Chapter Text
My problem is that I never healed,
I just kept on living
The elevator was moving too slowly.
By the time it reached the tenth floor, Nicholas had managed to run his fingers through his hair several times, revealing his wide forehead. He had time to think about whether he should visit the hairdresser, not just for a haircut but also to dye his tired blonde back to his natural near-black color to look more professional. On the one hand, he was already twenty-eight; it was time to settle down, but on the other hand — who cares?
Immediately, the voice of his best friend sounded in his head, preaching about individuality, so Nicholas decided to refrain from such an emotional impulse to change his style.
Around the seventh floor, he began to think about where he wanted to have dinner in the evening after work that promised not to be long. While the page on Naver was trying to load decent nearby places, the elevator doors slowly slid apart.
“I know, I should have come earlier, sorry,” it is the first thing Nicholas says as he steps into the hallway. He is met by Maki: he was here for just over an hour and a half, and his face looks either tired or worried. Apparently, the cast isn’t as promising as they were promised, and IU won’t be playing the lead role, which would definitely upset Maki. “Today the traffic is terrible and the queues for coffee are long. Has all of Seoul gone crazy or what’s going on?”
“You haven’t missed anything interesting for sure. I was introduced to the people we’ll be working with, and they approved our proposal. The choreography is amazing. Actually, what else could they expect by hiring us?” Maki can’t help but praise himself, showing Nicholas a proud smile.
He put so much effort into creating the choreography, learning that it would be included in a new drama set to be released by the end of next year, which meant a significant increase in visitors to their studio and the possibility of growth in the film industry for many years to come.
A debut as choreographers in cinema was what they had dreamed of. Maki talked too often about his dreams of some project to work on with his favorite actors, and Nicholas was burning with the desire to understand how this field works from the inside. Even though he didn't watch much cinema, it was still incredibly interesting.
Nicholas walks quickly down the main corridor, stirring his strawberry latte with a straw, which he had managed to grab after all. For years, he had preferred this sweet drink instead of the nasty bitter Americano that Maki likes to drink. As a joke, he told his friend that he would accept any drink from him, even if he started ordering a double shot of espresso.
Amid the usual teasing, Nicholas meets with the managers he had been talking with a few days ago and earlier this morning. They kindly provided him with the necessary information about the concept, how rehearsals would be conducted, and that he would even need to go to the filming location to oversee the process. It wasn't as tedious or overwhelming as it might have seemed, but such responsibility weighed heavily on his shoulders.
Nicholas rarely took on large projects compared to Maki, preferring to work on his own at studio, where spots for masterclasses were filled every week. He didn't complain and was always proud of his achievements in the dance sphere. Nicholas had managed to grow into a professional of such a level that his skills and qualities were required for work in the film industry.
To the boy who had spent his entire conscious life wishing for attention, universal recognition, and love, what was happening seemed like a true dream. The life Nicholas had dreamed of before sleep, sharing his wishes with Yunjin or Maki. If Santa Claus really existed, then even in the cold winter, uniform letters would arrive at the North Pole year after year until his wish finally came true.
"This project is very important to us," Maki reminds him, standing in front of Nicholas. The front door is within reach, and beyond it awaits absolutely everything that had made his heart race since morning. He looks with genuine interest over his friend's shoulder until Maki grabs him by the shoulders to draw attention to himself. "We will take it on. No matter what. This is serious."
“I'm aware,” Nicholas said skeptically, giving a crooked smile. He found Maki's caution and seriousness amusing. As if they wouldn't manage, as if dancing hadn't been their life. “You're saying that to someone who agreed before you even finished reading the terms, remember?”
Maki wasn't paranoid. He rarely worried about everyday matters and even rarer left his nerves at work, so excessive caution was bound to draw Nicholas's attention.
It was worth checking with him whether there really was nothing in the fine print, since this genuine anxiety for some reason showed on his face. Yet all that concerned Nicholas was right behind the door that he was not being allowed to enter.
“I’m the one who was late and didn’t get much sleep, but you’re acting weird,” Nicholas takes the coffee cup in his other hand and pats Maki on the shoulder.
His smile soon makes his cheek muscles ache, but he can’t help it because the excitement over a big project, lack of sleep, and the stimulant effect of caffeine are taking their toll.
