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bluelavendre · 17 days ago

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Dancing In Harmony

J-Hope x Ballerina Reader

Y/N had always lived by the grace of classical movements, her life an elegant blend of pliés, pirouettes, and arabesques. The ballet studio, with its faint aroma of resin and the faint hum of Tchaikovsky, was her sanctuary.

Jung Hoseok, or J-Hope as he was known in the underground dance world, was the polar opposite. The booming basslines of hip-hop tracks were his heartbeat, and the graffiti-adorned streets of Seoul were his stage. His movements were raw, explosive, and brimming with energy.

Their worlds collided when the city announced a dance showcase that paired performers from different genres to create a unique fusion piece. Y/N was hesitant; the thought of mixing her delicate ballet with the ruggedness of hip-hop felt unnatural. J-Hope, on the other hand, saw it as an exciting challenge.

The first rehearsal was rocky. Y/N’s precise movements clashed with Hoseok’s freestyle energy.

“You have to loosen up,” Hoseok teased, watching her stiff attempt at popping.

“And you need to find some structure,” she countered, as his leap into an improvised move missed the planned timing.

But as the weeks passed, they began to understand each other. Y/N taught Hoseok the discipline of controlled movement, while he helped her embrace the freedom of spontaneity. They spent late nights in the studio, laughing as they failed lifts, cheering when they nailed sequences, and bonding over shared exhaustion.

One evening, after a particularly grueling session, they found themselves sitting on the studio floor, sharing snacks and stories. Hoseok admired Y/N’s dedication to her craft, while she was in awe of his boundless creativity.

“You know,” he said, his voice soft, “I never thought ballet could be...beautiful like this. You make it look effortless.”

“And I never thought hip-hop could tell a story,” she replied, a small smile tugging at her lips. “But you pour your soul into it. That’s inspiring.”

Their chemistry wasn’t just evident offstage—it transformed their performance. On the night of the showcase, the crowd was mesmerized by their routine. Hoseok’s powerful pops complemented Y/N’s graceful arabesques. When the final note of the music faded, they stood together, hands clasped, breaths heavy, basking in the audience's thunderous applause.

Backstage, Hoseok turned to Y/N, his eyes glowing with excitement.

“We should keep doing this,” he said.

“You mean...work together?”

“Yeah,” he said, his grin playful yet sincere. “But only if you can handle me outdancing you.”

Y/N laughed, her heart warm. “We’ll see about that, J-Hope.”

And so, their partnership blossomed—two dancers from different worlds, finding harmony in the rhythm of their shared passion.

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J-Hope POV

The sound of people echoed through my ears, a steady hum of chatter mixed with the occasional thump of sneakers hitting the studio floor. My heart raced, my palms slick with nervous sweat. As a 16-year-old stepping into the world of hip hop, I felt like I was staring at a blank canvas, waiting for my first brushstroke.

They told me I had potential—that I could be an amazing dancer. And sure, I could bust out a few moves that made people cheer. But deep down, I knew I wasn’t there yet. There was so much more I wanted to learn, so much more I wanted to express. Dancing wasn’t just movement to me—it was my voice, my story.

I tightened my laces and scanned the room. The studio was alive with energy—people practicing their routines, laughter bouncing off the mirrors, music shaking the walls. It was intimidating, but it was also thrilling. This was the kind of environment where growth happened.

“Jung Hoseok, right?”

I turned to see a man in his late twenties, his stance relaxed but his gaze sharp. He was one of the mentors overseeing today’s session.

“Yes, sir.” I bowed slightly, trying to keep my nerves in check.

He gave me a nod and crossed his arms. “I’ve seen your moves. You’ve got rhythm, but you’re playing it too safe. If you want to stand out, you need to let loose. Stop thinking so much.”

I blinked. Stop thinking? That felt impossible. My mind was always racing—counting beats, analyzing steps, worrying if I looked stupid.

“You’ll figure it out,” he said with a small smirk, as if reading my thoughts. “Just trust yourself. Dance isn’t about perfection; it’s about connection.”

His words lingered as I moved to the corner of the studio to warm up. I started with some basic footwork, trying to let the music guide me instead of overthinking every step. Slowly, the tension in my shoulders eased, and I began to lose myself in the rhythm.

As the session progressed, I noticed the way the other dancers moved—so raw, so unapologetically themselves. It was inspiring, but it also made me question if I belonged here.

Then, the music shifted. A heavy beat dropped, and something inside me clicked. Without hesitation, I stepped into the center of the room and let my body take over. I hit the floor with power and precision, popping and locking with a confidence I didn’t know I had.

The room erupted into cheers, and I felt a rush of adrenaline. For the first time, I wasn’t just a kid trying to keep up. I was a dancer, holding my own in a space filled with talent and passion.

As the session wrapped up, I found myself grinning. This was just the beginning, but I knew one thing for sure—I was ready to pour my heart into this blank canvas and paint something unforgettable.

J-Hope POV

“JUNG HOSEOK!!”

I turned to see Jimin bounding toward me, a wide grin plastered across his face. Jimin was a friend from school—a year younger but just as passionate about dance as I was. The only difference? While I lived and breathed hip hop, Jimin was all about contemporary ballet. Fancy turns, graceful leaps, and a lot of elegance—totally opposite of my style.

“Jiminshii!” I called back, opening my arms for our signature bro hug. We slapped each other’s backs like we hadn’t seen each other in years, even though we’d hung out just a couple of days ago.

“You were so cool, Hobi hyung! You did this move—like that—it was awesome!” Jimin started imitating my moves, his arms jerking wildly and his face scrunched in exaggerated focus.

I couldn’t hold back my laugh. “That was nothing, bro,” I said, playfully shoving his shoulder.

“Nothing? Are you kidding?” Jimin’s eyes widened. “You had the whole room hyped! Seriously, hyung, you’re going to be famous one day.”

“Yeah, yeah, keep hyping me up,” I teased, though his words made my chest swell with pride. Jimin always had a way of making me feel like I was capable of anything, even on days when I doubted myself.

Jimin leaned against the wall, still catching his breath from his exaggerated performance of my moves. “You know,” he started, a little more seriously, “I wish I could move like you sometimes. Contemporary ballet is all about being poised and controlled, but you—you’re so free. It’s like the music just takes over your body.”

“Free, huh?” I rubbed the back of my neck, thinking about what my mentor had said earlier about letting go and trusting myself. “It’s not always easy, you know. Sometimes I overthink everything—like, am I hitting the beat right? Do I look stiff? Am I good enough to be here?”

Jimin tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. “We all think like that sometimes. Even when I’m on stage, there’s a little voice in my head saying, ‘Don’t mess up.’ But hyung, when you’re dancing, it doesn’t look like you’re thinking at all. It looks like you’re feeling. That’s what makes you amazing.”

I let his words sink in, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Thanks, Jimin-ah. You always know what to say, huh?”

He grinned cheekily. “Of course, I do. That’s why I’m your number-one fan.”

We both laughed, and for a moment, the nerves from earlier felt like a distant memory. Jimin’s energy was contagious, and I couldn’t help but feel grateful for his support.

“Come on,” I said, slinging an arm around his shoulder. “Let’s grab some food. I’m starving, and I know you’re not leaving until you tell me about your new fancy ballet routine.”

“Deal,” Jimin said, his eyes sparkling. “But only if you show me how to pop like you do.”

“Challenge accepted,” I said with a grin, already planning how I was going to make Jimin look completely ridiculous attempting hip hop.

And just like that, the day ended on a high note—with laughter, friendship, and the realization that I wasn’t alone in this journey.

