Trust

Dished

A/N: I've had a writer's block for the longest time during the past two or so weeks - but now I've finally managed to write that darn chapter that blocked everything (the 43rd I think??), and everything kinda flows again, and it just feels so good to be back at writing🥰 I hope you all will have as much fun reading those chapters (and ofc also the ones before) as I had writing them!
I also hope everyone had a not too terrible Monday so far🧡 Ly!

My throat feels raw – way worse than after the first time I gave a guy a blowjob.

Damn singing lessons.

When I exit the bus at the University bus stop, I pull my jacket a bit tighter. The wind blows against my face and easily goes through the jeans jacket that I grabbed in a hurry this morning because I didn't want to be late for Breakdance. I shouldn't be surprised about the cold – this is fall after all – but once again I realize how much I hate it. It's only getting colder, and it doesn't really help that the days are getting shorter too.

As I take my usual route to Hongjoong's studio, I start contemplating on whether I should speed-walk or rather take a bit of a stroll there. Speed-walking because of the wind and because of Mr Clarke who overran singing lesson for what felt like an eternity and because of whom I've already missed more of today's dance training than I thought I would. And strolling because... well. Those few minutes of walking are kind of the only free time that I have today. After training tonight, I'll even have to sit down and write an essay for Theater of the Body.

Okay, and maybe... maybe I'm also nervous. A bit. Because I know damn well what's expecting me in Hongjoong's studio. Or rather, who.

The rumble of my stomach takes the decision between speed-walking and strolling from me- turning into the narrow street full of white-gray-ish multilevel houses and ignoring the hunger gnawing at my insides, I quicken my steps. Hongjoong's studio is on the fifth floor of the dark looming house at the end of the street, and the sooner I arrive, the sooner he might call it a day.

I just hope he won't overrun dance training. I'm already looking forward to the moment I can go home and eat something – because thanks to Mr Clarke overrunning singing lesson, I didn't have time to eat anything for dinner. Maybe I should try to be thankful for the twenty minutes of vocal extra training though?

Fucking singing lessons – I'm not thankful, I'm hungry, and I have to down half my water bottle to calm my grumbling stomach a bit. Later, I tell myself.

God, I'm so hungry.

After what has been too long and too short at the same time, I find myself standing in front of the door to Hongjoong's studio, and press my finger down on the bell button reluctantly. And I wait.

The door opens after a few seconds - and suddenly the second verse of Answer echoes down the corridor. "Ah, Wooyoung, you're here", Yeosang greets me. Then he casts a quick glance at the clock on the wall behind him. "Is everything okay? You're late."