Egocentric to pray for a delay in sunrise, but you would do it for a fracture in time would

serve well as a sanctuary for your dormant star; nonetheless, when night ends and day

arrives, the sweet tears of midnight will vaporize into inexistence.

Night strings along irrationality in an overexposure of our deepest subconscious. At the

deepest of troughs and under the darkest of skies, there, we lie more vulnerable and

prone to false hope than ever, for last night is the ultimate testament to mankind’s

greatest fear.

Emotions could have been running high, lethargy could have gotten the best of him,

anything could have and would have shattered the boy of last night’s scattered soul

poorly taped into a fragile whole; ironically, however, it is exactly the spill of burdens

and truths of the night to the attentive ears of a beholder, you, which had saved him

from such atrocities.

So you prayed, prayed for dusk to drown dawn in an endless embrace with itself until the

boy could �nally relish in the long awaited night’s rest, and yet, still, you feared the

longer he slept in the comfor ts of super�cial dreams, the stronger his demons would

return; and so, with a heavy and anxious hear t, you had found yourself trapped in your

own double edged sword of a state—basking in his warm presence, shivering in your

guilty conscience.

In the end, all is for naught when the peak of sun rays through the slit of the cur tains

showers upon your cheeks perched on the armrest of a couch.

Squinting, you groan in a groggy voice before regretfully slipping the �rst word which

comes to mind.

“Hoseok ?”

Your following silence meets its own reflection.

With stained effor ts, your body slumps into the couch as your half awakened state scans

through the room that remains perfectly untouched. The remnants of your memories

recalls how you had somehow stumbled your way to the couch sitting beside the bed of

your motel room, refusing to fall asleep just inches beside the boy in your bed; although,

said boy remains nowhere to be seen as of now.

Heavy steps and rowdy mumbles mu�ed by the floor beneath convince your unwilling

self to drag yourself off the couch, slipping the blanket you recall being gently draped

over and tucked under you in your sleep last night to the floor. Matters of the previous

night forgotten, your feet stumble its way to the bathroom, disregarding the perfectly

folded and tucked sheets of where he should have been lying. A few splashes of cold

water to your drowsy state are surprisingly enough to fully awaken you after a relatively

nice albeit anxious night of rest; with aler tness, however, floods the remembrance of

him.

“Jimin!” you call out, weaving through the incoming crowd of camp attendees packing

their bags. Catching sight of the rather petite boy chatting away with his usual friends,

Taehyung and Jungkook, you take one �nal stride before urgently pulling off to the side.

“Hey, Y/N,” his eyes widen in confusion by the sudden greeting, “what’s up?”

“Do you know what’s going on with Hoseok? Did anything happen to him yesterday

evening?” you blur t, pausing for a second until another thought comes to mind. “Oh, and

what do you mean he wasn’t on patrol duty last night? Then what—” you stop abruptly

when you realize Hoseok’s likely desire to keep things between you and him con�dential

“—who was on patrol?”

“…I was?” Jimin arches a brow. “Why? Did something happen? Is there something wrong

with Hoseok?”
So he doesn’t know.

None of the boys know the real reason behind Hoseok’s reluctance to return—or at least

the surface level of the seemingly endless depth to that facade of his.

“No,” you quickly deny, shaking your head and scanning the bustling entrance hall; as if

innate, your line of sight naturally draws to the centripetal force of your Ear th’s center.

“Then why—”

“—hey, I’ ll catch up with you later, alright? I still have to pack my bags…” your voice trails

along with your eyes which follow Hoseok as he glides from one side of the room across

to the other. Hand drifting from Jimin’s shoulder, you gradually whirl around and follow

the beckons of your hear t akin to pearls under the sway of the ocean’s waves. “Hoseok!”

Body beneath your sway, Hoseok whirls around to face you with a quizzical look glancing

down at the hand which grasps his arm.

“Yeah?” he asks gently, arching a brow at you when a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

“Is there something I can help you with, babe?”

Initially, you had approached him with the intent to confront him about last night. His

behavior, his words, his burdens, you know he’s hur t and there’s nothing you want more

than to help him, not to mention the unreasonable guilt stirring inside you for failing to

tackle the situation e�ciently then and there; but even despite the momentary shock of

the return of that egotistical mien of his, it’s impossible for you to see him the same way

after witnessing his sheer vulnerability.

For once, you must be sel�ess. Push aside your wants for that of his own, because

unbeknownst to you, his own needs became your wants somewhere along the irrevocable
path of time.

