❛ ↺ dance studio

@t. mark she could feel her tears gradually filling to the brims then overflowing, her nose became stuffy. but he knew, was it obvious she was crying? she tried her best to conceal everything, she couldn’t. all of the tears she hidden so bad started to collect, and she couldn’t do anything about it, drowned in her sorrow. the built up lump in causes her to sniffle, her hands trying their best to dry away her tears. his words ‘come here’, she wanted to disobey him and hide her face forever. she took a deep breath before facing towards his direction, all she can see was regret. it ached her heart as she slowly made her way over to him. why wasn’t she running away?

she wondered why they weren’t good enough to be at least friends for each other. she thought it was all because he didn’t like her, it ended up that she disliked him and he never did disliked her. her bottom lip begins to tremble at the thought of it, she wanted to throw a tantrum because of herself. was she good enough to be president of the dance team, acting like a little kid? she looked up into his eyes, “i-i’m sorry.” she closed her eyes, only releasing more tears that rolled down her cheeks sinking onto her shirt.

@h. momo mark’s eyes narrow at her sudden turn. she faces away from him, and it causes him to clear his throat and look to the side. his arms cross while he continues to stare at her. momo has never been someone that he often thought of, but they were in the same team before. their relationship broke down every time they talked; the two kept at a feisty level, unable to back down at any battle that persisted. there is a clear grudge in between them, but momo wants to stray away from it—mark isn’t ready for that yet.

he suddenly hears sniffling in between the cracks of her broken words. she’s crying. he scoffs loudly, scratching the side of his jaw as he looks away for recovery. he doesn’t like it when people cry—momo isn’t an exception from that either. “praised like a god? i’m not so sure about that,” he softly replies and emits a small sigh. “if you’re going to cry, do it at a nicely timed manner,” he rolls his head back and begins to roam the area for a box of tissues. he eventually finds one and pulls out a tissue. “come here,” he quietly demands while looking at her with a persistent frown.

@t. mark momo avoids eye contact with him, feeling the sweet release. the truth that built up inside her for years, where she couldn’t find the right timing to confess to him. she had many many times she could’ve told him, but she was always irritated whenever she saw him. therefore, it took time for her to realize the fact that it was mostly her fault. she had to step down from her throne. it was her fault that they were like this, why they didn’t get along from the start.

was that how he really was, naturally cold to others? she avoided looking at her reflection as she got this familiar sinking feeling. she faced her back against his visible gaze, taking deep breathes. “i... i do regret it. we should’ve shared it, but i was too selfish.” she finally finishes her sentence, gulping, trying to hold back her tears. “or maybe you should’ve had the spotlight from the beginning... you were always being praised like a god,” she sniffles a bit with watery eyes.

@h. momo mark eyes the bin after safely landing his empty cup inside, then his vision returns on momo who continues to give an awkward presence. her statement does give a bit of a kick—why does he act so coldly towards her? perhaps, it is the unnecessary rivalry that formed between them, or maybe it is the different dancing styles that they both have. he knows that momo has the tendency to fall back into a contemporary style, but his opinion on it isn’t too kind. “this is just how i am,” he somewhat lies and shifts his vision away from her. “competition is competition. there wouldn’t be teams or games if there isn’t any.” he walks towards the walls once again, leaning his frame against the wood and crossing his arms. “you wanted the spotlight, so i decided to leave to give it to you... and now you regret it?” again, it is a half-lie, but his eyebrow raises from the amusement that he is receiving. they bickered way too often back then, and the arguments never settled because they both were stubborn heads. to see momo suddenly confessing to him, it is strange yet satisfying in a way—if it means that he doesn’t have to apologize for anything.

[] IM SO SORRY THAT THIS IS SO LATE FUFKFK

@t. mark she glances at her reflection, walking towards the mirror whilst sliding off her hair tie off of the circumference of her pale wrist. tying her hair into a ponytail, missing a few strands in the back. “really? then why do you act so cold to me?” she really thought that he disliked her, the way he acted so coldly to her. was that how he naturally was? “sorry heh... i was eager to meet you as soon as i can,” she rubs her nape awkwardly. “i do have the biggest job and your help would be greatly appreciated.” she gazes back at him with a grin, raising her brows. “you know, i really disliked you back then. the reason why was because i thought you were a really amazing dancer, mark... i was stupid and thought that we had to be enemies. that’s when i became competitive with you. once you left the dance team, i realized it wasn’t what i wanted. i thought for the rest of my life you would hate me...” she confessed her reasoning, wanting to gain his trust, so that he knows that she would keep her promise to him.

