Chapter Text
Ten is crying, out of his exercise clothes and into comfortable gray sweats. His face is puffy, his nose is stuffed. He’s clinging to a wet tissue, sitting on the floor of the dark empty N127 room, knees pulled close to his chest.
The door cracks open.
Ten panics and gets up, turning around, hiding his face.
“Ten?”
It’s Taeyong. He rushes to him and pulls Ten in his arms.
“It’s okay. Ten, this is a minor setback. We only fell one tier.”
Taeyong coos him, powerful arms tight, pressure on Ten’s body calming him.
“We’ll get back up. Okay? Look at me.”
He grabs Ten by the nape. It’s dim, but the city lights illuminate them enough to make out Taeyong’s features.
“You ruined your mascara,” says Taeyong.
Ten pouts, lips shaking, eyes watering.
“Don’t cry, I’m teasing.” Taeyong smiles, knuckles wiping his wet cheeks. “You still look like a prima.”
Ten sniffs. “Sorry. I’m a mess.”
“You are beautiful,” says Taeyong.
Ten looks from one chocolate eye to the other.
“O-okay.”
Taeyong kisses Ten’s forehead.
“Let’s get out of here.”
Taeyong helps Ten pick up his things, even putting his coat for him.
“Let me clean your makeup.” He pulls a white handkerchief from his pocket and brings it to Ten’s face.
“Thanks,” repeats Ten, as Taeyong wipes the wetness from his cheeks softly.
“Ready?” asks Taeyong.
Ten nods.
Taeyong wraps an arm around Ten’s back and they walk out.
As they leave the company, a group of their colleagues stare and talk to each other.
“Keep your head up,” Taeyong murmurs in his ear.
Ten lifts his chin.
Taeyong takes Ten to his apartment. It’s a large open floor space, minimalist and clean. Ten sinks in the couch, lap covered with a fuzzy comforter, his mind muddy.
“Here.” He gives Ten a steaming cup of lemongrass tea and sits beside him.
“Thanks,” says Ten, palms closing on the hot ceramic, comforting.
He sips the beverage slowly.
Taeyong places his hand on the back of Ten’s head, gentle fingers caressing his hair, which is styled in the usual bun.
“Thanks for rescuing me,” says Ten, without looking at him. He needs to air his feelings, otherwise he’ll explode. “I don’t think I could’ve walked out if it wasn’t for you.”
“Come here,” says Taeyong, closing the distance between them and wrapping an arm around Ten’s back, who rests his head on his shoulder. “You are stronger than you think.”
Ten closes his eyes.
Ten wakes up in a strange bed, disoriented. He sits up. He’s in Taeyong’s apartment and it’s morning. The smell of coffee is filling the place and luring him. Ten walks towards the kitchen and helps himself to a cup. He drinks it and makes a satisfied noise.
“Hey! Good morning,” says Taeyong, coming out of the bathroom, wearing only sweatpants. He’s drying his hair with a towel.
Ten avoids eyeing the naked torso.
“Good morning.” He smiles. “Thanks for letting me crash here.”
Taeyong comes up to him and gives him a kiss on the cheek. Then he walks towards his closet.
“You fell asleep so deeply, I felt bad awaking you up,” he explains.
Ten giggles. Taeyong comes back wearing a t-shirt. He pours himself coffee. They stare at each other.
“We need to strategize,” says Ten.
Now that Ten has slept like a rock and Taeyong comforted him, he’s feeling better.
Taeyong smiles. “Shoot.” He sips his coffee.
“We need to be back on top,” says Ten. “We need more practice. Maybe we need more nights together...”
“I have a counteroffer,” says Taeyong.
Ten’s mouth is ajar with confusion. “I’m all ears.”
“We spend time together.”
“What?” Ten frowns.
“We need to get to know each other better,” explains Taeyong. “We need intimacy. If we know who we are, how we think, it’ll be easier to build trust while we dance.”
Ten blinks twice, surprised by Taeyong’s proposal.