“About last night…” you star t and the crease above his brow only deepens. “I just… I’m

sorry I didn’t comfor t you or ask you this earlier…” you prim and trace your hand along

his arm to meet his hands. Peering up to meet his gaze, he �inches yet you refuse to

turn a blind eye. “…”…but are you doing alright, Hoseok?”

“What…” he frowns and stiffens in place, “…do you mean by that?”

“I mean,” you clear your throat, shifting your weight, “are you okay? Is there anything you

want or need to tell me? Or anyone? Because I just want you to know I’m always here to

lend an—

“—look , I don’t know what you’re rambling on about,” Hoseok chuckles, retracting his

hands from yours to nonchalantly ru�e your hair before crossing his arms, “but all I

recall from last night is a cer tain someone refusing to sleep on the same bed as me. I

almost forgot I was dating the most pristine of the untainted.”

“…rambling on about?” you repeat in a mumble, frowning and shaking your head. “No,

Hoseok, listen, when you mentioned dance and… and your passion for it, I didn’t know

how to respond because you were actually opening up to me.”

Hoseok blinks blankly, deep breaths in and out as his chest rises higher and steadier

with each puff before he equivocates, “Y/N, I don’t recall anything of such sor ts, and

even if they did happen, I don’t want to hear about it.”

“Hoseok—” you pause when your voice fails you “—I’m not forcing you to talk about it, I

just want you to know—”

“—Y/N ,” he sternly ar ticulates, gaze a�xing to yours with impatience. “I have to help the

others load their bags onto the char ter, and from what I can tell,” his eyes scan you up
and down as he chor tles, “don’t you have to go pack your things? So if you don’t have

anything else impor tant to say, your boy has impor tant matters to attend to.”

The crowd migrates in clutters from the lobby to the coach parked right outside, only

adding to the urgency for you to get your point across; but when you recall the events of

last night, how he had so defensively proclaimed to abide by the duties of his role as the

dance captain, you come to the epiphany that you really are just another roadblock in his

tracks at this very moment. So, naturally, you step aside with a shor t bob of your

lowered head.

The boy chuckles softly at your surrender, taking one large stride to enclose the gap

between him and you and stroking your cheeks just brie�y until the warmth of his touch

subsides to his sides. “And about last night… I’m sorry if my stay made you

uncomfor table. I think I was just… a bit tipsy.

Clearly, he was sober, but you’re reluctant to fur ther the discussion without the right

time and place.

“Don’t look so sad or I can’t bring myself to leave you here,” he laughs bittersweet

chords to the pluck of your hear tstrings, especially when you notice the lack of effor t in

his disingenuous grin as he crosses his arms. “Come to think of it, I seem to neglect my

duties as the captain whenever I’m around you, huh? Maybe we should be more cautious

of our relationship around others, don’t you think?”

In one ear, out the other; more often than not, his incessant teasing would elicit a snide

remark from your intolerant state, but after the events of last night, nothing seems to be

the same. Rather, his own flirtations are now construed to be poor fruitions to mask the

pleas crying yet buried beneath.

“Sorry for bothering you,” you press your lips into a thin line, “let’s talk more later.”

An immediate downturn of his lips tugs at your heavy chest, but never-minding his
equivocal language, you turn away and depar t to your room in deep pondrance.

Just what could you do to help the real Hoseok?

But who really is Hoseok? And did you ever come to know him?

Rather, did he?

Life truly has its own quirky way of doing things. One second you’re debating between

the absurd albeit enticing offer in the kitchen of your house and the next second you’re

already packing up your clothes on a journey bound for home.

Piles upon piles upon piles, the abundance of snacks and clothes you had brought but

failed to utilize drives you to your wit’s end before you �nally toss the last pair of shor ts

into your luggage, let out a loud, cathar tic sigh, and jump into the comfor ts of your bed.

In reality, this position with your face buried in the depths of your pillow and your arms

and legs sprawled across the soft cotton sheets would spell for doom had the occasion

of falling asleep and missing the depar ture of your only ride home, especially since

Hoseok doesn’t appear to be in his right mind nor favorable towards you against his

prioritized club members enough to catch the one insigni�cant, missing member;

for tunately for you, a good night of rest stirs you awake and incapable of slumber… plus,

it turns out someone other than the names of Hoseok seeks for your attention.

Ring, ring, your phone’s vibration tunnels across the pillow to your ears.

