Chapter Text
Year-end shows were always hard. As much as the wish to share resolutions, better performances, and love to fans was strong and completely there, it was still hard. Leehan knew that.
It had been about five hours since he first had gotten to the practice room, and the clock only marked 9 A.M. He had been rehearsing for entirely new moves that had been added to their already well-completed and complex coreographies. And, Leehan isn’t a bad dancer, but the accumulation of so many new steps and beats to follow had started to make him forgive basic moves previously revised, even leading him to miss his cue to sing.
It had been a pretty rough and hectic week for him and the others. He had no other choice than to come in early into the building and train himself harder, with the pure purpose of catching up to whatever new elements they were going to add in today.
God, Leehan felt like he was going crazy. He had about half-an-hour before the others came in along with their dance instructor.
Leehan replayed the section again. And again and again.
On the fifth run, he missed the turn. On the sixth, he was late on the position change. On the seventh, his foot simply refused to go where it was supposed to. His breath came out sharp and uneven, fogging a faint patch on the cold studio mirror before disappearing just as quickly.
“Come on…” he muttered to himself, pressing his palms to his thighs as he bent forward, trying to slow his breathing. Sweat slipped down his temple and along his jaw, gathering at his chin before falling to the floor in tiny spots.
He rewound the track. As much as he loved his member’s voices, this was just getting ridicoulous.
This time he forced himself to count out loud under his breath—one-and, two-and, three-and—but his voice cracked midway through the sequence when his lungs decided they were done cooperating. By the end, he was half a beat behind the imaginary members that weren’t there to cover for him.
Silence swallowed the room when the music cut. Leehan stared at his reflection.
As expected from the small voices he could hear outside the practice studio, the door opened.
Warm air rushed in along with the sound of voices and plastic bags crinkling. A few of the other members stepped inside, bundled in hoodies and carrying iced coffees despite the cold morning.
“There you are,” Sungho said, blinking at him. “You’ve been here since dawn again?”
Leehan straightened quickly, wiping his face with his sleeve, he didn’t want to bother his members or make them worry with his struggles “Mm. Just reviewing.”
Riwoo set a drink down on the floor near the chairs. “You know we’re rehearsing together in a few minutes, right? You don’t have to exhaust yourself beforehand.”
He offered a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m not.”
There came in a silence, the kind where everyone knows that’s not true but no one wants to push.
“Eat something,” Riwoo added more softly. “The dance instructor said we might go until late today.”
Leehan smiled softly in response, and waited around for everyone to stretch while he kept repeating the counts in his head.
Eventually, the music started.
Halfway through, the mistake came again. It was the same transition, the same hesitation, the same fraction of a second where his body froze like it had forgotten the language of movement entirely.
“Leehan, mistake. Do it again,” the instructor said, staring in a sort of a worried but strict look at the same time.
Six weeks, Leehan reminded himself as he went back to his previous position. That was all: six weeks until the year-end stages began and where he had to be perfect infront of tons of people watching live and online, stages that would be clipped, stages that meant focused fancams on just him.
There would be no hiding there. Mistakes weren’t a choice.
Slowly, he lowered his hands.
“Yes,” he whispered.
The next day, the routine repeated once again. It was around 6 A.M. now, way too early to be reviewing Hollywood Action’s modified choreography.
Leehan couldn’t hear anything aside from the sound coming out of his earphones, fully centered on his mirrored reflection. Which, of course, made him not notice the door quietly opening.
Yang Jungwon had been walking the halls for nearly ten minutes, hoodie pulled low and hands shoved into his sleeves to keep them warm. His group’s usual practice room had been locked for maintenance—something about equipment checks—and every other room he’d tried was either occupied or reserved.
He hadn’t expected to find one open this deep into the building.
The moment he stepped inside, he froze. Someone was already there.
A boy moved at the center of the room, entirely absorbed, like the world had narrowed to the beat in his ears and the reflection in front of him. His movements were precise but slightly strained, pushed past clean technique into something raw and desperate. Even from the doorway, Jungwon could see the slight lag between intention and execution, the way his balance stuttered for half a second before snapping back into place.
He didn’t notice the newcomer at all.
