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uppersidedreaminnn · 18 days ago

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𓂃 ‎ ‎ ‎ DANCE MACHINE‎ ‎ ‎★‎ ‎ ‎ ‎N.RK

synopsis: in which you want to learn how to dance; lucky for you, you have a dance prodigy as your boyfriend. word count: 1.6k genre: fluff, soft hours, established relationship.

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you weren’t sure what exactly sparked your sudden desire to learn how to dance. maybe it was the numerous trending challenges that filled your tiktok for you page, or the way your friends were constantly filming and joining in. then again, maybe it was because your boyfriend, of all people, happened to be a walking dance prodigy—and watching him move so fluidly, so effortlessly, always left you entranced.

whatever the reason, you made a silent promise to yourself one night: you were going to hop on the bandwagon and give it a shot.

the following morning, you go through your usual routine, except with one new addition. standing awkwardly in front of your bedroom mirror, you hesitate. you’d spent the night before figuring out how to even begin this new endeavor. of course, you could have just asked riki for help—he’d probably jump at the chance to teach you—but after thinking it through, you decided to try learning on your own first. maybe it’d be more rewarding that way. and maybe, just maybe, you didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of someone who danced like it was second nature.

so you start small— with the basic body movements, slow waves, beginner footwork, all inspired by a random youtube tutorial you found. you instantly feel like a kid learning to ride a bike all over again, clumsy and off-balance. in just a few minutes, you’re already sweating, your muscles sore and unfamiliar with the new way you’re forcing them to move.

you exhale deeply, watching your reflection as you repeat a sequence again.

damn, you think, people really make this look way easier than it is.

days pass. you go to class, hang out with friends, spend time with riki—your life carries on as usual. except now, your mornings start differently. you've been consistent, determined to better your skills. every day, you rehearse movements, watch “how to dance for beginners” videos, and scroll through advice from dancers online. sometimes you feel good. other times, you feel painfully awkward, like your limbs are working against you. but regardless—you keep going. hoping, eventually, your movements will start to feel natural.

lately, though, you’re starting to second-guess that sentiment.

you dance in the mornings, sometimes even at night if you’re free, trying to lock down a “beginner-friendly choreography” you thought would be easy. spoiler alert: it’s not. no matter how many times you run through the steps, your body refuses to cooperate. you’re rigid. stiff. your body failing to replicate the movements you see on-screen. after another futile attempt, you throw yourself onto your bed with a dramatic sigh, limbs sprawled and tired.

you’d picked a simple dance today, hoping for some kind of breakthrough. but now, lying there and feeling defeated, you can’t help but wonder if all your hard work has been for nothing. maybe you’re just not cut out for dancing after all.

your phone pings, snapping you out of your spiral. you wince as you reach for it, your sore muscles protesting. it’s from riki.

he’s spammed you with messages.

“baby??” “y/n, check your phone.” “did you seriously forget we have a date today?”

your heart sinks. crap, it slipped your mind.

you sit up straight, reading the last message:

“i’m coming over to pick you up. just get ready.”

but before you can even get up, the doorbell rings. startled, you scramble out of bed, hair a mess, shirt damp with sweat, rushing to open the door.

“hi,” you breathe, greeted by the familiar sight of your boyfriend—varsity jacket hanging off his frame, paired with his signature baggy jeans. instinctively, you run a hand through your hair, trying to fix yourself up a little.

riki arches a brow the second he sees you. you're disheveled. not quite the look for a date. his eyes flick up and down, trying to guess what on earth you were doing to end up looking like that. you don’t catch the bemused expression on his face as you dart into your room, grabbing a clean shirt and trying to tame your hair.

he crosses his arms, amusement dancing in his eyes. now that he thinks about it—you have been acting strange. you’ve been declining his morning hangouts lately, always saying you’re busy. and that’s unusual. mornings are your favorite time to relax, he knows your habits like the back of his hand. so either something’s changed... or you’re hiding something.

and riki doesn’t like being left in the dark. especially when it came to you, his girlfriend.

he watches you closely as you quickly change and rush through your makeup routine, forgetting to even apologize for spacing on your date, he leans against the counter, eyes narrowed.

“you forgot our date,” he says bluntly, prompting for an explanation.

you sigh upon hearing his words, glancing at him through the mirror. there’s no use denying it.

“yeah,” you mumble lowly, snapping your lip gloss shut, “i got caught up with something.”

