pas de deux [1/3]
pas de deux
luhan/kai
NC-17
20,000 words
If there was one thing Jongin could do with his fucked up self, it was dance - step up au.
warnings; triggering language, bullying, underage smoking/drinking
written for admortems in deerofdawn
Jongin had a crushed Newport between his lips, unlit though the air still hung visible and heavy in front of his face as he exhaled. The shadows around him cast from broken down buildings seemed ominous as they morphed into intimidating caricatures of predators long run out of the city limits. He rubbed his hands together, cold clinging uncomfortable to the insides of his palms before he jammed one into the front pouch of his hoodie, fumbled for his lighter.
Sehun was next to him, drunk and stumbling and Jongin paused to laugh. He knew his own breath reeked of rum, coke and bad decisions; but he flicked his bic and inhaled nicotine and the feeling of immortality like only a teenager could.
"What the hell are you doing?" he asked, snorted as he followed after his friend wobbling across the painted lines of the street like a balance beam.
"I don't know. Something? You're boring." was his slurred response and Jongin rolled his eyes as he pulled the hood of his sweatshirt down further, hid his eyes like he was paranoid.
Maybe he was though, it wasn't like the cops ever really appreciated two teenage thug wannabes walking around at night, drunk off their asses. Not that Jongin cared. Not that his parents cared either, if he got caught.
Then again, the term parents was used loosely, Jongin didn't quite consider them parents. More like strangers playing pretend, a faux family built up out of fake promises, but Jongin knew they were only fostering him for the money anyway. That was what it always came down to.
And so he and Sehun had broken it into a routine, tagging buildings and smashing windows, glass falling to the sound of sharp laughter. Destructive hands to a destructive personality, it was probably fitting but Jongin didn't have the time to sit down and evaluate the number of times some rent-a-cop threatened to lock him up in juvie.
"Where are you going?" Jongin blurted out, jogged to catch up as Sehun wove a path across an alleyway to sling a heavy arm over the boys shoulders, watched as Sehun nodded ahead and he followed his gaze. Jongin was met with a building stacked high and pretty, arched windows that lit them up in a reflection.
Sehun's eyes read mischief and that was never a good thing.
"The fuck is this?" he asked him in a snort, exhaled smoke into Sehun's face that had Sehun retaliating with a hard push to his chest, sending him stumbling backwards on tipsy limbs. He laughed anyway, flipped Sehun the bird as he glared.
"It's like," Sehun started off, waving his hand through the air in a gesture that might have been explanatory but it just ended up sending him off balance and chuckling. Jongin hefted him back upright as Sehun licked his lips, tried to untangle his tongue.
"Some fancy ass art school. You know, for like prissy little ballerinas and shit." Sehun finished, wobbling off in some awful imitation of a pirouette that had Jongin clutching at his knees, bent over in laughter.
They both danced themselves, but not like that. Not inside of fancy studios with instructors and shows and audiences, not the kind that had people sitting in theatres and clapping at the end of the performance. No, they had their own little crew; they set up torn cardboard duct taped to the ground to break dance on, locked limbs and popped chests and Jongin could make it look like he was gliding on air.
He was good, he had taught himself to look that fucking good and so yeah, maybe him and Sehun had a bit of a grudge against the rich kids who had practice and teachers and routines every other day. People who could afford to go to a specialty school instead of the shit hole they skipped out on half the week.
Sehun had somehow managed to drag himself down an alley, along the side of the building and Jongin wandered after him, dropped his cigarette butt to the gutter and dragged his fingertips across the rough brick. It was nice, nicer than anything Jongin had stepped inside of in a while - even in the dark Jongin could tell they'd sank money into it; and that's why when he heard a shatter he jumped and spun incredulous to find Sehun squatting down and peering through a window he'd just smashed open.
"What the fuck?" Jongin spluttered out a bit incredulously; because seriously, what the fuck?
"Dude, like. Chill. I just wanna check it out. Don't be a pussy," was the eloquent response that Sehun shot back at him and Jongin rolled his eyes, bounced on his heels before he jerked his head down towards his friend.
"Well hurry the fuck up, someone might'a heard," he pointed out with a sniff as he slid his nose against the sleeve of his sweatshirt, all frenetic energy and the start of an adrenaline rush.
There was a grumble, drunken murmurs that got drowned out in the wind as Sehun shifted and stumbled and thumped his way in through the window, Jongin following after him with his sweatshirt sleeves pulled down over the palms of his hands so he could vault himself inside without getting cut up.
The moonlight followed after him, scattered across the fragmented glass and left him painted in swatches of light, had Jongin tugging his hood down even further over his ears before he followed after Sehun, glass crunching under his shoes like gravel as he tucked his hands into his pockets.
"Shit, this place is nice." he heard Sehun mumble up ahead of him, joined him at a trophy case and let his eyes linger on group pictures and tall trophies with dates and names carved into shiny brass plates.
"Crammed up with rich bitches though," Jongin snorted out derisively, and Sehun followed him into laughter as they moved away from the case and through a large door.
"Sweet," Sehun murmured out in approval from his side and Jongin couldn't help but to hum out in agreement. It was nice, a huge amphitheatre with an orchestra pit and curtains and props half painted and left sitting unfinished on the stage.
It left the room looking odd, a subtle sort of haunted without people there to take up space and act out stories. Silence crept up in his spine and he was about to open his mouth and speak when he felt sharp pressure at the back of his neck. He let out a shrill screech, jumped and wheeled around only to be met with Sehun laughing his ass off.
"What the fuck, man?" Jongin cursed out angry and embarrassed, hand moving to rub at his nape before he huffed, turned to traipse his way down the stairs like he had to prove something. He sort of did, Sehun just made him scream like a little girl and he knew his friend wouldn't ever let him live it down unless he did something to make him forget it.
Making him forget it apparently consisted of hefting himself up onto the stage to closer inspect the props, ignoring Sehun's faint warning from behind him as he climbed up onto a wobbly chair to take hold of one of the light fixtures, made like Tarzan and swung himself in a clean arc that had him simultaneously laughing loud and ripping it down from the intricate wiring overhead.
"You fucking didn't." he heard Sehun marvel, turned to waggle his brows at him before he leaned down to give the other a hand up onto the stage.
"I did, come on. They can jus' like...replace shit anyway." Jongin mumbled out with a shrug. Jongin was drunk, the school was rich - it seemed logical, at least at the time.
Their laughter rattled off the walls and slid through the empty aisles as their hands turned destruction into an art form of its own. Sword fights with chair legs, and backdrops used like springboards in some half assed parkour attempt that had Sehun laughing and pelting Jongin with fake fruit.
Not-so-harmless fun, but it was run of the mill, at least for them.
What wasn't quite so run of the mill was the figure appearing behind Sehun and grabbing him in some kind of hold, laughter turned to shouted out obscenities and-- shit, that was a cop.
Jongin froze, the deer in the headlights kind because he'd just got let off the hook for smashing someone's car window in and he'd gotten taken in four times this month and he was so going to get in trouble and he could dip out but the cop had Sehun gripped tight no matter how much he tried to buck him off.
Jongin's fingers twitched, he could make a run for it - he could get away clean, it wasn't his problem and Sehun had been the one to drag them both into the stupid school anyway. Then again, he had started the whole 'lets trash the stage' game and Jongin had always been far too noble for his own good, at least when it came to his friends.
"Fuck," Jongin hissed out under his breath before he sprinted forward and rammed his shoulder into the cop, got him to loosen his hold enough to let his grip on Sehun slacken, enough for Sehun to slip free. Jongin turned to bolt before a hand on his hood was yanking him back, the edge of his zipper digging into his neck and choking him as he stumbled over his own feet.
He saw Sehun pause up ahead, the hesitance in his eyes visible and Jongin let out an angry grunt as he felt his arms being yanked behind his back "just go," he called out, voice amplified around the auditorium. Sehun mouthed a 'thanks' and Jongin let his head drop as he felt the metal of the handcuffs biting at his wrists.
"Noble, kid," he heard the cop snort out derisively.
"Go fuck yourself," he shot back, earned himself a heavy elbow to the middle of his back, was left wheezing as his ass was hauled out of the school and into a cop car.
It had just not been his fucking day.
---
Jongin had been hoping he could just get off again with another warning, a smack on the wrist and his foster parents giving him shit for it. He didn't though, of course not.
His foster mom had to get the day off of work to take him to court; he'd got bitched at the entire drive while he tried to make himself look at least moderately presentable. Not that he managed that all too well either, his hair was a mess and while his top wasn't stained it was still just a tee shirt, baggy jeans sort-of held up by his belt.
Jongin looked more put together than he usually did, though apparently the judge didn't seem to agree based on the look he was shot as Jongin slouched his way forward, hands tucked deep in his pockets as he waited for him to dole out his punishment.
The judge drawled on and on about the damage that Jongin had done to the property as Jongin studied the backs of his hands, a complacent sort of indifference he probably shouldn't have been flaunting around. He ended up with community service, way too many hours of it and to be served at the same arts academy to repay back his debt to society - or something along those lines. Jongin had stopped paying attention after hearing his verdict- angry and glaring like that would somehow fix everything.