Y/N POV

Ballet. An elegant and poised dance—beautiful and timeless. It’s everything I’ve known since I was five, my body practically molded to the sound of classical music. The graceful movements, the pointed toes, the perfect lines—it’s my passion, the thing that drives me forward.

But sometimes, it’s hard to love something that demands so much from you.

“Twirl and twirl! Y/N! You are slouching again!”

Mrs. Ka’s sharp voice cut through the studio like a whip, snapping me out of my thoughts. I immediately straightened my posture and forced my arms into a more fluid movement as I attempted another pirouette.

“Better,” she said, her tone softer but still critical. “You have the talent, Y/N, but you need to focus. You must live in the moment, feel the music. Otherwise, you’ll never reach your full potential.”

I nodded, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from sighing. Mrs. Ka meant well—she always did—but the pressure to be perfect weighed on me like a thousand bricks. Ballet wasn’t just about dancing; it was about discipline, control, and embodying perfection.

As the music played on, I forced myself to move with precision, ignoring the growing ache in my calves and the blister forming on my right foot. Ballet wasn’t supposed to be easy, I reminded myself. Greatness came with sacrifice.

But as the session ended and I collapsed onto the studio floor, stretching out my legs, I couldn’t help but feel...tired. Not just physically, but mentally.

Sometimes, I wondered what it would be like to dance without all the rules, to just let go and move however I wanted. Would it feel freeing? Would it feel like dancing for myself and not for someone else?

“Y/N, don’t forget your practice routine tonight at 8pm,” Mrs. Ka reminded as she gathered her things.

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied automatically, even though my body was screaming for a break.

When the studio finally emptied, I sat alone, staring at my reflection in the mirrored wall. My bun was slightly messy, strands of hair sticking out, and my leotard clung to me like a second skin. I looked the part of a ballerina, but inside, I felt...trapped.

I closed my eyes, letting out a deep breath. Maybe I needed to find a way to rekindle the spark that had drawn me to ballet in the first place. Or maybe, just maybe, I needed to step outside of my comfort zone and try something different.

Y/N POV

At 5 pm the streets of Seoul were alive with energy, as they always were. The scent of spices from skewers wafted through the air, mingling with the sound of laughter and the occasional car horn. I pulled my warm jacket tighter around me, still in my ballet outfit from earlier. My muscles ached, but the cool evening breeze was a welcome relief.

As I navigated through the crowd, a familiar voice called out to me.

“Y/N-ah!”

I turned, spotting a familiar figure waving enthusiastically. “Jimin-ah!”

Jimin, one of my closest dance mates from ballet school, jogged toward me, his ever-cheerful smile lighting up his face. He wrapped me in a quick hug, his energy as infectious as always.

“Oh, Y/N! You’re here? I thought you were still at practice,” he said, tilting his head.

“Just finished,” I replied, a small sigh escaping my lips. “Mrs. Ka wants me back tonight, though. Apparently, my posture still isn’t up to her standards.”

“Ah,” Jimin said, wincing in sympathy. “She’s tough, huh?”

I nodded, but before I could dwell on it, he gestured to the boy standing beside him.

“Oh, this is Hoseok, by the way—a friend of mine,” Jimin introduced, nudging the boy gently.

I turned my attention to him and smiled. “Nice to meet you, Hoseok-shi! I’m Y/N!”

Hoseok’s eyes widened slightly, and a faint blush crept up his cheeks as he returned my smile. “N-Nice to meet you,” he stammered, quickly extending his hand for a handshake.

His hand was warm, his grip firm yet gentle. I noticed how his flustered expression softened when he smiled—a quiet, genuine kind of warmth.

“So, why are you here alone, Y/N-ah?” Jimin asked, his tone shifting to one of concern. “You shouldn’t be wandering around by yourself. Come with us—it’s safer since our homes are just a few blocks away from yours.”

I hesitated, glancing at my phone. “Well, my dad said he’d pick me up... but that was 45 minutes ago. I guess he forgot.”

Jimin frowned, crossing his arms. “Seriously? You’ve been waiting all this time? Come on, you’re not staying out here alone.”

“Jimin’s right,” Hoseok chimed in softly, though his gaze avoided mine. “It’s late, and it’s better if we stick together.”

I chuckled at their concern, but deep down, I appreciated it. “Alright, fine. Lead the way, gentlemen.”

As we walked, Jimin kept the conversation light, telling funny stories about their dance practice earlier. Hoseok was quieter, occasionally adding a comment here and there, but mostly keeping his eyes on the road ahead.

Despite his silence, there was something calming about Hoseok’s presence. It felt natural, even though we’d just met.

“So, Y/N,” Jimin said suddenly, grinning mischievously, “did you know Hoseok here is a hip-hop dancer?”

My eyebrows raised in surprise as I turned to Hoseok. “Really? That’s amazing!”

Hoseok scratched the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed. “It’s nothing special...”

“Are you kidding? He’s incredible!” Jimin cut in before I could respond. “You should see him in action sometime.”

I smiled at Hoseok, whose blush deepened. “I’d love to. Maybe you could teach me a move or two.”

He chuckled softly, his shyness fading for a moment. “Only if you promise to teach me how to pirouette.”

“Deal,” I said, laughing.

And just like that, the evening didn’t seem so tiring anymore.

Y/N POV

I pushed the door open to our house, the familiar scent of my dad’s cologne lingering faintly in the air. He was seated at the dining table, papers scattered in front of him, his glasses perched low on his nose. His focus was split between a document and his laptop.

“I’m home,” I said, my voice tired but soft.

He looked up, startled. “Honey, I’m sorry. I forgot—it’s just—”

“It’s fine, Dad. Jimin came along.” I offered him a small, reassuring smile, hoping to ease the guilt in his eyes.

“Well, that was nice of him,” he said, returning my smile. This one was sincere but tinged with the weariness of a long day.

I nodded and gave him a lip-tight smile before heading upstairs. As I climbed the steps, I could feel the weight of the day pressing down on me. My bag hit the bed with a soft thud, and I closed my bedroom door behind me, leaning against it for a moment before sliding down to the floor.

I wasn’t mad at Dad. I never could be. Growing up, it was just the two of us against the world.

When I was two, my mother left. She cheated on Dad, and their divorce wasn’t just the end of a marriage—it was the end of a life he had envisioned for me and for himself. He didn’t talk about her much, and I never pushed him to. All I knew was that she chose to leave, and he chose to stay.

Dad raised me on his own, balancing work as a lawyer and parenting a child. I couldn’t imagine how hard it must’ve been for him, but I could see it in the lines on his face, the way he sighed after a long day, the way he smiled at me even when he was exhausted.

And he did more than just raise me—he loved me. He showed me that even when life broke you, you could still hold onto the pieces that mattered most.

But the downside of his job was the time it took away from us. He earned more than enough to give me a comfortable life, but sometimes I’d trade all of it for just one evening of his undivided attention.

I stood up, peeling off my jacket and throwing it on the bed alongside my bag. My room felt quiet, almost too quiet, the faint hum of the city outside the only sound.

Walking to my desk, I sat down and stared at the photo frame perched on the corner. It was a picture of me and Dad from my ballet recital when I was eight. My tutu was crooked, and his tie was slightly undone, but we were both smiling—beaming, actually. That was a good day.

I picked up the frame and ran my thumb across the glass. “You’re doing your best, Dad,” I whispered. “And I’ll keep doing mine too.”

With a deep breath, I set the frame back down and stood up. Tomorrow was another day—a day to dance, to laugh, and to keep going, no matter how tired I felt.

Y/N POV

7:20 PM.

