Wonho’s eyes should be focusing on his own movements in the reflection of the large mirror before him - on how he fit in with the rest of the members in the choreography for the comeback choreography they were preparing. It had been a dance practice from hell - several hours of work to polish and perfect every rough edge and missed beat - but he couldn’t keep his eyes focused either on himself or the whole picture - they traveled to the youngest of the group.

This time around there was something different in the way currently caramel blond felt the music. He was no the most amazing dancer, but he was a hard worker and he let the music infiltrate every fiber of his being when he was on stage, allowing him to fit in with the group and showcase his own - unique - way of feeling the rhythm. But this time it was as if the song, the choreography, the lyrics - something or maybe everything about the song made him stand out on a completely different level.

His moves were sharp, drawing out each beat and note with his shoulders, hips and fingertips, while still remaining smooth and seamless. The sharp gaze that bore holes into the mirror followed along to match the melody, the subtle nuances they were supposed to draw out with their bodies. It was as if either the song was made to showcase him or he was created to melt together with this song. He is both precise and wild, serious and y at the same time and it messes with Wonho’s head.

The music stops and heavy breathing echoes around the room. Their choreographer announces a short break and a wave of sighs of relief and moans of pain ring in the air along with the first notes of the song starting to play again. Most of them collapse on the floor - both sitting and laying down - while those who remain standing saunter to the side of the room for towels and water. Wonho is one of the ones who opts for sitting down, but despite his body being exhausted, his eyes restlessly follow the youngest as he walks to get water.

The deep blue t-shirt is stuck to the brunettes back and chest, much like everyone else's at this point. His breathing is still rapid - his lips parted in attempt to get more air to the desperate lungs - just like all of theirs, but both he and Shownu are still standing. His walk is a bit wobbly, but he is stubbornly not even thinking of sitting down as he half wobbles back to where Wonho had sat down. He hands a towel and a bottle of water to the oldest one and remains standing close by.

The current purple-haired one’s eyes move up the brunettes body, vividly remembering how just seconds ago he was hitting each note with the now trembling limbs. Droplets of sweat are running down the sides of his face and chin as well as down his neck. He doesn’t really get all of them when sloppily wipes them off with a towel, or maybe new ones form that past, but he is glistening with sweat again when he lays the towel on his shoulder.

It must be a messed up reflex, but Wonho’s brain somehow goes to a completely different place, time and setting when the youngest looked similar. Back then his body was covered in a sheer layer of sweat too - dim light from a night-lamp playing shadow games in the shallow waleys of his barely there abs and each curve and dent of his body. His hair was a mess, pressed against a snow white pillow behind him, contrasting in color and texture. His gorgeous neck was arched back, lips fully parted in soundless gasps and eyes squeezed shut.

Someone in the room coughs and Wonho gets thrown back to reality (thankfully). His eyes follow how the long, slim fingers of the brunette unscrew the bottle of water and then how it’s being lifted up to the still parted, pink lips. He is as if hypnotized as he can’t take his eyes away from him. The water bottle rests between his lips as he eagerly downs half of it - his eyes falling shut in satisfaction. He lets out a satisfied breath and takes a few deep breaths before wiping off some  of the water that had run down from the corner of his lips.

He turns to the mirror and his fingers now run through the caramel brown hair - smoothing them away from his forehead in a messy nest before smoothing them back down. His breathing seems to be calming down, his chest no longer rising and falling as rapidly and deeply as before and he finally sits down near Wonho, as he waited for this moment exactly to let his legs rest before being thrown in at least one more hour of practice.

The brunette places the bottle and towel on the floor, stretches his legs out and leans forward as much as he can, trying his best to reach his toes. He as if gives up half way through his attempt of stretching - his hands flopping down on his calves, head remaining near his knees.

“You’re obvious,” he murmurs and Wonho needs to, first of all, snap out of his trance like state and then ask the youngest to repeat what he just said.

“I said you’re obvious… as in obviously staring at me. Is something wrong?” he now sits up, a light flush in his cheeks and this time definitely not from dancing.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just think this song really fits you. You’ve as if come to life,” Wonho admits and scoots a bit closer. “You’ve evolved,” he ads with a smile and the pink in the younger one’s cheeks gets a bit brighter. “And… I think you looked y,” he whispers and the the pink turns into deep red.

The choreographer announces the end of their break and all of them whine in unison as they slowly get up and take their spots. The song rings though the heavy air again and Wonho’s eyes go to the youngest again. He is absolutely focused - his movements sharp and precise - despite the still lingering red in his cheeks. This was his song which brought out the best in him along with the best memories involving him and even though Wonho loved this sight, he silently wished he would have written the song that made him - his ChangKyunnie - come alive on stage. Next time. He will do it next time.

Notes:

This is a distraction.


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