The days leading up to the competition blurred together in an endless cycle of sweat, sore muscles, and Daniel’s drill-sergeant voice barking corrections. Ben had never trained this hard for anything in his life. Every time he thought he had nailed a move, Daniel would slow the music, point out a tiny flaw, and demand another run-through.

But he wasn’t alone in this madness. Kai, despite his eternal laziness, pushed through every routine with sheer determination. Terrence, precise as ever, worked silently, his brows furrowed as he memorized each move to perfection. And then there was Daniel, their mentor, who took no shortcuts, even when exhaustion was painted across his face.

With just eight days left before the National Dance Competition auditions, the air inside the practice studio had become downright electric. Everyone was fired up. People were crashing into walls, nearly dislocating joints, and popping ibuprofen like breath mints.

Ben, having officially added dance as one of his electives, now had access to the studio during college hours. He made sure to align his schedule with Terrence and Kai’s, just to avoid being surrounded by strangers.

So when he walked into the studio during a weekday afternoon, bag slung over his shoulder and water bottle tucked under his arm, Terrence, already mid-stretch, raised a brow.

“Look who can’t stay away,” he said with a crooked smirk. “Even synced your studio time with us. Obsessed much?”

Ben dropped his bag and made a show of rolling his eyes. “Please, I just wanted more time to practice. Didn’t feel like suffering next to strangers with superiority complexes.”

Kai practically skipped over and slung both arms around Ben’s neck like a needy koala. “I get it. I also prefer practicing with friends in a safe and sweaty space.”

Ben laughed, half-choking under Kai’s weight. He was just about to head to the locker room to change when his phone buzzed in his pocket. The screen lit up with his mother’s name.

He groaned loudly. “Oh, come on.”

Terrence glanced over. “Yeoja-chinguya?” [Girlfriend]

Ben gave him a long, unamused look. “Eomma. Equally terrifying.”

The KakaoTalk text was long. A wall of words laced with polite fury and passive-aggressive phrasing that only a Korean mothers could master. She wanted to know why he had chosen dance as an elective. How she found out, Ben had no idea.

He typed, Who told you that?

Her reply came faster than an AI chatbot: We pay your tuition, Ben. Of course, we know what you’re taking.

Ben sighed and leaned back against the mirror, already bracing for a migraine. His parents had always been practical to a fault; reasonable, intelligent people who believed in hard work and stable careers. And they had never been subtle about how they viewed dance: a hobby, or a side activity.

Still, he’d followed their wishes, up until now. But now, he wanted this. He had always loved dancing. And after everything, from Daniel’s coaching to NDC, how could he give up? 

So he gritted his teeth and typed: Eomma, you’re overthinking. I just wanted to stay active. Only studies would ruin my health.

Her reply came back immediately, as if she’d been glaring at her phone the whole time: Don’t try to be cheeky with me, Benedict!! I know exactly what you’re up to.

Ben rubbed his temples: I’m not up to anything. I just wanted to stay active. That’s all.

A short pause followed his message: Ben, I thought you said you would focus on your studies! How are you going to explain to your abeoji if your grades slipped?

Ben sighed while typing: Don’t worry, eomma. I’ll make sure my grades don’t fall.

Her tone softened slightly: I’ll take your word for it. Are you eating properly?

Ben couldn’t stop the laugh that slipped out. ‘Why are moms like this?’ he muttered. ‘We could be dying inside, and they’d still worry if we ate lunch.’

He typed: Yes. I am. Are you both okay?

Her last message: We are. You take care of yourself. And focus on your study, NOT dance.

Ben shook his head and pocketed the phone, warmth and frustration twisting together in his chest.

Terrence gave him a look. “Why do you look like you aged ten years in two minutes?”

“Eomma,” Ben said flatly. “She just found out I chose dance as an elective.”

Terrence whistled low. “Tough luck, broh.”

Kai blinked. “Wait, but our grades aren’t even out yet. Why’s she worried already?”

Ben lifted a shoulder. “She’s a psychic, probably.” 

Then, remembering something, he looked at Terrence. “You know, I never hear you talk about your family. Not a taboo, is it?”

Terrence snorted. “What’s gonna be taboo about a family? They’re just not celebrities like hyung’s and this dumbass’s family,” he said, tapping on Kai’s shoulder, “Abeoji’s an oncologist. Eomma used to be a general physician, but she stopped working when my two hyungs and I became gremlins.”

He said it all with a dry casualness that made it sound like he was talking about a sitcom.

Ben let out a surprised laugh. “Neo mak-nae-ya?” [You’re the youngest?]

Terrence helped Kai into a calf stretch. “Yeah. Why?”

Kai chimed in, “No one believes it with your eldest son energy. Always scowling and threatening people with your fist.”

“Aish,” Terrence flicked Kai’s forehead. “Try saying that again, and the fist would land on you.” He growled, before turning to Ben with a tilt of his head, “You’re an only child?”

Ben nodded, amused. “Yep. Classic corporate parents, nuclear family, mild dysfunction, and zero excitement.”

He heard Terrence snort as he stepped into the locker room.

TO BE CONT.