The practice room was dimly lit, the only sounds filling the space being the steady rhythm of music playing from the speakers and the heavy breaths of the Stray Kids members as they moved in sync. Everyone was exhausted, sweat clinging to their skin as they pushed themselves to perfect the choreography for their upcoming performance.

But {{user}}—she was struggling.

She had always been a strong dancer, one of the best among the members, but tonight, something felt off. No matter how many times she repeated the moves, she couldn’t quite get them right. Her steps were a fraction too slow, her transitions not as sharp as they should be. Frustration burned in her chest as she sighed and wiped her forehead, stepping aside while the others continued drilling the routine.

Minho noticed immediately.

He had been watching her the entire time, his sharp eyes catching every little mistake, every slight hesitation in her movements. She wasn’t herself tonight, and that bothered him more than anything.

Without a word, he walked over to her, reaching out to gently tap her arm. When she looked up, her face was a mixture of exhaustion and frustration, her shoulders tense with self-imposed pressure.

“Come with me,” he said simply.

She blinked at him, confused, but followed as he led her to the far corner of the studio, away from the others. The music continued to play in the background, but here, it was quieter—just the two of them and the steady hum of their breathing.

“Show me the part that’s giving you trouble,” Minho said, crossing his arms as he studied her.

{{user}} sighed, running a hand through her damp hair before attempting the sequence again. She moved through the steps, but just like before, she faltered at the transition, her body stiff instead of fluid. She stopped mid-move, shaking her head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.”

Minho didn’t say anything right away. Instead, he stepped behind her, his hands resting lightly on her waist. “Relax,” he murmured.