“Drop it. Let’s go, they’re really waiting for us already.”
Drop it.
That's exactly what Nicholas wants to say for the entire fifty minutes they've been sitting in the conference room with Maki.
Drop me off the fucking roof.
So much time has passed since they were in the same room. Nicholas can barely recall the season and the place it happened, but those feelings have embedded themselves throughout his entire being—unpleasant, dragging. It's like someone started picking at an old, long-healed wound to achieve the desired effect, and now the pain has regained its color.
From the very beginning of the meeting, as soon as they found themselves in the conference room and sat at the same table, Nicholas tries not to get stuck in his thoughts. He needs to keep his mind clear, cold. The icy strawberry latte, which was starting to turn slightly bitter, helped him with this. Or maybe that unpleasant taste in his mouth wasn't from the drink after all?
Regret.
Nicholas is staring for the fourth time at the choreography they created themselves, which is being shown on the projector for the actors and staff, mentally wishing in this way to burn his eyeballs from overstrain. Every hand movement, flip, absolutely everything that he and Maki came up with and have long since memorized now seems new and much more interesting.
He takes another sip of his latte, drinking deeply, and as soon as the final showing ends, he notices the attendees — specifically those who offered them the job with the cast. Serious people were dressed in simple clothes like themselves, t-shirts and jeans, which looks comical against the conference room setting. They are talking with Maki now. He answers them, asking to shift some of the placement plans, because the dances do not occupy a very large part of the film, and devoting an enormous amount of attention to just them seems like a waste of resources and hours that the actors could have spent on other memorable scenes.
The dance in their film is a way of conveying the emotional component against the backdrop of the main characters' inner experiences.
At the end of the project, a more dynamic approach was required, more activity, and conveying brightness through sharp and quick movements. Maki took on this part, while Nicolas dedicated his work to searching for individual details to combine them into a whole and create something capable of capturing the viewer's attention through the screen.
The pain of the main character is my pain.
This is the thought that was meant to arise when watching the scenes of his dance performance.
Some of the present actors, participating in both scenes, couldn't help but keeping rhythm, stamping their feet in time or waving their hands like Maki and Nicholas did in the provided choreography video. The body itself seemed eager to remember the movements quickly, hearing the familiar melody over and over again. Some only managed to catch the end by the fourth attempt, some focused on general discussions, and others paid attention to footwork.
And someone even managed to combine it all.
Just like before, he is a damn straight-A student, twisting his wrist sideways, managing to lift the toe of his right foot under the table and stop just in time. He nods to himself, as if he’s already made a few mental notes, and then simply goes back to talking about their daily routine, assuming everyone’s fine with such a work schedule.
Nicholas turns his head too quickly, almost hearing the crack of his neck, and hides his face behind a strawberry latte again, placing the cup in front of him. He tucks his trembling hands under the table. His skin stings unpleasantly from the nails digging into it. Just like before, he starts tracing the sharp tip back and forth over the sensitive spot to ease the growing anxiety.
It really was a warning.
“Thank you very much, then we’ll start working tomorrow. Be sure to give your comments on the choreography or the work plan if you have any,” Maki said very friendly, shaking hands with the staff sitting in front of them. He was clearly determined to put his whole heart into this project, judging by how quickly he babbled, without once stuttering or stumbling over the formal Korean speech style that used to constantly throw him off.
The people in T-shirts and jeans — that’s exactly how Nicholas remembered them — left the room, taking the papers and heavy laptops lying on the table with them. They decided it was worth giving the future colleagues a chance to talk: after all, in seven minutes some of them would run to the parking lot, others would be busy with their scripts, and the dancers would leave the building.
Actually, this was what Nicholas wanted most right now. But instead of the perfect escape, he shakes hands with actors. The ones he will be teaching. Very soon, a bunch of people will know about his work. Nicholas forces a polite smile, repeatedly shaking hands with the young talents, as he once was himself, slowly making his way toward the exit. He could easily come up with some urgent schedule and make Maki get to the studio on his own.
It's too uncomfortable. He just wants to leave.
Maki took on the overall plan and final rehearsals, as well as the arrangement of the actors, so Nicholas is handling the initial stages. He was the one paying attention to the details in the choreography: the turn of the right wrist, the splayed index, thumb, and middle fingers, the emotional expression.