The halls of my ballet school were quiet, the sound of my footsteps echoing softly against the polished floors. Being early wasn’t just a rule here—it was an unspoken requirement. Mrs. Ka had drilled it into us that punctuality was a reflection of discipline, and in ballet, discipline was everything.

I pushed the studio door open, and the familiar silence greeted me. No chattering classmates, no authoritative commands from Mrs. Ka—just peace. The stillness wrapped around me like a warm blanket, and for once, I felt at ease.

Being the first to arrive had its perks. Practicing alone meant no one to judge, no one to critique, and no one to dictate my movements. It was just me, the music, and the freedom to express myself however I wanted.

I placed my bag in the corner, stretched for a few minutes, and queued up my music. The soft, haunting melody of “Love Story” by Indila began to fill the room, its rhythm pulling me in as if it were speaking directly to my soul.

Closing my eyes, I let the music guide me. Each movement flowed naturally—graceful extensions, delicate turns, and soft landings. I didn’t have to think; I just felt. My body responded to every note, every beat, creating a story with each step.

It was in these moments that I truly fell in love with ballet again—not as an obligation, but as an art form that allowed me to escape.

I finished with a slow arabesque, holding the final position as the last notes faded into silence. My chest rose and fell as I caught my breath, a small smile tugging at my lips.

But before I could savor the moment, the sound of clapping startled me.

I turned quickly, my cheeks flushing when I saw them—Jimin and Hoseok standing near the doorway, both of them watching me with amused expressions.

“That was beautiful, Y/N,” Jimin said, walking toward me with a wide grin. “I didn’t know you liked practicing solo.”

I managed an awkward laugh, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. “I didn’t know you two were there.”

“Well,” Jimin said, glancing at Hoseok with a smirk, “we didn’t want to interrupt such a masterpiece.”

Hoseok, who had been quiet, stepped forward, his expression softer. “You’re... really amazing,” he said, his voice low but genuine.

I blinked, taken aback by the sincerity in his words. “Thank you, Hoseok-shi,” I replied, feeling a warm blush creep up my neck.

Jimin, ever the playful one, clapped Hoseok on the back. “See, I told you she’s good, didn’t I? And Y/N, this guy here wouldn’t stop talking about how cool the studio looked when we walked in.”

Hoseok’s face turned a light shade of pink, and he quickly shook his head. “That’s not true! I just... thought it was nice.”

I giggled, feeling the tension ease. “Well, I’m glad you both enjoyed the show.”

Jimin plopped down on the floor, motioning for me to sit too. “Now that we’re all here, why don’t we show each other some moves? Ballet meets hip hop—what do you say, Y/N?”

I raised an eyebrow, my curiosity piqued. “You want me to try hip hop?”

“Why not?” Hoseok said, his lips curving into a small smile. “It could be fun.”

I looked between the two of them, their excitement contagious. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be just another routine practice after all.

Author's POV

Hoseok took a step toward the speaker, pulling out his phone. With a few taps, a vibrant, bass-heavy beat filled the studio. It was unmistakably hip-hop—energetic, bold, and brimming with attitude.

As the music kicked in, Hoseok’s demeanor shifted. His previously shy, reserved aura transformed into one of confidence and charisma. His body moved effortlessly to the rhythm, every pop, lock, and wave executed with precision and flair.

Y/N stood to the side, watching in awe. Each movement seemed to tell a story, the way his feet glided across the floor, how his arms hit the beats with sharp precision, and the way his entire body seemed to breathe with the music.

He wasn’t just dancing—he was commanding the room.

But what caught Y/N off guard the most was the way he kept stealing glances at her. Hoseok’s eyes would flicker her way between moves, as if silently asking, Are you watching?

And oh, she was.

Jimin leaned casually against the wall, a knowing smirk on his face as he observed the scene. It was clear he had seen this side of Hoseok before, but seeing Y/N’s reaction made the moment all the more entertaining.

As the music reached its climax, Hoseok executed a smooth spin and slid toward Y/N with perfect timing. His hand extended gracefully as he ended his freestyle with a light kiss on her hand, his gaze locking with hers.

The gesture was playful yet charming, and it sent a jolt of electricity through the room.

Y/N’s cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink as she let out a shy chuckle, her free hand covering her mouth. “That was... wow,” she said softly, her voice laced with genuine admiration.

Jimin, of course, couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease. “Hyung, that was smooth. Real smooth,” he quipped, crossing his arms with a smirk. “You’ve been practicing that move, haven’t you?”

Hoseok laughed, his confident facade faltering slightly as his own cheeks turned a faint pink. “It just... fit the moment,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck.

Y/N smiled, still flustered but undeniably impressed. “I don’t know if I can follow that. You’re incredible, Hoseok-shi.”

“You don’t have to follow it,” Hoseok said, his voice soft yet reassuring. “Just feel the music, like you do with ballet. That’s all hip hop is—feeling it.”

Jimin clapped his hands together. “Alright, Y/N! Your turn. Hoseok-hyung can guide you.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment but then nodded, a mix of nerves and excitement bubbling within her. Maybe this was her chance to step out of her comfort zone—and maybe, just maybe, Hoseok had something to do with that.

Y/N took a deep breath, her nerves bubbling to the surface as she stepped closer to Hoseok. The confidence she felt during ballet practice was nowhere to be found, replaced instead by the uncertainty of trying something entirely new.

“Alright,” she said, her voice light with a hint of nervous laughter. “Don’t laugh if I mess this up.”

Hoseok grinned, his eyes sparkling with encouragement. “No one’s going to laugh. Just have fun with it.”

The upbeat music continued to play, and Hoseok took a step back, giving her space to try. Y/N mimicked his earlier movements, starting with an awkward attempt at popping her shoulders and shifting her weight from side to side.

It wasn’t smooth. In fact, it was far from it. Her movements were stiff, her timing just a little off, and her normally graceful posture clashed hilariously with the relaxed flow of hip hop.

But she laughed—really laughed—as she stumbled through each motion, shaking her head at herself. “This is harder than it looks!” she exclaimed, covering her face with her hands for a moment.

To Hoseok, however, she was absolutely adorable. There was something so genuine about the way she tried, how she wasn’t afraid to laugh at herself, and the way her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“You’re doing great,” he said, his tone soft and reassuring. “You just need to loosen up. Don’t think about it too much—let the music take over.”

Y/N nodded, biting her lip as she tried again. This time, she let her body move a little more freely, her laughter becoming a part of the rhythm. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better, and Hoseok couldn’t help but smile.

“See? You’re getting it!” he said, clapping his hands in encouragement.

“Am I, though?” Y/N teased, spinning in a way that was far more ballet than hip hop.

Hoseok laughed, stepping closer. “Alright, let me help.” He placed a hand lightly on her shoulder, guiding her into a looser posture. “Relax your shoulders, let your knees bend a little more... there you go.”

She followed his guidance, her movements becoming more natural. Even if she wasn’t a hip-hop dancer yet, she was having fun—and that was what mattered most.

Jimin, watching from the side, crossed his arms with a wide grin. “You two look like you’re in your own little world over there.”

Y/N shot him a playful glare. “You’re supposed to be helping, not commenting!”

Hoseok chuckled, stepping back to give her some space again. “Ignore him. You’re doing amazing, Y/N. Just keep going.”

She smiled, her confidence growing with each step. For the first time in a long time, she let herself just enjoy the moment, free from the strict expectations of ballet or the pressure to be perfect.

And Hoseok? He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“Y/N Y/L/N and Park Jimin,” Mrs. Ka’s stern voice echoed through the room, sharp and commanding as always.

