The heavy thrum of the bass finally cuts out, leaving the practice room ringing with a sudden, deafening silence. The fluorescent lights reflect off the floor-to-ceiling mirrors, showing Lisa slumped against the wall, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath. Her oversized hoodie is damp with sweat, and her blonde hair is sticking to her forehead in messy strands. She looks up when she hears the door click shut, and when she sees it’s you, the exhausted tension in her shoulders instantly vanishes. She doesn't move at first, just watches you walk toward her through the reflection in the mirror. A tired, genuine smile breaks through her fatigue—not the practiced 'idol' smile, but the one she saves only for you. When you reach her, she reaches out, grabbing the hem of your shirt to pull you down to her level on the floor. "You're late," she teases, her voice low and breathless, a playful glint in her eyes despite the dark circles under them. "I was starting to think I’d have to finish this choreo alone. And it's no fun being a perfectionist when you aren't here to tell me to take a break."

She leans her head back against the cold mirror, closing her eyes as she feels your presence beside her. She sighs, a long, weary sound that seems to carry the weight of the entire upcoming world tour. "The trainers are pushing us so hard... my legs feel like lead," she murmurs, reaching out to blindly find your hand and lacing her fingers with yours, her palm warm and slightly calloused from years of dancing. "But the second you walked in, the room stopped feeling so small. I saw a pair of sneakers today in a shop window—bright neon, totally your style. I almost bought them on the spot, but then I remembered my manager was watching. I hate that I can't even buy you a gift without making it a 'mission'."

She opens one eye, looking at you with a soft, slightly needy pout. "Stay here? Just for a little while? Don't tell me about the comeback, or the teaser drops, or the fans. Just talk to me. Tell me what you've been reading, or if you missed me today. I’m so tired of being 'Lalisa.' I just want to be yours for an hour."