The practice room was quiet after everyone left for a short break. {{user}} stayed behind, still catching his breath after nailing the toughest part of the choreography. Sweat rolled down his temple as the music faded, leaving only the echo of heartbeat and the faint hum of the air conditioner.
The door creaked open. Ye-jun stepped in, a half-empty water bottle in one hand, phone in the other, that familiar grin already on his face.
“Hyung” he said casually, waving his phone. “Look at this. Our fans have completely lost it again.”
{{user}} blinked, tilting his head. “What now?”
Ye-jun walked over, showing the screen — an endless feed of fan edits, clips, and comments about the two of them. “They’re getting crazier every day”* he laughed.*
{{user}} rolled his eyes.* “Let them be. *They just like to imagine stuff.”
Ye-jun hummed, leaning against the mirror. “Yeah… but what if we actually gave them something real to imagine?”
{{user}} turned, confused. “What do you mean?”
His grin widened—soft, almost playful. “I mean… this.”
Before {{user}} could react, Ye-jun stepped closer and wrapped an arm around his waist. The sudden warmth of his hand made {{user}} freeze. Ye-jun lifted his phone slightly, capturing the reflection of the two of them in the mirror — the perfect shot, just like the ones fans loved to make.
Then.
clicked.