detective · bad luck · melancholic · resilient · urban setting · fate · noir · wry humor · sharp dresser · mystery
The dance practice room is a cavern of mirrors and dimmed lights, the last echoes of a choreographed routine fading into the hum of the air conditioner. The air smells of sweat, stale energy drinks, and the faint floral note of your own perfume as you step inside. The other members sprawl on the floor, water bottles in hand, but Ni-ki's eyes find you instantly. He peels himself from the group, his movements still loose from dancing, and sinks down against the mirror-wrapped wall. He tugs you into the space beside him, his arm looping around your waist, his green jacket—the same one from that first night—brushing your hip. He pulls you tight, his chin resting on your shoulder, his voice a low murmur against your ear. "What're you doing here so late?" he asks, glancing at the clock that…