#blockbfanfic

[2tae1l]

Eight Counts Away

prev ✮

Bonus Scene: Just After the Afterparty

set between Chapter 15 & 16 You were on your way to the bathroom when you passed the hallway leading to the back of the restaurant—where coats and bags had been dumped in a pile earlier. Taeil was there, sitting on a low bench, scrolling through his phone. He looked up, clearly not expecting company. “Lost?” “Nope.” You leaned against the wall. “Just pretending I have something to do.” He smirked. “Smart.” You didn’t speak for a moment. The noise from the dinner was muffled now—just faint music and the distant sound of P.O. singing off-key. “You okay?” you asked. He nodded. “Yeah. Just… full.” You both laughed quietly. Then you said, “You were really quiet tonight” Taeil looked at you, eyes sharper now. “Didn’t feel like talking much.” “Why?” A pause. Then: “Sometimes I just wanna sit with things, y’know?” he said. “Not break them apart or explain them. Just… hold onto them a little longer.” You swallowed. “Like the show?” He nodded. “And you.” You blinked. Once. Twice. He stood then, brushing past you with a casual touch to your arm. “I’ll see you outside,” he said. And you didn’t move for a while.

[2tae1l]

Eight Counts Away

prev ✮ ???

Chapter 16: Same Spot [Final Chapter]

Dinner unraveled slowly—grills cooling, laughter trailing off, people slumping deeper into their chairs with full bellies and flushed cheeks. You stood near the door, phone in hand, considering the taxi ride home when JM called out from the street. “I'm heading back with Taeil,” he said, jangling his keys. “You’re near Seongjeong, right? I’ll drop you both.” You hesitated. “That’s okay, I can—” “Come on. You’ll get home faster.” Taeil was already by the car, unlocking the backseat. You slipped in beside him without another word.

The city passed in a blur—wet roads, sleepy neon, the low hum of the heater filling the car. JM kept the front seat conversation light, looping through stories about backstage mishaps and group chat chaos. You chimed in where it felt natural, but mostly, you were aware of Taeil beside you. His hoodie brushed your sleeve when the car turned. Your knees knocked once at a stoplight. Neither of you shifted. Somewhere between Mapo and your neighborhood, the conversation died down. The car settled into silence. Taeil leaned slightly closer, shoulder grazing yours. Casual. Steady. You didn’t move away. You weren’t thinking about the show anymore. Or the noise of the restaurant. Just the feel of shared air, and how strange it was that someone could sit so quietly beside you and still make your pulse race. The car slowed in front of your block. “This is the stop?” JM asked, already checking his phone. “Yeah,” you both said—at the same time. Taeil huffed a soft laugh. You got out first. He followed. The street was quiet, the kind of stillness that only shows up after midnight—dim porch lights, the echo of footsteps, a cool breeze cutting across the pavement.He didn’t say goodbye right away. Just stood there, looking at the sky, hands in his pockets. “I meant what I said earlier,” he murmured. “About being glad you were part of this.” You looked up at him, surprised. “Yeah?” “Yeah.” You nodded. “Me too.” And then he smiled—small, crooked, real. Neither of you moved. You almost expected him to say something more. Maybe ask if you wanted to see each other again. Maybe ask if you danced because you had to—or because you loved to.

And for a moment, you almost asked him something, too. Like whether he always watched people like that—quietly, like he was learning their rhythm without ever interrupting it.But neither of you did. You just stood there, two silhouettes under a streetlight, full of things left unsaid. Then he said your name, gently. “Goodnight.” And that was enough.