It didn't, of course. It just had his foster mom patting him awkwardly on the shoulder as they walked out of the courthouse, Jongin shrugging off her hand so hard he nearly dislocated something.
He didn't have time for it, honestly. He had school, and he had his dance crew and he had parties and his friends to hang out with. It was unfair and they probably had plenty of money to just replace it all anyway, what would they really gain from him spraying around Windex, really?
He slouched down low in the seat of the car as he got back in, cell phone in hand as he texted Sehun a series of angry messages paired with angrier emoticons. Not that he was mad at Sehun, it wasn't his fault and they both got up to stupid things on a regular basis. It was just bad luck and Jongin really, really didn't want to follow through with the repercussions.
Which his foster mom was trying to make a point of as she drawled on and on next to him until it finally prompted Jongin into pulling out his headphones and stuffing them into his ears as he glared at the scenery passing him by in a blur. Disjointed graffiti and crumbling buildings, the picturesque portrait of the slums and he sank lower into the seat and cranked up the volume of his music until the dubstep remix was rattling off the insides of his skull.
Jongin knew he had a bad attitude, or that's what all the adults in his life referred to it as anyway. He cursed too much and acted crude. He drank on weekends despite the fact that he was only seventeen, was reckless and impulsive. He wasn't going anywhere fast, that was for sure. Nobody figured he would make anything of himself, and so Jongin didn't either. Just another lost cause - a reject, and even his parents hadn't wanted him.
So he made himself the product of his environment. Volatile and blasé and that was never a very good combination.
---
When Jongin met up with Sehun after school the next day he was greeted with laughter and a hard smack to the middle of his back. "You get to clean up after all the rich bitches."
Jongin aimed an elbow hard into the others side in retaliation, "I saved your ass. You could at least pretend to be grateful," he grumbled out annoyed as Sehun's arm looped around his neck.
"Yeah, whatever. Anyway you're gonna miss like. So much practice." Sehun went on, had Jongin frowning to himself as he ran a hand through his hair.
"Yeah, well. I'm like five hundred times better than your scrawny ass already though. So maybe it'll give you time to catch up," he threw back, raised his eyebrows like a challenge and ducked away with a snicker as Sehun went to punch him.
"Fuck you," Sehun called after him as Jongin turned to leave. He didn't take much offense to it though, lifted his own hand up to throw his middle finger over his shoulder in goodbye as he made his way towards the academy.
Jongin dragged his steps on purpose, delayed the inevitable. As he got closer he could see a few of the students milling around with instrument cases slung over their shoulders, on their way to expensive looking cars and he ducked his head down and tried not to feel too self conscious in his ripped up jeans and old pair of nike's that were falling apart.
Jongin tugged the hood of his sweatshirt up as he weaved his way through the students hanging around the front steps of the school to slip in through the door, decided that everyone was way too cheerful along the way and it definitely didn't reflect his mood.
He spent the next twenty minutes wandering around in search of the headmasters office, found one sign along his way and veered off in a half assed attempt of direction, ended up walking through silent halls, the squeak of his sneakers loud and obtrusive and he'd never felt like this much of an outsider before.
There was a quiet string of music that carried through the halls, and when he peeked his head in through door frames he spotted a few canvases propped up on easels, sketches outlined bare, like bones waiting for substance. He didn't like it, or that was what he told himself. There was still that tiny part that craved for this sort of thing. Opportunities. But he'd already whitewashed that all down as disillusions, because he wasn't wanted here. Not for anything other than mopping the halls.
There was a scatter of fragmented voices, a rise in volume before it fell, crashed down on him like a wave and Jongin knew he probably shouldn't be there to hear it, but he was. Not that he had any idea of what was going on - just that one kid sounded pissed and kept going on about how totally screwed he was for such and such; which naturally made Jongin curious and he edged forward to peek around the corner.
There were two people, one girl in a cast and a boy who looked around his age, maybe a little younger. He looked frazzled, hair in a disarray like he'd been pulling it and the girls face was flushed like she might have been angry, or maybe just upset.
Jongin made a face, the kind that read 'oh shit' and he turned to leave but he knocked over a broom propped up against the wall in the process, fumbling hands as he tried to get a hold on it before it clattered against the floor and Jongin winced, squeezed an eye shut as his whole body tensed.
"Can I help you?" a voice rang out from behind him, the boy, and Jongin turned his head around to glance at him from over his shoulder. He schooled his face into his best imitation of unbothered and shrugged a shoulder, tongue slipping out across his lips in lieu of chapstick.
"Uh, the main office?" he questioned back, because the kid wouldn't tear his eyes off his back and Jongin was starting to feel awkward. "I can take you, if you want?" he spoke again, had Jongin shrugging rather noncommittal - the picture of teenage indifference, a cocky air hanging like shroud around him.
Jongin waited though, leaned back against the wall and side eyed the pair as they exchanged goodbyes and he helped her with her crutches. Jongin might have minded if this wasn't just creating a bigger gap between his meeting with the headmaster.
"Are you checking out the school or something, a transfer?" Jongin heard from next to his shoulder, eyes sliding over and he shrugged again, shoved off and out of his slouch to trail after the other as he navigated the halls with familiar steps.
"Chatty," the boy deadpanned out and Jongin snorted, the corners of his lips picking up in a small grin as he ducked his head and rearranged the bill of his snapback.
"Ah, no that's not- just a...thing." he came up with after a pause, pulled at the string of his hoodie as he peeked over at the other from underneath the brim of his hat - curious.
He was pretty, the kind that Jongin didn't really think boys should be. Perfect skin and a ski slope nose - his eyelashes were too thick and Jongin decided he ought to hate him too. He fit the bill for his mental picture of the types who went here anyway - the kind of perfection that he'd never be able to achieve.
There was a stagnant pause that had Jongin counting the tiles that lined the halls before a heavy "oh" fell between them and Jongin looked over at him questioningly. "You're that vandal aren't you? The one who trashed our stage?" the realization was palpable in his tone. Jongin shrugged again, his shoulders hunching up a little as he drew into a defensive stance.
Jongin pulled his lower lip into his mouth and kept his eyes glued to the floor for the remainder of the walk, until he was dropped off in front of the door with a nod and eyes gliding right over him like he didn't really want anything to do with him.
Jongin figured he could understand why. Poor thug wannabe, that was probably what was going around anyway. Some kid who trashed the school, someone who could never crawl up to their level.
Yeah, well he was already used to it anyway. And he didn't care.
He really didn't.
So he swallowed down his pride and stepped into the office, earned himself a sharp glare from the secretary and ducked his head, tugged his cap down lower as she snapped out directions and pointed a shiny red nail towards a room behind her.
Jongin sniffed, nodded his head in a way he knew was probably rude before he sauntered back towards the office, knocked once before he walked inside and dropped down onto a chair, heels flat against the ground and legs splayed as he leaned back to stare at the ceiling while she rearranged papers on her desk.
Probably property damage forms or some bullshit.
She finally cleared her throat and Jongin let his head loll as he looked over at her. "Kim Jongin." She read off whatever was in front of her, cleared her throat again and he found himself cringing, tapped his finger against the arm of the chair in an attempt to release some of the tension that had his heart thudding against his rib cage.
"Yeah?" he finally spoke back voice crackling as it inched past his lips and he dropped his eyes back to the floor like that might cover up the nervous energy sparking out from his skin.
He was just a kid though. A stupid boy riddled with hormones and too much free time, not nearly enough guidance. He could still get nervous under pressure, could still feel unsure or small. And he did, even if he made a point not to show it.
She droned on, about costs and wasted opportunities. About how they put kids through on scholarships all the time and about how he'd gone and dashed a whole handful of kids dreams by making them pay for the damage.
He'd responded with an uncaring "so?" that had her sighing, shaking her head before she gave him a list of things he was supposed to do around the school each day.
He didn't want to be there, there were thousands of other things he'd rather be doing than ignoring the stares and stifled giggles of the students who stayed after class as he repainted the windowsills or changed the light bulbs in the halls.
There were also a thousand different things he didn't want to hear from Sehun every day as he all but bragged about having free time - and he really shouldn't even be allowed to do that considering the fact that Jongin had thrown his ass on the line and covered for him in the first place.
Life was unfair. He needed some sort of trophy to emblemize this.
The days crawled by, interspersed with Jongin practicing some new routine he'd come up with his head in the abandoned lot near his house, lit up at night with a flickering streetlamp; piggybacking his little foster sister to school in the mornings because she didn't want to take the bus (and Jongin could never say no when she gave him puppy eyes).
'cnt u skip tho? lol.'
Jongin's phone vibrated as it flashed a text from Sehun and he heaved a sigh. He still had a month's worth of this bullshit and Sehun was really just making it all worse.
'no. don't b a douche,’ he shot back before he stuffed his phone back into his pocket and resumed his search for the dustpan that the janitor had assured him he'd left in one of the rooms down the hall. Jongin followed his instructions as he wandered around in search for it, his ear bud jammed into place with a harsh rap track on loop.