“I'm impressed.”
A familiar voice cuts through the silence, and the door, which seemed to be close, has had its handle removed, blocking any way out. He is in a real horror movie, as Maki would put it now, if he weren't so interested in conversations with other people. Nicholas feels his heart skip a beat and the need to regain his disrupted breathing.
He wasn’t the type of person who constantly thinks of the past and regrets his decisions. Such behavior was not in his nature, but now a whole snowball of various gray images was threatening to knock him off his path.
“You did a great job.”
Who the fuck even says stuff like this?
Nicholas wanted to snort and argue in response, but it was as if his mouth had been locked and the keys thrown into a deep ocean. The last thing he wanted right now was to listen to unnecessary praise, which came more from politeness and formality.
“You’ve improved your skills.”
Euijoo has changed.
It's impossible not to notice, even if you try very hard: he has grown taller, broader in the shoulders, more confident. Now he doesn't mumble under his breath, but speaks clearly and loudly. The timbre of his voice is distracting. His voice is no longer as soft and velvety, slightly raspy; apparently, he still hasn't given up the bad habit he once picked up from a bad crowd.
Now, looking at him, it's unclear: has his profession turned him into such a confident person, or has his image, on the contrary, given him the opportunity to move up the career ladder?
Euijoo behaves confidently, not shifting from foot to foot like Nicholas, keeping his hands in the pockets of his black trousers. Who in their mind wears trousers in such heat in Seoul? Apparently, only him.
“Thank you.”
All his previous confidence had vanished. Now Nicholas doesn’t lift his chin proudly, but tries to avoid eye contact, thinking about the strawberry latte he left on the table, which could be used to hide his bewildered expression.
The whole world shrinks down to this tiny room.
“I’m a choreographer.”
“I know, I’ve seen your work.”
Oh, how he wished this conversation would end quickly. The atmosphere feels like a circus, where falsely happy clowns try to make happy those who couldn’t care less. And that’s what’s happening now: Euijoo is trying to put on a show, taking on the role of a friendly old acquaintance, and Nicholas denies it.
He feels amused, strange, and uncomfortable.
Nicholas stops admiring his shoes. Thoughts begin to overflow his brain, like a torrent of water on the Titanic breaking into one of the cabins. He lifts his head, finally paying attention to Euijoo. At that moment, both of them run out of words to continue the meaningless conversation.
Nicholas had always been amazed at how confidently people handle stressful situations in their lives. Now he can easily attribute their behavior to shock-induced paralysis, judging by himself, because there’s no other way to describe the state his body has turned into. His muscles have frozen, refusing to obey, and all he can do is wait for help from somewhere far away. Perhaps some lifeboat will eventually turn around and save him, pulling him out of the cold water?
It's so stupid — just standing there and looking at each other, unable to squeeze out another word.
They have nothing to discuss because they aren't even friends.
They are nobody to each other.
When the door opens, Nicholas goes out first, letting some entering manager pass by, and mutters a quick 'goodbye.' In the past hour, he realized how desperately he needed air. The only salvation is the elevator that brought him here not long ago. Thoughts of strawberry latte slowly shift into the tempting idea of buying a glass bottle of soju. He should take Maki or Harua to have a drink over the weekend, otherwise he'll end up drinking alone in proud solitude.
His steps quicken, as if someone is chasing him, even though there was no one there except Maki, who had grabbed the half-empty abandoned glass and his bag. Nicolas scratches his skin with his nail again, trying to convince himself that what’s happening is real. His legs swiftly carry him into the elevator, his finger rapidly reaches for the first-floor button, astonishingly hitting it on the first try.
The storm in his head quiets down as the doors take with them the sunlight pouring through the panoramic windows. It becomes unusually quiet, and now all Nicolas can hear is the beat of his heart, as if it's preparing to leap. Anxiety wanted to become his faithful companion and take Maki’s place because Nicolas still feels it deep in his throat.
Four walls turned into a real box; Nicholas remembers a place where he once felt as safe as he does in this elevator. He wanders through his mind for a long time, peering into old boxes of memories, realizing with disappointment that that very place was destroyed long ago and buried under a veil of apparent happiness, ingrained deep in his subconscious.
It no longer exists, and now it is unlikely that Nicholas will ever feel at ease again.