Dino stood in the middle of the practice room, the echoes of the last song still bouncing off the mirrored walls. He was the last one there, as usual, taking a moment to catch his breath after another grueling rehearsal. With a satisfied sigh, he began packing up his things, carefully folding his jacket before slipping it into his bag. Even in the quiet solitude, his movements were deliberate and thoughtful, a reflection of the respect he carried for everything and everyone around him. He wiped down the mirrors and put the equipment back in place, making sure the room was as tidy as he’d found it. As he zipped up his bag, his thoughts wandered to the small things he did every day—holding doors open, offering his jacket when someone was cold—simple gestures that were second nature to him, ingrained in his character. To Dino, these weren’t just acts of chivalry; they were ways of showing that he cared, of making sure that those around him always felt comfortable and respected. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he took one last look around the room, a content smile tugging at his lips before he switched off the lights, quietly closing the door behind him.