He paused at the entrance of one room, a boy there - and he didn't know his name, but it was the same one who'd shown him to the main office, the one with the pretty face. Only this time it was dropped into his hands. Jongin inched inside the room, footsteps quiet - he should have moved on, but he didn't. He wasn't sure what compelled him to stay, but he did.
"Um," he said, and the boy looked up, his face a strange mix of emotions Jongin couldn't begin naming - but confusion was there, probably because Jongin had the nerve to talk to him. "You okay there?" he tried again, actual words this time as he busied himself by pretending to look around for the cleaning supplies.
The boys face betrayed his hesitance and Jongin mirrored it, body language awkward. Jongin had never been well versed in the art of communication.
"Uh, yeah. Just bullshit I guess," he responded and Jongin nodded like he had a clue what was going on (he didn't though, he never did). "What's your name anyway?" his voice hit him again, a sharp tone that softened around the edges - it had Jongin looking up towards his face, waited a beat before, "Jongin. My name's Jongin...what about you?"
"Luhan." he answered, the smile on his face polite, expression foreign enough to make Jongin feel uncomfortable as he stood in the spotlight of his eyes like Luhan would start barking out orders to do tricks next.
"Sure you're okay?" Jongin repeated, his task of relocating the cleaning supplies abandoned in favor of the distraction now placed in front of him. It wasn't like he cared, not really - not about Luhan's problems, Jongin had enough of his own after all.
But Luhan was a distraction, preferred talking to him in favor of sweeping the classrooms and so yeah, why the hell wouldn't he stay around and pretend like they were friends for however long the other let him?
"Yeah." Luhan started off as he lingered near the piano in the corner of the room, fingers ghosting across the keys as he played a quick bar, had Jongin inching in a little closer.
"Or, well. No, not really," he corrected himself. Jongin let out a small laugh as Luhan shot him a look, he met it and wondered if he shouldn't have - but then Luhan was smiling back at him, a little more sincerely this time.
"I'm a senior. It's my showcase this year, you know - scouting agencies and people come, right?" he explained to Jongin like he was two and had Jongin rolling his eyes, but nodded his head along anyway.
"Except my partner Soojung fractured her ankle. We had the whole fucking choreography down and everything. And I already tried to find someone else to replace her but there are only freshman left and they can't dance to save their lives and-" Luhan broke off in a frustrated huff and Jongin nodded his head sympathetically.
"So yeah. I'm screwed," Luhan finished lamely as he dropped down onto the piano bench, fingertips tracing over the keys without hitting any notes.
After a hesitant minute Jongin followed to slip into the empty space next to him, pressed one of the keys experimentally and left a flat noise echoing around the room. It seemed to match the ambience, at least. The note thinned out into something reedy and waning until it faded completely, replaced by Jongin's voice as he mumbled out an "I can dance," flicked his tongue out apprehensively across his lips.
He heard Luhan laugh next to him, and Jongin swiveled his head around to glare at him momentarily before he pushed up off the bench, stormed back off into the direction of the door again. "Hey kid, wait. Come on I wasn't teasing you, just. You don't peg me as a modern dance enthusiast is all." Jongin stopped in his tracks as Luhan's voice held him in place - he shrugged, faux indifference leaking out of his pores.
"I don't. Not modern dance. But I can dance," he protested stubbornly as he glanced over his shoulder to meet Luhan's eyes. "I can," he repeated, because if there was one thing Jongin could do with his fucked up self, it was dance. He knew he was good, even if he didn't meet some prissy art schools qualifications, even if he didn't have the background for it.
He dropped his head back down and started for the door again before he heard footsteps behind him, fingers wrapping loose around his wrist to keep him from walking out of the room. "I wasn't laughing at you, stop acting like you're having a hissy fit and dance for me then," Luhan spoke up, his tone challenging and Jongin stood straighter and squared off his shoulders like he was preparing for a fight, instinctual - but Jongin was always a bit too arrogant for his own good.
He nodded once before he pulled out his phone and hooked it up into the stereo system, fingers slipping across the screen until he settled on his track. It was easy, dancing. Or it felt like it in the moment. It was a quick pivot or snap of his wrist, rhythm resonating in his bones and translating out like all of the words left unspoken, stuck underneath his tongue.
He wasn't technically accurate by any means, Jongin was raw talent, untrained and unfinished. He had a passion though, even if that would never get him further than a few bucks tossed into a hat left out on the street corner.
By the time the song came to a finish there was a light sheen of sweat across Jongin's brow, he lifted a hand to swipe at it before he grabbed his phone, unplugged it from the speakers to tuck it into the pocket of his jeans, finally chanced a look over at Luhan. His eyes were appraising, like he was balancing out everything in his head and Jongin met him with a determined set to his jaw, a stubborn look in his eyes.
He didn't really know what he was trying to prove - that he could dance better than the group of freshman girls that Luhan had written off? It was stupid, Jongin knew it was stupid but he couldn't just make the whole tangle of emotions disappear.
It felt sort of like a slap in the face, to be plucked out of his element and thrown into a building that was designed to cater to all of his aspirations. Like someone had decided it would be really funny to upend everything just to show Jongin what he was missing out on - what would potentially have been possible if he wasn't such a fuck up.
But that was what it all boiled down to, wasn't it?
"You're good." Luhan finally spoke, dragged Jongin out of his thoughts and he looked over at him a bit surprised. He hadn't been expecting that. He’d been braced for more laughter maybe, but not compliments.
"I mean. Not in a polished way. But...potential," he finished and Jongin squirmed under his scrutiny as Luhan circled around him. All he had was dance after all, he really didn't want Luhan listing off all the ways he sucked, how he'd never amount to much.
He seemed nice though, or at least nicer than he'd expected.
"Told you," was Jongin's grumbled out response, attempted to throw up a cocky front and hoped that Luhan would buy it, he caught the edge of that smirk again though and he figured he might have fallen a little short on the delivery.
"Do you really want to help me out?" Luhan finally asked once he'd finished eying him up like a prize cow at the goddamn country fair, felt his jaw slacken just a bit because...well. He hadn't been expecting that either.
"Do you want me to?" he asked, skepticism coloring his words as he pushed his thumb up against his lower lip, eyes opened wide and disbelieving as he looked over at the other. He wasn't a girl, and he didn't even go to the school, he was just some street rat kid who'd trashed their stage and it didn't really add up in his head.
Still, he wasn't about to just let whatever this was slip away and crash. Too much of his life was left poorly pieced together and broken. The idea of it was nice, shiny and brand new.
"Yeah, maybe. I mean. You're good, better than my other options at least. If I can teach you some then you'd probably be my best bet." Luhan sounded like he was resigning himself into the only option possible, but Jongin would take it because he liked dancing, and it might get him off cleaning duty.
"Cool," Jongin answered back, thumb dropping from his mouth as he let a tentative smile slip through his rather guarded demeanor.
"Yeah, cool. Anyway I'll talk to the head and see if she'll cut us a break, okay? Here - give me your number," Luhan demanded as he pushed his phone into Jongin's hands, grabbed it back when he finished and sent a text to him so he'd have his as well.
"Look, I need to go, but we can meet up tomorrow at the same time? I can show you my routine so far. We definitely need to rework a shit ton though. I'm so not lifting you," Luhan commented out, eyes lit up mischievously, had Jongin snorting and reaching over to push at his shoulder.
"Shove off. I could probably lift you. What are you, fifty kilos?" he teased, lips curling into a smirk of his own as he ruffled a hand back through his hair while Luhan rolled his eyes.
"Don't be late," Luhan spoke out accusatorially, Jongin shrugged again; it was becoming a theme.
---
He kept the new turn of events to himself, he didn't think Sehun would do anything but laugh at him if he learned that he'd help some rich douchebag with his modern dance showcase. Jongin half wanted to make fun of himself and that was never a good sign.
It gave him something to think of though when his phone lit up halfway through math with a text from Luhan, 'I pulled some strings, you're helping me now instead of cleaning. Don't fuck this up. I'll talk to you more about it later.' that had him simultaneously scoffing and grinning to himself in the corner of the classroom and his teacher went on about some formula or another.
He showed up in the same practice room, a little out of breath from his trek across the city blocks - his perpetual uniform of baggy jeans and a dark sweatshirt, hood pulled up and an ear bud in place as he spent a few idle minutes practicing glides across the floor.
"You look like you're about to rob a convenience mart. Like, all the time." Jongin heard over his shoulder and he turned his head to catch sight of Luhan, flipped him off in way of greeting. "Anyway, go change," was the follow up that had Jongin pausing - shot a confused look over to Luhan and was met with a rather impish smile.
"Yeah, go change into your tights," he went on, had Jongin choking on his own spit as he shot him a rather incredulous look before Luhan snorted out into laughter. Jongin glared back in turn and he fished his phone out of his pocket to turn off his music.
"Fuck you," Jongin responded back, slipped his hands into his pockets as he leaned into a practiced slouch. "You seriously need to take off your shoes though." Luhan tacked on with a grin as he reached over to ruffle at Jongin's hair, had Jongin ducking away and combing his fingers harried through the rumpled strands.
"And get rid of your personal space issue, while you're at it," Luhan spoke, more seriously this time.
