We stared at each other for mere seconds, yet it felt as if each passing moment lived on for ages. My mind had been a flurry of different worries and doubts, but his demanding aura was too consuming to leave room for those racing thoughts. All I could focus on was him.
"Put your pointe shoes on," he instructed, glancing down at my feet briefly.
I nodded and placed my bag on the floor, digging through it to find my shoes. As I bent over and began taking my flats off, I watched Hoseok from the corner of my vision.
He walked over to the stereo and connected his phone, messing with a few of the buttons on the device. I frowned upon seeing the black leather gloves that covered his hands, wondering why he felt the need to keep them covered when he hadn't before. He began scrolling through songs, and soon a beautifully chilling piano piece swept over us.
Once my shoes were on, I righted myself and stood by the barre, waiting for him to finish adjusting the volume.
"Will you change your shoes too?" I asked as I took in the white Vans he wore. His long legs were covered by tight black jeans, and an oversized, long-sleeved grey shirt hung over his torso.
He let out a chuckle. "No. I'm not dancing, you are."
"But don't you have to show me what you want me to do?"
"Are you not skilled enough to know the moves by name?" He turned to face me and quirked a critical eyebrow. His eyes held anticipation in them while he awaited my reaction.
Frustration came bursting forth, threatening to show on my face, but I buried it away. I knew he was only trying to get a rise out of me and I refused to satiate that desire of his. I'd been told by Jimin plenty of times that my reactions were entertaining and made it hard for people not to tease me. It was unclear if that was the case with Hoseok or if there was something more to his motive, but either way, I was set on remaining unaffected by his jabs.
So, lifting my chin and sending him a faint smile, I replied, "You're right. I'll manage just fine."
Not even his mask could veil the surprise that shot through his eyes. Though it was only detectable for a second, I felt satisfied knowing that I'd done something to finally catch him off guard. The walls in which he isolated himself were towering and solid, but I'd already made the slightest dent in them - insignificant, sure, but at least I'd proven it possible.
"Good," he spoke after swiftly ridding any sign of surprise from his gaze. "I'll have you run through some basics so I can see more of your technique. Then we'll start the choreography."
I eyed him carefully. "You already have a choreography figured out?
A faint breath of amusement came from beneath his mask. "I have far more than just one figured out."
Just how many dance routines did he have already mapped out in his head?
"How-"
"Enough questions. Let's just get started," he ordered before walking towards the back wall, stopping and leaning against the barre. He crossed his arms and angled his chin up, his orbs latching onto mine.
I stayed at the smaller barre on the wall adjacent from him, turning to face the mirror in front of us. He began instructing me to go over a few different stretches, then he had me show him my form as I ran through the basics.
Hoseok never commented on my technique, wordlessly observing me through the mirror with his hawkish eyes. My heart was beating faster than it should've been and I found my breath harder to catch than normal. Being under his watch was enough to send adrenaline pulsing through my veins.
"Okay, come to the center of the floor."
I followed his instruction, moving to the middle of the room. He stayed in his spot where he could continue to see me through the mirror, and I had to plant my eyes on myself to prevent them from getting captured by his own.
"I want you to show me your pirouette. When I walked in on you the other day, it was sloppy." His voice rang out clear and sharp, defying the mask that should have kept it muffled. I'd received critique countless times over the years and I was never one to get easily offended, but something about the condescension in his tone always seemed to light a match in me.
"My pirouette was just fine until you showed up and startled me," I replied evenly, doing my best to keep my bitterness undetectable.
"I saw it before you even noticed I was there," he said almost amusedly, pushing off from the barre and walking slowly towards me. "If you want to learn from me, you're going to have to get better at accepting my criticism."
"Then you're going to have to get better at making it constructive. So far you've only pointed out flaws, but you've done nothing to help me improve them."
I watched as he came nearer, meeting my gaze in the reflection. He stopped just a couple of feet behind me, his height far greater than mine and his frame much broader.
"Show me."
Wordlessly, I took one step forward to gain more space from him, then easily fell into my preparatory stance. Ignoring the heat of his stare, I inhaled before lifting one foot to my knee and spinning as cleanly as possible. I fell back into my starting position and kept my eyes trained on my own face. Despite barely warming up, my cheeks were already flushed. It was embarrassing having to prove myself to him with a turn I'd learned to do at a young age.
"It looked good, but..." he trailed off, tilting his head in thought. "Show me your fouettés."
With a small sigh, I prepped again, taking extra care in centering myself. Pirouettes were a piece of cake, but fouettés were an entirely different story. I could do them just fine, but that was the issue - they were only fine. I'd never been able to get them into the realm of amazing.
Once I found my balance and fixed my eyes on a spot in the mirror, I turned into a pirouette and lifted my leg, whipping it around for the first fouetté. I pushed on, finding a solid rhythm to continue spinning. Single, single, double. Single, single, double.
"Stop."