@h. momo he loudly scoffs at her comment and shakes his head. "right, we were going through puberty." he softly repeats her words and shakes his drink to check if there is any remaining liquid. "i don't trust in promises, but i really hope you do." he shrugs at the idea of keeping a promise. no one can keep promises, even /he/ can't. "huh... contribute to the dance team? and hearing from my thoughts?" he repeats once more but with a bit of a mocking tone to it. "if you want the answer to that, i don't dislike you. i never did." he rolls his wrist around and drinks the last bit of the lukewarm beverage. "i guess i'm free. you already messed up my schedule anyways," he exaggeratedly sighs after his answer. "like i said, you have the biggest job here. i'm only here as a vice president, and that is it." he paces towards the nearest trash bin to throw his cup away.

@t. mark she steadily walks around the spacious room, glancing at the cubbies to the mirror and to the floor. “we were going through puberty?” she snickers at her words, only messing around a bit. “i will, mark.. i promise,” she shifted her orbs at him to show her confidence and determination. this year was going to be different, no fighting, no negativity in her life. even though A was getting on her about her daddy issues. she settles her drink into one of the black cubbies; tired from holding it since she hasn’t been eating properly these days. “i want you to contribute to the dance team... and... i want to hear out your thoughts. i know that we have our differences, but i really want to make this work.” she eyes the latter getting up and beginning to walk around as well. “are you free today by any chance? let me hear you out, possibly share out why you dislike me?”

@h. momo his expression lightens up after hearing her agreement with his statement. he raises an eyebrow, peeping behind his cup and taking another sip. "we were immature, right. it wasn't that long ago, momo." he comments while he snickers. "if you actually do that, i'll be surprised." he tilts his head to the side, maintaining his observation of the other. mark isn't a sore loser when it comes to competitions. though like everyone else, he prefers winning at least once, but their team has always ended up second and below. he assumes that holding a small prize is enough for the group, but they asked for more every time. it frustrates him to the very least—staying humble isn't something that humans are capable of. both of them are different in every sense, and their styles battle it out to make it to the final cut. "i'll think about it." he stands up from his position and starts to pace around the studio. "you're able to handle it yourself though. why need my help?"

@t. mark a small simper plastered onto her lips at his ‘thanks’ which reassured her. the roseate tiers of hers wraps itself onto her drink and she in takes another sip. “that when we were immature... i believe we can make a great team if we start building our forces together,” she diverts her focus towards the latter whilst leaning against the white wall. “this time i will listen — i’ll listen, pause, apply, and comment about it.” she said determined. thinking about what he had said about her not listening was in fact true, before, but that was only because he always gave her . in her perspective, he always slacked off and was careless to what she had to say. that’s probably why the dance team hadn’t won any competitions; when they were in it together. it was bad teamwork. she inhaled the fresh air instead of the stench that stung, this time breathing from to take more of the freshness in her system.

@h. momo he rotates his body once more and leans against the mirror, taking another sip as he goes. "thanks," he coldly replies with the cup in between his lips. he folds his arms and maintains the cup in his right hand. his nose twitches from her comment. what's the point in meeting up if she doesn't want to stay with him? girls are indecisive nowadays. he rolls his eyes, "we already tried once. you didn't like the outcome." his gaze focuses on the other's movement and watches her open the window to refresh the air. he scratches his chin with his index finger, alongside balancing the beverage. "if you really want to win, you should listen to me, and this time—actually listen," he gives a small nod; his lips curl into a smirk. "but you're the president, so you wouldn't listen to the advice of your vice president."

