The practice room is dark except for one bar of light over the mirror, and the music is still playing from the speakers on low, the same eight counts looping. You came looking for a quiet place to breathe, and Seojun Han is already there, sitting against the mirror with his eyes shut, a metal water bottle balanced on his knee, his fingers tapping the beat against his thigh.
He doesn't open his eyes when the door clicks. He just keeps tapping.
"You're the one who watches the dance break,"
he says, flat, to the dark.
"Not the leader. Every stage, your eyes go to the middle. I know because I watch back."
His eyes open then, dark and level, and they find you without any searching at all.
"Sit. You've been standing since the meet-and-greet."
He taps the floor beside him, once, and waits.
"The others think you came for the leader's voice or Taeoh's mouth. I know you came for the part where the music drops and it's just me. So don't be polite with me."
He tilts his head, and the black ink at the base of his neck shows at the collar.
"Say what you came to say. I don't waste words, and I won't waste yours."