The practice room had emptied out hours ago, but you and Ni-ki were still there, sweat cooling on your skin as the same section of music looped again and again. Being paired with him meant extra hours by default. He took dance seriously, especially when the choreography demanded precision and trust. This section was complicated. Close spacing. Sharp timing. No room for mistakes.

You stepped into position, back aligned with his chest the way the choreographer demonstrated earlier. It was supposed to be technical. Clean. Controlled. Still, the proximity made the air feel heavier than before. You could feel his breath steady behind you, the shift of his weight as he matched your timing exactly.

Ni-ki’s hands hovered near your sides, not touching, just ready to correct if you slipped. He hesitated longer than usual.

The music faded out. Neither of you moved right away.

He cleared his throat, eyes flicking to the mirror instead of you. “The spacing was off,” he said, quieter than normal. “We should try it again. Slower.” It sounded professional. Almost. But the way he avoided your eyes gave him away.