Was Jimin asking for your assistance? Or was he wondering about the origins of your

odd question earlier this morning? Could it perhaps be a message from the boys you had

met and exchanged number with during camp?

Regardless of the myriad predictions, there really is only one thing that’s set in stone: it

can’t possibly be Hoseok, because as much as it pains you to admit, you’re the last thing

he wants to contact at this moment…

…and to your dismay, you’re right, but what really debunks your seemingly accurate

theories is the name glaring from your brightly lit phone screen.

Unknown [2:06 PM] Hey, Y/N. This is Keiko. I was wondering if you have time to

chat with me over dinner tonight when you return?

Straight to the point, but still lacking in details.

You can’t quite believe your eyes when they incessantly glide across the word ‘Keiko.’

What could she possibly want from you? After her ambiguous request for you during the

last and only time you had interacted with the ex dance captain, you had never expected

to hear from her again; in fact, to be quite frank, you had nearly forgotten about her… you

had nearly forgotten Hoseok’s relations with her.

A past unrequited love? A past relationship gone wrong?

The endless possibilities tug at your chest in the familiar weighty burden you had so

carelessly forgotten in the past month. You’re not exactly sure why the blur of a mystery

regarding Hoseok’s relationship with Keiko pains you so, but the panic rising in your

beating chest at this very moment is surely elicited by the fear of what this

“conversation” could entail.

Slamming your luggage shut, you do a quick scan around your room and grab your last

leftovers, but before you could roll your suitcase completely out the doorway, the sway

of an unknown force rooted deep in the room keeps you from doing so; and when you

glance over your shoulder to assure yourself not to linger any longer, you arrive at the
epiphany of reasons residing beneath your reluctance to depart.

Because lying there on the now nicely made up bed is a couple, one asleep and one

vigilant, both too vulnerable, too wary to let down their walls against the dangers of the

dimming lights and the emerging night.

The longer you stand there watching, the more vividly you recall the subtle glint of his

eyes—begging or pleading, you’re unsure—and your sealed lips incapable of appropriate

assurance akin to a stuck zipper deserving neither the label of new nor broken; and

before you know it, the desire to set things right with Hoseok rises once again within the

pits of your wrenching gut.

“Y/N!” you flinch when a voice hollers at you from down the hall, causing the door to

slam shut with the absence of your jutting foot. Whirling around, you find Jimin jogging

towards you. “I was looking everywhere for you! We’re basically almost all ready to go in

ten minutes or so and Hoseok noticed you’ve been missing for a while now, so he told

me to find you.”

“Oh—” so he did remember about you “—hey, how did Keiko get my number?”

“Huh?” your peripherals catch his eyes widening into circular orbs when the two of you

begin heading down the �ight of stairs and he gasps in remembrance. “Oh! She asked me

for your number this morning. Why? Did you not want me to? Did she text you?”

“No, that’s…” you quickly answer until your words are interjected by the sight of Hoseok

standing alone in the lobby and it’s like the force field of his prevents you from moving

your gaze elsewhere, “…totally �ne…”

“…do you need to talk to Hoseok?” Jimin asks but proceeds to grab your luggage and

head down the stairs before you. He glances over his shoulder at you and nods his head

at the �gure your eyes struggle to keep off of. “Here, I’ ll load your bags onto the bus and
you take the next ten minutes to talk it out.”

“What?” you quickly frown and shake your head, attempting to grab the bags from him in

vain, “no, it’s �ne. There’s nothing to talk about anyways.”

“You won’t have a chance to talk to him again anytime soon after this,” Jimin utters

under his breath, gaze �rmly a�xed to yours. “He looks dead tired. This camp took much

more of a toll on him than usual. I don’t know why, but I have a feeling he won’t be

hanging around with us much after this.”

Us ? Does that include you?

The thought is all too daunting, you simply can’t fathom the thought of Hoseok dropping

from your life without a single word or warning; because the scariest thing is… it’s much

too real, too similar to something Hoseok would do.

Just. Like. That.

“Okay… I’m sorry,” you regretfully mumble, “I promise I’ ll treat you and the boys to dinner

someday.”

“Nah,” Jimin chuckles and heads off on his own, “bringing him back here is already

enough of a favor for us.”

Gulp. Breathe. In. Out.

His words should be reassuring, yet you �nd them wrenching at your hear t.

Is this really for the better?

