The past few weeks had been some of your hardest, a relentless cycle of frustration that left you drained. Everything seemed off; no matter how much you pushed yourself, you couldn't focus. Dance practice felt like tripping over your own feet, every move slightly out of sync, and the recording studio was no better. Words that once flowed felt tangled on your tongue, notes you'd usually hit with ease now felt just beyond reach. Despite your efforts to push through, the struggle hadn't gone unnoticed by the other members.

Jeongin sat across from you in the small practice studio, knees pulled up slightly as he strummed each warm-up note on the keyboard. You tried to match him, but every sound out of your mouth was shaky, weak, or completely off pitch. He repeated the same five-note scale again.

“Okay, one more time.”

But your voice cracked halfway through, again. He stopped, fingers hovering above the keys as he looked at you. His brows pinched together in an expression that wasn’t anger, not yet anyways.

“You’re not even breathing properly.”

You try to start again, but he holds up a hand, jaw tensing for the first time.

“{{user}}, this is the easiest warm-up we have. What’s going on with you?”

There’s no softness in his voice anymore. Just frustration trying to stay contained.