Daniel, who had declared himself in charge of the concept, was now scrolling enthusiastically through his phone, talking with the bright, boundless energy of a golden retriever.
"Alright, Bennie," he said, practically glowing. "We are each going to express our own desires through dance first. After that, we can build the routine."
Express their desires.
So Daniel would express his desire for dance, and Ben… for Daniel.
How poetic! How miserable!
Ben rubbed his forehead, already feeling a headache forming. Even his stomach growled in protest.
Daniel heard the sound and lit up. "Are you hungry? I have rice cakes in my bag."
"I am not eating your questionable, lint-covered snacks, hyung."
"They are not covered in lint," Daniel gasped in fake offense. "They're infused with experience."
Ben released a long, soul-weary sigh. "Let's just start."
"Fine," Daniel huffed. "But remember, this is our chance to express our truth."
With that, he practically floated to the corner of the room, connected his phone to the speakers in a blur of practiced motions, and returned to the centre. He took a deep breath. His eyes fluttered shut. Ben settled against the wall, prepared to watch.
The music started, and Daniel opened his eyes.
Ben's breath caught.
Daniel had chosen modern dance, the style his mother had taught him. Ben had seen him dance modern pieces before, but something about this one felt different. There was no playfulness, no experimental mix of styles, no clever flair. This was Daniel stripped of all embellishment.
This was Daniel in earnest.
His body unfolded into motion with such precision that it felt almost unreal. His silhouette stretched and curled, his weight shifting with a control so fluid that it seemed gravity had quietly stepped aside for him.
Every movement felt deliberate, a revelation carved in motion. Daniel's passion for dance radiated in a way no words could have captured. His steps were powerful yet impossibly elegant, like a brushstroke painting the shape of his desire. His expression softening into pure joy every time a motion aligned with the rhythm.
Ben was completely lost in the beauty of Daniel's truth.
As the music reached its bridge, the tone of the dance changed.
Daniel's body lowered to the floor in a slow collapse, transitioning into a sequence of intricate, logic-defying floorwork. His arms sliced outward in a stabbing beat, his chest tightening as his movements echoed an inner hollowness. He conveyed a life emptied of meaning without dance, a life that felt scraped clean of color. His face tightened, and for a moment, it seemed he had forgotten he was not alone in the room.
He looked upward, reaching with a yearning that felt almost painful. He tried to grasp something, but it was slipping through his fingers no matter how desperately he stretched. When the final note sounded, Daniel stayed curled against the floor, his body folding inward as if embracing something invisible. It looked like a surrender, like a vow that dance was his life, and without it, he would simply cease to be.
With that, it ended.
Silence followed, interrupted only by Daniel's uneven breathing and the throb of Ben's own heartbeat. Ben stared, speechless. Goosebumps prickled across his arms. It felt less like watching a routine and more like witnessing someone baring their soul.
The silence snapped open when Daniel suddenly fell flat on his back, and laughter spilt out of him in pure delight. His eyes sparkled when he looked at Ben.
"I finally feel like myself," he said breathlessly. "You know, I was so stressed the last two days. This theme had me on edge. I watched so many videos trying to imitate choreography about desire, but none of it felt like me. I felt suffocated." He chuckled softly, almost childishly. "Now I can finally breathe."
Ben said nothing. Something inside him tightened until it hurt.
"Because he chooses dance over everything."
Terrence's words echoed sharply in his mind. Ben understood them now.
He had spent the entire night wondering if he had crossed a line, worrying about what Daniel must be thinking. Yet Daniel had not thought of him at all. His mind had been consumed only by dance.
Because… Daniel didn't know how to feel beyond this sacred language of movement.
And Ben was not fluent enough.
Daniel lowered himself to the floor beside Ben, still catching his breath, his cheeks warm from exertion. "Alright," he said, nudging Ben's arm lightly, "Your turn."
Ben pushed himself upright, feeling strangely hollow. He crossed the room to the speaker and scrolled through the playlist until the title appeared.
Kriesler – Love's Sorrow.
He pressed play.
Daniel tilted his head, lifting a brow. "Wait, this is Western Cla–"
But he could not finish because Ben had already begun.
Ben chose the style he knew best, the one carved into his body: urban hip hop. Yet there was nothing showy or performative about the way he moved. His motions were strong and intimate, as if each gesture carried a confession he could no longer keep inside.
His arms cut through the air with precision, but there was a strained quality to his steps, as though he were fighting against an invisible straitjacket. When he shifted into waacking, his arms spiraled with a frantic energy that felt painful, like emotion was trying to escape through every controlled flick of his wrists.
Daniel felt his breath falter. He could not look away, as if the floor beneath him had turned to stone.
The dance was not melancholic, but it hurt.
The short guitar and piano piece faded, yet Ben did not stop. His movements slowed, and his eyes found Daniel. There was a raw yearning in them that made Daniel's chest tighten. Ben moved in silence now, shaping his steps toward Daniel with clarity. It was as if he were speaking directly to him, telling him wordlessly how deeply he had wanted him.
As the dance reached its quiet climax, Ben extended a hand toward Daniel. The gesture was gentle, as if he were offering something fragile.
Daniel's eyes widened. He stared at the hand in front of him, his heart stumbling. He looked uncertain, as if he had suddenly been pushed into a moment he did not know how to hold.
Ben saw it. His fingers slowly curled, and his hand dropped to his side.
The dance ended.
A stunned silence followed. Ben remained still, his bangs falling over his eyes, hiding his expression.
It felt like a long time before Daniel finally spoke. His voice was quiet. "That was different from what I expected. It was as if you were reaching for something you wanted so much it hurt. It did not burn. It just ached."
Ben stayed silent.
Receiving no response, Daniel sat up straighter. "What was it about, Bennie?"
Ben inhaled sharply, as though steadying himself. "Our concept," he said, barely above a whisper. "You're portraying a man desiring his dream. I'm portraying a man desiring him, but losing, because his dream never included me."
A cold and heavy silence fell. Daniel stared at Ben, his eyes flickering with uncertainty.
He swallowed. "D-Did I hurt you?"
Ben looked at him but avoided meeting his gaze. He managed a weary smile.
"You never asked me to fall for you," he said. "I knew it was impossible, but I still did."
Daniel stared at him, confusion and guilt sinking into his bones.
Ben turned away before Daniel could see his face. He picked up his water bottle and slung his bag over his shoulder.
"I am too tired to practice today. I'll see you tomorrow," he said.
They parted in silence.