Was bringing him here really the right choice, when at the end of the night, you just know
Hoseok must be crawling back into the cold embrace of his mattress, shivering from

what he can’t even call home, whimpering from the throbbing pain of every inch of his

body and the nightmare of a camp’s threshold.

Maybe you had in�icted more pain than cure.

“…Hoseok ?”

Your voice stutters amidst the thick silence of the air as you hesitantly take one step

and other towards the one boy at the end of the hall, Hoseok.

Turning around, Hoseok spots you and simply arches a brow; the dark purple bags

beneath the void in his eyes and the lack of vigor in comparison to his usual smug

response to your calls plummet something deep within your stomach.

“Are you… done with everything?” you take one final step to enclose the distance

between you two before uncomfor tably hooking a hand over your right elbow and peering

up at him, who gazes at you from above. “Can I help you in any way?”

Hoseok smiles gently and shakes his head, “no, everything is loaded and the camp ends

here. I’m o�cially free of my duties as a captain and you’re officially free from that bet

of ours.”

“What bet?” you let out without a thought, mind too preoccupied with the real question

which loiters in your mind: why does it feel like you’re saying goodbye to me?

“The bet we made in your kitchen,” he cocks his head and �ashes a crooked smile, “a

euphoric kiss for your attendance at camp.”

“Oh, right. I almost forgot I wasn’t an actual member of this club…”

He grins, “and I almost forgot I wasn’t the captain of this club anymore.”
Please don’t say that.

“Hoseok…” your voice nearly cracks, eyes aver ting to the side in fear of impending

waterworks, “I know you don’t want to talk about last night—”

“—then why are you bringing it up,” he deadpans, jaw tightening with the grinding of his

teeth.

“I just…” you shake when you take a breath, “I just want to lend an ear. I think it would be

helpful for you to let it all out.”

“Or do you just want to fulfill your own curiosities at the expense of my own requests?”

“What?” you immediately peer up at the sharp edges of his eyes with your own wide

ones. “No , I didn’t mean it that way. I’m sorry… I just wanted to help…”

Silence floods the stagnating air and you’re nearly drowned with it—but not nearly as

close as the effect his next words has on you.

“…can you stop prying? ” he finally utters. “Can you stop mentioning it? I’m a player, don’t

you remember? I only star ted all of… all of this because I was curious. I was intrigued by

you only for a second because for once a girl wasn’t fawning over me like the rest.”

His confession plucks at your hear tstrings, but your most pressing concerns lies

elsewhere beyond your own state; when will he �nally con�de in you?

Hoseok grabs your shoulders and lightly shakes you, whether as a plea or an attempt to

garner your divided attention, you’re unsure of. “I star ted all of this because of a dare,

remember, Y/N?” his voice sounds all too desperate for you to bear. “So don’t fall too

hard. Stop burying yourself into my mess and just play along without worrying, okay?”
“I don’t,” you mutter before clearing your voice and swatting his hands off you, “I don’t

care, Hoseok! I don’t care how invested I am, because it’s already too late for me to back

out and I don’t want to back out! I care about you, can’t you just accept that?”

Can’t you just accept me?

“Don’t you get it?” he groans, pacing in frustration. “I don’t want any help! I don’t need

help. Don’t pry into my own business and stop asking Jimin and Taehyung or any of the

boys about me. Get it over your head and stop investing so much time in me before you

realize just how you right you were that night on our �rst date when you called me out on

being an ass!”

The words echo along with your stunned silence. You had never seen Hoseok so

infuriated before, and for the �rst time in a long while, you’re scared.

You’re scared he’ ll drown in his own demons without your help.

You’re scared your own help will turn out to be a manifestation of your own wants over

his own needs.

You’re scared the boy you love and care for isn’t the passionate captain you knew nor

the renowned hear tthrob around school but a enmity completely unknown.

Mostly, you’re scared because fear is the last thing you thought you would ever

experience in the wake of Hoseok.

And maybe you’re too transparent or perhaps his words truly did hur t you to the point

where even he could decipher, but your entire body language reclines—your eye glued to

the �oor, your head ducked in shame, and your body facing slightly askew—and Hoseok

quickly reaches his hand out in aid.

From the top of your head down to the nape of your neck and to the stroke of your cheek,

the cup of his hand brings you a step closer to him until he places a chaste kiss to your

temple and retracts himself from you once again.