"Yeah, right. Whatever," Jongin sighed back, bit at the inside of his cheek as Luhan shot him a harsh look.
"Look. I put my ass on the line for this. I need you to take it seriously. I know this is like your after school special and you don't have to play janitor anymore, but this is fucking everything to me, and if you're not going to be serious, you can leave right now."
It sounded like a threat, had Jongin ducking his head down and pushing his hood off his head, rubbing bashful at the back of his neck. "Yeah. I uh, no. I'll be serious."
"Good," Luhan responded, stared at him for a beat longer than Jongin thought was really necessary, had Jongin curling his fingers into his palms and wondering if agreeing to the whole thing was really such a good idea. Sure, he didn't have to clean the halls anymore, but it was also pretty clear that he didn't care about this half as much as Luhan did.
Still, dancing for a handful of hours a week sounded better than finishing out the rest of his janitorial sentence, and besides, Luhan had already gotten it cleared with the head of the school and he wasn't really sure what kind of hoops he'd need to jump through to get out of the mess he'd made for himself.
At least he'd get to catch up on all the lost hours of dance, even if it did seem to differ drastically from what he usually did with his friends in his spare time.
"Alright, so. What do you know about modern, anything?" Luhan asked him as he bent down at the hip to press his palms against the floor, had Jongin's eyes jumping to watch as he stood slouched next to the piano, wondered if he should follow suit - though he felt awkward now, strangely defiant and mixed with stubborn and it meant that his feet were rooted in place as Luhan waited for him to answer.
He grunted in response, and he figured Luhan had probably been looking for something more tangible by the look he shot him as he straightened himself back up again. "Did you at least look it up?" Luhan asked him, and Jongin could tell his voice was strained, watched the way the edges of his lips tightened up and he looked thoroughly annoyed at this point - and while Jongin would usually take this as a personal achievement, he felt oddly shamed with Luhan glowering down at him, after his whole speech.
He was a lot more intimidating than Jongin had expected him to be.
"I just do street shit, you know?" he mumbled out when Luhan kept his eyes fixed on him, rolled his eyes when the boy snorted.
"You could at least stretch, they teach you how to do that on the streets don't they?" Luhan asked him, his voice dripping with sarcasm and Jongin wasn't thrilled with the treatment but he felt simultaneously cowed and apprehensive and it meant that he wasn't being quite as snarky as usual.
He followed Luhan's lead though, stretched out his muscles and listened as Luhan rolled off some of the more basic information; the boy was disgruntled, that much was obvious. But Jongin couldn't really fix the fact that he'd never had formal training, he couldn't instantaneously get himself to know the moves that Luhan was listing off to him rapid-fire, gazing at him half pitying like it was so fucking basic. It probably was, but it was just making Jongin frustrated.
He wrinkled his nose at the mention of ballet, as Luhan told him that he should look into a lesson or two because it was the foundation of...well, Jongin had admittedly started to trail off at around that point, and he was also fairly certain that he would never in his entire life be caught dancing ballet. Not that modern was all that much better, but it was ballet for Christ's sake.
Not that the actual dancing turned out that much better. It mainly consisted of Luhan running through his routine and Jongin attempting to copy it, twisting around his feet or not executing jumps correctly, had managed to mangle the entirety of Luhan's routine and that was with all of his complicated lifts cut out of it. He nearly felt bad when, by the end of it, Luhan's brow was furrowed and his mouth was set, mumbling about having to redo the entire choreography.
He looked anxious and overwhelmed but it wasn't like it was Jongin's problem. Luhan was the one without any other options, and he had tried to do his stupid fucking routine. It was his problem, Jongin was just there to finish out his sentence, so he could go back to his own life, his own problems.
Or, that's what he'd been under the assumption of anyway. But when he turned to slip out of the door and escape from the practice room Luhan caught him around the wrist again and Jongin had to fight the urge to shake him off. Instead he snapped out a sharp "what?" the implication of the aggravation now heavy in his tone.
He caught sight of Luhan's glare, and while it raised the hair on his forearms, he didn't back down from his puffed up stance, he'd already lost too much of his pride spinning wobbly around the floor in his socks.
"I said I needed to talk to you after, in the text," Luhan reminded him, and Jongin could hear the stiffness in his voice, wondered if maybe he was regretting the whole decision after he'd seen him tossed out of his element. It was hardly fair though, to judge him on a dance style he'd never learned - though to be honest, Jongin had never actively learned any style of dance, he'd just sort of slipped into it and stuck.
"Okay, so what is it then?" Jongin grunted out as he shook Luhan's fingers off of his wrist, jammed both of his hands into his sweatshirt pockets to avoid the problem altogether, his eyes jumping from Luhan's face to the piano propped in the corner, the window and the busy street outside. He knew he was being rude, but a lot of Jongin was built out of pointed rudeness - if he didn't have that to fall back on, Jongin didn't really know how to act aside from awkward.
"Jongin." His eyes drifted back to Luhan's face at his too-tight tone, dug his teeth into the inside of his cheek as Luhan paused to catch his gaze. "Look, this is a big deal. It's a risk for me, and a risk for the school. I wasn't kidding, and you had court ordered shit the head had to work around. She said she'd let you work with me if you were enrolled in the supplementary classes after school, and on weekends."
Jongin didn't really know how he should feel about that one, but he settled on livid.
"That's the sort of thing you fucking lead off with, before you go around scheduling shit." Jongin mumbled out gruff, turned to barrel his way out the door again but Luhan caught the crook of his elbow and pulled him back around. He was a little bit surprised at how strong he was, considering he looked like the doll his little sister dragged around with her constantly.
"What does that even mean? Can you stop flipping shit at everything I say that you don't immediately agree with?" Jongin let out a pent up sigh, air coming out controlled and his jaw tightening as he flexed it, Luhan took a step back at that, but he'd angled himself to block the door.
Jongin was still actively considering punching him in the jaw, but then he'd probably get into real big trouble for dropping some rich kid.
"Look, this school is really nice okay? There's a huge fucking waiting list and the instructors here are really, really good. People would kill to be in your fucking position and things like ballet are the foundation to most styles of dance. Can you stop being a jackass for like, five minutes and realize this is a really good opportunity?" It was long winded and frustrated, especially as Jongin stared back at him blankly and continued to chew at the inside of his cheek.
"Or you can go back to spraying Windex, I guess," Luhan finished, and this time he was the one spinning around - which Jongin thought was a little unfair considering Luhan didn't give him much time to think anything over.
"Can you just wait?" Jongin mumbled out gruff, a furrow between his brows. "And stop talking down to me?" he tacked on, the corners of his mouth slanted down in displeasure despite the fact that it ended on a question, like he wasn't sure if it was allowed. They were on different levels after all, statuses and he knew Luhan probably looked down on him, would only make sense if his speech pattern followed suit.
It was a little bit infuriating though, had a slow burn simmering in his stomach, an odd mix of shame slathered on top of his wounded pride, the fact that Luhan really was elevated up above him - had opportunities and money, probably some fancy penthouse to go back home to instead of Jongin's shitty apartment complex, half falling apart around him, duct tape stuck to the corners of the windows to keep the air from seeping in late at night, the cold biting at his toes through too-thin sheets.
Luhan stopped though, and Jongin chanced a quick look into his eyes before they were darting away again, back down to his toes and maybe that didn't demand respect, but he'd at least like to be treated more like a human than a fill-in prop forced to pirouette if you pulled on a string. Jongin didn't even know how to do a pirouette and he was pretty sure that just made Luhan's opinion of him lower.
Still, he hadn't been the one to suggest the whole arrangement; that had been on Luhan and had been sealed before Jongin knew that there were supplementary classes involved.
"Why am I waiting?" Luhan finally bit out, watched him lean back against the doorframe graceful, and it was a little bit unfair, how calm he looked - when Jongin felt like a collection of chaotic knots were tangled up inside of him.
"Look, just. I have a fucking life. You can't just spring this shit on me like I'll do it--" Jongin was cut off mid sentence by Luhan, as he righted himself and bit out in a tone that sounded nearly angry.
"No, you look. You trashed the school. That was your stupid decision, not mine. So you have to face up to whatever the fuck they decide to make you do. If you don't want to take free fucking dance classes and help me out with my showcase, then go back to cleaning the school But I can't wait for you to pussyfoot around on what's more convenient for you."
Jongin swallowed hard, clenched his teeth together and counted backwards from ten in his head to keep himself from snapping. If they'd be back out on the streets, in Jongin's neighborhood, Luhan would probably have a broken nose by now.
As it was they were on his turf, inside the school and Jongin knew he'd land his ass in juvie if he touched one pretty hair on his head.
Jongin exhaled out slow, a bid for some control in the situation - even if it was just over himself. He guided his fingers to flexing into fists before he relaxed his muscles, rolled a shoulder back and glanced at Luhan from underneath the brim of his hood. He had to give him credit, for some bitch ass modern dance enthusiast, he didn't look all that intimidated; there was just some poorly concealed apprehension, obvious tension in the way he held himself.
