After a long practise run of flying laps around the oval and managing not to rip his shirt in the process, Hyukjae wants nothing more than to sleep until breakfast. Trudging along the hallway and entering the communal bathroom with his wings folded close to his back, he heads to the stalls but blearily realises they’re all full. Not wanting to waste time, he grunts in irritation and turns invisible. He walks to the open showers and turns one on to mark his spot, keeping his dry clothes out of the way.

He showers quickly, ensuring his wings get a wash and directing tired focus into remaining invisible whenever somebody passes him. Once towelled off, he puts on an old T-shirt with a hole in the back for his wings along with soft shorts. He sleepily returns to his dorm room, forgetting his powers are in use until somebody walks straight into him. “Sorry,” he yawns, flashing back into view. “Forgot.”

“You forgot you were invisible?” Eric laughs, reaching up to brush away the ice he’d left on Hyukjae’s shoulder from the unexpected contact.

“I’m tired,” Hyukjae nearly whines, checking himself at the last moment. “Sorry.”

“Two a.m. personality, it seems,” Eric says with an amused smile. “Off to bed, we’ve got more training tomorrow.”

“We have training every day,” Hyukjae deadpans. “It never ends.”

“Better sleep now then,” Eric grins, clapping him on the shoulder without leaving ice this time. “It’s already late. Skipping dinner?”

“Not hungry,” Hyukjae shrugs, holding back another yawn.

“You must be tired,” Eric muses, his eyebrows drawing together with slight concern. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Sleep well!”

“You too.” Waving goodbye, Hyukjae manages to make it back to his room in one piece without bumping into anybody else. He drops his training clothes in the laundry hamper by the door and immediately heads for the balcony. Noticing that the dorm room is empty, he opens the doors and stands outside with his back to the railing. He grips it firmly and extends his black wings behind him, spreading them out and holding them in an extended position. He enjoys the warmth of the near setting sun against the feathers, feeling the heat absorb into the flesh and lull his exhaustion into a more comfortable laziness. After a few minutes he flaps his wings to dispel the stubborn droplets of water still clinging to the waterproof surface. He extends his wings again, slumping back against the railing.

Looking to the side, he watches a handful of students play a game of soccer on the lawn. Smiling as he recognises Henry whistle the grass into binding the opposition’s feet to the ground, he watches until his feathers feel dry against his skin. He reaches back and runs a hand along one wing, enjoying the smooth texture with slight fluffiness close to the bone. Judging them to be dry enough, he walks back inside and closes the