“Just stop worrying about me, okay? That’s the only way we can keep this…” he struggles

to find the right words as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your right ear. The boy

takes a deep breath and neither a sigh nor a chuckle descends from his barely par ted

lips, for all you hear is a weighty pant crafted of obligations. “…this thing we have going

on between us. We’ ll both be better of that way, alright? Even if it’s ignorant to do so. I

just don’t want us to end.”

Physically, his voice drifts into the foreign wind which sweeps your grasp of time shor tly

afterwards; but you hear him loud and clear within the resonance of your hear t, for his

actions speak louder than words.

You don’t expect him to greet you, not to mention even sitting within your vicinity on the

ride back… but he does. In moments when you avoid all eye contact the second his foot

sets weight onto the bus, shifting towards the windows by your seat and wishing with

every ounce of your will for your rather isolated choice of seating and lack of friends to

go unnoticed; but he reads you like an open book. With footsteps skimming across the

�oor, soft yet �rm enough to mark his ambitions, the boy beelines to the seat by your

side. The lethargic timbre of his murmured “hey ” elicits a prim response from you as he

plops into the empty seat and �lls the painfully heavy air of his absence.

The forecast predicts a dayful of sun, but you don’t quite realize until now, just how

reliant you’ve become; for at some point in time, the sun has somehow become your

everything.

You don’t expect him to spark any conversations—no, not after that discussion gone

astray—and he doesn’t; but the watchful gaze of his, wandering from his chattering
friends straight up ahead to eye occasional roll of your sore ankles, inquires more than

you could ask for. In fact, it doesn’t take very long for his desires to bloom into fruition

when, the next thing you know, he gently lifts your right leg to prop into the lap of his

own and begins kneading the knots from your muscles.

“It’s fine,” you mutter through barely parted lips, attempting in vain to retract your leg

when his hands �rmly hold them in place.

“It’s your first bootcamp, isn’t it?” he continues to knead. “I remember how exhausted I

was for my first camp. Just let me help you.”

His words sweep your own right off of your lips.

Glancing him up and down, the courage to speak doesn’t come to you until the char ter

enters a tunnel, blackening your sights from his soft brown hair, beautifully tan skin, and

mustard tee.

“Can you stop playing around with me? Things like this mean so much more to me than

what you’re asking for from us.”

The boy doesn’t answer, instead, he pauses; and after a few seconds of silence, he

persists to knead for a minute longer before letting down your leg once the tunnel ends

and you’re blinded by the incoming �ood of sun rays.

Incapable of sight in the bright sun after a long nap, the thought of Keiko’s text remains

imprinted throughout your conscious. Weighing heavily in your hands, you grab your

phone and swiftly jog off the bus on a mission to inquire advice from the rest of the

boys.

While Hoseok lends a hand in unloading the endless stream of camp attendees hastily

lining up to grab their bags and head on home, you �nd the rest of the boys standing in a
semicircle, conversing away and responsibly keeping watch on the slowly dwindling

crowd as members of the o�cial performance unit.

“What’s crackin’, Y/N?” Jin questions, the group following suit as they peer at you with

curious eyes.

“I just,” you glance around, par ticularly assuring yourself of Hoseok’s distant position

before whirling around and proceeding in a hush, “I just wanted to ask you guys for some

advice.”

Taehyung wiggles his brows, “you need some dating advice?”

“Ooh , for Hoseok?” Jungkook adds in.

“No , it has nothing to do with him, okay? Well, sort of,” you reach out your phone to show

the text to a intrigued group of boys leaning in. “Keiko wants to meet up with me.”

“…okay?” Yoongi frowns at your lack of context.

“No, I mean, she wants to meet up with me and I’m pretty sure it has something to do

with Hoseok. It’s literally the only reason she would know me or even talk to me.”

“But what’s so wrong with that?”

Jimin purses his lips at Yoongi’s remark, “you think Hobi would be okay with that? With

us talking behind his back, especially to his former teacher? He doesn’t even tell us

anything anymore, and we used to be his closest friends.”

“Yeah, so I don’t know what to do,” you shake your head. “I want to know what Keiko

needs to tell me. I feel like it’s something impor tant that might help Hoseok…”
“…but…”

“…but I’m scared I’m just taking advantage of Hoseok’s situation for the sake of my own

curiosity. I don’t want to accidentally hur t him.”

The boys exchange glances at each other, because they, too, are as abandoned in the

shadows as Hoseok had kept you, yourself.

Finally, Namjoon shifts his weight, a stance demanding attention and respect, before

asking, “well, do you think Hoseok is going to get any better at this point?”

