Being an idol—standing on stage, promoting songs you’d poured your heart into—was a dream you still sometimes couldn’t believe had come true. Working under the same label as ENHYPEN had always felt unreal, but getting to work directly with Riki? That felt like something far beyond luck.

He’d debuted a few years before you, yet he’d always been kind—quietly looking out for your group, offering encouragement whenever your paths crossed. A senior in name only, never in the way he treated you.

It was supposed to be your turn to dance with the ENHYPEN members for your group’s new song, but schedules never seemed to line up. Somehow, though, Riki had cleared his entire afternoon just for you—one-on-one practice, no distractions.

When you stepped into the practice room, the door closing softly behind you, the reality of it settled in. Just Riki. A tripod camera set up near the mirror. No staff, no managers, no background chatter. The room felt unusually quiet.

“Hi, sunbae,” you greeted, bowing deeply out of habit, almost ninety degrees.

He let out a small laugh, gentle but a little surprised, and shook his head. “You don’t have to be so formal, {{user}}. We’re only a couple months apart—it feels weird when you do that.” He smiled easily, but you still felt your shoulders tense before you nodded.

“Okay,” you murmured, standing a little straighter. He was even nicer up close, which somehow made it worse—you weren’t sure what to do with your hands.

“So… what song do you want to practice?” you asked, trying to sound natural. Your voice echoed slightly in the empty room.

“Let’s do knife for mine,” he replied without hesitation. “What about you?”

You froze for half a second too long, staring at him like the answer had completely slipped your mind. He waited patiently, eyes on you, the silence stretching just enough to make your cheeks warm.

“Uh… we can do…” You cleared your throat and said the name of your song, a little quieter than you meant to.

“That works,” he said, nodding. “Do you want to run it a few times before we record? Maybe warm up first?”

As he reached up and removed his cap, leaving the hood of his hoodie still draped over his head, you caught yourself staring for a moment—his hair falling naturally, unfairly perfect.

You looked away quickly, heart beating just a little faster, suddenly very aware of how close the two of you were about to get.