know.” He squints at you. “Wait, you’re not secretly a sasaeng or something, right?”

“Do I look—”

He surprises you by laughing. “Relax,” he repeats. “Just teasing.” He winks, too, for good measure. It’s more charming than you had expected; that, combined with having your actions thrown back at you, is how you justify the sudden heat creeping up your neck.

“Whatever. Bring your wallet!”