“I guess... you’re right.”
***
Ten and Taeyong sit in front of each other at a coffee shop, each with a hot drink in front of them.
“I’ll go first,” says Taeyong. “Why SM?”
“It’s the best ballet company in the world,” Ten answers. “My turn. Why Theodore?”
“That’s my American name. I’m a second generation South Korean, so I go by both. I chose Theodore for my stage name because it’s usually easier for people to pronounce,” says Taeyong.
“When you played Siegfried, you were blond,” says Ten.
“Yeah. I like changing my hair sometimes. Now I’m back to my natural color,” says Taeyong, sipping his coffee.
“What were you whispering about me with your friends?” Ten asks before he changes his mind.
Taeyong giggles and looks around.
“First, I told Jaehyun how beautiful you are.” He smiles.
Ten blushes, hiding behind his cup.
“Then, we talked about how Edytha complimented you. The women felt threatened.”
Ten sighs and becomes crestfallen.
“Nothing to be threatened about now.”
“Don’t say that. Ten, you’re an excellent dancer. I’ve never met someone as technically accurate as you.”
Ten raises his eyes to Taeyong, who has a serious expression.
“Really?”
“I wouldn’t lie to you,” says Taeyong. “We just need to get comfortable with each other.”
Ten purses his lips.
“You were checking me out.”
Taeyong laughs.
“I said it more than once. You’re beautiful.”
“And what did they say about me? Your friends?” asks Ten, trying to change the subject.
“Only Jaehyun is my friend. And they said you dance like a virgin, among other things.”
“W-what? What does that even mean?” asks Ten, self-conscious, his neck and ears getting hot.
“That means they are jealous of you,” says Taeyong, leaning closer and placing his hand on top of Ten’s. “That means you look impeccable. Like the perfect Odette.”
Ten stares into Taeyong’s eyes, finding honesty in them.
“I guess not as much Odile.”
Ten pulls his hand away from Taeyong’s, looking through the windows.
Taeyong frowns. “Are you?”
“What kind of question is that?” Ten shoots back, voice shaking. He hates that this is cutting deep into his chest. He’s embarrassed and angry.
Taeyong doesn’t take his eyes off him.
“I see,” he says. “That doesn’t matter. They are just hating. It happens when a talented foreigner comes to steal the principal role.”
Ten shakes his head but smiles.
“We aren’t at the top anymore, Taeyong.”
“For now. Don’t worry about that. As long as we get to know each other truthfully, we will improve together.”
***
In the men’s dorm, Ten lays his head on Mark’s lap.
“I’m afraid to tell him,” says Ten.
“Why?” asks Mark, fingertips massaging Ten’s head.
“We are finally getting along,” says Ten. “If he judges me... there is no turning back. I’ll never trust him again.”
Ten closes his eyes and sighs.
“But if you don’t tell him, he’ll never truly know you. He’s your pair, Ten.”
“I know. You are right,” says Ten, turning to look at his friend. “Enough about me. How is it going with Mina?”
Mark and Mina have climbed into the S+ tier, taking third spot.
“She’s nice. But sometimes she sends mixed signals...”
“Mixed signals?”
“I think she likes me,” says Mark, making an ungainly expression.
“You didn’t tell her you are gay?” asks Ten, chuckling.
“I did!” Mark’s giggles. “That’s why I’m confused.”
Suddenly, Mark’s roommate, Yuta, gets home.
“Hey, guys. What’s so funny?”
Mark blushes. Ten gets up from his lap.
“Nothing special,” says Ten. He grabs his bag. “Time to go. I need to meet Taeyong for practice.”
Ten gives Mark a kiss on the cheek.
“Thanks for everything. See you on Monday! Bye, Yuta.”
“Bye, Ten,” says Yuta, smiling.
Ten winks at Mark before he leaves.
***
Ten bandages his bruised toe before putting his pointes on.
“Hey.”
It’s Taeyong. He comes in and sits beside Ten. They look at each other, open and knowing.