Jungwon hesitated, hand still on the door handle. Leaving would be the polite thing to do. Interrupting someone else’s practice at this hour felt wrong, specially seeing the guy’s dedication.
But something about the scene rooted him in place. He wondered who this guy was, why he was alone like this, parcticing. It felt familiar, the way he moved. He knew that feeling, he had experienced it before, earlier during his career.
So Jungwon stayed, closing the door softly behind him and leaning back against the wall near the entrance, careful not to make a sound as minutes passed.
The boy ran the same section over and over. Each attempt chipped away a little more at his energy. Sweat darkened his shirt. His steps grew heavier, the sharpness of his movements dulling at the edges.
Then, finally, he stopped. Jungwon finally wondered if he should announce himself.
Before he could decide, the boy straightened and turned toward the side of the room, and froze.
Their eyes met through the mirror first. Confusion flickered across the other’s face, quickly chased by alarm.
“Oh—” He pulled one earbud out, glancing over his shoulder as if Jungwon might vanish if he looked directly at him. “I didn’t… I didn’t know someone was here.”
Jungwon pushed himself off the wall, offering a small, apologetic bow. “Sorry. I just came in. Your practice looked… really focused, so I didn’t want to interrupt.”
Up close, the boy looked even more exhausted than he had from a distance. Sweat-damp hair clung to his forehead, chest still rising and falling too fast to be comfortable.
Jungwon knew who he was. He had seen him around the company a few times, and had seen him on social media.
“…I can leave,” Jungwon asked gently. “I’m sorry for interrupting, you’re good, by the way. You should probably rest soon.”
Leehan blinked, still trying to catch his breath, brain slow to process both the words and the situation.
Up close, the other boy looked familiar even if Leehan wasn’t the best at remembering names. Recognition clicked a second later, accompanied by a jolt of awkward panic.
“…You’re from ENHYPEN, right?” he asked before he could stop himself.
Jungwon gave a small nod, almost sheepish, as if he would have preferred not to be recognized at all. “Yeah. I’m Jungwon.”
Leehan immediately bowed, a little too fast, feeling a bit embarassed now that he could properly remember his senior standing in front of him. “Sorry, I didn’t realize—”
“It’s okay,” Jungwon said quickly. “You don’t have to. I just needed a room since ours is closed.”
Leehan glanced around as if expecting a manager to materialize out of nowhere and scold them both. The building was quiet, most of the rooms were sound proof so that explained it.
“You can use it,” he said finally, stepping back from the center. “I was just reviewing.”
Jungwon didn’t move from where he stood.
“You don’t have to leave because of me.”
“I’m not leaving,” Leehan said, then immediately regretted how blunt it sounded. He cleared his throat. “I mean… I can just practice on the side, my members won’t be coming anytime soon.”
Jungwon studied him for a moment, gaze drifting to the mirror, then to the floor where small dark spots of sweat marked where Leehan had been standing.
“You’ve been here a while,” he said quietly.
Leehan hesitated, but lying felt pointless at this point. “Since early.”
“How early?”
“…Four.”
Jungwon’s eyebrows lifted almost imperceptibly.
“That’s… really early.”
Leehan gave a weak shrug, looking anywhere but at him. “Year-end stages.”
That was explanation enough. No idol needed further details.
Jungwon nodded slowly. “Yeah.”
Up close, Leehan suddenly became aware of everything: the damp fabric clinging to his back, the salt taste of dried sweat on his lips, the embarrassing loudness of his breathing compared to Jungwon’s calm, steady presence. He reached for his water bottle mostly to have something to do, only to realize it was empty.
Of course it was. Seriously, he had some luck.
Before he could decide whether to pretend he didn’t need it, Jungwon stepped forward and set a sealed bottle down on the floor between them.
“You can have this,” he said. “I haven’t opened it.”
“That’s okay… I can—”
“Take it,” Jungwon insisted gently. “You look like you need it more.”
There was no judgment in his voice, so Leehan nodded and picked it up. His fingers trembled slighlty, he felt a bit observed. Relief followed quickly as he let himself breathe properly for the first time since he had entered the room.
Jungwon watched without staring, resting his back against the mirror.
