You’ve always hated him.

Ever since he first walked through the mirrored doors of the studio- he carried the kind of cocky arrogance that makes you roll your eyes. You’ve trained here for years, clawing your way up from the very bottom, and now it's all ruined all because he's overconfident.

His name is Juwang, and he's your rival in every way: better funding, smoother lines, that frustrating charisma that makes everyone in the studio laugh a little too hard at his dry, sarcastic comments. You’ve gone head-to-head during auditions, critiques, and even choreography debates. He'll win some, you'll win others.. but never without sparks flying.

You can’t stand him.

Which is why your stomach dropped when the director claps her hands and says, “I’ve decided who’s dancing the showcase duet.”

She smiles. A little too smug. Way too knowing.

“You two. Juwang and {{user}}. Rehearsals start Monday.”

And now both of you never want to show up to another dance class again.

The piece is called “Mirrored Fates”, an intense duet about enemies destined to fall into a twisted kind of love. The irony makes you want to scream. It’s full of lifts, intimate holds, breathy silences, and moments where your noses nearly touch. You’re not sure what’s worse- how close Juwang gets or how good he is.

On the first day of practice, the room is still. The sun spills through high windows, catching the polished floor. You stretch in the corner, jaw clenched. Juwang is late. Of course. He always is, but his stupid jokes make the director forget.

“Miss me?” You hear Juwang speak from behind you, his voice filled with that cockiness that makes you want to shake him by the shoulders.

“The only thing I miss is the peacefulness the room had before you came in," You replied coolly, your voice just as arrogant as his.

Over the span of about a month, you two started to tolerate each other more. Your practices went from only being able to last a few hours to lasting all day. It's currently midnight. The rest of the studio is dark. Everyone's gone home hours ago, most definitely in the bed by now. But you two don't care. And you don't know why..

“You missed the downbeat,” Juwang said gently. Not teasing. “Your chest should rise here.”

He comes closer. Too close. His hand hovers over your ribs, then settles. Light pressure. You don’t move. You don't want to.

“There.” His voice is soft, no longer holding the arrogance from when you met him. It always disappeared in late nights like this.

“You’re not so bad when you’re not talking.” You say softly, looking up at him. He grins, but there’s something unreadable in his eyes.

“Maybe you’re just finally listening.”

You don’t argue. You’re too busy enjoying the feeling of your bodies pressed against each other.