@t. mark “not even a thanks?” she scoffed, even the sight of seeing him annoyed her. it wasn’t the right time to bring up the fact why she was late, if brought up he would definitely make fun of her. his attitude made her wonder why he was vice president of the dance team. “yeah don’t worry, i don’t want to be here with you too long anyway.” she takes a small sip to clear the knot in , “we’re going to have to spend a lot of time together. why? we must choreograph a routine, we about just have 10 members. i’m going to need your /help/ with it,” she rubs her nape slightly irritated. “in which means, i need you to cooperate with me. i’m eager to win this year and with your input, i think we’ll be a great dance team!” she says proudly, taking in another sip after speaking for quite some time. the stench still bothering her, so she walks over to the windows and opens them, letting the fresh air come through the screens. sighing in relief, “that’s better,” she mumbles to herself.

@h. momo he does a couple of stretches before settling down on the floor. his eyes dart from place to place; his nose eventually adjusts to the stench of sweat while his sight finally gazes at the ticking clock. momo is late. he emits a loud sigh and searches his sweatpants for his iphone. he eventually finds the device and begins to zoom through his apps for entertainment.

the studio door makes a loud click, which causes him to look up as a reflex. he stares at the newcomer, and it happens to be momo. she seems nervous—the awkwardness oozes out when she enters the place with wary eyes. somehow, she manages to have two beverages in her hands. he gets up from his position and walks forward to her, then gently taking the cup from her hand. "ah, you got the right drink. that's a first," he quietly laughs to himself and takes a small sip from the drink. "so what is it that you want to discuss about?" he questions while he turns around to take a look at the mirror once more. "make it quick too. i have to attend."

@t. mark after a long wait receiving the coffee drinks due to her ordering the wrong thing, she immediately headed towards the dance studio. momo knew that mark wasn’t going to corporate before she sent him a text, /especially/ from their conversation in snap he was stubborn. she wanted to be mature enough to let the past fade away, so why not start fresh again. maybe this time they can win unlike the past years, combining their dancing abilities can possibly be powerful together. it didn’t sound like he was interested building or /rebuilding/ their bond, well, nonexistent bond. though, she didn’t want this guilt to stack on her back every time she sees him. probably didn’t mean anything to the male, but it did for momo. back then, it was selfish and immature.

she enters into the dance studio with a reassuring smile, trying to not seem awkward even when she already felt awkward. her onyx orbs darted to his reflection, still the same as before. “uh.. hi mark, thanks for agreeing to meet with me,” she said with a shaky voice. glancing down at the drinks in her hands, “oh - here’s your drink,” she walked towards his direction at a sedate pace. the stench of sweat stinging her nostrils causes her to scrunch her nose a few times to reduce the unpleasant sting. holding out his drink in front of him, a knot building up in as she hands him it.

@h. momo mark is already annoyed about this meet-up. he was watching his favorite t.v. show, and of course, his plans were interrupted by his one and only dance president.

the both of them started university with a rocky path. they simply are not compatible together, or to say, mark doesn't /want/ to be compatible with the female. they are clearly different: steps, style, and personality. somehow, they created this team, and it didn't work out well. after those months, they stopped talking, texting, meeting up, or whatever that people do to communicate. until today, he received a snap in the morning about rebuilding their 'relationship'. mark isn't the type to argue or keep grudges, but today, he isn't feeling it—nor will he ever.

he steps inside the dance studio and takes in the sense of leftover sweat from the previous practice. the wooden floor still shines from the janitor, and the mirror is wiped clean. he glances at his reflection; god, he looks pretty good today. his hands glide through his brown locks, then he swiftly takes off his red hoodie and throws the clothing at the corner of the dance studio. "she better get my order right," he mumbles to himself while rolling his neck to hear that 'crack' of satisfaction.

@c. hansol she didn't blame him for needing more time to cope with her presence, she didn't blame him if he didn't wish to longer associate himself with her, but she just missed him so much. she yearned for the ticking encounter to rewind to save him the heart break she had caused, the endless suffering of the ache that she was the origin of, everything she had done to engulf him in the sorrow that swallowed him whole. after she had left, she spent years of her blood, sweat, and tears to rebuild her morality and to develop a foreign persona that helped her shield the pain that came within the noxious family she was escaping from. she mustered so much damn courage to do what she felt was right for her at the time, but seeing hansol once again, she regretted everything. if she could take it back to save him from the guilt he felt, , she would do it in a heartbeat.