“I’m so-“
“Don’t,” Ten interrupts him. “It’s not your fault.”
He goes back to tying his shoes.
“We didn’t make it back to S+. But we are number one on tier A+. That’s progress,” says Ten calmly.
Taeyong gives him a soft smile.
“We have the opportunity to dance Romeo and Juliet at the Winter Showcase now,” says Ten. “Let’s focus on the audition.”
They warm up.
“Whoever wins the pas de deux will probably be one step closer to the summer ballet principal roles,” says Taeyong.
“Yes, that’s why we’ll ace it,” says Ten, holding his head high. “Let’s do this.”
Hours of practice go by, where Ten and Taeyong’s bodies personify the famous young couple in love. Their steps are perfect, but...
“There is something missing,” says Taeyong during their break.
Ten sips his water. He already knows what Taeyong will say, but he asks anyway.
“What?”
“Romeo and Juliet are in love,” says Taeyong. “We are getting the steps right, but we need to act the part too.”
“You mean we don’t look in love?”
“We don’t,” says Taeyong with conviction. “I can see you in your head. You’re not reaching out to me. And when you don’t let me in, I don’t let you in either.”
As if to prove Taeyong’s point, Ten looks away from him. Again, failure plagues Ten’s mind. Taeyong is right. They aren’t opening to each other.
“Let’s run it again,” says Ten. “We’ll try harder.”
They start. Ten is constantly in Taeyong’s arms. He’s gotten used to his hands clasping his body, keeping him safe, embracing him. Except, Ten understands this choreography, knows every step in the eye of his mind, like a movie. He knows he holds back from Taeyong, but also knows Taeyong holds back too. They avoid using their arms and heads in a way that grants intimacy to the moves. Ten also recognizes his body shying back from Taeyong, even if it isn’t as acute as before. They should lean on each other, wrap their curves with eager hands. But their performance lacks passion and emotional depth.
They perform a simple lift where Ten raises up with his back to Taeyong, who holds him by the waist. They usually do this perfectly, but this time Taeyong’s hand brushes too close under Ten’s breast and his body jerks, the pose crumbling. Taeyong manages to hold Ten in his lap so he doesn’t fall.
Panic strikes Ten in a surprise attack, and he’s instantly suffocated by it.
“Put me down,” Ten demands.
Taeyong obeys. Ten walks away, into the corner of the room, doing a terrible job at hiding his crescent anxiety. He rests his forehead on the wall.
“Ten, are you alright?” asks Taeyong from afar.
“Give me a minute.”
A moment passes. Ten focuses on his breathing and comes back to the present. His eyes are wet. He feels like a wounded child, that scrapped his knee at the park and wants his mom to pick him up. Ten shakes that off. He turns to Taeyong.
“I need you to be careful.”
Ten and Taeyong stare into each other’s eyes.
“About?”
“When... you touch me.”
Taeyong knits his brows. “I’m sorry. I thought I didn’t cross any lines.”
“I’m just extra sensitive,” says Ten. “Here.”
He places his fingers under his breasts.
“Your nipples?” asks Taeyong, frowning.
“No!” exclaims Ten. He huffs. “Here.”
He traces lines now. Taeyong still seems confused. Ten looks away.
“I have scars from a breast reduction surgery,” he confesses. “It’s still sensitive.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. I’ll try to be mindful of that,” says Taeyong with honesty.
“Thanks.”
They stand around in silent.
“Can I ask why?”
Ten flutters his eyes at back him.
“I-,” he says. “I didn’t like them.”
“Okay,” says Taeyong, surprised.
“Fine,” says Ten, swatting the air away with his hand. “If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you.”
Taeyong walks slowly towards Ten, who feels the need to run, but doesn’t.
“I won’t tell anyone,” says Taeyong, carefully looking at Ten’s face.
“Okay,” says Ten.
Another pause. Ten sighs.
“I have gender dysphoria.”
Taeyong blinks, gears turning in his head.
