Tae-oh, with his head slightly bowed, fixed his jet-black eyes on Sol. The phrase "fake sign of the cross," though seemingly insignificant, sounded incredibly dangerous. Sol felt his face heat up for some reason and found himself unable to meet Tae-oh's gaze. Instead, he hastily mimicked his movements.
"Like this?"
Fumbling, Sol clumsily intertwined his fingers, touched his smooth forehead lightly, then moved his clasped hands to the center of his chest, then to his left shoulder, and finally to his right shoulder, just as Tae-oh had demonstrated. He performed the movements slowly, making it easy to follow.
Watching him closely, Tae-oh stepped behind Sol and extended his arms. Perhaps his finger placement was wrong because he gently enclosed his hands with his own large ones. Adjusting his intertwined fingers, he guided his arms slowly.
The position made it seem as though Tae-oh was embracing him from behind, and Sol's face turned crimson. While he'd grown accustomed to physical contact after bonding with the team members, this level of closeness—where he could feel someone's breath right beside him—was a first.
The heat from their exertion during intense practice and the thudding of their hearts were so palpable it felt as if they shared the same body temperature and heartbeat. Amid the irregular, pounding rhythms, Sol couldn't tell which beat was his own.
Suddenly, Sol ducked his head deeply. Misinterpreting his movement, Tae-oh flinched and quickly let go, almost as if releasing him from his arms. Focused as he had been on the choreography and now so at ease with Sol's presence, he hadn't considered he might feel uncomfortable. Once he realized how close they'd been, Tae-oh too turned red. The faint scent of bath products they both used lingered in the air, but somehow, on Sol, the scent seemed overwhelmingly sweet, almost dizzying.
Maybe it was the fragrance that lingered while he was in his arms. As the warmth dissipated like smoke, Tae-oh couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. He pretended nothing had happened, stepping back and clumsily demonstrating the movements again. Apologizing outright felt awkward, and Sol only kept his head lowered, mechanically following the motions he taught him. The fleeting contact, like the lingering warmth and scent, faded into a blur. Tae-oh refocused on Sol’s movements, oblivious to his face, now flushed a deep red.
Even the nape of Sol’s neck, exposed as he bent his head forward, turned crimson. Clearing his throat nervously, he fanned his face with his hand to cool the inexplicable heat rising within him. The modest breeze created by his flapping hands was surprisingly soothing. While Sol busied himself trying to calm the heat, Tae-oh moved closer to the mirror and repeated the movements.
He experimented with different angles, tracing the sign of the cross at varying speeds—slow and deliberate at times, then sharp and military-like at others. Watching him, Sol finally lifted his head. With his pale, delicate hand, he clenched his fist and tapped his burning cheeks lightly, as if to dispel the warmth.
Tae-oh was handsome—that was undeniable. It was something he felt every morning when he faced him. But today, Tae-oh’s face, which usually carried an unrelentingly strict demeanor beyond his years, exuded a different aura. With one corner of his mouth twisted upward like a devil hiding his true intentions, Tae-oh had drifted far from the dependable image he was used to. He now seemed arrogant and dangerously alluring. This was what people meant when they talked about real sex appeal—not casually shedding clothes but an aura like this.
And then there were the warmth and breath he had felt against his back and shoulders just moments ago. The faint scent of his skin. His cheeks burned like a child who had secretly peeked at something they shouldn’t have. Like a boy nursing an unrequited crush filled with admiration for someone far more mature and charming than himself.
As Tae-oh continued repeating the movements, they somehow felt different each time, even though they were the same. Sol watched him in a trance, then moved beside him to mimic his actions. They were doing the same movements, yet the feeling was entirely different. Sol, perhaps due to his naturally cool and sensitive demeanor or his gentle gestures, exuded a sense of pious devotion. In contrast, Tae-oh seemed almost wicked.
Although it was merely practice, the stark contrast between the two made it seem as though Tae-oh was mocking Sol’s pure and innocent nature.
Stealing glances at Tae-oh’s movements, Sol suddenly felt heat rising from his throat, causing him to flap his hands nervously. He couldn’t quite understand why he felt this way. Even as Sol grappled with his own confusion, Tae-oh continued refining his actions. At some point, as Sol watched Tae-oh’s movements like he was under a spell, a thought occurred to him.
Should he say it? Or not? He hesitated for a moment but quickly gained courage, perhaps encouraged by Tae-oh’s positive response to his earlier suggestion.
“For the first verse, how about doing it like this, and then for the second chime, switching to this? That way... it feels like there’s a distinct change, even though it’s the same move... right?”