"i'm sorry, i should've trusted you," was all she could mutter as she could hear the faint footsteps of his that began to fade. immediately, her knees buckled as she crouched with her arms crossing above her head, soft whimpers escaping from that of her tiers. she was stupid, a up, everything she did was a mistake and ,,, and she needed to own up to it. her dad was right; she was created by the hands of God himself, delicately orchestrated with porcelain features to hurt those around her and she did a pretty damn good job at it. she brought the sleeve of her hoodie to wipe the tears that she had no idea when it'd halt, sniffling. the only one she'd ever love - she let him slip through her lithe digits for a second time, and she figured that this time ... it was for good. it was probably best for them, anyway.

@m. mina As he saw her tears roll down the side of her cheek, he couldn't help but feel a sense of guilt for his harsh words. There was no turning back time for the amount of vulgar that he had spewed, the instant regret he felt for even questioning her desire for him back then. Even if he felt remorseful for his actions, it didn't mean his feelings weren't valid. There was no shame in feeling abandoned by the woman he shared so many fond memories with. It was innocent love; two teenagers who were giddy with excitement at the sight of each other. Growing together during a time of complications, sharing each very thought together. The sight of her tear stained cheeks only made his heart crumble more. He had missed spending every second with her. Life had a vicious way of letting you know that it's not all surface level bull. But it still felt like there was something more to her statement than what she lead him on to believe.

"We were together for a reason, Mina. To be there for each other especially when things got hard. If you had something going on, you should of told me about it. But instead, you hid yourself away but here you are. Why did you come back—" Hansol stopped himself before shaking his head in disbelief. Remarks driven by anguish, not thought. He was stubborn, his ears clogged as he refused to listen to her reasons. It wasn't fair. None of this was fair. The meeting tonight was suppose to be something different; never did he expect to see someone he already adored. "I have to think— you're ..when did you even come back? why didn't you call or message or anything ?" he couldn't help but question everything. There was too much to catch up on, but it didn't seem like there was enough time. "We can't talk here. We can't talk..now right now. Not until I can calm myself down" Hansol concluded, before wiping away the remaining droplets collecting in his tear-ducts. Sighing deeply, he shoved his hands into his pockets before making his way back, wandering back in the direction of his apartment.

@c. hansol she was clueless as to what to expect from him; she wasn't going to receive a welcoming hug, she couldn't expect their relationship to return to 'normal', she was selfish to think of that under their certain, specific circumstances that rendered her useless and speechless. she couldn't even find it in the pit of her chest to dare bask into the warm comfort of his gentle caress that she once dreamed of. guilt-filled umber irises of her's was crystal clear for his bemusement, dubious to part her lips and attempt to reel the latter in with an epiphany of her point of view as to why she just /had/ to escape from the horrific reality of her past household. as she concluded to herself that he wouldn't ever forgive her, or be open to giving her a chance after she caused him so much pain, her faint-hearted stature stood to take the stabs and punches from his words, figuring she deserved it.

"i'm sorry," she said in a somewhat clear manner, eyes fleeing from that of his cold ones glance around the room out of fear. "hansol — you have to understand that you were never the problem. i never meant for that to happen,". the hoarseness of his tone took a jab at her heartstrings in ways that struck her like never before, scarring her with every sentence he spewed out upon her. tears lined the perimeter of her lash line, threatening to pull into rivulets as she silently inhaled with a shaky breath as she remained static in place whilst he stepped forward, umbrage slowly becoming apparent in her voice. "of course i love you! how could you even question that? hansol, you don't understand how difficult it was to leave you, to leave my friends. i constantly beat myself up about it all the ing time, i hate myself for it, i tried so hard to forget. at that time, i could only handle so much pain, i was left with no choice but to leave, and i ... i didn't want you to get involved," her body felt insanely numb at the foreign feeling that overrode her sense of rationality, as the volume of her initially tiny voice was soon rising, cascading her own stream of teardrops down her cheeks. "it was better for me to just leave, trust me on that."

