wrong number » minsung

42

"Are you really good to dance?" Chan asked as Minho walked (read: limped) into the dance studio.

Minho nodded and kicked his leg out, letting out a sigh when it clicked satisfyingly before beginning to shake the rest of his body.

"What are you doing here?" The brunette asked, only now just realising that Chan was actually there, in the studio he was meant to be rehearsing in.

"Uh, helping you," Chan replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You're still partially injured so I'm just making sure you don't die."

"I won't die," Minho mumbled, walking over to the speaker in the corner of the studio to connect his phone. "Besides, dancing will be good for me. I haven't moved in weeks."

"And for good reason," Chan stated, taking a seat on one of the couches at the back of the studio. "What kind of dance are you doing?"

"I don't know," Minho replied absentmindedly, pressing play. "I know the choreography but I don't know what style it is. Hip-hop maybe?"

"Sounds cool," Chan nodded his approval, making himself comfortable on the couch. "Show me."

Minho hummed in response, pressing play before jogging to the centre of the studio, getting in position. The song was slow, but had a heavy bass that Minho could feel thrumming in his veins. He let his body move naturally to the music, watching his reflection in the mirror as to make sure he punctuated every move perfectly.

Soon enough the song was over, and Minho turned to look at Chan.

"How was that?" The brunette asked, and Chan cocked his head to the side.

"Don't you think it's a little too sexy?" The blonde replied, and Minho raised an eyebrow.

"It is?" He asked, voice laced with confusion.

"You were practically eye-fucking yourself in that mirror," Chan chuckled.

"I don't think that highly of myself," Minho mumbled. "But is it good?"

"It's great," Chan commended. "You'll definitely get through with that."

"You think?" Minho asked, his face lighting up.

"Of course," the blonde praised. "You did well."