The sound startled all three of them, and Jimin immediately scrambled to pause the music blasting from the speaker. The abrupt silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the nervous shuffling of feet.

Y/N and Jimin quickly bowed, their voices overlapping as they greeted her in unison, “Good evening, Mrs. Ka.” Their nervous tones betrayed the respect they held for her authority.

Hoseok, however, was caught off guard. He stood frozen in place, unsure whether he should bow as well, and instead offered an awkward half-nod.

Mrs. Ka’s piercing eyes zeroed in on him immediately. She approached, her sharp heels clicking against the polished floor as she examined him from head to toe. Her gaze was cold, calculating, and entirely intimidating.

“And who, may I ask, is this?” she inquired, her tone laced with disapproval as her eyes narrowed slightly at Hoseok’s casual attire and hip-hop stance.

Before Hoseok could stammer out a response, Jimin stepped forward, his smile nervous but polite. “This is Hoseok, Mrs. Ka. He’s a friend of mine—a dancer. He, uh... just stopped by to visit.”

Mrs. Ka raised an eyebrow, her eyes flickering between the three of them. “A dancer, you say?” Her tone was skeptical, as if the very idea of Hoseok qualifying as a dancer was preposterous. “What style?”

“Hip hop,” Hoseok replied confidently, though his voice remained calm and respectful.

Mrs. Ka’s lips pressed into a thin line, her disapproval evident. “Hip hop,” she repeated, her voice dripping with disdain. “I see. And what, exactly, are you doing in my studio?”

“I didn’t mean to intrude,” Hoseok said quickly, bowing deeply this time. “I was just showing Y/N and Jimin a few moves. I apologize if I’ve overstepped.”

Y/N stepped forward, her heart pounding as she mustered the courage to speak. “Mrs. Ka, Hoseok was just helping me loosen up. I asked him to. I wanted to... try something new.”

Mrs. Ka’s gaze shifted to Y/N, her expression softening just slightly. “And why, Y/N, would you think that hip hop—” she said the word as if it were distasteful, “—has any relevance to ballet?”

Y/N hesitated, glancing at Hoseok for a brief moment before replying. “Because... dance is about expression, isn’t it? Hoseok’s style may be different, but it has its own beauty. I thought learning from him might help me grow as a dancer.”

Her words hung in the air, and for a brief moment, Mrs. Ka’s face betrayed the faintest flicker of surprise.

Jimin, sensing the tension, quickly added, “And he’s really good, Mrs. Ka. I’ve seen him dance before—he’s incredible.”

Mrs. Ka took a step back, folding her arms as she studied Hoseok once more. Finally, she spoke, her voice sharp but measured.

“Very well. If this... Hoseok wishes to share his talent, he may do so. But,” she added, her gaze hardening as she turned to Hoseok, “you will follow the rules of this studio. No disruptions, no unapproved music, and no interference with my curriculum. Do I make myself clear?”

Hoseok nodded immediately. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”

Mrs. Ka straightened her posture, her presence commanding as ever. “Good. Y/N, Jimin, back to your positions. And Hoseok...” She paused, her tone almost grudging. “Show me this ‘hip hop’ you’re so proud of. Perhaps I’ll see if it has any merit.”

Hoseok blinked, surprised but determined. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, stepping forward with newfound confidence.

As the tension in the room shifted, Y/N couldn’t help but glance at Hoseok, a small smile tugging at her lips. She wasn’t sure what was going to happen next, but she had a feeling it was going to be unforgettable.

Hoseok glanced at Y/N, catching her worried expression. She gave him an encouraging nod, her lips curling into a soft, supportive smile. It was a silent message: You’ve got this.

He couldn’t help but smile back, feeling a sudden rush of determination. If there was one thing he was good at, it was letting his dance speak for him. And if this was his chance to show Mrs. Ka—and maybe even Y/N—what hip hop was all about, he was going to give it his all.

He stepped into the center of the studio, rolling his shoulders back and stretching his arms. His movements were smooth and deliberate, each stretch a prelude to the performance he was about to give.

Y/N watched with quiet admiration. There was something captivating about the way Hoseok carried himself—his confidence wasn’t boastful; it was simply rooted in his passion.

Mrs. Ka stood off to the side, arms crossed and expression unreadable. “Whenever you’re ready,” she said curtly.

Hoseok nodded, pulling out his phone to select the perfect track. He scrolled quickly, landing on a song with an infectious beat that showcased the best of hip hop’s energy and groove. The first notes of the music filled the room, and Hoseok stepped into position.

As soon as the beat dropped, Hoseok came alive. His body moved like it was in perfect sync with the rhythm—sharp pops, fluid waves, and intricate footwork blended together seamlessly. Every move was precise yet effortless, his transitions so smooth it was as if the music itself was dictating his steps.

Y/N couldn’t take her eyes off him. She’d seen him dance before, but this was different. This wasn’t just freestyle—it was a performance. He wasn’t just dancing to impress Mrs. Ka; he was showing the room who he was as a dancer.

Mrs. Ka’s gaze, though initially skeptical, softened slightly as she observed his technique. While hip hop was far removed from the elegance of ballet, there was undeniable skill and artistry in Hoseok’s movements. His control, timing, and emotional expression were all on par with any professional dancer.

As the music built to its climax, Hoseok executed a series of fast, intricate isolations before transitioning into a powerful freeze, balancing on one hand with perfect stability. He held the pose for a beat before landing softly on his feet, finishing with a subtle bow.

The room fell silent, save for the faint hum of the music fading out.

Y/N clapped first, her hands coming together enthusiastically as her face lit up with a proud smile. “That was amazing, Hoseok!” she said, her voice breaking the quiet.

Jimin joined in, whooping and clapping loudly. “Hyung, you killed it!”

Mrs. Ka remained still, her expression unreadable. Finally, she spoke. “Impressive,” she said, her tone begrudging but honest. “You have control and creativity. And I can see you take this seriously.”

Hoseok bowed again, his chest heaving slightly from the exertion. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said humbly.

Mrs. Ka’s gaze flickered to Y/N and Jimin. “Y/N, Jimin, learn from this. While the style may be different, the dedication and precision are the same. You may continue practicing. Hoseok, if you wish to observe or assist, you may do so—within reason.”

Y/N beamed, turning to Hoseok with a grin. “You did it,” she whispered, her eyes shining with excitement.

Hoseok smiled back, his heart fluttering at her words. “Thanks. I’m just glad I didn’t fall on my face.”

As the group returned to their practice, Hoseok couldn’t help but feel like he’d gained more than just the approval of a strict ballet teacher—he’d earned Y/N’s admiration, and that, to him, was worth everything.

As Y/N returned to her position on the floor, her energy bubbling with excitement from Hoseok’s performance, Mrs. Ka’s sharp eyes flickered between the young man and her student. She was a seasoned observer, skilled at picking up on unspoken gestures and subtle cues—and there was something about the way Hoseok’s gaze lingered on Y/N that piqued her interest.

Jimin, standing off to the side, caught it too. Hoseok’s usually bright and playful demeanor seemed to soften whenever he looked at Y/N, his smiles lingering just a little longer, his eyes carrying a warmth that didn’t go unnoticed.

Mrs. Ka didn’t comment at first, but her lips curled ever so slightly into a knowing smirk. “Jimin,” she said in her sharp, no-nonsense tone, causing him to straighten up immediately.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Perhaps you and I are witnessing something here,” she said quietly, her voice low enough for only him to hear.

Jimin followed her gaze, glancing between Hoseok and Y/N. Hoseok was standing off to the side, hands casually in his pockets, but his eyes were fixed on Y/N as she prepared for the next part of her routine. He looked proud, almost as if every move she made was worthy of applause.