“with what?”

you pause.

after a moment, you give in with a quiet huff. you know you promised yourself to keep your pursuits a secret, but riki’s got you cornered and honestly, you’re too tired from all the practice to care anymore.

“remember what giselle said when we started dating?” you ask, voice slow. when he doesn’t respond, you go on, “about how we’d be unstoppable if i learned to dance… and we could dance together?”

riki nods slowly, “kinda,” vaguely remembering the comment your friend had made when he first met them. he hadn’t thought much of it at the time, assuming you didn’t really care about dancing and that it was only his forte.

“well…” you trail off, sheepish. “i started learning recently.”

he blinks, eyebrows rising in surprise. you feel shy under the weight of his reaction, the shock clear on his face.

“you’ve been learning to dance?” he asks, incredulous. “i thought you hated any physical activity,” he adds, his tone genuinely curious.

you sigh dramatically. “i do. but i’ve been... determined.”

before he can say more, you cut in, “it’s just—i don’t think i’m getting anywhere.” your voice wavers with frustration. “i’ve been practicing every day, even late at night sometimes, and i still move like a robot.” the words spill out as you finally let your boyfriend in on how you’ve been feeling.

riki steps closer now, studying your face.

“why didn’t you just ask me for help?” he says, sounding half-offended that it hadn’t been your first instinct. dancing was something he took pride in—and he knew he could’ve taught you what he knows, if only you had asked.

you avoid his eyes. “i don’t know... i wanted to do it on my own first. and i didn’t want to look stupid in front of you.”

he frowns at that, gently tilting your chin so you're forced to meet his gaze. “you could never look stupid to me.”

you smile, touched—but embarrassment still lingers in you. “you haven’t even seen my movements yet.” you breathe.

riki nods, understanding how you feel—he knows learning something entirely new for the first time isn’t easy in the slightest. he pauses, thinking of a way to help, then his face lights up as an idea comes to him. “i have an idea.”

before you can respond, he grabs your hand swiftly, intertwining your fingers and tugging you towards the door.

“where are we going?” you ask, confused as you trail behind him.

riki just flashes you a grin, keeping you in suspense. “you’ll see,” he says lowly.

you two soon arrive at a familiar building, riki’s family dance studio. the arcade date you had planned quietly fading, replaced by what seems to be a dance date with riki teaching you.

you hadn’t been in the building for a while and apparently, neither has he. riki greets the staff with ease, exchanging a few light words before guiding you down the familiar halls. he leads you into an empty practice room, its mirrored walls stretching across one side, reflecting the quiet space back at you. the atmosphere feels different now, open, expectant, almost sacred. you’ve never stood in one of these rooms as someone who would dance before, only ever watching from the sidelines when you tagged along to riki’s practices. now, standing in the center of it, you feel a quiet nervousness mixed with awe.

“this was my go-to spot when i was a kid,” riki says, his voice clear in the quiet room, eyes soft by nostalgia.

he plays music from the speakers and swiftly begins moving through a simple choreography. you watch, captivated, as always. he dances like water—fluid, controlled and sharp. when he notices you staring, he grins and gestures for you to join him.

sensing your hesitation, he reassures you. “don’t worry, we’ll go slow. i’ll break it down for you, okay?”

you take a deep breath and nod, stepping beside him.

and true to his word, he takes it slow, demonstrating each movement in detail, patiently guiding you when you mess up, and gently correcting your mistakes. even when your frustration peaks—discouraged by certain moves—he stays patient, gently reminding you that you'll dance better with a clear, confident mind.

eventually, after a few run-throughs, you both laugh exhilarated in triumph. he plays the song again from the top, this time letting you take the lead. you hesitantly move to the center of the room, your expression focused.

he watches from the side, arms crossed, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

when the song ends, you exhale.

“i definitely still need more practice,” you conclude, biting your lip as you look up at him.

“you did amazing, baby,” he says, voice low and sincere.

you roll your eyes, poking his side. “you’re biased, riki.”

“and proud of it,” he moves away, dodging your advances.

you laugh, then redo the footwork you still struggle with. “can we go over this part again?”

“of course,” he says, stepping in front of you, mumbling the countings, demonstrating the steps again.

in that moment, you realize—learning to dance might not be so hard after all.

not when you’ve got a boyfriend as patient as riki right beside you.

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