After eagerly sharing his idea, Sol trailed off at the end, stealing a sidelong glance at Tae-oh. At first, he completed the motion innocently, clasping his hands together in prayer in front of his face after lightly crossing himself, just as he had done earlier. The second time, however, he mirrored Tae-oh—angling his body slightly, pulling one shoulder back, and fixing his gaze straight ahead with a subtle, defiant smirk. The movement was technically the same, but the impression it left was entirely different.
“It’s a signature move,” Tae-oh said in his deep voice.
Sol froze mid-movement and stared at him, his already large eyes widening further, making him look like a startled small animal.
“W-what? This? It’s not that big of a deal…”
“Sung Sol. You just created a signature move.”
“No, I didn’t…”
At Tae-oh’s words, Sol seemed flustered, his eyes and mouth wide open as he waved his hands in denial. With a bewildered expression, Sol dismissed Tae-oh’s statement. He insisted it was nothing more than something he blurted out and acted on impulsively. A signature dance move? Out of the blue? Sol thought his idea was far too poor to be considered as the choreography for such an important and symbolic part.
Whether he understood Sol’s feelings or not, Tae-oh was firm.
“It’s great. I like it. It was a good idea.”
“No… Tae-oh…”
Sol was at a loss for words at Tae-oh’s praise and could only call his name. When Tae-oh’s determined gaze met his, he didn’t know how to react. How did he feel? How could he not feel good about having his idea praised? He couldn’t help but feel his lips twitching upward and a sense of pride bubbling inside him. If the idea had come from Deuk-yong or Ji-ho, those two would have proudly lifted their noses in satisfaction, smugly responding with something like, “See? I’ve got it.” But Sol lacked the confidence to respond in that way.
Though he had improved a lot, he still had a long way to go before he could shine brightly on his own. Tae-oh knew that if he agreed with Sol’s dismissive remarks here, he would shy away and claim he hadn’t done anything worth noting. So he remained firm, making it clear that it was his idea. Then, before he could refute it any further, Tae-oh quickly changed the subject.
“Anyway, the praying motion feels a bit too religious. Let’s tweak it a little.”
“…How?”
As if Tae-oh had hit the mark, Sol, who had been denying everything until now, perked up his ears and refocused. Although he wasn’t as absentminded as before, there were still occasional moments when he seemed lost or unfocused. But when it came to choreography, Sol always sharpened his focus like a blade, his eyes sparkling as if holding his favorite toy.
Tae-oh imitated Sol’s moves but smoothed them out and added a few touches to the beautiful motion he’d shown at the end. While Sol might think his idea was clumsy and insignificant, Tae-oh thought the opposite. In fact, he worried that adding too much of his input might overshadow the elegance of his original movement. Even Tae-oh, who was confident in his choreography skills, felt that Sol’s motions were pure and refined, with nothing unnecessary—almost reverent.
“Hmm. What if you cross your hands and raise them upward?”
“Oh, uh… yeah. I think that’s better. Feels more natural.”
“Let’s show it to Ji-ho and the others.”
“Huh? This? …Shouldn’t we refine it a bit more first?”
Tae-oh nodded emphatically at Sol’s revised movements, expressing his approval. To Sol, it seemed as if Tae-oh had taken the moves he had casually tossed out and transformed them into something brilliant with his own talent. It was a different kind of "same bed, different dreams" scenario. Striking while the iron was hot, Tae-oh pushed forward before Sol could attempt to escape. He needed the sound of thunderous applause—applause for his brilliance and talent.
"That’s enough. It was a beautiful and amazing choreography."
Looking Sol straight in the eyes, Tae-oh conveyed his honest evaluation. It felt as if he were whispering, "This is exactly what you need to hear right now." Tae-oh’s compliment was so genuine, almost bluntly so, that Sol turned beet red, unable to respond. As Sol froze in place, Tae-oh strode over to the other members, who were busy with their tasks.
"Sung Sol came up with this choreography. I’d like everyone to take a look and share your opinions."
At Tae-oh’s words, Ga-ram, Deuk-yong, and Ji-ho stopped what they were doing and instinctively turned to look at Sol. It was almost a reflex, but knowing how uncomfortable Sol felt when attention was focused on him, they quickly shifted their gazes back to Tae-oh. It was an act of consideration, but in doing so, Sol lost any chance to deny or explain Tae-oh’s words.
"Me? No… I mean, I just…"
"Go on."
Tae-oh urged. While his words were a nudge, his tone was not forceful. As always, Tae-oh spoke matter-of-factly, as if stating something self-evident. Reluctantly, Sol shuffled over to stand next to Tae-oh. When Ga-ram played the music, the two began to move in sync, their bodies flowing together as seamlessly as dancers who had shared the stage countless times before.