Jimin’s lips tugged into a mischievous grin. “Maybe we are, Mrs. Ka,” he replied, his voice light with teasing.

Mrs. Ka hummed, her eyes narrowing slightly as she folded her arms. “Let’s see if this... admiration becomes a distraction.”

Meanwhile, Y/N, oblivious to the quiet observation from her teacher and friend, took her position at the barre. She adjusted her posture, preparing for the next exercise. When she turned her head slightly, she noticed Hoseok watching her.

“What?” she asked softly, her voice carrying a playful edge.

Hoseok blinked, caught off guard, and quickly rubbed the back of his neck. “Nothing,” he said with a sheepish grin. “You’re just... really focused. It’s cool to see.”

Y/N blushed faintly, turning back to face the mirror as she suppressed a shy smile. “Well, I have to be. Mrs. Ka doesn’t let us slack, you know.”

Hoseok chuckled, and Jimin, standing nearby, leaned in to whisper, “Hyung, you’re not very subtle, you know.”

Hoseok turned to him, his face flushing slightly. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, nothing,” Jimin teased, smirking knowingly. “Just saying that if you keep looking at her like that, Mrs. Ka might make you practice pirouettes too.”

Hoseok laughed nervously, glancing at Mrs. Ka, who was now observing them all like a hawk. “I’m just appreciating her focus,” he mumbled defensively.

“Sure, sure,” Jimin said, his grin widening.

Mrs. Ka cleared her throat, drawing their attention back to her. “If you’re done gossiping, Mr. Park and Mr. Jung, perhaps you’d like to join us in practicing discipline,” she said pointedly, her gaze lingering on Hoseok.

“Yes, ma’am,” Jimin replied quickly, biting back a laugh.

Hoseok nodded as well, stealing one last glance at Y/N before focusing on Mrs. Ka’s instructions. But even as he tried to concentrate, his thoughts kept drifting back to the graceful ballerina who, without realizing it, had captured more than just his admiration.

Mrs. Ka, ever the curious yet composed figure, finally shifted her full attention to Hoseok after observing his interactions and dance performance. Her arms remained crossed as she approached him, her heels clicking against the polished floor.

“Mr. Jung, was it?” she asked, her tone sharp yet neutral.

“Yes, ma’am,” Hoseok replied respectfully, standing a little straighter under her scrutinizing gaze.

“I must admit, your performance surprised me,” she began, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Your movements are precise, and your sense of rhythm is exceptional. But I know nothing about you. Tell me, how old are you?”

Hoseok hesitated for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden questioning. “I’m 16, ma’am.”

“Sixteen,” she repeated, nodding thoughtfully. “And where are you from?”

“I live in Gwangju originally, but I’ve been staying here in Seoul to pursue dance more seriously,” Hoseok explained.

Mrs. Ka raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “And what, exactly, do you hope to achieve with hip hop dance?”

Hoseok’s face lit up with passion as he replied. “I want to be one of the best, ma’am. I want to inspire people with my style and show them how much emotion and storytelling can come through in hip hop. It’s not just moves to me—it’s a way of expressing everything I feel.”

Mrs. Ka studied him carefully, her sharp gaze softening just slightly as she caught the sincerity in his voice. “Ambitious,” she remarked. “And how did you come to be friends with Mr. Park?”

Jimin grinned, stepping forward to answer for him. “We go to the same school, ma’am. Hoseok’s known for his dancing there. I saw him practicing once, and we started talking about dance. The rest is history.”

Mrs. Ka nodded, her attention returning to Hoseok. “You seem determined, Mr. Jung, and I respect that. But I warn you, the world of dance—any style of dance—requires more than passion. It demands discipline, commitment, and the ability to adapt. Do you think you’re prepared for that?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Hoseok replied confidently. “I’m willing to work hard to get better, no matter what it takes.”

Mrs. Ka gave a small nod of approval, her stern demeanor easing slightly. “Very well. You may continue visiting this studio with Mr. Park, but only if you remain respectful of my rules and contribute positively to the atmosphere here. Is that understood?”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you,” Hoseok said, bowing deeply.

Mrs. Ka turned to Y/N, who had been watching the exchange silently, her hands clasped nervously. “Y/N, if Mr. Jung is going to be spending time here, perhaps you can show him the discipline and grace of ballet. You might both learn something from each other.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, but she nodded quickly. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll do my best.”

“Good.” Mrs. Ka’s sharp gaze flicked back to Hoseok one last time. “Don’t make me regret allowing you in here.”

“I won’t, ma’am,” Hoseok promised.

As Mrs. Ka turned and walked away, Jimin elbowed Hoseok playfully. “Well, hyung, looks like you’re officially part of the ballet squad now.”

Hoseok chuckled, his eyes drifting to Y/N, who was smiling shyly at him. “I guess I am,” he said softly, a warm feeling spreading through his chest.

The chilly night air accompanied the sound of footsteps echoing down the quiet streets of Seoul. Y/N walked between Hoseok and Jimin, her ballet bag slung over one shoulder. The streets were peaceful, lit by the warm glow of streetlights, and the three of them chatted casually as they neared Y/N’s house.

“I still can’t believe Mrs. Ka let you in the studio, Hoseok,” Y/N teased, nudging him lightly. “She usually doesn’t warm up to anyone that fast.”

Hoseok grinned, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Guess I’m just that charming,” he joked, earning an eye roll from Jimin.

“More like she was impressed by your dancing,” Jimin said. “And maybe the fact that you couldn’t stop staring at Y/N helped.”

“Jimin!” Y/N exclaimed, her cheeks heating up as she glared at him.

Hoseok’s ears turned red, and he shot Jimin a warning look. “Yah, stop saying stuff like that!”

Jimin just smirked, clearly enjoying himself. “What? It’s true.”

Y/N shook her head, trying to change the subject. “Anyway, thanks for walking me home, guys. It’s nice not having to walk alone for once.”

“We wouldn’t let you,” Hoseok said sincerely, glancing at her. “It’s not safe this late.”

The trio arrived at Y/N’s house, and she dug into her bag for her keys. Before she could open the door, it swung open, revealing her father. He was dressed in his usual business attire, but his tie was loosened, and he looked tired from another long day.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice warm but tinged with surprise. His eyes flicked to Jimin and Hoseok, lingering on the former. “You’re home late.”

“Practice ran long,” Y/N replied, stepping aside to let her father see her companions. “Oh, and this is Jimin—you remember him from school—and his friend Hoseok.”

Her father’s expression softened slightly, but his gaze remained fixed on Jimin. “Ah, Jimin,” he said, his tone casual but with a hint of curiosity. “You’re the one Y/N’s always mentioning.”

“Dad!” Y/N protested, mortified.

Jimin chuckled nervously, bowing politely. “It’s nice to meet you again, sir. I just wanted to make sure Y/N got home safely.”

Her father raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “That’s very considerate of you.” Then, after a pause, he added, “You know, I’ve always wondered… are you and my daughter—”

“Dad!” Y/N cut him off, her face turning bright red. “Jimin and I are just friends. Don’t start.”

Jimin laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “Y-yeah, sir. Just friends.”

Her father gave a small, knowing smile but didn’t press the issue. Instead, he turned to Hoseok, who had been quiet the whole time. “And you’re... Hoseok, was it?”

“Yes, sir,” Hoseok said, bowing respectfully. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Her father nodded, his expression appraising. “You’re a dancer too?”

“Yes, sir. Hip hop,” Hoseok replied, standing a little straighter.