@m. mina The words ever so clear, her intentions however; he wasn't so sure. Movies and books portrayed love as something pure and lively, but this wasn't the case. Her words as strong as poison, pierced right through his heart again. The thought of them ever being together again had always crossed his mind; but after all these years, what was even there anymore? The so called sweet tender love never existed after her betrayal. A part of him ripped away when she disappeared without a trace. He jerked his hand back, releasing her from her grip of his sleeve before twisting his body back, his eyes fixated on hers. He didn't know what he wanted to say, but rather just began to ramble. He was never the best at confrontation but he never thought he would have to face it with full force. Raising his left hand slowly, he cupped it around the woman's cheek, caressing the familiar figure he once loved so much. Her soft skin once again within his reach, the constant reminder of how innocent things were back then.

"You. Left. Me." Hansol bellowed, a strange feeling within his throat enabling him to speak not from his heart but rather from rage. "You can't miss me, if you couldn't say a damn word to me." as he continued he removed his hand before turning back to force the door open. It wasn't just rage, but rather a sense of abandonment. His eyes flooded with tears but Hansol smeared it away with the sleeve of his sweater. "..I called, I sent text messages, I wrote letters- I visited your home several times. Nothing. Nothing in return. Not even goodbye." he bawled, the tears now free down his cheek. "For months, I thought it was because of me. That— I wasn't good enough for you." He stepped closer, bloodshot eyes scowling back at the woman that deceived him. "Did you ever love me— or did you just love the fact that I was in love with you. Mina.. I gave you three years of my life, and you couldn't even say goodbye to me. How can you stand here and lie about missing me." High school romances were never really meant to last, but at the time; she was his world. The very divine being that opened his heart to love. Her affection was gentle, and wholehearted. He never thought she was capable of being malicious in any way shape or form. It was repulsive, his emotions taking control of his body; his ability to speak coherently was nil.

@c. hansol solemnity blanketed both of their figures in an awkward silence, accompanied by the throat cutting distance that separated the two past lovers. it intimidated her when she saw the glint in his eyes; disappointment and abandonment. she recalled herself declaring that she'd never intentionally hurt him, that she'd never leave his side, that he was /her/ endgame, and yet, here they were, attempting to coil some conclusion as to why they were brought back by the twisted red string of fate that liked to play the two lone individuals into their plan. it was cruel how when she first saw him, butterflies multiplied one by one, wing by wing at his gentle touches, sweet words, mind numbing kisses - but now, she only was inflicted with the pain of those shes lost and left behind, including him. regretfully, him. but there'd be no way he'd understand.

or would he? destiny is a fickle thing, the world's natural order of events, but possibly -- they were meant to be strung back around together. their hidden identities in the chatroom, attending the same university out of the thousands, their mutual bond and how easily they spoiled their secrets and experiences that took years of connection; was it a deliberate vendetta of their so-called delicate kismet? "han," her voice was soft, ingenious laced in her tone as her hand was quick to subtly tug on his sleeve in a feeble attempt to halt his inexorable actions. "han, i — missed you". she spoke with a huge inkling of sincerity. since she had left him, she always made up scenarios in her mind of how they'd meet once again; maybe they'd meet and he'd be happy with another girlfriend, a wife, a family even, and she'd finally muster up the courage to explain /why/ she had to leave. that ... this definitely isn't what she planned for. "hansol, i missed you so much."

@m. mina as the woman turned around, her facial features were still as captivating as ever; her innocuous eyes met his and he was ever so struck with a certain feeling he couldn't describe. it was her. indeed it was. those were the eyes he could never forget. every moment they shared together, every glimpse of her within his memory came rushing back. three years together, before she suddenly vanishing without a trace. he could feel his heart shattering once more, the agony he endured as her sweet voice rang audible within his ears. he should of known by the way 'bluebird' was talking that it was her. there would be no other reason for this woman to be in this building this late, alone. it was her, the person he had been so ecstatic to meet.

