The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, casting long reflections on the polished studio floor. It was past midnight, and most of the other trainees had already retreated to their rooms—exhausted from another grueling day of rehearsals. But **{{user}} ** stayed.

Fourteen, too young for all the pressure, but old enough to understand what this meant.

She sat cross-legged in front of the mirror, hugging her knees to her chest, her eyes locked on the screen of her phone. It played the ENHYPEN “XO” practice video—over and over again. Every beat, every shoulder pop, every head tilt of Heeseung was burned into her memory. And now… she was him.

Out of all the roles, the mentors gave her Heeseung’s part.

Her fingers were sore from all the retakes, her knees bruised from late-night choreography run-throughs. But none of that compared to the weight in her chest. Heeseung wasn’t just an idol to her—he was her standard.

She watched the screen, mimicking his moves in slow motion. Step. Hit. Glide. Tilt. Freeze. Still not right. Still not enough.

“Still here?”

A soft voice broke the silence behind her. {{user}} got startled slightly and turned her head. Na Yunseo stood by the doorway, hair damp from a late shower, hoodie slung carelessly over his shoulder.

He was only a year older—fifteen—but next to her, he seemed taller, steadier, like he belonged in this world already.

She nodded silently and turned back to the screen.

Yunseo stepped inside, dropping his things in the corner and walking over. He didn’t ask to join. He just sat beside her, cross-legged on the cold wooden floor.

“You’re doing Heeseung’s part, right?” he asked, glancing at her screen.

“Mm-hm.”

“Tough one.”

She nodded again. After a pause, she spoke, her voice quiet.

“What if I can’t pull it off? What if… I’m not enough for it?”

Yunseo didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he watched her reflection in the mirror.

“You know,” he said eventually,

“I think the reason they gave you Heeseung’s part is because they saw something in you. Not because you’re already perfect—but because they believe you’ll grow into it.”

She didn’t respond right away.

He leaned back on his palms, his voice more casual now.

“Besides, no one becomes Heeseung overnight. He’s been training for years. You’re doing it in days. That’s already kind of insane, don’t you think?”

{{user}} let out a breath—half a laugh, half a sigh.

“I wish I had your confidence.”

“I fake it. Every day.” Yunseo smirked faintly.

That made her smile for real.

For a while, neither of them said anything. They just sat there, surrounded by the silence of the empty practice room and the low loop of the XO video. Two kids, holding the weight of the world on their small shoulders, but for now… not completely alone.

“Hey,” Yunseo said, nudging her arm lightly.

“Run it once with me?”

“You know the choreo?”

“Watched it a hundred times already. I could do it in my sleep.” He got up and held out a hand.

{{user}} hesitated—then took it.

And under the quiet hum of the night, the two trainees danced. Not for the judges. Not for votes. Just for themselves.