He wasn't trying to be intimidating though (at least not entirely), pressed his lips together briefly before he answered him. "Fine. I'll do the fucking classes."
part 1 / part 2 / part 3
luhan/kai
NC-17
20,000 words
If there was one thing Jongin could do with his fucked up self, it was dance - step up au.
warnings; triggering language, bullying, underage smoking/drinking
written for admortems in deerofdawn
Jongin had a crushed Newport between his lips, unlit though the air still hung visible and heavy in front of his face as he exhaled. The shadows around him cast from broken down buildings seemed ominous as they morphed into intimidating caricatures of predators long run out of the city limits. He rubbed his hands together, cold clinging uncomfortable to the insides of his palms before he jammed one into the front pouch of his hoodie, fumbled for his lighter.
Sehun was next to him, drunk and stumbling and Jongin paused to laugh. He knew his own breath reeked of rum, coke and bad decisions; but he flicked his bic and inhaled nicotine and the feeling of immortality like only a teenager could.
"What the hell are you doing?" he asked, snorted as he followed after his friend wobbling across the painted lines of the street like a balance beam.
"I don't know. Something? You're boring." was his slurred response and Jongin rolled his eyes as he pulled the hood of his sweatshirt down further, hid his eyes like he was paranoid.
Maybe he was though, it wasn't like the cops ever really appreciated two teenage thug wannabes walking around at night, drunk off their asses. Not that Jongin cared. Not that his parents cared either, if he got caught.
Then again, the term parents was used loosely, Jongin didn't quite consider them parents. More like strangers playing pretend, a faux family built up out of fake promises, but Jongin knew they were only fostering him for the money anyway. That was what it always came down to.
And so he and Sehun had broken it into a routine, tagging buildings and smashing windows, glass falling to the sound of sharp laughter. Destructive hands to a destructive personality, it was probably fitting but Jongin didn't have the time to sit down and evaluate the number of times some rent-a-cop threatened to lock him up in juvie.
"Where are you going?" Jongin blurted out, jogged to catch up as Sehun wove a path across an alleyway to sling a heavy arm over the boys shoulders, watched as Sehun nodded ahead and he followed his gaze. Jongin was met with a building stacked high and pretty, arched windows that lit them up in a reflection.
Sehun's eyes read mischief and that was never a good thing.
"The fuck is this?" he asked him in a snort, exhaled smoke into Sehun's face that had Sehun retaliating with a hard push to his chest, sending him stumbling backwards on tipsy limbs. He laughed anyway, flipped Sehun the bird as he glared.
"It's like," Sehun started off, waving his hand through the air in a gesture that might have been explanatory but it just ended up sending him off balance and chuckling. Jongin hefted him back upright as Sehun licked his lips, tried to untangle his tongue.
"Some fancy ass art school. You know, for like prissy little ballerinas and shit." Sehun finished, wobbling off in some awful imitation of a pirouette that had Jongin clutching at his knees, bent over in laughter.
They both danced themselves, but not like that. Not inside of fancy studios with instructors and shows and audiences, not the kind that had people sitting in theatres and clapping at the end of the performance. No, they had their own little crew; they set up torn cardboard duct taped to the ground to break dance on, locked limbs and popped chests and Jongin could make it look like he was gliding on air.
He was good, he had taught himself to look that fucking good and so yeah, maybe him and Sehun had a bit of a grudge against the rich kids who had practice and teachers and routines every other day. People who could afford to go to a specialty school instead of the shit hole they skipped out on half the week.
Sehun had somehow managed to drag himself down an alley, along the side of the building and Jongin wandered after him, dropped his cigarette butt to the gutter and dragged his fingertips across the rough brick. It was nice, nicer than anything Jongin had stepped inside of in a while - even in the dark Jongin could tell they'd sank money into it; and that's why when he heard a shatter he jumped and spun incredulous to find Sehun squatting down and peering through a window he'd just smashed open.
"What the fuck?" Jongin spluttered out a bit incredulously; because seriously, what the fuck?
"Dude, like. Chill. I just wanna check it out. Don't be a pussy," was the eloquent response that Sehun shot back at him and Jongin rolled his eyes, bounced on his heels before he jerked his head down towards his friend.
"Well hurry the fuck up, someone might'a heard," he pointed out with a sniff as he slid his nose against the sleeve of his sweatshirt, all frenetic energy and the start of an adrenaline rush.
There was a grumble, drunken murmurs that got drowned out in the wind as Sehun shifted and stumbled and thumped his way in through the window, Jongin following after him with his sweatshirt sleeves pulled down over the palms of his hands so he could vault himself inside without getting cut up.
The moonlight followed after him, scattered across the fragmented glass and left him painted in swatches of light, had Jongin tugging his hood down even further over his ears before he followed after Sehun, glass crunching under his shoes like gravel as he tucked his hands into his pockets.
"Shit, this place is nice." he heard Sehun mumble up ahead of him, joined him at a trophy case and let his eyes linger on group pictures and tall trophies with dates and names carved into shiny brass plates.
"Crammed up with rich bitches though," Jongin snorted out derisively, and Sehun followed him into laughter as they moved away from the case and through a large door.
"Sweet," Sehun murmured out in approval from his side and Jongin couldn't help but to hum out in agreement. It was nice, a huge amphitheatre with an orchestra pit and curtains and props half painted and left sitting unfinished on the stage.
It left the room looking odd, a subtle sort of haunted without people there to take up space and act out stories. Silence crept up in his spine and he was about to open his mouth and speak when he felt sharp pressure at the back of his neck. He let out a shrill screech, jumped and wheeled around only to be met with Sehun laughing his ass off.
"What the fuck, man?" Jongin cursed out angry and embarrassed, hand moving to rub at his nape before he huffed, turned to traipse his way down the stairs like he had to prove something. He sort of did, Sehun just made him scream like a little girl and he knew his friend wouldn't ever let him live it down unless he did something to make him forget it.
Making him forget it apparently consisted of hefting himself up onto the stage to closer inspect the props, ignoring Sehun's faint warning from behind him as he climbed up onto a wobbly chair to take hold of one of the light fixtures, made like Tarzan and swung himself in a clean arc that had him simultaneously laughing loud and ripping it down from the intricate wiring overhead.
"You fucking didn't." he heard Sehun marvel, turned to waggle his brows at him before he leaned down to give the other a hand up onto the stage.
"I did, come on. They can jus' like...replace shit anyway." Jongin mumbled out with a shrug. Jongin was drunk, the school was rich - it seemed logical, at least at the time.
Their laughter rattled off the walls and slid through the empty aisles as their hands turned destruction into an art form of its own. Sword fights with chair legs, and backdrops used like springboards in some half assed parkour attempt that had Sehun laughing and pelting Jongin with fake fruit.
Not-so-harmless fun, but it was run of the mill, at least for them.
What wasn't quite so run of the mill was the figure appearing behind Sehun and grabbing him in some kind of hold, laughter turned to shouted out obscenities and-- shit, that was a cop.
Jongin froze, the deer in the headlights kind because he'd just got let off the hook for smashing someone's car window in and he'd gotten taken in four times this month and he was so going to get in trouble and he could dip out but the cop had Sehun gripped tight no matter how much he tried to buck him off.
Jongin's fingers twitched, he could make a run for it - he could get away clean, it wasn't his problem and Sehun had been the one to drag them both into the stupid school anyway. Then again, he had started the whole 'lets trash the stage' game and Jongin had always been far too noble for his own good, at least when it came to his friends.
"Fuck," Jongin hissed out under his breath before he sprinted forward and rammed his shoulder into the cop, got him to loosen his hold enough to let his grip on Sehun slacken, enough for Sehun to slip free. Jongin turned to bolt before a hand on his hood was yanking him back, the edge of his zipper digging into his neck and choking him as he stumbled over his own feet.
He saw Sehun pause up ahead, the hesitance in his eyes visible and Jongin let out an angry grunt as he felt his arms being yanked behind his back "just go," he called out, voice amplified around the auditorium. Sehun mouthed a 'thanks' and Jongin let his head drop as he felt the metal of the handcuffs biting at his wrists.
"Noble, kid," he heard the cop snort out derisively.
"Go fuck yourself," he shot back, earned himself a heavy elbow to the middle of his back, was left wheezing as his ass was hauled out of the school and into a cop car.
It had just not been his fucking day.
---
Jongin had been hoping he could just get off again with another warning, a smack on the wrist and his foster parents giving him shit for it. He didn't though, of course not.
His foster mom had to get the day off of work to take him to court; he'd got bitched at the entire drive while he tried to make himself look at least moderately presentable. Not that he managed that all too well either, his hair was a mess and while his top wasn't stained it was still just a tee shirt, baggy jeans sort-of held up by his belt.
Jongin looked more put together than he usually did, though apparently the judge didn't seem to agree based on the look he was shot as Jongin slouched his way forward, hands tucked deep in his pockets as he waited for him to dole out his punishment.
The judge drawled on and on about the damage that Jongin had done to the property as Jongin studied the backs of his hands, a complacent sort of indifference he probably shouldn't have been flaunting around. He ended up with community service, way too many hours of it and to be served at the same arts academy to repay back his debt to society - or something along those lines. Jongin had stopped paying attention after hearing his verdict- angry and glaring like that would somehow fix everything.