“Hm. Well, thank you both for looking out for my daughter,” her father said, his tone genuine. “It’s nice to know she has good friends.”

Y/N smiled shyly, feeling a sense of relief as her father stepped aside to let her in. “Thanks again, you two,” she said, turning to Hoseok and Jimin.

“No problem,” Jimin replied with a grin.

“Anytime,” Hoseok added, his smile warm.

As they walked away, Y/N could hear Jimin teasing Hoseok under his breath. “I think her dad likes me better than you, hyung.”

Hoseok groaned. “Yah, I didn’t even do anything wrong!”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh softly as she closed the door, shaking her head at the two of them.

It was Saturday evening, and the tension in Y/N’s house was unbearable. Her mother, who had been absent for most of her life, stood in the living room, her sharp voice cutting through the quiet atmosphere.

“I have every right to see her!” her mother yelled, pointing an accusatory finger at her father.

“You walked away from her when she was two,” her father retorted, his voice firm but controlled. “You don’t get to show up now and demand anything.”

Y/N stood frozen at the top of the stairs, clutching the banister tightly. She hadn’t seen her mother in years, and now, here she was, trying to take her away from the life she had built with her dad.

“I’ve changed,” her mother insisted. “I can give her a better life—better opportunities.”

Her father’s jaw clenched. “You think money is all that matters? Y/N has a home here. She’s happy. She doesn’t need you disrupting her life.”

Unable to listen anymore, Y/N bolted down the stairs, tears already welling up in her eyes. “Stop it!” she shouted, her voice trembling. Both her parents turned to look at her, their argument coming to an abrupt halt.

“Y/N,” her mother said softly, taking a step toward her. “I just want what’s best for you.”

“What’s best for me?” Y/N’s voice cracked as tears streamed down her cheeks. “You think showing up after all these years and trying to take me away is what’s best for me?”

Her mother’s face fell, but Y/N didn’t wait for a response. She grabbed her jacket and ran out the door, ignoring her father’s calls for her to stop.

Y/N didn’t know how far she had run, but she eventually found herself in a bustling plaza. The sound of music and cheering snapped her out of her thoughts. A crowd had gathered around a makeshift stage where a street dancing competition was in full swing.

She weaved through the crowd, her heart still pounding from the argument and the run. As she reached the front, she froze. There, on the stage, was Hoseok.

He moved with such energy and precision, his passion evident in every step. The crowd roared as he ended his routine with a powerful move, his confidence radiating as he smiled and bowed.

As Hoseok stepped off the stage, his eyes scanned the crowd—and then he saw her. His smile faltered when he noticed her red, tear-streaked eyes. Without hesitation, he made his way toward her.

“Y/N?” he said softly, his voice filled with concern. “What happened?”

Y/N tried to wipe her tears away, but they kept falling. “I… I just needed to get away,” she whispered.

Hoseok placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, guiding her away from the crowd to a quieter corner. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said, his voice soothing. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

But the moment she looked at his kind eyes, the words spilled out. She told him everything—about her mother’s sudden appearance, the fight, and how she felt torn between two worlds.

Hoseok listened intently, his expression softening with every word. When she finished, he said, “I can’t imagine how hard that must be for you, but you don’t have to go through this alone. I’m here, okay?”

Y/N nodded, a small, grateful smile tugging at her lips. “Thank you, Hoseok.”

“Come on,” he said, standing up and offering her his hand. “Let’s do something to take your mind off things.”

The two spent the next few hours wandering around the plaza, eating street food and laughing as Hoseok did silly dance moves to cheer her up. For the first time that evening, Y/N felt a sense of peace.

As the night deepened, Y/N’s father arrived at the plaza, his eyes scanning the crowd frantically. When he finally spotted her sitting on a bench with Hoseok, relief washed over his face.

“Y/N!” he called, rushing over.

Y/N stood up, guilt and worry written all over her face. “Dad, I’m sorry—”

Her father pulled her into a tight hug, cutting her off. “Don’t apologize. I was so worried about you.”

Hoseok stepped back, giving them space, but Y/N’s father turned to him with a nod of gratitude. “Thank you for looking after her,” he said sincerely.

Hoseok smiled. “Of course. I’m glad I could help.”

Y/N looked between the two, her heart swelling with a mix of emotions. In that moment, she realized how lucky she was to have people who cared so much about her.

As they made their way home, Y/N glanced at Hoseok one last time, her eyes meeting his. He gave her an encouraging smile, and she knew she wasn’t alone—not with people like him in her life.

Weeks had passed, and Y/N found herself spending more and more time with Hoseok. Whether it was sharing laughs over street food, practicing their respective dances together, or simply walking through the city, their bond grew stronger with each passing day. Hoseok had a way of making her feel seen, like she could be herself without the weight of expectations or judgment.

Jimin, however, had returned to Busan to visit his family. While Y/N missed her close friend, Hoseok filled the void effortlessly, and the two had become inseparable.

One sunny afternoon, Y/N and Hoseok sat on a park bench near a dance studio. Hoseok was scrolling through his phone while Y/N twirled a blade of grass between her fingers. The day was calm, and for once, Y/N felt a sense of stability.

“Hey,” Hoseok said, nudging her gently. “You’ve been quiet. What’s on your mind?”

Y/N smiled softly. “Nothing, really. Just… enjoying the peace, I guess.”

Hoseok grinned. “Well, you deserve it after everything you’ve been through.”

Before Y/N could respond, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out to see her father’s name flashing on the screen. Her heart sank; her dad rarely called during the day, and when he did, it was usually important.

“Hello?” she answered, her voice hesitant.

“Y/N,” her father’s voice came through, shaky and laced with emotion. “Honey, I—” His voice broke, and Y/N immediately sat up straighter.

“Dad? What’s wrong?” she asked, panic rising in her chest.

Her father took a deep breath before continuing. “It’s your mother. She’s filed for custody… She wants to take you to the U.S. to live with her and her husband.”

Y/N felt the world tilt around her. “What?!” she exclaimed, her voice trembling. “She can’t do that. I don’t want to go!”

“I know, sweetheart. I’m doing everything I can to fight it,” her father said, his voice cracking. “But she has money, and she’s pulling strings to make this happen. I’m scared, Y/N. I can’t lose you.”

Tears welled up in Y/N’s eyes as she gripped her phone tightly. “You won’t lose me, Dad. I’m not going anywhere.”

Hoseok, who had been quietly observing, reached out and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. Y/N glanced at him, her vision blurred by tears, and he gave her an encouraging nod.

“I’ll come home now,” Y/N said into the phone, her voice steadier than she felt. “We’ll figure this out together.”

Her father sniffled on the other end. “Okay. Be careful, sweetheart. I’ll see you soon.”

When she hung up, she turned to Hoseok, her emotions threatening to overwhelm her. “She’s trying to take me away,” she said, her voice cracking. “She wants to send me to the U.S. to live with her and her new husband.”

Hoseok’s expression darkened with concern. “She can’t just uproot your life like that. You have a say in this, Y/N.”

“I don’t know what to do,” she admitted, wiping her tears away. “I feel like everything’s falling apart.”

Hoseok stood and extended his hand to her. “You’re not alone in this. Let’s go. I’ll walk you home, and we’ll figure this out together.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment before taking his hand. His warmth and confidence steadied her, and she nodded. “Thank you, Hoseok. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

As they made their way to her house, Hoseok stayed close, offering quiet reassurance. Y/N couldn’t shake the dread settling in her chest, but with Hoseok by her side, she felt a glimmer of hope.