“I was born a female, but I’m not... Not entirely,” says Ten, fidgeting with his fingers. “I’m genderfluid.”
Taeyong reaches for his hand and Ten almost jumps but doesn’t pull away. His eyes turn round at Taeyong, who brushes the soft skin with his thumb.
“I would never out you.”
Ten’s jaw slightly drops. “T-thanks.”
“And you can be prima regardless of how you identify yourself. You know that, right?” says Taeyong, serious.
“I do.”
Ten nods, while a burst of iridescent energy explodes in his chest. It’s acceptance. Understanding. Validation. The creation of a safe space between them.
Taeyong lets go of his hand. It leaves a scorching imprint on Ten’s usually colder flesh.
“I’m glad you trust me with this. I’ll be more careful when I hold you. I hope I didn’t hurt you,” says Taeyong, worried.
“It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean to. It’s just... a sensitive part. Like my knee,” Ten folds up his left leg and touches the scar. “I used to have chronic pain from a dance injury, so I had to operate.”
Ten puts his leg back down.
“You’ve been through so much, and you still made it here. You know you are amazing, right?” says Taeyong, opening a small smile.
“I guess you’re right.” Ten looks down, blushing.
“Do you wanna keep practicing?”
Ten nods, feeling re-energized.
***
After opening to Taeyong about his true gender identity, everything changes. Ten feels at ease next to him. A door unlocks, from where honesty and emotions flow freely. Only a few people know about Ten’s true gender and hiding it for so long has crippled his insides. He often thought he’d gone crazy, that those feelings of inadequacy at his female body were lunacy. There was no one to validate it for so long that they turned into anger. Anger at himself, anger at his curvy body, anger at others. Ten always had breasts that were considered too large for a ballerina. Not only that, but they had also felt foreign from the moment they grew. Like they didn’t belong in his body, like they weren’t his. He asked his mom for the surgery, claiming it would be the right thing for his career, so he would fit into the ballerina's strict physical mold. What he didn’t tell her was that reducing his breasts would also mean his body would be closer to how he truly saw himself. When the nurse pulled out his bandages and Ten stood in front of a mirror with an almost flat chest, he burst into tears. Relieved, joyful tears. Even the scar under his breast plus the vertical one that reached to his nipples looked beautiful to him. He got one step closer to loving himself, to finally looking in the mirror and seeing who he truly was.
But Ten’s true lesson, what he realized after altering his body, was that even if he kept his larger breasts, it wouldn’t invalidate his identity as non-binary. He can have long, feminine hair, and still feel like a boy, or girl, or neither. He learned to accept and love all the other parts of himself the way that they were. And that felt great.
Now that Taeyong, his partner and friend, knows who Ten is and respects it, Ten isn’t afraid anymore.
***
As Taeyong walks into room N127 for their nightly practice, Ten rushes into his arms. Taeyong drops his bag to pick Ten in his arms and twirl him around, hugging each other tightly.
“We did it!” exclaims Ten, unable to control his happiness.
“You did it,” says Taeyong, putting Ten down and looking at him, but not letting him go. “You are so brave.”
Taeyong cups Ten’s cheek.
“And you’ll make the perfect Juliet.”
Ten beams at him and rests his head on Taeyong’s chest. They stay liked that for a moment, enjoying the embrace.
“I wouldn’t want any other Romeo,” says Ten, gazing into Taeyong’s eyes.
“Now we just need one thing,” says Taeyong, raising on eyebrow, playful expression.
“To be in love.” Ten completes.
Taeyong nods.
***
“Touch her! Make her yours! This is your first love, your twin flame!”
Edythe directs Ten and Taeyong as they practice the pas de deux for the Winter Showcase. She’s squeezing the last bead of sweat, emotion, and movement out of them.
“Stop, stop. Let’s take a break.”
The song ceases. Ten and Taeyong stand still, breathing heavily, exhausted. Side by side.
Edytha sighs. She walks towards them, hands clasped together in front of her.
“You know why I paired you two?”
Ten and Taeyong don’t answer.