It didn't, of course. It just had his foster mom patting him awkwardly on the shoulder as they walked out of the courthouse, Jongin shrugging off her hand so hard he nearly dislocated something.
He didn't have time for it, honestly. He had school, and he had his dance crew and he had parties and his friends to hang out with. It was unfair and they probably had plenty of money to just replace it all anyway, what would they really gain from him spraying around Windex, really?
He slouched down low in the seat of the car as he got back in, cell phone in hand as he texted Sehun a series of angry messages paired with angrier emoticons. Not that he was mad at Sehun, it wasn't his fault and they both got up to stupid things on a regular basis. It was just bad luck and Jongin really, really didn't want to follow through with the repercussions.
Which his foster mom was trying to make a point of as she drawled on and on next to him until it finally prompted Jongin into pulling out his headphones and stuffing them into his ears as he glared at the scenery passing him by in a blur. Disjointed graffiti and crumbling buildings, the picturesque portrait of the slums and he sank lower into the seat and cranked up the volume of his music until the dubstep remix was rattling off the insides of his skull.
Jongin knew he had a bad attitude, or that's what all the adults in his life referred to it as anyway. He cursed too much and acted crude. He drank on weekends despite the fact that he was only seventeen, was reckless and impulsive. He wasn't going anywhere fast, that was for sure. Nobody figured he would make anything of himself, and so Jongin didn't either. Just another lost cause - a reject, and even his parents hadn't wanted him.
So he made himself the product of his environment. Volatile and blasé and that was never a very good combination.
---
When Jongin met up with Sehun after school the next day he was greeted with laughter and a hard smack to the middle of his back. "You get to clean up after all the rich bitches."
Jongin aimed an elbow hard into the others side in retaliation, "I saved your ass. You could at least pretend to be grateful," he grumbled out annoyed as Sehun's arm looped around his neck.
"Yeah, whatever. Anyway you're gonna miss like. So much practice." Sehun went on, had Jongin frowning to himself as he ran a hand through his hair.
"Yeah, well. I'm like five hundred times better than your scrawny ass already though. So maybe it'll give you time to catch up," he threw back, raised his eyebrows like a challenge and ducked away with a snicker as Sehun went to punch him.
"Fuck you," Sehun called after him as Jongin turned to leave. He didn't take much offense to it though, lifted his own hand up to throw his middle finger over his shoulder in goodbye as he made his way towards the academy.
Jongin dragged his steps on purpose, delayed the inevitable. As he got closer he could see a few of the students milling around with instrument cases slung over their shoulders, on their way to expensive looking cars and he ducked his head down and tried not to feel too self conscious in his ripped up jeans and old pair of nike's that were falling apart.
Jongin tugged the hood of his sweatshirt up as he weaved his way through the students hanging around the front steps of the school to slip in through the door, decided that everyone was way too cheerful along the way and it definitely didn't reflect his mood.
He spent the next twenty minutes wandering around in search of the headmasters office, found one sign along his way and veered off in a half assed attempt of direction, ended up walking through silent halls, the squeak of his sneakers loud and obtrusive and he'd never felt like this much of an outsider before.
There was a quiet string of music that carried through the halls, and when he peeked his head in through door frames he spotted a few canvases propped up on easels, sketches outlined bare, like bones waiting for substance. He didn't like it, or that was what he told himself. There was still that tiny part that craved for this sort of thing. Opportunities. But he'd already whitewashed that all down as disillusions, because he wasn't wanted here. Not for anything other than mopping the halls.
There was a scatter of fragmented voices, a rise in volume before it fell, crashed down on him like a wave and Jongin knew he probably shouldn't be there to hear it, but he was. Not that he had any idea of what was going on - just that one kid sounded pissed and kept going on about how totally screwed he was for such and such; which naturally made Jongin curious and he edged forward to peek around the corner.
There were two people, one girl in a cast and a boy who looked around his age, maybe a little younger. He looked frazzled, hair in a disarray like he'd been pulling it and the girls face was flushed like she might have been angry, or maybe just upset.
Jongin made a face, the kind that read 'oh shit' and he turned to leave but he knocked over a broom propped up against the wall in the process, fumbling hands as he tried to get a hold on it before it clattered against the floor and Jongin winced, squeezed an eye shut as his whole body tensed.
"Can I help you?" a voice rang out from behind him, the boy, and Jongin turned his head around to glance at him from over his shoulder. He schooled his face into his best imitation of unbothered and shrugged a shoulder, tongue slipping out across his lips in lieu of chapstick.
"Uh, the main office?" he questioned back, because the kid wouldn't tear his eyes off his back and Jongin was starting to feel awkward. "I can take you, if you want?" he spoke again, had Jongin shrugging rather noncommittal - the picture of teenage indifference, a cocky air hanging like shroud around him.
Jongin waited though, leaned back against the wall and side eyed the pair as they exchanged goodbyes and he helped her with her crutches. Jongin might have minded if this wasn't just creating a bigger gap between his meeting with the headmaster.
"Are you checking out the school or something, a transfer?" Jongin heard from next to his shoulder, eyes sliding over and he shrugged again, shoved off and out of his slouch to trail after the other as he navigated the halls with familiar steps.
"Chatty," the boy deadpanned out and Jongin snorted, the corners of his lips picking up in a small grin as he ducked his head and rearranged the bill of his snapback.
"Ah, no that's not- just a...thing." he came up with after a pause, pulled at the string of his hoodie as he peeked over at the other from underneath the brim of his hat - curious.
He was pretty, the kind that Jongin didn't really think boys should be. Perfect skin and a ski slope nose - his eyelashes were too thick and Jongin decided he ought to hate him too. He fit the bill for his mental picture of the types who went here anyway - the kind of perfection that he'd never be able to achieve.
There was a stagnant pause that had Jongin counting the tiles that lined the halls before a heavy "oh" fell between them and Jongin looked over at him questioningly. "You're that vandal aren't you? The one who trashed our stage?" the realization was palpable in his tone. Jongin shrugged again, his shoulders hunching up a little as he drew into a defensive stance.
Jongin pulled his lower lip into his mouth and kept his eyes glued to the floor for the remainder of the walk, until he was dropped off in front of the door with a nod and eyes gliding right over him like he didn't really want anything to do with him.
Jongin figured he could understand why. Poor thug wannabe, that was probably what was going around anyway. Some kid who trashed the school, someone who could never crawl up to their level.
Yeah, well he was already used to it anyway. And he didn't care.
He really didn't.
So he swallowed down his pride and stepped into the office, earned himself a sharp glare from the secretary and ducked his head, tugged his cap down lower as she snapped out directions and pointed a shiny red nail towards a room behind her.
Jongin sniffed, nodded his head in a way he knew was probably rude before he sauntered back towards the office, knocked once before he walked inside and dropped down onto a chair, heels flat against the ground and legs splayed as he leaned back to stare at the ceiling while she rearranged papers on her desk.
Probably property damage forms or some bullshit.
She finally cleared her throat and Jongin let his head loll as he looked over at her. "Kim Jongin." She read off whatever was in front of her, cleared her throat again and he found himself cringing, tapped his finger against the arm of the chair in an attempt to release some of the tension that had his heart thudding against his rib cage.
"Yeah?" he finally spoke back voice crackling as it inched past his lips and he dropped his eyes back to the floor like that might cover up the nervous energy sparking out from his skin.
He was just a kid though. A stupid boy riddled with hormones and too much free time, not nearly enough guidance. He could still get nervous under pressure, could still feel unsure or small. And he did, even if he made a point not to show it.
She droned on, about costs and wasted opportunities. About how they put kids through on scholarships all the time and about how he'd gone and dashed a whole handful of kids dreams by making them pay for the damage.
He'd responded with an uncaring "so?" that had her sighing, shaking her head before she gave him a list of things he was supposed to do around the school each day.
He didn't want to be there, there were thousands of other things he'd rather be doing than ignoring the stares and stifled giggles of the students who stayed after class as he repainted the windowsills or changed the light bulbs in the halls.
There were also a thousand different things he didn't want to hear from Sehun every day as he all but bragged about having free time - and he really shouldn't even be allowed to do that considering the fact that Jongin had thrown his ass on the line and covered for him in the first place.
Life was unfair. He needed some sort of trophy to emblemize this.
The days crawled by, interspersed with Jongin practicing some new routine he'd come up with his head in the abandoned lot near his house, lit up at night with a flickering streetlamp; piggybacking his little foster sister to school in the mornings because she didn't want to take the bus (and Jongin could never say no when she gave him puppy eyes).
'cnt u skip tho? lol.'
Jongin's phone vibrated as it flashed a text from Sehun and he heaved a sigh. He still had a month's worth of this bullshit and Sehun was really just making it all worse.
'no. don't b a douche,’ he shot back before he stuffed his phone back into his pocket and resumed his search for the dustpan that the janitor had assured him he'd left in one of the rooms down the hall. Jongin followed his instructions as he wandered around in search for it, his ear bud jammed into place with a harsh rap track on loop.