The courtroom was heavy with tension as Y/N sat beside her father, her hands trembling in her lap. Across the room sat her mother, poised and confident, with her lawyer presenting a compelling case. Hoseok was seated in the gallery, his presence a quiet but constant source of support. Every now and then, Y/N would glance back at him, and he’d give her an encouraging nod or a soft smile, trying to keep her spirits up.

Her father, however, looked drained. The stress of the trial, the fear of losing his daughter, and the weight of fighting an uphill battle were etched into every line on his face. Y/N’s heart broke seeing him like that.

When the judge finally spoke, the room seemed to hold its breath.

“After careful consideration of all presented evidence and arguments, the court finds that the custody of Y/N Y/L/N will be granted to her mother, effective immediately.”

The words hit Y/N like a punch to the gut. Her heart sank, and tears sprang to her eyes. Her father’s head dropped into his hands, his shoulders shaking as he tried to keep his composure.

“No,” Y/N whispered, her voice cracking. “This isn’t fair.”

Her mother stood, her face a mix of triumph and a feigned sadness. She approached Y/N, reaching out a hand. “Sweetheart, this is for the best. You’ll have a wonderful life in the U.S. with me.”

Y/N recoiled, her emotions boiling over. “You don’t know what’s best for me! You’ve been gone for years, and now you think you can just swoop in and take me away?” Her voice trembled with anger and heartbreak.

“Y/N,” her mother began, but Y/N shook her head.

“No! I want to stay with Dad. I don’t care what the court says,” she cried, turning to her father, who looked utterly broken.

Hoseok stood from the gallery, his fists clenched at his sides. He wanted to rush to her, to tell the court how much her life here mattered, how much she didn’t want this, but there was nothing he could do.

As the bailiff stepped forward to gently urge Y/N to leave with her mother, Hoseok finally moved. He caught her gaze and mouthed, “I’m here.”

Y/N’s tears flowed freely as she nodded at him, grateful for his unwavering support even in the face of something so devastating.

Later that evening, Hoseok found Y/N sitting alone on a bench in the park where they often spent time together. She hugged her knees to her chest, her eyes red and swollen.

He approached quietly, sitting down beside her without a word. For a while, neither of them spoke. The silence was heavy but somehow comforting.

“Everything’s changing,” Y/N finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to go, Hoseok. I don’t want to leave my dad, or my friends, or… you.”

Hoseok’s chest ached at her words. He reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I know, Y/N. I know this feels impossible right now, but you’re stronger than you think. No matter where you are, you’ll always have people who care about you—your dad, Jimin, and me.”

Y/N looked at him, her eyes glistening with tears. “But what if I lose all of that? What if I lose you?”

Hoseok shook his head firmly. “You won’t lose me, Y/N. I promise. We’ll figure out a way to stay connected. And when you need me, I’ll be here for you, no matter what.”

Y/N let out a shaky breath and leaned into him, finding solace in his warmth. Hoseok wrapped an arm around her, holding her close as she let herself cry.

As the night grew colder, Hoseok finally spoke again. “You have a voice, Y/N. Even if the court ruled against you, that doesn’t mean you stop fighting for what you want. Maybe this isn’t over yet.”

His words planted a seed of hope in Y/N’s heart, and for the first time since the trial, she felt a flicker of determination.

The dance studio was dimly lit, its familiar walls offering Y/N a fragile sense of solace as she sat on the floor, knees hugged to her chest. Her tear-streaked face was a portrait of heartbreak and anger. Jimin knelt beside her, a gentle hand on her shoulder, while Hoseok paced nearby, his frustration simmering under the surface. Mrs. Ka, standing by the barre, observed the scene with a quiet, protective demeanor.

“You’re not alone, Y/N,” Jimin said softly, his voice steady but full of concern. “We’re all here for you.”

Hoseok stopped pacing and crouched in front of her, his eyes locking onto hers. “Y/N, you don’t have to keep everything bottled up. Whatever you’re feeling—let it out. We’re here.”

She looked up at him, her lips trembling. “I feel like I’m being ripped away from everything I love,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “It’s not fair.”

Before anyone could respond, the studio door swung open with a loud thud. The sound of heels clicking against the polished floor filled the room, and Y/N’s mother appeared, exuding an air of authority and impatience. Her perfectly pressed suit and cold gaze clashed sharply with the warmth and familiarity of the studio.

“Y/N,” her mother called, her tone clipped. “It’s time to go. Your things are already packed and sent to the penthouse. Our flight leaves tomorrow morning.”

The room fell silent, the tension thick. Jimin and Hoseok both stood, instinctively placing themselves closer to Y/N. Mrs. Ka stepped forward, her sharp eyes narrowing at the intruder.

“Mrs. Y/L/N,” Mrs. Ka said, her voice calm but firm, “you can’t just barge in here and uproot this girl’s life like this. Have you even considered what she wants?”

Y/N’s mother crossed her arms, her lips curling into a condescending smile. “This is not a discussion, Mrs. Ka. Y/N is a minor, and I am her mother. What I decide is what’s best for her.”

Mrs. Ka didn’t back down. “A mother? After years of absence, you suddenly swoop in, claiming authority over a child you barely know? This girl has built a life here, one filled with people who care about her. You think you can buy her love with a penthouse and a plane ticket?”

Y/N’s mother’s gaze hardened, and she scoffed. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. My lawyers have already secured custody. This is no longer up for debate.”

Hoseok clenched his fists but held his tongue, his jaw tight. Jimin, ever the peacemaker, spoke up, his voice steady but with a hint of defiance. “With all due respect, Mrs. Y/L/N, have you even asked Y/N what she wants? Or do you only care about winning this custody battle?”

Her mother’s eyes flicked to Jimin, her expression cold and dismissive. “And who are you, exactly? Another distraction in her life? She doesn’t need ballet friends or… street dancers.” Her gaze fell on Hoseok, her disdain palpable. “She needs structure, discipline, and a future that only I can provide.”

Hoseok stepped forward, unable to hold back any longer. “She doesn’t need someone who’s barely been there for her to decide what’s best for her. Y/N deserves to have a say in her own life. Maybe if you spent less time looking down on the people who actually care about her, you’d understand that.”

Y/N’s mother glared at him, but before she could retort, Mrs. Ka interjected, her voice sharp and commanding. “Enough. This is Y/N’s life we’re talking about, not a game of who has the most power. You may have won custody, but that doesn’t mean you’ve won her heart.”

Y/N, who had been silent throughout the confrontation, finally stood, her voice trembling but determined. “Stop.”

The room fell silent as all eyes turned to her.

“I don’t want to go,” she said, her voice steady despite the tears streaming down her face. “I don’t care about penthouses or flights to the U.S. I want to stay with my dad. I want to stay with the people who actually know me, who actually care about me.”

Her mother’s expression softened for a brief moment, but it quickly hardened again. “Y/N, I know this is difficult, but you’ll thank me someday. This is what’s best for you.”

“No, it’s not,” Y/N shot back, her voice rising. “What’s best for me is having a choice. And right now, you’re taking that away from me.”

Hoseok and Jimin exchanged glances, their hearts breaking for her but also swelling with pride at her courage. Mrs. Ka placed a comforting hand on Y/N’s shoulder, her silent support loud and clear.

Y/N’s mother let out a frustrated sigh, pulling her phone from her bag. “We’re done here. I’ll see you at the penthouse, Y/N. And don’t make me call the authorities to get you there.”

With that, she turned on her heel and strode out of the studio, leaving a heavy silence in her wake.

As soon as the door closed, Y/N collapsed into Hoseok’s arms, her sobs breaking the quiet. He held her tightly, whispering soothing words as Jimin and Mrs. Ka looked on with concern.