Landing in the proper position, I held my pose for a second before letting my arms fall to my sides. I watched Hoseok in the reflection as he began walking forward, moving past me so that he could face me directly.
"Put your arms back up in second position," he instructed.
I did as he said, lifting both arms up and out to the sides.
"Okay," he stepped closer, eyes focused on my arms. "See how your palms are facing out towards the mirror?" He looked at me carefully, waiting for my reply.
I nodded distractedly. I failed to understand how his voice could sound so clear, so full of depth even with that mask of his. Seeing it up close, I realized that it wasn't made of any fabric or cloth. Rather, it was solid, seemingly crafted by gifted hands that had carved intricate, tribal-like patterns into the ink-black material. Small, vertical slits covered the area over his mouth, too tiny to see through them, but just enough to allow him to breathe and speak without being very muffled. The mask covered his chin, his lips, his cheeks, his nose - everything was fully veiled and left a mystery except for his eyes. As my sight drifted to them next, I noted for the first time the rays of gold streaked within the darker caramel of his irises.
I wondered the same thing everyone likely had a thousand times before: what is he hiding?
"This is correct, but when you get into your turns, your palms start shifting towards the floor and your arms start coming in a bit," he explained before moving to stand behind me again. "May I?" He stared back at me in the reflection, waiting for my response.
"Sure," I said, though I was wary of what he wished to do.
A faint gasp escaped me when his gloved hands raised to hold the tops of my own. Distance remained between our torsos, but I could still sense how close his chest was to my back. He slowly turned my hands over, guiding them to face the floor, then he brought my arms in just slightly.
"It doesn't seem like a big deal, but the problem is..." he paused, releasing one of my hands so that he could place two fingers between my shoulder blades, "...it doesn't keep your back as engaged. You'll feel the difference right here." His breath ever so lightly fell upon the skin on the back of my neck.
Testing his claim, I widened my arms back out and shifted my palms to face the mirror again. Just as he said, I felt my muscles tighten underneath his touch.
"See? The more you can engage these muscles, the better your form will-"
Hoseok's fingers unexpectedly slid down my spine, and with a sharp inhale, I stepped out of his reach. I'd been fine just seconds before, but when his touch shifted, the letters suddenly appeared in my mind and the possibility of him being the one behind them sent a wave of fear over me.
Damn it, you're supposed to gain his trust. If he is the writer, acting weird like this will only make him realize that you're suspicious of him.
Hoseok raised his hands in surrender, lifting a single amused brow. I could feel the hidden smirk radiating from him. "Jumpy, are we?"
Brushing a stray hair away from my face, I huffed. "Sorry, I just... should I try it again?"
He stepped back and gestured for me to go ahead. "Apply what I told you."
"No, I was just going to ignore everything you said," I quipped, earning a quiet chuckle from him.
Letting the music spur me on, I readied myself and dove into the spins, employing the tips he'd given me. The difference was immediate as I felt the extra stability in my turns, the added control over my movement. I landed flawlessly and let a small grin pull at my lips, half-expecting Hoseok to praise me.
"Better," he said shortly with a curt nod. "Now let's start on the opening of the dance."
Should've known there'd be no praise from him.
The next hour dragged on torturously. His choreography was complicated from the very start, requiring much precision and attention to detail. He had me repeat a single step over and over until he deemed it acceptable, and I quickly learned that he was pickier than any of the previous teachers I had throughout the years.
By the time he allowed me to rest, sweat was dripping from my scalp down to my chin. As I went to sit on the floor to catch my breath, I decided that I should use the opportunity to try to learn a few things about him.
"Do you miss dancing?" The question slipped from my mouth before I could think twice.
His eyes snapped to mine. He leaned back against the wall where he stood, looking at me intimidatingly. "Who says I don't still dance?"
My heart faltered. "Just... That's what some friends told me. According to them, nobody has ever seen you dance here."
His head tilted to the side as he crossed his arms, gaze flickering over my face with interest. "So you asked about me."
"What? No. You just happened to come up in our conversation," I denied.
"Hmm. And who are these friends? Jungkook? Jimin?" he asked, oddly curious.
I watched his reaction carefully, wishing more than ever that I could see features other than just his eyes. "Yes. And Seokjin, Yoongi, Namjoon, and Taehyung. Do you know them?"
"They certainly seem to think they know me," he answered evasively.
"I'm sorry for assuming that you don't dance, but if nobody has ever seen you, that means you don't perform. Why?"
"Full of questions, aren't you?"
"I'm just curious."
"Why?"
"You're asking as many questions as me now."
He sighed. "I have my reasons for not performing. Choreography is what I'm focused on anyway."
I nodded, choosing not to push him any further despite the inkling that dance was more important to him than he was letting on. "You're really great at it," I said, hoping to dent that guard of his just a bit more. "The dance you made for the welcoming showcase was incredible."
His eyes never wavered from mine, that same magnetism forming between us. "Are you sure it was my choreography and not Jungkook's dancing? He's a great performer."
