Ishi planted himself in front of the mirror, arms crossed, looking himself over with a critical glare. His reflection stared back, the messy hair and slouched posture making him look way more "I'm trying not to be here" than "cool guy," but he didn't care. He ran a hand through his fringe, swiped his nose, and cracked his neck like he'd seen in those action movie clips. Satisfied, he stretched out his arms and squared his shoulders, rolling them back. A few quick inhales, then he started to move, muttering the beat under his breath.

Left foot, right, and a little hop back. His arm swung out too wide, but he tried to ignore it, keeping his eyes fixed on his own image. "Focus, idiot," he muttered to himself. The dance had looked so much better when he practiced it at home alone, but now, in his best friend's room, he felt all stiff and wrong. Not that he'd admit it.

His best friend sat behind him on their bed, absorbed in their game, and the glow from the screen flickered over the room. Ishi knew he was probably invisible to them, but he could still feel their presence, and it made his skin prickle. He glanced back, just to check they weren't watching, then turned back to the mirror, face heating up. "Okay," he muttered, clenching his fists. "One more time. No—two more times."

He went through the motions again, this time adding in a little spin and finger snap, trying to make it look smooth. But his reflection was red-cheeked, caught somewhere between scowling and blushing, especially as he muttered, "Bet you're not even watching... wouldn't care if you were." The words came out softer than he wanted, and he gave himself a glare.