He paused at the entrance of one room, a boy there - and he didn't know his name, but it was the same one who'd shown him to the main office, the one with the pretty face. Only this time it was dropped into his hands. Jongin inched inside the room, footsteps quiet - he should have moved on, but he didn't. He wasn't sure what compelled him to stay, but he did.
"Um," he said, and the boy looked up, his face a strange mix of emotions Jongin couldn't begin naming - but confusion was there, probably because Jongin had the nerve to talk to him. "You okay there?" he tried again, actual words this time as he busied himself by pretending to look around for the cleaning supplies.
The boys face betrayed his hesitance and Jongin mirrored it, body language awkward. Jongin had never been well versed in the art of communication.
"Uh, yeah. Just bullshit I guess," he responded and Jongin nodded like he had a clue what was going on (he didn't though, he never did). "What's your name anyway?" his voice hit him again, a sharp tone that softened around the edges - it had Jongin looking up towards his face, waited a beat before, "Jongin. My name's Jongin...what about you?"
"Luhan." he answered, the smile on his face polite, expression foreign enough to make Jongin feel uncomfortable as he stood in the spotlight of his eyes like Luhan would start barking out orders to do tricks next.
"Sure you're okay?" Jongin repeated, his task of relocating the cleaning supplies abandoned in favor of the distraction now placed in front of him. It wasn't like he cared, not really - not about Luhan's problems, Jongin had enough of his own after all.
But Luhan was a distraction, preferred talking to him in favor of sweeping the classrooms and so yeah, why the hell wouldn't he stay around and pretend like they were friends for however long the other let him?
"Yeah." Luhan started off as he lingered near the piano in the corner of the room, fingers ghosting across the keys as he played a quick bar, had Jongin inching in a little closer.
"Or, well. No, not really," he corrected himself. Jongin let out a small laugh as Luhan shot him a look, he met it and wondered if he shouldn't have - but then Luhan was smiling back at him, a little more sincerely this time.
"I'm a senior. It's my showcase this year, you know - scouting agencies and people come, right?" he explained to Jongin like he was two and had Jongin rolling his eyes, but nodded his head along anyway.
"Except my partner Soojung fractured her ankle. We had the whole fucking choreography down and everything. And I already tried to find someone else to replace her but there are only freshman left and they can't dance to save their lives and-" Luhan broke off in a frustrated huff and Jongin nodded his head sympathetically.
"So yeah. I'm screwed," Luhan finished lamely as he dropped down onto the piano bench, fingertips tracing over the keys without hitting any notes.
After a hesitant minute Jongin followed to slip into the empty space next to him, pressed one of the keys experimentally and left a flat noise echoing around the room. It seemed to match the ambience, at least. The note thinned out into something reedy and waning until it faded completely, replaced by Jongin's voice as he mumbled out an "I can dance," flicked his tongue out apprehensively across his lips.
He heard Luhan laugh next to him, and Jongin swiveled his head around to glare at him momentarily before he pushed up off the bench, stormed back off into the direction of the door again. "Hey kid, wait. Come on I wasn't teasing you, just. You don't peg me as a modern dance enthusiast is all." Jongin stopped in his tracks as Luhan's voice held him in place - he shrugged, faux indifference leaking out of his pores.
"I don't. Not modern dance. But I can dance," he protested stubbornly as he glanced over his shoulder to meet Luhan's eyes. "I can," he repeated, because if there was one thing Jongin could do with his fucked up self, it was dance. He knew he was good, even if he didn't meet some prissy art schools qualifications, even if he didn't have the background for it.
He dropped his head back down and started for the door again before he heard footsteps behind him, fingers wrapping loose around his wrist to keep him from walking out of the room. "I wasn't laughing at you, stop acting like you're having a hissy fit and dance for me then," Luhan spoke up, his tone challenging and Jongin stood straighter and squared off his shoulders like he was preparing for a fight, instinctual - but Jongin was always a bit too arrogant for his own good.
He nodded once before he pulled out his phone and hooked it up into the stereo system, fingers slipping across the screen until he settled on his track. It was easy, dancing. Or it felt like it in the moment. It was a quick pivot or snap of his wrist, rhythm resonating in his bones and translating out like all of the words left unspoken, stuck underneath his tongue.
He wasn't technically accurate by any means, Jongin was raw talent, untrained and unfinished. He had a passion though, even if that would never get him further than a few bucks tossed into a hat left out on the street corner.
By the time the song came to a finish there was a light sheen of sweat across Jongin's brow, he lifted a hand to swipe at it before he grabbed his phone, unplugged it from the speakers to tuck it into the pocket of his jeans, finally chanced a look over at Luhan. His eyes were appraising, like he was balancing out everything in his head and Jongin met him with a determined set to his jaw, a stubborn look in his eyes.
He didn't really know what he was trying to prove - that he could dance better than the group of freshman girls that Luhan had written off? It was stupid, Jongin knew it was stupid but he couldn't just make the whole tangle of emotions disappear.
It felt sort of like a slap in the face, to be plucked out of his element and thrown into a building that was designed to cater to all of his aspirations. Like someone had decided it would be really funny to upend everything just to show Jongin what he was missing out on - what would potentially have been possible if he wasn't such a fuck up.
But that was what it all boiled down to, wasn't it?
"You're good." Luhan finally spoke, dragged Jongin out of his thoughts and he looked over at him a bit surprised. He hadn't been expecting that. He’d been braced for more laughter maybe, but not compliments.
"I mean. Not in a polished way. But...potential," he finished and Jongin squirmed under his scrutiny as Luhan circled around him. All he had was dance after all, he really didn't want Luhan listing off all the ways he sucked, how he'd never amount to much.
He seemed nice though, or at least nicer than he'd expected.
"Told you," was Jongin's grumbled out response, attempted to throw up a cocky front and hoped that Luhan would buy it, he caught the edge of that smirk again though and he figured he might have fallen a little short on the delivery.
"Do you really want to help me out?" Luhan finally asked once he'd finished eying him up like a prize cow at the goddamn country fair, felt his jaw slacken just a bit because...well. He hadn't been expecting that either.
"Do you want me to?" he asked, skepticism coloring his words as he pushed his thumb up against his lower lip, eyes opened wide and disbelieving as he looked over at the other. He wasn't a girl, and he didn't even go to the school, he was just some street rat kid who'd trashed their stage and it didn't really add up in his head.
Still, he wasn't about to just let whatever this was slip away and crash. Too much of his life was left poorly pieced together and broken. The idea of it was nice, shiny and brand new.
"Yeah, maybe. I mean. You're good, better than my other options at least. If I can teach you some then you'd probably be my best bet." Luhan sounded like he was resigning himself into the only option possible, but Jongin would take it because he liked dancing, and it might get him off cleaning duty.
"Cool," Jongin answered back, thumb dropping from his mouth as he let a tentative smile slip through his rather guarded demeanor.
"Yeah, cool. Anyway I'll talk to the head and see if she'll cut us a break, okay? Here - give me your number," Luhan demanded as he pushed his phone into Jongin's hands, grabbed it back when he finished and sent a text to him so he'd have his as well.
"Look, I need to go, but we can meet up tomorrow at the same time? I can show you my routine so far. We definitely need to rework a shit ton though. I'm so not lifting you," Luhan commented out, eyes lit up mischievously, had Jongin snorting and reaching over to push at his shoulder.
"Shove off. I could probably lift you. What are you, fifty kilos?" he teased, lips curling into a smirk of his own as he ruffled a hand back through his hair while Luhan rolled his eyes.
"Don't be late," Luhan spoke out accusatorially, Jongin shrugged again; it was becoming a theme.
---
He kept the new turn of events to himself, he didn't think Sehun would do anything but laugh at him if he learned that he'd help some rich douchebag with his modern dance showcase. Jongin half wanted to make fun of himself and that was never a good sign.
It gave him something to think of though when his phone lit up halfway through math with a text from Luhan, 'I pulled some strings, you're helping me now instead of cleaning. Don't fuck this up. I'll talk to you more about it later.' that had him simultaneously scoffing and grinning to himself in the corner of the classroom and his teacher went on about some formula or another.
He showed up in the same practice room, a little out of breath from his trek across the city blocks - his perpetual uniform of baggy jeans and a dark sweatshirt, hood pulled up and an ear bud in place as he spent a few idle minutes practicing glides across the floor.
"You look like you're about to rob a convenience mart. Like, all the time." Jongin heard over his shoulder and he turned his head to catch sight of Luhan, flipped him off in way of greeting. "Anyway, go change," was the follow up that had Jongin pausing - shot a confused look over to Luhan and was met with a rather impish smile.
"Yeah, go change into your tights," he went on, had Jongin choking on his own spit as he shot him a rather incredulous look before Luhan snorted out into laughter. Jongin glared back in turn and he fished his phone out of his pocket to turn off his music.
"Fuck you," Jongin responded back, slipped his hands into his pockets as he leaned into a practiced slouch. "You seriously need to take off your shoes though." Luhan tacked on with a grin as he reached over to ruffle at Jongin's hair, had Jongin ducking away and combing his fingers harried through the rumpled strands.
"And get rid of your personal space issue, while you're at it," Luhan spoke, more seriously this time.