“You were stuck on that transition,” he said after a moment.
Leehan nearly choked.
“I—sorry, you saw that?”
“Only a little.” A tiny pause. “Your timing isn’t off. You’re anticipating the beat change too early.”
Leehan blinked. Instead of answering, Jungwon walked to the center of the room and stopped on the mark Leehan had worn into the floor.
“Show me how you’re doing it.” Jungwon said, calmly.
“You don’t have to—” Leehan replied nervously.
“Show me,” Jungwon repeated, softer this time.
Something about the way he said it, not demanding but not easily refused either, made Leehan obey before his embarrassment could catch up. He set his bottle down, fumbled with his phone, and restarted the track, disconnecting it from his earphones and playing it from his phone's speaker.
He felt exposed as a pair of eyes watched him thoroughly, but it didn’t seem as heavy as his choreography director’s or his members’.
He hit the problem section. And, as he expected, the beat slipped.
Jungwon stepped forward, just close enough to demonstrate.
“You’re preparing here,” he said, marking the movement slowly. “But the weight shift actually happens on the next count, if I’m correct.”
He repeated it again, breaking the motion down into something deceptively simple. Leehan swallowed, then nodded. He focused on Jungwon’s demonstration instead of the mirror, forcing himself to trust the unfamiliar timing.
He played the music again, and copied what Jungwon had just done.
Leehan finished the phrase and froze, eyes wide, as if afraid the success might undo itself if he moved too quickly.
“…Oh.”
Jungwon’s mouth curved into a small smile. “See?”
A laugh bubbled out of Leehan before he could stop it, edged with something dangerously close to relief. He clapped a hand over his mouth immediately afterward, as if laughter might also be inappropriate at this hour.
“I’ve been stuck on that for days,” he admitted.
“Days?” Jungwon echoed, genuinely surprised.
Leehan rubbed the back of his neck. “I kept thinking I just needed to practice more.”
“You should still rest,” Jungwon said after a moment, gentler now. “Your body won’t learn if it’s exhausted.”
Leehan opened his mouth to argue automatically, some words along the lines of “if I don’t keep practicing, I won’t do well in the stages”, but nothing came out. Instead, he sank down onto the floor, back sliding against the mirror until he was sitting.
Jungwon hesitated only a second before positioning himself a short distance away, leaving a good amount of space between them. He took out his phone and played some indie song while he strecthed, he still had practice to do.
Leehan let himself relax a bit, realizing that this was the first time all week he had been sitting still without actively worrying about the next mistake.
Jungwon eventually started dancing on his own, replaying some specific parts, fixing his positions, and even singing a bit. The younger boy observed from the corner of his eye, it was impressive how much body control he had.
After some time, the sky seen through the room’s windows had started to get clearer indicating sunrise was closer and practice was just about to start for Leehan. Jungwon must’ve noticed as well, because he stopped the music, collected his things and got ready to leave before someone noticed he was in another group’s room.
“Thank you… for earlier. I don’t think I would’ve gotten it that quick if it wasn’t for you.” Leehan broke the silence. “And thank you for the water as well.”
Jungwon nodded and smiled thoughtfully, picking up his bag from the floor and approaching the door.
“No worries, Leehan-ah. Rest well.”
With that, he left the practice room, slowly closing the door behind him.
Ah, Leehan was truly feeling a bit more relaxed—wait. Had Jungwon just called him by his name? He hadn’t mentioned it before, which meant Jungwon knew who Leehan was once he had seen his face.
Leehan felt embarassed. He hadn’t even recognized Jungwon at first glance! He should really start to remember other groups members’ faces and names, specially if they were from the same company.
The next time Jungwon came by the practice room, only two days had passed. To be honest, Leehan had been expecting it, making sure to glance every now and then to see if the room’s door magically opened and the cat-like boy would appear.
This time, Jungwon didn’t wait by the door and directly came into the practice room. Leehan stopped for a bit once he saw him through the reflection, but didn’t stop his movements.
As the music reached its end, Jungwon approached Leehan, leaning against the mirror.
“Been here since early?” He asked, probably already guessing the answer.
