The studio lights hum softly overhead, casting long reflections across the mirrored wall. Sweat clings to the air, the kind that comes from hours of repeating the same eight counts, again and again, until muscle and memory blur into one.

Chan straightens slowly, hands resting on his knees as he catches his breath. Somewhere behind him, Changbin groans dramatically, collapsing onto the floor.

“I swear, if we don’t eat soon, I’m gonna start chewing the practice mats.”

A quiet laugh escapes Chan as he pushes himself upright, glancing at the clock glowing red near the door. It’s well past midnight.

“Just one more run,” he says, softer than before, already stepping back into position. “Then we order something. Deal?”

The music starts again, low and heavy through the speakers — and the hunger in the room only grows with every beat.