The studio pulsed with music and stomping feet, but in Uy Phong's corner of the room, the world narrowed to one point: An Phong's eyes.
An Phong blinked first. His voice, low and icy, cut between them."Stop looking at me like that."
Uy Phong froze, heat flaring in his chest. He arched a brow, dropped his voice to a mocking whisper."Please. Like I'd waste my time staring at you."
A sidelong glance from An Phong. Just a second—dark, unreadable, but with something else buried deep. Then his tone, flat as glass:"Then stay away."
The words landed like a blade to the gut. Uy Phong's smirk faltered, replaced by a hard mask."You think I want to stand near you?"
Silence. Just the music thudding through the floorboards. An Phong turned back to the girls rehearsing, like Uy Phong had ceased to exist.
Arms crossed, jaw tight, Uy Phong tried to steady his breathing. Why am I even mad? he asked himself. So what if he looked at someone else? The thought tangled, knotted, refused to untie.
He shook his head hard, muttering under his breath, "Annoying." He didn't know if he meant An Phong or himself.
The girls' section ended, and now it was the boys' turn—soldiers vs. invaders, complete with throws and rolls for dramatic effect. Mats lined the floor.
Uy Phong's role was easy: rush in, take a fake hit, roll away. But when it came to An Phong's routine, Tri assigned something riskier.
"Duy will flip An Phong over his shoulder. Don't worry, I'll teach you the technique."
He demonstrated on a backpack, swinging it clean over his back and slamming it onto the mat. The thud echoed. Eyes widened.
"This is dance?" someone muttered."Looks like a stunt scene from a Marvel movie."
Tri barked the cue. Duy and An Phong squared off, hesitant. Duy grabbed for the arm, turned his back—wrong angle. The move collapsed.
"Careful!" voices shouted.
An Phong stumbled, arm twisted awkwardly. He toppled sideways—A chorus of gasps. A crash. Screams.
By sheer luck and frantic catching hands, he hit the mat but not the hospital.
The room erupted. Complaints, panic, everyone talking over each other.
Then:"I'll do it."
The voice was steady, cold. Uy Phong.
Every head swiveled. Tri narrowed his eyes. Uy Phong stepped forward, shoulders squared."I'm not saying I'm better. But I know I can keep him safe."
He flicked a glance at An Phong—sharp, certain, almost daring.
The room buzzed."He's stronger than Duy anyway.""Yeah, let Phong do it. Looks safer."
Tri exhaled. "Fine. But if you insist, you'd better deliver."
"Got it."
Uy Phong strode forward. Duy backed off with obvious relief. An Phong sat on the mat, dazed, eyes distant.
Uy Phong clenched his fist, then held out a hand."Get up."
For a beat, An Phong hesitated. Then his cool fingers slid into Uy Phong's palm. One tug—smooth, strong—and he was on his feet again. The warmth lingered a second too long, but neither spoke.
"Again," Tri ordered. "But with me first."
Uy Phong only shrugged. He gripped Tri's arm, dropped his stance, and with terrifying precision, hurled him over his shoulder. BAM. The studio shook.
Students screamed. "Was that an earthquake?!"
Tri groaned on the floor, dignity in tatters, but managed to rasp, "…Good. Now with An Phong."
The room fell silent. Even the ones pretending to practice stole glances.
An Phong swallowed, brushing his spine nervously. Uy Phong's heavy footsteps closed the distance, looming. In the dim reflection of the mirrors, his face was carved in shadow—intense, unreadable.
He stopped just in front of An Phong, voice rough, commanding."Give me your hand."