I took a moment to consider my next words, sensing that his inquiry was some sort of test. "It was both. Your routine would have been beautiful no matter what, but Jungkook really brought it to life."
"Every story needs a good storyteller. Jungkook is the only one that comes close to doing that for my dances."
Biting my lip, I finally stood and mirrored his body language, crossing my arms as well. "If you're happy with the way Jungkook performs your work, why do you want me to be your dancer?"
The only indication that he was either grinning or smirking was the slight narrowing of his eyes. He likely thought I wouldn't catch it, but I was being more observant than usual.
"I have my reasons. Any more questions for me, sunshine?"
Using a nickname for me was the last thing I expected of him, and it left me speechless. I wasn't flustered, just confused. At least, that's what I tried to convince myself.
He must've realized my inability to summon words, so he spoke up again. "Alright, we're done for today. We'll meet again two days from now, same time," he stated firmly, making it known that it wasn't a request. I watched his back as he moved to the stereo, clicking it off.
"You didn't help me with my project," I said as I finally found my voice.
"Everything we did today is going to help with your project. Just be patient, Jangmi." He sent me one final glance before walking out.
The rest of the day was uneventful, even dull in comparison to the way Hoseok's aura that morning had kept me alert. I had to wonder if I was just growing accustomed to being on edge since coming to the university. The last thing I wanted was for that wariness to become my new norm, so I knew I needed to find a way to relax and trust someone.
Of course, the only person I felt that I could trust for the time being was Jimin. Missing him and in desperate need of his soothing company, I sent him a quick text asking to meet at my dorm as soon as he was free.
After he replied that he'd come by in a couple of hours, I sighed and sprawled out on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. No amount of effort succeeded in keeping my mind off of the letters. I was kicking myself for not taking pictures of them, hating the fact that my carelessness had allowed him to steal away the only proof I had against him.
Had he somehow realized that I was growing more desperate? I hadn't told anyone about my plans to take pictures, so how had he known to grab them before I could?
Stop overthinking. Just relax. It's only coincidental.
I could feel hopelessness slowly creeping in from the corners of my being, twisting and turning with worry from the knowledge that I no longer had any cards to play against the writer.
With the whirling of my mind eventually slowing down, I felt myself drift to sleep.
After aimlessly roaming the campus grounds, I found myself back in the abandoned opera house, staring up at the stunning painted ceiling.
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps sent me snapping my head around to the source. A figure stood before me, covered in a large black cloak with their face completely hidden behind a hood. Though I feared them, I was unable to move, stuck in place as they steadily approached. When they were only centimeters away, I felt their icy breath spread over my face, chills racking my body.
"Hello, my sweet rose," the figure rasped, speaking in a low whisper. The voice was masculine but distorted like they were purposefully altering their tone. "Are you missing these?"
I gasped as their gloved hand held out two black pieces of paper, scrawled on with red ink. They were unmistakably the notes that had been in my drawer just a day before.
"Who the hell are you?! What do you want from me?" I questioned with ferocity, clenching my jaw.
The figure clicked their tongue, then slowly brought their hand up, gliding the back of it over my cheek tenderly. I shivered from the sensation of the cool leather on my skin.
"I hate that I had to take my letters from you. I loved knowing that you kept my words beside you as you slept, but I could see that you were becoming paranoid. I feared you would use them against me. It looks like I'll have to start speaking with you this way until I'm able to reveal myself to you in person."
They finally dropped their hand from my face and turned around, beginning to walk away. With a final look over their shoulder, they added, "In the meantime, try not to be so fearful. I don't intend to harm you, and I will never allow anyone else to either. Do look forward to my next visit."
Then he vanished.
I woke up with a racing heart, chest heaving as I gasped for air. Every time I blinked, I could see the hooded figure clearly, as if he had just been standing in front of me in reality.
I knew it was only a nightmare. I knew my anxiety had brought on such a vivid scenario. It felt so real, and he spoke in the same way that he did in the notes. But, of course, there was no possibility that the writer could've actually visited me in my own dream.
Right?
• • •
A/N: And we're back! I missed this story and all of you a TON and it was only a month. I'm sorry for anyone who didn't see my announcements about the hiatus. I had exams and then a few other commitments to take care of, but I'm back and ready to keep this story going!
How did you feel about Hoseok and Jangmi's interaction so far? I know it wasn't much, but any of you who have read my other work know that I like to build things up slowly. Besides, we still don't know if he can even be trusted or not, right?
Also, what are your thoughts on that last scene? :D
Next chapter will get pretty juicy. Better get your teabags ready.
Here's an edit by Jimins_amarillo which was inspired by this story and it was too cool not to share with you all!
The mask is different than it is in this book, but like... this is gorgeous. I love.
Thank you for waiting patiently for Beastly Beauty's return. I am so grateful.
With love,
-Hoseokiiss
May 12, 2020