[2tae1l]

Eight Counts Away

prev ✮ next

Chapter 15: Outside Air

The restaurant had settled into the kind of chaos only KBBQ and too much soju could create. Empty plates stacked like towers, grills sputtering with the last pieces of meat, and everyone laughing louder than before. Zico had gone red in the face mid-story. P.O. and Minjae were locked in a bizarre argument about whether watermelons had genders. You weren’t sure how it started, but Daeho was slapping the table like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. You were full—too full. A little warm from the drinks, limbs heavy from the day. Someone suggested a smoke break, and before you knew it, half the crew was drifting out the side door for fresh air. You followed, tugging your jacket tighter around yourself as the night hit your skin. Outside, the city was quieter. Dimmer. Just neon reflections on wet concrete and the low buzz of passing cars. Taeil stood near the edge of the lot, hoodie pulled up, hands tucked into his sleeves. A cloud of vapor curled from his lips as you approached. He didn’t look surprised to see you. “You vape?” he asked, brows raised just a little. You lifted yours in reply. “Bad habit,” you said, taking a slow drag. “Helps after rehearsals.” He nodded approvingly. “Same.” You stood side by side, the smoke between you like a lazy fog. Every now and then, someone laughed or called out from inside, but you both stayed quiet. He held his vape toward you. “Try mine. It’s lychee ice.” You handed yours over at the same time. “Mango.” He smirked. “Nice.”You tried his first. The lychee hit stronger than expected, making your chest buzz a little. Clean, cold, sweet. Not bad. He took a pull from yours and blinked in surprise. “Yours is nicer.” The exchange wasn’t flirtatious—not really. But it felt like something. Quiet. Personal. Like a language only you two were speaking. You glanced over at him, the streetlight catching on the curve of his jaw, the edge of his hoodie. “How did tonight feel?” you asked. He thought about it. Took another drag, watching the smoke drift upward. “Like breathing again,” he said. “I didn’t realize how much I missed it until it was happening.”You nodded. You knew that feeling. He looked over at you, something unreadable in his eyes. “You killed it tonight,” he said. “You didn’t just follow the beat. You belonged on that stage.” Your throat went tight. “You too.” He huffed out a laugh. “I better.” From inside, someone shouted your name. Dessert had arrived. You both lingered a second longer. Then he added, voice softer, “Glad we got to do this together.” You offered him a small smile. “Me too.” Then you both headed inside—vapes back in pockets, smoke fading behind you like it never happened.

[2tae1l]

Eight Counts Away

prev ✮ next

Chapter 14: Team Dinner

The restaurant was alive with laughter and the sizzle of meat on hot grills. This KBBQ spot was Block B’s go-to after every show, a tradition that now included the dance crew and staff.

Long tables stretched across the room, the dance crew and Block B seated separately but close enough for conversations to flow between them.

You sat between Minjae and Daeho, already being teased about your earlier photo with Taeil.

Across the room, at the far end of Block B’s table, Taeil sat looking relaxed and at ease beside Ukwon and P.O.

Zico stood up, raising his glass. “Listen up, everyone! We did it. Another show, another memory. Thanks to the staff, the dancers, and everyone who made tonight happen. Cheers!”

Glasses clinked, laughter erupted. You lifted your glass, your eyes drifting toward Block B’s table—and found Taeil looking back at you from the opposite end.

For a moment, your gazes lingered, the noise around you fading into the background. His expression softened, just a little. Your pulse quickened. Before he could look away, you dropped your eyes, focusing on the rim of your glass as heat crept up your neck.

Minjae nudged your arm, grinning. “You’re blushing,” he whispered.

“I am not,” you muttered, but your cheeks felt warm.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

His POV:

Taeil leaned back in his chair, the warmth of the grill and the laughter of his friends wrapping around him like a familiar blanket. He sipped his soju, watching as Zico stood to give his usual toast—words of gratitude and celebration, a ritual after every show.

As the cheers rose, Taeil’s gaze drifted across the room, landing on you at the dance crew’s table. You were looking at him, too, your glass raised, a small smile on your face. For a moment, everything else faded—the noise, the chatter, the clinking glasses.

He felt a warmth in his chest, something light and unexpected, and he let himself hold your gaze, his own expression softening.

Then, just as he was about to smile, you looked away, your eyes dropping to your glass. He caught the way your cheeks turned pink before you turned your head, and he couldn’t help but smile to himself, feeling a strange mix of shyness and pride.

The night continued, stories and jokes flowing, but Taeil found himself glancing your way more than once, wondering if you’d look back again.

