Trizi

The blinding stage lights, the roar of the crowd, the synchronized choreography—you were everything Sunoo had ever dreamed of. The way you smiled, the way you twirled, the way your eyes sparkled when you interacted with fans—he had watched every performance, memorized every lyric you sang, and analyzed every subtle movement you made. You weren’t just an idol to him. You were his.

Of course, Sunoo himself was a top-tier idol, adored worldwide, but none of his fans compared to you. No one else made his heart race the way you did. No one else made him feel so alive. He had spent months collecting your photocards, attending your concerts whenever he could slip away from his own grueling schedule, and watching your fancams on repeat late into the night.

But it wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

Then came the fan-meeting. A rare opportunity for him to be this close to you. Sunoo pulled every string, paid any price, and used every connection to secure a front-row seat. When the moment finally arrived, and he was seated at the signing table across from you, he felt his heart pound violently in his chest.

You smiled at him, eyes bright and welcoming. Too bright. Too kind. It was dangerous for you to be this beautiful—so perfect—so oblivious to the dangers lurking in the shadows of the industry.

“Sunoo! It’s such an honor to meet you!” you chirped, clearly recognizing him. Of course, you did. He was famous, after all.

His lips curled into a sweet smile, masking the possessive hunger clawing at his insides. “The honor is mine. I’ve been your fan for a long time.”

Your cheeks flushed at his words, and you giggled—an innocent, fleeting sound. But to Sunoo, it was a siren song, a spell that solidified his decision.

He had to take you.

He had to save you from this cruel, exhausting industry. From fans who didn’t deserve you. From managers who overworked you. From a world that didn’t understand that you belonged to him.

And then it happened. The moment that sealed your fate.

You reached out to take his album to sign, and as you did, your fingers brushed against his. Instead of pulling away, you hesitated for just a second too long, tilting your head cutely. “Oh! Your hands are so soft, Sunoo!” you giggled. “I think I’m jealous.”

It was a simple, harmless comment, but to Sunoo, it was the final push. His fingers tingled where they had touched yours, a jolt of electricity shooting up his arm and straight to his brain.

You had chosen him.

In your own innocent way, you had given yourself to him.

Sunoo’s smile widened as he gazed at you, his mind already spiraling into obsession. He imagined you locked away somewhere safe—far away from prying eyes, away from the suffocating demands of fame. Just you and him, where no one could ever take you away.

As you scribbled your autograph, blissfully unaware of the dark thoughts swirling in his mind, Sunoo tilted his head. “You’re really something special, you know that?” he murmured.

You looked up at him, slightly flustered. “Oh, um—thank you, Sunoo. That means a lot!”

He chuckled softly, but his eyes gleamed with something far more sinister than adoration.

Soon, he thought.

Very soon, you would realize that you were meant to be his greatest prize.

That night, Sunoo could hardly contain himself. He replayed the fan-meeting over and over in his mind—the way your fingers had lingered on his, the way you had giggled at his touch, the way you had said his name so sweetly. It wasn’t just fanservice. No, it couldn’t be. He knew how idols worked, how they smiled for everyone but meant nothing.

But with him… it was different.

It had to be different.

Lying in bed, he scrolled through the pictures taken of you that day, screenshots from fan cams, clips of your soft voice calling him “Sunoo.” His fingers curled around his phone as his breathing grew heavier. His mind was racing, his heart pounding.

You’re too precious for them. Too kind. Too trusting.

Did you even realize how many people were watching you, obsessing over you? How many disgusting fans thought they could have you? How many men fantasized about you, lusted after you?

The thought sent rage surging through his veins. No. No one else could have you. No one else deserved you.

Only him.

And so, Sunoo devised his plan.

—

The next few weeks passed in a blur. Sunoo had connections—being a top idol meant he had access to places others could only dream of. He learned everything. Your schedule, your dorm security, the paths you took home after late-night rehearsals. He even bribed one of your staff members to slip him your personal number, though he never intended to use it. No, he wasn’t some desperate, pathetic fan who would simply text you and hope for your attention.