“You’re not alone, Y/N,” Hoseok murmured, his voice steady and reassuring. “We’ll figure this out together. I promise.”

Author's POV

The morning was unusually quiet as Y/N stood at the airport terminal, clutching her boarding pass. Her heart felt heavy, a mixture of sadness and resignation swirling in her chest. Her mother stood a few steps ahead, briskly checking documents and speaking with the flight attendant, oblivious to the storm raging inside her daughter.

Y/N glanced at the glass doors behind her one last time, silently praying for a miracle. She hoped to see her dad rushing in, Hoseok with that determined fire in his eyes, and Jimin offering his usual calm reassurance. But all she saw was the steady flow of strangers moving through the terminal.

Meanwhile…

Hoseok, Jimin, and Y/N’s dad were racing through the crowded streets of Seoul. Her father gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white, as he cursed every red light and traffic jam in their path.

“We’ll make it,” Hoseok said, his voice firm, though his heart was pounding in panic. He looked at Jimin, who sat quietly in the back seat, worry etched into his face.

“She can’t leave like this,” Jimin murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

Hoseok clenched his fists. “She won’t. Not if we get there in time.”

But deep down, a gnawing fear told him they might already be too late.

Y/N’s boarding gate was announced, and her mother gestured for her to follow. As they walked toward the gate, Y/N slowed her pace, turning one last time toward the terminal’s entrance. Her heart leapt when she spotted three figures running toward the security checkpoint—her dad, Jimin, and Hoseok.

“Dad!” Y/N cried out, her voice cracking with emotion.

Her father shouted her name, his voice filled with desperation. Hoseok and Jimin followed close behind, their faces etched with determination. But the security barrier stood between them, and the flight attendant ushered Y/N and her mother forward.

Tears streamed down her face as she mouthed, “I’m sorry,” before disappearing through the gate.

Hoseok froze, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he watched her leave. The sight of her disappearing felt like someone had punched him in the chest. He wanted to scream, to run after her, but there was nothing he could do.

Jimin placed a hand on his shoulder, his own tears threatening to spill. “She didn’t want this, Hoseok. You know that.”

Y/N’s father stood silent, his shoulders sagging as the reality of the situation sank in.

Hoseok clenched his jaw, his hands trembling. “I’ll find her,” he whispered, his voice filled with quiet resolve. “Someday, I’ll find her. And when I do, I’ll make sure she knows she’s not alone.”

At 24 years old, Jung Hoseok had become a name known worldwide. From underground battles to global stages, he had risen to fame as a hip-hop icon and rapper, renowned for his incredible talent, charisma, and passion. He poured his heart into every performance, his journey fueled by one unwavering promise: to find Y/N.

Underneath the glittering lights and roaring applause, there was still a part of him that felt incomplete. Every city he toured, every crowd he performed for, he kept an eye out for her. He knew she was out there somewhere, and he wouldn’t stop until he saw her again.

One evening, after a sold-out show in Los Angeles, Hoseok sat backstage, scrolling through messages on his phone. His manager handed him a piece of fan mail—a handwritten letter addressed specifically to him.

As he opened it, his breath caught in his throat. The neat handwriting was unmistakable, and the words on the page made his heart race.

“Hoseok, if you’re reading this, it means I finally worked up the courage to reach out. I’ve been following your journey, and I’m so proud of you. I never forgot the promise you made that day, and I hope you know… I kept waiting. – Y/N”

Hoseok’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as a small smile spread across his face. For the first time in years, he felt the pieces of his heart beginning to come back together.

“Where is she?” he asked, his voice steady but filled with urgency.

His manager glanced at the envelope. “There’s a return address. She’s here. In L.A.”

Hoseok stood, his heart pounding as hope surged through him. “Then let’s go.”

The late afternoon sun cast a golden glow over Los Angeles as Y/N sat on the couch of her modest apartment, lost in thought. It had been years since she’d left Seoul, and though she’d managed to build a new life in the U.S., her heart never quite felt whole. Memories of her father, Jimin, and Hoseok lingered in her mind, often sneaking up on her when she least expected it.

The faint chime of her doorbell snapped her out of her reverie. She frowned, glancing at the clock. She wasn’t expecting anyone.

Rising from the couch, she walked to the door and peered through the peephole. Her heart skipped a beat, her breath catching in her throat. She blinked, thinking her eyes were playing tricks on her.

Slowly, she opened the door.

Standing there, with the biggest smile and teary eyes, was Hoseok. Beside him were Jimin and her father, both looking just as emotional.

“Y/N,” Hoseok said, his voice soft yet filled with so much emotion that it made her knees weak.

For a moment, she froze, staring at the three men who had been her entire world years ago. Then, as if a dam broke, she launched herself into her father’s arms, tears streaming down her face.

“Dad!” she sobbed, clinging to him tightly.

Her father hugged her just as fiercely, his own tears falling freely. “I’ve missed you so much, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Every single day.”

Y/N pulled away just enough to look at Jimin, who was already opening his arms. “Jimin-ah!” she cried, wrapping him in a tight hug.

“Y/N-ah, it’s so good to see you,” Jimin said, his voice breaking.

Finally, she turned to Hoseok, who stood a few steps behind them, his hands buried in his pockets, as if unsure if he should step forward.

“Hoseok,” she said softly, her voice trembling.

He smiled gently, his eyes glistening. “Hey.”

Without hesitation, Y/N ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck. He caught her easily, holding her tightly as if afraid she’d slip away again.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” she whispered, her voice muffled against his shoulder.

“I promised I’d find you, didn’t I?” he murmured, pulling back slightly to look into her eyes. “And I never break my promises.”

She smiled through her tears, overwhelmed by the sheer joy of having them all back in her life.

The four of them sat together in Y/N’s small living room, catching up on everything they’d missed. Her father shared stories of home, Jimin talked about his travels and how much he missed their late-night ballet practices, and Hoseok recounted his journey to becoming the global star he was today.

“I’ve been following you,” Y/N admitted shyly, glancing at Hoseok. “I watched your performances, your interviews. You’ve come so far.”

Hoseok chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “It wasn’t just for me,” he said, his eyes meeting hers. “Everything I did, every stage I performed on, I did it hoping you’d see me. Hoping it’d lead me back to you.”

Her cheeks flushed, and Jimin smirked knowingly, elbowing her lightly.

Her father, who had been quiet for a while, cleared his throat. “Y/N, I fought for you back then, but I didn’t fight hard enough. I’m so sorry I let you go. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Y/N reached out to hold his hand, squeezing it tightly. “You didn’t let me go, Dad. You did everything you could. And now… we’re here.”

The reunion was bittersweet, filled with laughter, tears, and a renewed sense of hope. For the first time in years, Y/N felt like she belonged again, surrounded by the people who truly cared for her.

Later That Evening…

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the room in a warm glow, Hoseok and Y/N found themselves alone on the balcony. The city stretched out before them, its lights twinkling like stars.

“I can’t believe you’re really here,” Y/N said, leaning against the railing.

Hoseok smiled, leaning beside her. “I meant what I said, Y/N. I never stopped looking for you. And now that I’ve found you, I’m not letting you go.”

She turned to him, her heart swelling. “Thank you, Hoseok. For everything.”

He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You don’t have to thank me. Just promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Stay,” he said simply, his voice soft but resolute. “No matter what happens, stay with us. With me.”

Tears welled up in her eyes as she nodded. “I promise.”

Hoseok smiled, and in that moment, with the city lights shimmering around them and the promise of a brighter future ahead, everything felt right. Everything is now dancing in harmony.

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