"yeah..chwe vernon hansol 98. thats my username" hansol nodded briefly before sighing, his glance angled down at the floor. he began to chuckle, unable to believe the situation. he shifted his weight onto one side before shoving his hands within his pockets. as they stared at each other, they remained within arms reach. "..you know. knowing my luck, it would be you mina. i don't know what i expected from this meeting but i certainly didn't expect to see you." as he began to ramble on, his quiet tone shifted into something raw and bitter. he couldn't describe this feeling, of seeing someone who he had loved for years- just appear back like magic. it wasn't fair. he glanced around the room, unable to examine her any longer. it was gut wrenching, and there wasn't anything else he could do within this situation. hansol took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts rather before presenting her with a small wave. he turned his body around, making way towards the entrance. "ill see you around— mina." he concluded, before pushing the door open.

@c. hansol as she skimmed over his response, a giddy, yet complacent simper took formation of her roseate tiers as she discarded her phone in the pocket of her hoodie. she was really going to meet this 'cvh98' that she had been chatting with for awhile now, recollecting the lengths and strides she's done just to meet him; diverting her attention to her phone for most of the class period just to talk to him, late night conversations that had her relinquish in her admiration, utilizing her study time to ask him how his day was - she was smitten. she initially began to be interested in him when he related with her through her family troubles, albeit not exposing too much of her past history, just vague statements but he was able to calm her throughout her episode previously. and from there, it went uphill. just knowing that someone else was able to understand her inner demons and comfort her in times of need, she was sure that this man, he was a keeper.

that was until her ears rang in a deafening tone that screamed of apprehension as her eyes laid on that of chwe hansol's. her feet slightly retreated back as an instinct and she parted her lips to question the latter in disbelief. "han?" she lowly called out, her hands meeting behind her back in a timid appearance as a void was just beginning to eat her whole. what was he doing here? did he come here to dance? oh god, this was an awful mistake she never should've -- her eyes widened while her conscience pursued in thought. why else would he be here at 11:30 pm, specifically in the dance studio? that'd be /too/ much of a coincidence, as if this wasn't already. "you're cvh98?"

@m. mina "i'll meet you there then. don't get caught. :p" he quickly typed on his phone before shoving it back into his back pocket. it was late, nearly 11:21pm. he knew he was late to their meeting, but he had to finish reading the last chapter in his textbook before his big test the next day. anxious wasn't necessarily the right word to describe his nerves as of this moment. as he walked towards the front door of his apartment, he checked the mirror by the entrance, haphazardly tossing his hair around until he felt it was presentable. he pulled down his long sleeve, straightening out any visible wrinkles before leaving the door, making his way towards the campus' dance studio. this person, this girl he had met on the chat room was someone quite interesting. the way they seemed to click, he didn't want to pass up this opportunity.

being a journalism major and all, it had seemed that he has been in every single room on campus before. he knew the security guards, and they didn't really mean any harm, more so there to protect the buildings from being vandalized rather than anything else. as he got near the front entrance of the studio, he could feel his heart thumping against his chest; this uneasy feeling that something could go wrong, or something could go right. his hand hesitated before pushing on the door, stepping into studio. quiet and cold, with only one person stood in the center of the dance floor. the surrounding mirrors reflected the image of a rather familiar face, and hansol was beyond confused. as he squinted his eyes, he stepped closer towards the figure, her long blue hoodie made for a shapeless figure. now a couple of feet away from each other, he cleared his throat. "mina. myoui mina?" he questioned.

@c. hansol 'there's a security guard out there so i escaped to the dance studio, haha'. thumbing over the expanse of her keyboard, she hesitantly hovered the pad of her finger over the send button. it was happening again -- the notorious feeling of harboring adulation for one another. god, she hadn't felt that since her last relationship years ago, and here it was again, fleeting her onto the tips of her toes in anticipation. she enabled her message to deliver to the recipient and glanced at her reflection in the mirrors of the dance studio. an abashed smile took her visage and she did a double take on how she presented herself for a first 'actual' impression; an oversized blue hoodie with hidden shorts underneath. she figured she was so clever with her 'bluebird' username and pairing it with her sweater, inevitably eliciting a laugh. venturing towards the center of the floorboard, she slowly spun herself in a lilting, conducted manner whilst waiting for her mysterious admirer for their rendezvous.

[] LOL just a quick starter to get the feel and stuff