To be painfully honest, the truthful answer to his question would simply and brutally be

a “no .” Just as Jimin had pointed out, Hoseok carries an even more lethargic, poignant

mien in him than he had prior to camp. Maybe bringing him here really is a mistake, after

all, because now he seems worse than ever before.

Without dance, it’s like he’s a completely different person.

“No, I doubt he’ ll be hanging around us anytime soon,” Jimin quickly answers when he

notices your downcast eyes. “I don’t think it’s just me when I say: right now, Hoseok

despises dance.”

Hoseok. Despises. Dance.

You never thought those three words could ever coexist.

“Then I don’t think there’s any harm in meeting with Keiko,” Namjoon elaborates. “Yes,

you might be butting into someone else’s business, but from what I can tell, Hoseok isn’t

just ‘someone ’ to you and you aren’t just ‘someone ’ to him. If you’re doing it out of good

intentions, I doubt he would hold it against you for—”

—his words are cut shor t when everyone in the group removes their eyes off of you and

dar ts to someone from behind you. Suddenly, a heavy arm slings over your shoulders and

the rough edge of his masked voice echoes in your right ear.

“Hey, what’s with all the long face?” Hoseok feigns a laugh after glancing at you.

“What’re we going on about this time?”

Rather than his untimely presence, it’s his nonchalant performance of swinging his arms

over your shoulders which catches your infuriated attention. Not only is he lying to

himself, yourself, and his closest friends, but now he’s acting as if he owns you, as if

you two were an actual couple, as if he didn’t just tell you to your face that your

relationship meant nothing more than leisure to him.

“Why do you care so much about my mood? Actually, why do you pretend to care so

much?” you rebuke in spite, pushing off his hands and relishing in the sudden downturn

of his lips and furrowed brows. “I thought we weren’t a thing. You told me not to be

attached, so why don’t you follow your own advice?”

Your curtly remarks evoke worried albeit curious glances from the boys, but all you care

about is the fury boiling under Hoseok’s poor attempt at suppressing with a smirk.

“That’s more like it,” he smugly grins, cocking his head and raising his hands defensively,

“the more you push me away, the more I’ ll fall. Isn’t that what you want?”

As if.

Scofing and rolling your eyes, you shake your head and return your attention to boys

before bidding them goodbye and walking off without another word to Hoseok.

There isn’t any reason nor thing for you to stay around Hoseok for, and neither does he

for you; he doesn’t run after you and he doesn’t even attempt to explain himself nor

demand an explanation, because to him, you simply aren’t wor th the effort.

To him, you’re just a simple text away.

Hoseok, my beloved [6:56 P.M.] Well played. Let’s keep things that way.

Clink, clink, the glasses of wine tipping against its own �lls the rather lavish room you

hadn’t expected nor asked to be seated in; and while others hold their own in formal

gowns and suits, you sit uncomfor tably across Keiko decked out in sweatpants and a

messy bun from lack of time between depar ture and arrival.

Dressed in a sleek black blouse and dangling earrings, Keiko remains the classy woman

you had met the �rst time around; to others, you must seem like a child next to her.

The only perk you could scavenge from your ostracized self is having your expensive

dinner, sure to empty your wallet along with college tuitions, paid by a responsible, fulltime

employed adult.

“So,” she takes a sip from her glass of wine, “how’re you doing?”

“He’s doing…” you quickly respond before stuttering, “a-alright.”

To your surprise, Keiko chuckles a sultry laugh as ripened as red wine. “I was asking

about you , not Hoseok; but I guess you have some sor t of a guess as to why I called you

here, and to be completely honest with you, you’re right.”

“Oh… sorry…” you mumble, eyes wide and enraptured by her poise. “I, um, hope it’s not

inappropriate of me to ask this, but why are you asking me and not the boys?”

Keiko cocks her head as if the answer was obvious enough, “because you’re the closest

one to him right now, are you not?”

“Emotionally? No… physically? Not really,” you frown, especially when she just chor tles

at you.
“Well, that’s what I’ve deduced from what the boys have told me.”

“They told you about me?” your eyes immediately widen in panic, because for some odd

reason, you want to at least appear somewhat decent from someone as respectable as

Keiko; and it isn’t a competition between you and her in vie for Hoseok’s attention, it’s

the elegant way she holds herself which has earned your utmost respect. “What… did

they say?”

“Oh, nothing too much,” she chuckles with a shrug. “Don’t worry, I have other reasons for

my deduction.”

