59. Troubled Sculptor

Kyumin and Mia

Fuck this start of a year!

Kyumin bitterly thought as he fucked up his fourth model in a row.

He hit the clay with a fist, bashing its head in a sudden fit of rage as he worked alone to get the sculpture models done. He was so flustered already that he couldn't find the right form for them.

Cholsu is probably partying hard somewhere AGAIN.

The lost friend went into overdrive after his breakup.

God knows when he'll start to work.

It wasn't Cholsu's style to be behind.

The tall sculptor felt off somehow as if the reminder of his ex-girlfriend's presence in the school threw him off balance. He had done a stellar job at masking it with intense partying so far.

Kyumin thought back to their last conversation.

...

Both boys laughed together at the slapping video which circulated in a school chat.

"You didn't tell me she was this angry," Kyumin joked and the other sculptor shook his head with denial.

"That was a long time ago," Cholsu said, contemplating the video.

It was short and he didn't hear the vocal exchange, but the emotional nature in which she spoke with Kim made him angry.

Why's he talking to her anyway? Cholsu couldn't comprehend this unlikely exchange.

She wasn't this passionate for a long time. Going for a slap, what did she think?

It bugged him so much. He had to make himself busy not to think he'd maybe made a mistake by letting her go.

I'll pretend she's not here. Cholsu resolved the unnerving issue for himself.

"Maybe Kim is already getting on her nerves, am I right? He sure does on mine," Kyumin scoffed, cracking his knuckles.

...

"Argh, fucking dancers!" Kyumin yelled, agitated instantly.

His inspiration got lost somewhere and now the loud steps thumbed on his ceiling.

"I have enough, I fucking shred you to pieces you fucking dancing shit," Kyumin yelled.

This was the last straw, the fifth beer drunk and no work was done.

I need to fight somebody.

His expression turned pure evil. Brown hair was drenched in sweat from the combination of extreme concentration and a day of work locked in the badly air-conditioned basement. Piles of sketches were scattered around the muddy studio floor. A dark red hoodie had dust all over making him seem ancient, like a freshly excavated statue.

His fingers were colored with designer markers. His furious sketching attempted to capture fleeting ideas. He haphazardly went at it with the acetone-smell markers from paper across the skin of his hands and back, yellow, green, red, pink, blue. His sketches had a dynamic quality that was accentuated by the ever-changing psychedelic colors.

Kyumin stormed out of the studio, hitting steps hard, fists clenched to the point of white knuckles. Stopping in front of the dancing room, breathing like a bull ready to tear someone up.

Who the fuck was she? The rage-filled boy stopped.

The partially see-through doors and the bigger window next to them put together a scene dominated by the girl he had never seen before. She certainly wasn't some old hag who had these lame dance classes before.

The unknown girl's body was barely hidden with a tiny black sports bra, her beautiful fit figure exposed. The black, very shortly cropped top with a turtleneck, had long sleeves. Low-hanging pants have been cut from the sides revealing her slim legs and the picture completed her long loose black hair shining in the timid light of the room.

Kyumin was mesmerized.

The darkness of the hall covered him partly and he stood as a pillar observing this obscene dance the girl was performing. It felt like it was meant only for his eyes, a V.I.P. show, he'd forgotten to attend.

Her thin body swayed sensuously glistening with sweat collecting on her skin. Various poses her body got into, made his mind wild with instant arousal which shifted his mood from street fight to street sex. Her eyes were closed and lips parted exuding luxury and confidence with every step she took.

Why's she alone? Isn't there supposed to be the fucking lesson going on?

Song switched and the angry boy was still standing there.

Looking, no– staring in silence. All tense and unexpectedly horny, fists firmly clenched.

...

The first students started to come and he finally got a hold of himself, trying to process what he just experienced. Mia was drying herself with a towel and catching the unexpected visitor staring. She headed straight up to him, reaching her hand energetically.

"Hi, I am Kang Mia, the instructor of evening dance classes. Are you here to join? I didn't see you last time."

Why else he'd be here? Mia asked herself.

"They are all beginners, don't be shy," she said very sweetly.

Smiling at this unnamed boy, he shook her hand inadvertently, perplexity carved into his features. Her handgrip surprised him, firm and sticky with sweat.

"Sorry for that." Mia realized after the fact.

"Hey, my nails match your hands!" The embarrassed girl found another topic to cover her previous attempt to be friendly with this still uncomfortably silent boy.

He looked at her maintained colorful nails presented on a pale hand in contrast with his darker skin covered in similarly outstanding color stripes.

"Are you studying here?" she tried again.

I don't dance. That was what he wanted to say.

She's stunning. Kyumin stood like a pillar.

Mia was leading him to the room making conversation for both, "You can use some of our spare clothes from lost and found. We keep them clean and there is always someone new who keeps forgetting their pants," she winked.

Kyumin was still silent and drunk when he changed.

"I can't dance." Finally, he proclaimed his truth.

"That's why I am here. For university students the first lesson is free," she said happily.

...

😳 Author's corner 😊

😡Do you know a similarly angry person?😡

...

🎨Illustrations of each chapter are available on my Wattpad acc, AO3 acc -klubickoArt🎨