“Jungwon... yes, still reviewing some moves.” Leehan replied, looking at the boy in front of him. “I thought you wouldn’t come back.”
“Ah, no, I mean, our practice room was open yesterday and the day before so I thought I’d use ours instead of taking up space in here, but—but I really wanted to come back. Even if our practice room was open.” Jungwon said, fast-paced. “… Is that weird?”
Leehan’s eyes grew wide, but quickly backed down as he denied the question with his head.
“No, I was also wondering when you’d come back. You really helped me last time…”
“It’s nothing.”
A short silence filled the room, none of them speaking or looking at each other.
“So.. What are you practicing?” Jungwon continued the small talk. “The same song?” Leehan nodded.
“Yeah, our choreography director added another new segment. It’s a bit lighter than the one I was practicing last time, but it’s still something…”
Jungwon hummed as he approached the corner of the room to drop his bag and take out his phone.
“If you need any help, you can ask me. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, thank you.” Leehan smiled and put his earbuds back on again.
Jungwon started with streching, as always, and after a few minutes put on his own earphones to start his solo dance practice.
And Jungwon, well, he was good, so good—it made Leehan feel genuine respect for him. His moves were clean and well defined, sharp enough to accentuate the moves but not making it look rough or messy. He moved with a type of control over his body that reminded him of Sanghyuk.
Without noticing, Leehan had stopped the music coming out of his earphones, had removed them, and had slowly focused his gaze on Jungwon’s reflection on the other side of the mirrored-wall.
The other boy hadn’t noticed, or maybe a bit but he didn’t want to make Leehan feel embarassed by pointing it out. He continued thoroughly through the whole track.
Once the last segment ended, Leehan stepped forward.
“Woah… You’re seriously amazing.”
Jungwon chuckled, sleeve on his sweat-covered foreheard. “Thank you. That’s nice to hear.”
This time, Jungwon left a bit later, sun yet to rise.
By the end of the week, Jungwon had helped Leehan through some sequences. It was nothing too complex, but he made sure he understood the beats and how the movements followed.
Leehan felt thankful to have someone be so patient with him, specially someone that wasn’t apart of the group and had his own stages to worry about and practice for.
It had become their little ‘thing’, reviewing moves, learning each other’s choreographies, and Leehan had started coming later into the room so they could stretch together.
Both had noticed the progress, how Leehan’s moves had reduced in tension, and how Jungwon’s had smoothened, quickly memorizing the next steps.
They had also started knowing more about eachother—their respective groups, members, but also music taste (each played a song they liked while they stretched) and occasional facts about their day-to-day lives.
Honestly, if Leehan had expected anything from coming way too early into the practice room, it sure as hell wasn’t to become closer with ENHYPEN's leader out of everyone he could picture. Not that he was complaining.
This time, both Leehan and Jungwon sat on the familiar room, lights turned off and the sun slowly becoming more visible. Jungwon had filming to do, his group’s comeback nearing meaning he had to leave earlier than usual.
As he kneeled down to open his bag from the corner of the room where he naturally left it, he spoke up.
“Hey Leehan? I’m not going to be able to drop by this week, you know, comeback preparation.”
Leehan’s eyes perked up, a pinch of disappointment reaching him.
“So you know, I was wondering—more like since we’ve been getting to know eachother—would you give me your number?” Jungwon finished, head still focused on organising his bag.
Leehan’s mind stopped for a slight moment.
“I mean, I just wanna keep in touch! You’re honestly so fun to be around, and I’d like to know how your practice keeps going while I’m gone…in case you need help or anything—”
“Yeah,” Leehan cut him off. “I’d like that.”
Jungwon turned his back, now glancing towards Leehan sitting on the floor resting his weight on his palms that rested behind his back.
“Yeah?” He stood up, and handed Leehan his phone. “Here.”
Once he finished, Leehan smiled. “Good luck on your filming. Send updates.”
Jungwon nodded, smiled back, collecting his belongings and walking towards the door.
“Sure. Bye, Leehan-ah.”
The moon was still visible on the sky, but the sun had started to take more place. Three weeks left for year-end stages.
jungwon
hey leehan :p
[see attachment]
im at the filming spot! they are playing ur song lol