The vague answer intimidates you from inquiring fur ther as your gaze becomes a�xed to

the empty plate splattered with leftover sauce from the now ingested steak. Instead of

probing at you to answer her question, she allows you to recollect yourself and your

state of mind in silence; and eventually, you do, for your train of thoughts stumble over

the real reason you had agreed to this meeting tonight.

“About Hoseok…” you star t, eyes lifting to meet Keiko’s, her brows raising to encourage

you fur ther. “He’s still… reluctant to dance. I don’t think he had the best time at camp.”

“Really? Spring boot camp was always his favorite time of the year,” she prims, but all

you can do is sigh in a mix of awe and regret, wondering just how much more she knows

about Hoseok than you do him. “Well, do you plan on helping him still?”

Helping him? Does she not know about his injury? Hoseok’s voice reverberates in your

mind—stop prying —for a remark both raw and real is all too painful to hear and to forget.

It isn’t your business neither is it your secret to reveal, especially not to someone he

must hold so dearly—in both respect… and love .

“I don’t get it…” you stealthily tiptoe around the subject. “Why aren’t you helping him?

You’re much closer to him than I am. I can’t do much… we’re just acquaintances. It’s not

like we’re dating.”

Your question elicits a loud intake of breath followed by a sigh as she reclines into her

seat and crosses her legs, “because I can’t.”

‘What do you mean…?”

Her fingers begin to play with the glass of wine, swirling the drink round and round and

creating whirlpools in the tips of her sleek red nails.

“Are you aware of Hoseok’s main reason for his hiatus?”

Sneakers squeaking and machine buzzing, collapse.

“Well, I can’t because…”

Your line of sight subconsciously travels to your leg where you can practically see

Hoseok’s own, swelling and throbbing as you clutch it in plain just like he had on the

blackest of nights.

Keiko looks you straight in the eye.

“…because I’m the one who caused his injury.”

Injury. His injury. Keiko. She caused it.

How did any of this make sense?

“Wait, what ? Are you sure?” your brows cinch in confusion. “Maybe he… he …”
Your voice trails to nothing. What else could have evoked someone to blame themselves

over something so horrid other than the truth itself?

“I pushed him too far,” she says after a long sigh, staring at the swirl of wine in her

delicate �ngers. “I was training him into a captain capable of handling anything that

would come at him, be it pressure or stress, he has the potential to be the best we’ve

ever had… I don’t know if it was me or him and his own expectations which pushed him

too far, too fast, but he crumbled.”

If you knew the old and new Hoseok correctly, the latter would be the valid reason.

Hoseok pushed himself too far in the face of pressure.

And as much as you know the blame can’t be held entirely by Keiko but Hoseok, himself,

a par t of you errs in the sudden impatience arising within you.

Crumble , she said.

The sun doesn’t crumble , it sets .

“…weren’t you watching over him…?” you frown at her.

“I did,” she simply nods. “He practiced day and night. There never was a single day when

I entered or left the studio and Hoseok wasn’t there. Sometimes I think the poor boy

even slept in that sweaty old musty room.”

You let out a scoff under your breath, appalled. “And you didn’t tell him to stop—”

“—you’re not a dancer, are you, Y/N? You think I can tell someone to stop doing what

they love, what they’re so passionate in? You think we have it easy? That talent and a

few hours a week are enough to make up for what we lack? You think he would listen to

me if I told him to stop? I thought you knew him well,” Keiko rebukes, calm but
reprimanding enough for you to wince. “Being a captain requires you to put in time and

stress and pressure just comes with it. And even despite that, yeah, sometimes I do

wonder if I was asking for too much. If he or I had said something, if he had quit a bit

earlier, maybe he wouldn’t be in this situation right now.”

“Quit ?” you ar ticulate, narrowing your eyes at her. “I don’t have to be a dancer to know

that trying to prevent an injury isn’t quitting.”

“You sound like every other person who begged me to stop when I was training to

become the captain myself,” Keiko chuckles, lips pressing into a thin, curved line. “I

handled the pressure. I bore all the stress. I conquered it all and I thrived, Y/N, and you

and I both know how talented Hoseok is. If I could do it, he most de�nitely could, too. I

don’t know what got to him, but something did.”

“Not everyone’s body works the same…” your words become mu�ed by your own lips.

“Oh?” she laughs. “You almost sound like you know him better than I have in the past

four years.”