"Yeah, right. Whatever," Jongin sighed back, bit at the inside of his cheek as Luhan shot him a harsh look.
"Look. I put my ass on the line for this. I need you to take it seriously. I know this is like your after school special and you don't have to play janitor anymore, but this is fucking everything to me, and if you're not going to be serious, you can leave right now."
It sounded like a threat, had Jongin ducking his head down and pushing his hood off his head, rubbing bashful at the back of his neck. "Yeah. I uh, no. I'll be serious."
"Good," Luhan responded, stared at him for a beat longer than Jongin thought was really necessary, had Jongin curling his fingers into his palms and wondering if agreeing to the whole thing was really such a good idea. Sure, he didn't have to clean the halls anymore, but it was also pretty clear that he didn't care about this half as much as Luhan did.
Still, dancing for a handful of hours a week sounded better than finishing out the rest of his janitorial sentence, and besides, Luhan had already gotten it cleared with the head of the school and he wasn't really sure what kind of hoops he'd need to jump through to get out of the mess he'd made for himself.
At least he'd get to catch up on all the lost hours of dance, even if it did seem to differ drastically from what he usually did with his friends in his spare time.
"Alright, so. What do you know about modern, anything?" Luhan asked him as he bent down at the hip to press his palms against the floor, had Jongin's eyes jumping to watch as he stood slouched next to the piano, wondered if he should follow suit - though he felt awkward now, strangely defiant and mixed with stubborn and it meant that his feet were rooted in place as Luhan waited for him to answer.
He grunted in response, and he figured Luhan had probably been looking for something more tangible by the look he shot him as he straightened himself back up again. "Did you at least look it up?" Luhan asked him, and Jongin could tell his voice was strained, watched the way the edges of his lips tightened up and he looked thoroughly annoyed at this point - and while Jongin would usually take this as a personal achievement, he felt oddly shamed with Luhan glowering down at him, after his whole speech.
He was a lot more intimidating than Jongin had expected him to be.
"I just do street shit, you know?" he mumbled out when Luhan kept his eyes fixed on him, rolled his eyes when the boy snorted.
"You could at least stretch, they teach you how to do that on the streets don't they?" Luhan asked him, his voice dripping with sarcasm and Jongin wasn't thrilled with the treatment but he felt simultaneously cowed and apprehensive and it meant that he wasn't being quite as snarky as usual.
He followed Luhan's lead though, stretched out his muscles and listened as Luhan rolled off some of the more basic information; the boy was disgruntled, that much was obvious. But Jongin couldn't really fix the fact that he'd never had formal training, he couldn't instantaneously get himself to know the moves that Luhan was listing off to him rapid-fire, gazing at him half pitying like it was so fucking basic. It probably was, but it was just making Jongin frustrated.
He wrinkled his nose at the mention of ballet, as Luhan told him that he should look into a lesson or two because it was the foundation of...well, Jongin had admittedly started to trail off at around that point, and he was also fairly certain that he would never in his entire life be caught dancing ballet. Not that modern was all that much better, but it was ballet for Christ's sake.
Not that the actual dancing turned out that much better. It mainly consisted of Luhan running through his routine and Jongin attempting to copy it, twisting around his feet or not executing jumps correctly, had managed to mangle the entirety of Luhan's routine and that was with all of his complicated lifts cut out of it. He nearly felt bad when, by the end of it, Luhan's brow was furrowed and his mouth was set, mumbling about having to redo the entire choreography.
He looked anxious and overwhelmed but it wasn't like it was Jongin's problem. Luhan was the one without any other options, and he had tried to do his stupid fucking routine. It was his problem, Jongin was just there to finish out his sentence, so he could go back to his own life, his own problems.
Or, that's what he'd been under the assumption of anyway. But when he turned to slip out of the door and escape from the practice room Luhan caught him around the wrist again and Jongin had to fight the urge to shake him off. Instead he snapped out a sharp "what?" the implication of the aggravation now heavy in his tone.
He caught sight of Luhan's glare, and while it raised the hair on his forearms, he didn't back down from his puffed up stance, he'd already lost too much of his pride spinning wobbly around the floor in his socks.
"I said I needed to talk to you after, in the text," Luhan reminded him, and Jongin could hear the stiffness in his voice, wondered if maybe he was regretting the whole decision after he'd seen him tossed out of his element. It was hardly fair though, to judge him on a dance style he'd never learned - though to be honest, Jongin had never actively learned any style of dance, he'd just sort of slipped into it and stuck.
"Okay, so what is it then?" Jongin grunted out as he shook Luhan's fingers off of his wrist, jammed both of his hands into his sweatshirt pockets to avoid the problem altogether, his eyes jumping from Luhan's face to the piano propped in the corner, the window and the busy street outside. He knew he was being rude, but a lot of Jongin was built out of pointed rudeness - if he didn't have that to fall back on, Jongin didn't really know how to act aside from awkward.
"Jongin." His eyes drifted back to Luhan's face at his too-tight tone, dug his teeth into the inside of his cheek as Luhan paused to catch his gaze. "Look, this is a big deal. It's a risk for me, and a risk for the school. I wasn't kidding, and you had court ordered shit the head had to work around. She said she'd let you work with me if you were enrolled in the supplementary classes after school, and on weekends."
Jongin didn't really know how he should feel about that one, but he settled on livid.
"That's the sort of thing you fucking lead off with, before you go around scheduling shit." Jongin mumbled out gruff, turned to barrel his way out the door again but Luhan caught the crook of his elbow and pulled him back around. He was a little bit surprised at how strong he was, considering he looked like the doll his little sister dragged around with her constantly.
"What does that even mean? Can you stop flipping shit at everything I say that you don't immediately agree with?" Jongin let out a pent up sigh, air coming out controlled and his jaw tightening as he flexed it, Luhan took a step back at that, but he'd angled himself to block the door.
Jongin was still actively considering punching him in the jaw, but then he'd probably get into real big trouble for dropping some rich kid.
"Look, this school is really nice okay? There's a huge fucking waiting list and the instructors here are really, really good. People would kill to be in your fucking position and things like ballet are the foundation to most styles of dance. Can you stop being a jackass for like, five minutes and realize this is a really good opportunity?" It was long winded and frustrated, especially as Jongin stared back at him blankly and continued to chew at the inside of his cheek.
"Or you can go back to spraying Windex, I guess," Luhan finished, and this time he was the one spinning around - which Jongin thought was a little unfair considering Luhan didn't give him much time to think anything over.
"Can you just wait?" Jongin mumbled out gruff, a furrow between his brows. "And stop talking down to me?" he tacked on, the corners of his mouth slanted down in displeasure despite the fact that it ended on a question, like he wasn't sure if it was allowed. They were on different levels after all, statuses and he knew Luhan probably looked down on him, would only make sense if his speech pattern followed suit.
It was a little bit infuriating though, had a slow burn simmering in his stomach, an odd mix of shame slathered on top of his wounded pride, the fact that Luhan really was elevated up above him - had opportunities and money, probably some fancy penthouse to go back home to instead of Jongin's shitty apartment complex, half falling apart around him, duct tape stuck to the corners of the windows to keep the air from seeping in late at night, the cold biting at his toes through too-thin sheets.
Luhan stopped though, and Jongin chanced a quick look into his eyes before they were darting away again, back down to his toes and maybe that didn't demand respect, but he'd at least like to be treated more like a human than a fill-in prop forced to pirouette if you pulled on a string. Jongin didn't even know how to do a pirouette and he was pretty sure that just made Luhan's opinion of him lower.
Still, he hadn't been the one to suggest the whole arrangement; that had been on Luhan and had been sealed before Jongin knew that there were supplementary classes involved.
"Why am I waiting?" Luhan finally bit out, watched him lean back against the doorframe graceful, and it was a little bit unfair, how calm he looked - when Jongin felt like a collection of chaotic knots were tangled up inside of him.
"Look, just. I have a fucking life. You can't just spring this shit on me like I'll do it--" Jongin was cut off mid sentence by Luhan, as he righted himself and bit out in a tone that sounded nearly angry.
"No, you look. You trashed the school. That was your stupid decision, not mine. So you have to face up to whatever the fuck they decide to make you do. If you don't want to take free fucking dance classes and help me out with my showcase, then go back to cleaning the school But I can't wait for you to pussyfoot around on what's more convenient for you."
Jongin swallowed hard, clenched his teeth together and counted backwards from ten in his head to keep himself from snapping. If they'd be back out on the streets, in Jongin's neighborhood, Luhan would probably have a broken nose by now.
As it was they were on his turf, inside the school and Jongin knew he'd land his ass in juvie if he touched one pretty hair on his head.
Jongin exhaled out slow, a bid for some control in the situation - even if it was just over himself. He guided his fingers to flexing into fists before he relaxed his muscles, rolled a shoulder back and glanced at Luhan from underneath the brim of his hood. He had to give him credit, for some bitch ass modern dance enthusiast, he didn't look all that intimidated; there was just some poorly concealed apprehension, obvious tension in the way he held himself.
He wasn't trying to be intimidating though (at least not entirely), pressed his lips together briefly before he answered him. "Fine. I'll do the fucking classes."
part 1 / part 2 / part 3