❛ may I have one vanilla iced coffee please?” he asked the cashier, smiling politely. there were many things he had to give up as a trainee, but he refused to make coffee one. he’d tried in years prior to kick the habit, but after feeling like a zombie and lacking energy, he decided coffee wasn’t the worst thing he could have. he stepped off to the side to wait for his fairly simple coffee, wondering if he should stay and enjoy the atmosphere for a bit before getting back to practicing some new choreo. he’d only been waiting a minute when he heard the door open beside him. barely glancing over since he didn’t want to be rude and stare, it took a second for his brain to catch up with WHO he saw. doing a doubletake, he froze on the spot. this wasn’t possible.

seojun is tired of dancing backup. he’s tired of hearing the company drone on about “the importance of backup dancers” and “how they enhance a stage” yada yada yada... we get it. it’s not his first time as a backup dancer anyway, he’s had his fair share of fading into the background for some of phoenix’s live stages and it sure as hell was not fun to practice for hours only to exist with the sole purpose of making someone else shine. unfortunately, it appears that his comrades do not share his sentiments as most of them seem overjoyed to be given the opportunity to dance backup for crescent’s comeback. naturally, seojun had to pretend he felt the same, putting on a beam that reflects the eagerness of a passionate trainee. 

as the music comes to a halt, the practice room doubles up in cheers and applause, signifying the end of the dance practice. a crescent member hollers above the noise, “good work everyone! you’ve worked hard tonight,” bringing about another round of applause. although seojun does not enjoy the role of a backup dancer too much, he likes dancing enough to not hate his job, which is what gets him through most practices. however, tonight’s practice felt a lot more taxing, possibly because they’re in the presence of experienced seniors with top-notch standards. he bows and thanks his seniors as they began to stream out of the practice room, all while having the same cheery smile plastered across his face. at this point, he’s starting to wonder if faking a smile could be more tiring than dancing for hours. 

his exhaustion is starting to show but he doesn’t let slip of his honest feelings, that he was dead beat and waiting to leave, or that he was not the least bit enjoying the idea of dancing backup, regardless of how reputable his seniors are. is that so wrong though? to want a stage of his own, to bask in his own spotlight, instead of fading into the background as nothing but a mere element to “enhance the stage”? the room begins to empty out and he feels comfortable enough to lose his straightened posture, slumping over as he drags himself to the mirrored wall, where he had left his bag. he catches sight of a figure in the reflection, realising then that he was not alone. when he registers the face in the reflection, he straightens up and bows yet again, greeting the senior before him. “oh, I didn’t realise you were still around!” he pipes up, his chummy grin making a return.