Past four years? It’s almost cer tain they share a history together. Your gut instincts

painfully tell you so.

“Anyways, I’m not here to argue with you, Y/N. I apologize if I stepped over the line just

now,” her hand reaches for yours over the table and she smiles. “I get it. To you guys, us

dancers seem reckless, and I admit it, we go overboard sometimes. That’s why we,

especially Hoseok , need people, like you , by our sides to tell us when enough is enough.”

Her gaze sees right through you and there’s nothing you could do other than aver t your

eyes to the side to prevent her from reading through your transparency. It feels like she’s

telling you something, hinting at an implication, but you just can’t quite get it.
You can’t read her like she or even Hoseok does to you.

“If his injury really is the reason behind his hiatus, then why hasn’t he tried to recover?

Or,” you nearly choke on your own gasp, “has … he?”

“As much as I seem to know him, Y/N, I actually can’t answer that question. I really don’t

know,” she sighs. “Even I’m surprised. I thought he would bounce back. He truly loved

dance. He loved it to death… but maybe he never did. I don’t know if I overestimated him.

I was hoping you would know. He won’t let me anywhere near him now.”

Of course not, you bite your tongue. As much as you admire Keiko for her sheer

willpower, her constant disregard for Hoseok’s well-being and even questioning his

passion irks you the wrong way.

“So,” she softly utters, holding your hand to aver t your gaze back to hers, “can you help

me, Y/N?”

Stop prying, his voice echoes; even your deepest conscience knows Hoseok doesn’t want

you to help.

“Why would I do that? We’re not close or anything. I’ ll be sticking my nose into someone

else’s business.”

Your remark elicits a slight scoff of disbelief from Keiko as she grins at you with

furrowed brows.

“Don’t you like him? Don’t you like Hoseok, I mean?”

“W-What ?” you immediately shake your head. “No, I don’t know what makes you think

that or whatever the boys told you, but even if I wanted to help, I can’t.”
“Oh, but I think you can,” she leans back into her seat and crosses her arms before

turning to glance out the window displaying the black silhouette of the cityscape. “In

fact, you’re the only one who can. At the rate Hoseok is going, I don’t think he’ ll ever

return to the dance scene… but you can change that.”

Everyone seems to have expectations from you, but it doesn’t matter when the person in

need of help himself refuses your aid.

But you want to help him, even if that means he won’t ever dance again.

You’ve come to realize, through trial and error, all you could wish for him is bliss.

“…what makes you think that?”

“I promise I’m not doing this to gain your favor or try to persuade you, but,” she turns

away from the window and leans into the table with a smile, “I’ve seen the look in his

eyes when he mentions you.”

“But… but I thought…”

…I thought you never met up with him before after his injury, is what you meant to say,

but the rapid beats of your hear t elicited by her confession prevents you from budging a

single inch.

Maybe they really are dating and you’re just being toyed around by the both of them.

“I… I just have one question,” you blur t before your more rational self could talk you out

of it; for once, you’re acting on impulse and ego, but perhaps you deserve it after

everything you’ve been through for the sake of him. It’s time you do something for

yourself. “…did you and Hoseok ever have a relationship?”

Keiko arches both brows at you in surprise, “a relationship ?”

“As in… have you two dated before?”

Silence ensues as she ponders for a few seconds and smiles, a soft chuckle drifting

from her lips, “and what would you say if I said yes? Would you dislike me? Would you

not do me this favor?”

Immediately, your hear t sinks and something in your stomach drops.

Ah , so it’s a yes; crestfallen for reasons unknown, you begin collecting your things.

“I’ ll think about it because I want to make sure this does Hoseok more good than it does

me or any of us waiting for him to take the stage again,” standing up, you continue,

looking her straight in the eye, “and I’m not doing this for you because I don’t appreciate

the way you demean Hoseok and his own health and effor ts.”

“Then who are you doing this for?”

You frown; isn’t the answer obvious enough?

“Hoseok .”

A wide grin spreads across her lips from ear to ear as she suppresses a giddy smile,

quickly grabbing your hand and squeezing it �rmly, “thank you, Y/N. Really , thank you. I

mean it when I say you’re the only one who can bring him out of his darkest times. I’m

counting on you.”

Gradually and hesitantly, you nod, slowly turning your back on the exit to make your way

out the way you made it in.

Step by step, they gain momentum until you �nd yourself marching out of the restaurant
on a mission to brew a storm in search of the world’s ends, for the hidden sun is long

due for its rise.