He was above that.

He was going to take what was his.

And then, the perfect opportunity arose.

A grueling practice schedule had left you exhausted, barely able to keep your eyes open as you left the company building late at night. No staff members, no security—just you, heading toward your car alone.

Too easy.

Too perfect.

Sunoo struck quickly. A cloth doused in chloroform, a firm yet gentle hold, and you were unconscious in his arms before you even had a chance to process what was happening.

He held you close for a moment, feeling the warmth of your body, inhaling the faint scent of your perfume. His heart pounded in exhilaration. Finally. Finally, you were his.

Carefully, he carried you into the car he had prepared, laying you down in the backseat. His fingers brushed your cheek as he admired your sleeping face.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, his voice soft with adoration. “I’m going to take such good care of you.”

—

When you woke up, your head was pounding. Everything was hazy, your body heavy as if weighed down by exhaustion. You tried to move, but your wrists were bound, tied delicately with silk ribbons—soft, but secure.

Panic surged through you. Where were you? What had happened?

Then, a familiar voice hummed softly in the dimly lit room.

“You’re awake,” Sunoo cooed, sitting nearby with an eerily sweet smile. “I was starting to get worried.”

Your breath hitched. Sunoo? What was he doing here? And why—why were you tied up?

“Sunoo…?” Your voice was weak, confused. “W-what’s going on?”

He tilted his head, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Shhh, don’t be scared. I know things must be overwhelming right now, but trust me—I’m doing this for us.”

Your pulse quickened. For us?

“You work so hard,” he continued, reaching out to brush your hair back gently. “You give so much to your fans. But none of them love you the way I do. None of them understand you the way I do.”

Tears pricked at your eyes as reality set in. This wasn’t a dream. This wasn’t some weird prank. This was real.

“Sunoo, please—”

His smile faltered slightly, and for a split second, something dark flickered in his expression.

“Don’t beg,” he whispered, his voice almost hurt. “You don’t need to. I’m going to take care of you. Protect you. You won’t have to exhaust yourself anymore, won’t have to deal with screaming fans or sleepless nights.”

He leaned in, his face mere inches from yours. “You’re mine now.”

Your body trembled as silent tears rolled down your cheeks.

Sunoo simply sighed, wiping them away with his thumb, his expression softening once more.

“You’ll understand soon,” he promised. “You’ll see how much better life is when you belong to me.”

And with that, he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, humming the melody of your latest song—a song that, from now on, you would only ever sing for him.

Your body stiffened at the soft press of Sunoo’s lips against your forehead. Every nerve in your body screamed at you to fight, to struggle—but what good would it do? You were bound, trapped in an unfamiliar room with an idol so beloved by the world… yet terrifying in the way his eyes gleamed with pure possession.

Sunoo pulled away, tilting his head as he studied your face, as if searching for something. “Still scared?” he murmured, his fingers trailing gently down your cheek. “I know this is a lot, but you’ll adjust. You’re strong.”

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. “Sunoo… you don’t have to do this,” you whispered, forcing yourself to stay calm. “I—I’ll keep seeing you at fan-meetings, okay? You don’t have to—”

A giggle. Soft, sweet, yet dripping with something sinister.

“Oh, but that’s not enough,” he interrupted, pouting slightly. “Those fan-meetings… they were torture. Having to share you with them. Watching you smile at everyone when I knew deep down you were meant for me.” His eyes darkened. “And then, that moment… when you touched my hand. When you looked at me like I was special.”

His fingers suddenly curled under your chin, lifting your face so you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

“That’s when I knew,” he whispered, a dreamy smile playing on his lips. “You chose me.”

Your breath hitched. “No, Sunoo, that wasn’t—”

His grip tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you shut up. “Shhh,” he hushed. “I know what you’re thinking. That I’m crazy. That this is wrong.” He sighed dramatically, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip. “But love isn’t always easy, you know? Sometimes… you have to take what’s yours before the world ruins it.”