“You two are near impeccable in technic,” she says. “I thought by placing you two together, we could achieve the perfect duet. And you two perform the choreography flawlessly.”
A charged pause. Ten holds his breath.
“But you two are lacking chemistry,” Edytha says, closing in on them. “I need this fixed. Do trust falls, tequila shots, sex, I don’t care, whatever it takes. Or I’ll replace you with your understudies. You are dismissed.”
***
The enormous windows show New York’s cloudy sky and color the lights-off room with gray. Sometimes, Ten likes to hide in the dark. He has his leg on the bar. Ten lets gravity push him down, opening a split, stretching his muscles easily. His body obeys him, but... not his head. That’s the hard part. His mind, his emotions, his heart. Ten is troubled. He doesn’t want to lose the part. He opened to Taeyong and he can call him a good friend. They even hang out, go out together for coffee or drinks—Ten prefers diet soda, but still. They have been to the movies. They have watched The Nutcracker. Ten is comfortable with him. But there is an invisible wall between them still, that shows up while they dance the part of two young adults in love. How can they tear the divide down?
As if on cue, Taeyong shows up. He drops his backpack and walks towards Ten, who pulls himself up and places his foot down. Taeyong stops right behind him, his warmth almost reaching Ten.
“Hi.”
“Hey,” says Ten.
They hold the gaze through the mirror.
“Ten, I have to tell you something.”
“Okay.”
“I think I know why I am having a hard time with this,” says Taeyong. “And maybe it’s the same for you.”
“What is it?” Ten’s voice is weak, almost disappearing.
Taeyong places his hands on Ten’s waist and his lips on the shell of his ear. Ten shudders.
“The truth is... I like you.”
“W-what?” Ten stutters, shocked.
“Ten. I’ve been with many people. Girls. Boys.” Taeyong confesses. “But I never felt this afraid to make a move on someone.”
Ten flutters his eyes closed as Taeyong’s breath and words brush the skin of his nape, making a lightning run down his spine and lodge in his belly.
“Fear usually means something,” he whispers. Taeyong takes a deep breath. “Fuck. You always smell so good.”
Ten bites his bottom lip with force. Taeyong’s nose touches the curve of his neck.
“Let me kiss you,” Taeyong asks. His longing is dripping out of him and into Ten. He wants Taeyong’s lips on his skin. He needs to know what it feels like.
“Yes.” Ten allows him, tilting his head to the side, opening his neck for Taeyong.
He places a sweet kiss on Ten’s skin, which pools more electricity in his center. Taeyong keeps kissing Ten until his exposed shoulder. Ten’s breath picks up. Taeyong turns Ten around, who finally opens his eyes to look at the person in front of him. Taeyong leans in, glancing at Ten’s lips. Their noses touch before their lips join.
Ten’s body is dissolving into lava. If Taeyong doesn’t hold him in his arms, Ten thinks he’ll slip down. He wraps his arms around Taeyong’s neck and opens his mouth, inviting his tongue inside. When Taeyong presses against him, he does it with his entity body and lips. A sound escape Ten’s throat, a whine he can’t hold back. Taeyong is scorching, his firm hands wrapped around Ten, seeping a fever into him.
Ten lets Taeyong takes the lead on the kiss, and he merely copies his movements, because he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Still, it’s amazing to be kissed by Taeyong. Ten can feel him harden, the stiff erection pressing on Ten’s groin. It’s emboldening to know he has that effect on him.
“Taeyong.” Ten stops the kiss, breathless.
“Yeah?” He rests their foreheads together.
“This was my first kiss,” Ten whispers. “I’ve never been with anyone.”
Taeyong pulls back to look at him, curious.
“That’s okay. We don’t have to do anything you aren’t comfortable with.”
Ten gives him a peck and smiles.
“Okay.”
Taeyong gazes into him adoringly, hands rubbing at Ten’s waist.
“Do you wanna practice?” he asks.
“No. I wanna get out of here,” says Ten, with confidence.