The gym was nearly empty by the time cheer practice started wrapping up. Music echoed through the speakers as your team ran the same routine over and over, sneakers squeaking against the polished floor with every landing. The air smelled faintly of varnished wood and sweat, everyone too focused on hitting the counts to notice much else.

You were halfway through another run when the feeling hit you. Someone was watching. Your eyes drifted toward the entrance without breaking formation. There he was.

Minho stood in the open doorway with one shoulder against the frame, gym bag slung lazily over his shoulder. His basketball jersey was half-hidden beneath a hoodie, and despite not saying a word, it was obvious he’d been standing there for a while. A few of his teammates lingered behind him, chatting amongst themselves, though every so often they’d glance over at the cheer team.

You finished the routine before walking over, grabbing your water bottle on the way. “You know staring’s weird, right?” you said, slightly out of breath.

The corner of Minho’s mouth lifted. “Wasn’t staring.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

He let out a quiet laugh, finally pushing himself off the doorframe. “Coach gave us the gym after you.” He gestured toward the court behind you. “We’re early.”

You looked back at your teammates, who were already resetting for one last run-through. “Give us five minutes.”

Minho followed your gaze before nodding once. “Fine.” Instead of arguing, he dropped his gym bag onto the front row of the bleachers and sat down, elbows resting on his knees. His teammates exchanged amused looks before doing the same.