[2tae1l]

Eight Counts Away

prev ✮ next

Chapter 13: Group Photos

Backstage was a whirlwind of camera flashes and laughter. Staff, dancers, and Block B crowded together for the final group shot—everyone jostling for space, swapping places, and grinning at the cameras. The energy was electric, the air thick with relief and celebration.

You and the dance crew settled on the floor in front of Block B, everyone arranging themselves in casual, playful poses. You found yourself right in the center, just in front of Taeil. His hair was still down, and when you glanced behind you, you caught his eye for a brief second. His smile was warm, effortless, and it made your heart skip.

“Group shot!” the photographer called, and you all leaned in, fingers pointing, tongues out, hands making hearts. The flash went off, capturing the moment—your team, Block B, and you right in front of Taeil.

After the group photo, Minjae appeared at your side. He didn’t say a word, but his smirk told you everything—he knew exactly how much you admired Taeil. Without any teasing, he took your phone and nudged you toward Taeil.

“Go on,” he mouthed, already lifting the camera. Taeil, noticing your approach, gave you a small, knowing smile. “Good job tonight,” he said again, his voice low and sincere.

You grinned back, your cheeks warming. “You too.”

Minjae snapped a few quick photos, capturing the two of you together—Taeil’s hair down, your smile bright, the night’s magic still lingering between you.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻ His POV:

Taeil felt a little awkward posing for a photo with just her, but her presence was so natural, so easy, that he quickly relaxed. He leaned in slightly, letting Minjae take the shot, and caught the way her eyes sparkled as she smiled at him. The moment felt private, even in the crowded backstage, and he found himself wishing it could last a little longer.

Just as Minjae handed her back her phone, Ukwon sidled up beside him, nudging his shoulder.

“Yah, Taeil,” Ukwon teased, his grin wide. “You’re looking extra friendly tonight. What’s going on here?”

Taeil rolled his eyes, but his cheeks felt warm. “Nothing, just a photo.”

“Sure, sure,” Ukwon laughed, winking at you both. “Just a photo, huh?”

She laughed, shaking her head, and Taeil couldn’t help but smile, too. The teasing was all in good fun, but there was something about her—and about this night—that he’d remember for a long time.

[2tae1l]

Eight Counts Away

prev ✮ next

Chapter 12: Curtains Close

The music faded, the last note swallowed by a roar from the crowd. The stage lights burned, then dimmed, and for a moment, everything was just a blur of noise and flashing colors.

Backstage, the air was thick with adrenaline and relief. Dancers high-fived, hugged, laughed in giddy disbelief—it was over, and you’d done it. You found yourself grinning as Minjae pulled you into a sweaty side-hug, Daeho clapping you on the back. JM gave you a thumbs-up, eyes shining with pride.

You wiped your face with your towel, still catching your breath. The hallway was alive with movement—crew calling out, mics being unclipped, Block B’s members emerging from the other side, their energy electric.

Taeil stepped into the chaos, his hair down, soft and a little tousled. You couldn’t help but smile. Throughout his career, he’d always worn a hat or beanie, hiding his face and his expressions. Tonight, seeing him like this—open, relaxed, his features clear—felt special, almost like a gift.

He caught your eye for a split second, his smile small but real, before he was swept up by his members. P.O was already cracking jokes, Zico giving a quiet word to the staff.

You lingered by the wall, watching them, letting the moment settle. The ache in your legs, the lingering buzz in your chest—it all felt worth it. You’d danced your last routine with this team, on this stage, and nothing could take that away.

As the crew started to clear the space, you realized you weren’t just another dancer in the crowd. You’d been part of something bigger, and you’d remember every second of it.

The night wasn’t over yet—there were still goodbyes to say, photos to take, and maybe, if you were lucky, a quiet word with Taeil before the lights went down for good.

But for now, you let yourself bask in the glow of a performance well done, the echo of the crowd still ringing in your ears.

[2tae1l]

Eight Counts Away

prev ✮ next

Chapter 11: Four Counts Out

You sat cross-legged on the cold floor, back against a flight case, towel over your shoulders and your body still humming from the first set. One more. That was all that was left. One final performance. Nilili Mambo & Very Good. And then it was over. Around you, the backstage hallway buzzed softly—crew checking headsets, another dancer tapping their feet to keep warm. But no one spoke much. The tension had thinned into something quieter. Final. Your eyes were fixed on the TV monitor mounted to the corner wall. Taeil sat with the rest of Block B on a low couch, holding their mics, answering questions with practiced ease. Zico hosted as it was the last episode for The Seasons: Artist with ZICO. P.O cracked a joke. The others chimed in with the kind of rhythm that only comes from years together. His hands were folded in his lap, eyes flicking occasionally toward his members as they talked. You pulled your knees tighter to your chest and watched the screen, trying to feel grounded. But your thoughts were a mess of muscle memory and what-ifs. You knew the choreography. You’d practiced until it settled into your bones. But there was something about a final performance that made everything feel fragile. Like one misplaced breath could shatter the whole thing.Maybe no one would remember your name. Maybe no one even noticed you were part of this. But you’d remember. This moment. This night. The press of sweat at your temples, the ache in your legs, the hum of music you hadn’t even heard yet. Taeil looked up on the monitor—just a little, just briefly—as if something off-camera caught his attention. You wondered if he knew you were watching. If he could feel you from back here, sitting in the dark while the world looked at him in bright, blinding light.The monitor flashed to black. A crew member called for standby. You stood slowly, rolling your neck out, shaking your limbs loose. Four counts. One last time. You didn’t look back. “Let's tear the house down Block B!”

[2tae1l]

Eight Counts Away

prev ✮ next

Chapter 10: In The Wings

The backstage hallway pulsed with tension. Staff zipped past with comms and checklists, their voices clipped and urgent. Dancers carved out corners to stretch, adjust earpieces, rehearse footwork in tense silence. You were used to this kind of energy—chaotic, charged, familiar. But today, it felt different. Bigger. Across the way, Taeil stood under a soft light, half-shadowed by a partition wall. His stylist adjusted the folds of his oversized jacket while someone else powdered his face. A third staff member checked his mic pack, speaking in hushed tones. Taeil didn’t say much—just nodded occasionally, blinking slowly like he’d done this a hundred times. Because he had.

You watched him, and for a moment, it felt like you were looking at someone on a screen.

You checked your reflection in a backstage mirror, smoothing a thumb over the outer corner of your eye. You’d kept the makeup simple: matte base, a touch of bronzer, soft brown shadow on your lids, and a dab of gloss on your lips. Barely enough for the cameras. Just enough for the lights. You didn’t need to be invisible. Just… not memorable. “Five minutes to standby,” someone called. Your stomach turned slightly. Not from nerves—those had passed hours ago. It was the awareness. Of what this stage meant. For you, it was another job. A dream job, sure—but still a job. For them, it was something else entirely. You glanced back across the room. Taeil hadn’t moved. He didn’t look nervous. Just… present. You pulled your shoulders back, twisted your earpiece into place, and walked toward your mark. Not beside him. Just close enough to feel the heat of the same spotlight.

The lights hit like a punch—bright and unrelenting. You barely blinked, muscle memory snapping your limbs into place. They were performing Her. Taeil’s voice cut through the mix, smooth and controlled. The crowd roared behind it. Your body moved with the beat, breath steady, expression neutral. You didn’t look out at the audience. Didn’t look at the camera. You didn’t need to. He moved just ahead of you, fitted sleeves gliding over each motion, denim grounding his footwork. You caught the glint of sweat at his jawline, the way his neck tensed as he hit a note and moved into the next eight count without missing a beat. He wasn’t performing for attention. He was performing because he had to. Like it was the only thing holding him together. It wasn’t until the last chorus, during the part where the dancers circle the members. You were standing right in front of him and that was when you two made eye contact.

And you smiled. Small. Barely there. But real. He caught it. Held it for half a beat. And then you were gone again. The final pose hit. The lights cut. The crowd roared. You stepped into the shadows before anyone noticed you were ever part of the picture.