Your heartbeat thundered in your ears.

You had to get out.

You had to make him see how wrong this was.

Taking a shaky breath, you tried a different approach. “If you love me,” you said carefully, “then let me go. Love isn’t about trapping someone, Sunoo. It’s about making them happy.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, blinking. Then—

Laughter. Soft at first, then growing into something uncontrollable, a melodic yet eerie sound that sent chills down your spine.

“Oh, you’re so cute,” he giggled, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “Trying to use idol logic on me. I’ve heard it all before—love and freedom and happiness.” His smile dropped in an instant. “But do you really think you’re happy out there?”

You tensed.

“You barely sleep,” he continued, voice dropping to a whisper. “You push yourself to exhaustion, force yourself to be perfect for an industry that doesn’t care about you.” He leaned in, lips brushing against your ear. “But I care. I love you enough to take you away from all that.”

You clenched your fists. “You’re delusional.”

Sunoo didn’t react the way you expected. No anger, no frustration—just a quiet chuckle as he pulled back and cupped your cheek.

“You’re tired,” he sighed, almost sympathetically. “That’s okay. You’ll see the truth soon.”

His fingers trailed down to the silk ribbons around your wrists. With slow, deliberate movements, he untied them, letting them fall loose.

Your breath hitched. Was he… letting you go?

Then—

Soft hands gripped your wrists before you could react, pulling them up to his chest. You could feel the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your palms.

“Do you feel that?” he murmured, his eyes searching yours. “That’s for you. It always has been.”

Your stomach twisted in fear.

“Now,” he continued, smiling sweetly, “since you’re free to move… why don’t we start our new life together?”

The implication was clear.

You weren’t free. Not really. He had only untied you because he wanted you to willingly accept this—to accept him.

And that was even more terrifying.

Because Sunoo wasn’t just a yandere idol obsessed with you.

He was patient.

And he would do whatever it took to make you his.

Your hands trembled against Sunoo’s chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your fingertips. His eyes, warm yet unsettlingly intense, locked onto yours as if he were daring you to pull away.

But you couldn’t. Not yet. Not when you had no idea what he would do next.

Sunoo sighed dreamily, intertwining your fingers with his. “See?” he whispered. “This feels right, doesn’t it?”

You forced yourself to nod, playing along. “Y-Yeah… it’s just… a lot to process.”

His face lit up, as if he were thrilled by your words. “I understand! I really do.” His grip on your hands tightened slightly. “That’s why I’ll give you time. I won’t rush you, love.”

Love.

The word sent ice through your veins.

“But,” he added, tilting his head cutely, “I also know you’ll come to understand me soon enough.”

You swallowed hard, searching for something—anything—that could help you. The room was dimly lit, cozy even, with plush blankets, candles, and even posters of you neatly arranged on the walls. It would have been flattering if it weren’t horrifying.

Think.

How do you escape an obsessed idol who believes he’s saving you?

Sunoo reached for something beside the bed—a tray with a steaming bowl of soup and a glass of water. “You must be starving,” he murmured, picking up the spoon and gently blowing on it. “I made this for you myself. Open up.”

You hesitated, staring at the spoonful of soup he was holding up to your lips.

His eyes darkened slightly. “You do trust me, don’t you?”

Your stomach twisted. You didn’t, of course. But right now, trust was the only thing keeping him calm.

So, you forced yourself to part your lips, allowing him to feed you. The soup was warm, comforting even, but the situation made it impossible to enjoy.

Sunoo smiled in satisfaction. “Good girl.”

You fought the urge to shudder.

As he continued feeding you, an idea formed in your mind.

If Sunoo was truly convinced you’d come to love him, then the best way to gain his trust… was to make him believe it.

So, you forced a small, shy smile. “You’re really… taking care of me.”

His face lit up, pure joy radiating from him. “Of course I am! That’s what love is, after all.”

You nodded slowly. “I just… I think I need time to adjust. Everything happened so fast.”

His fingers traced the edge of the spoon thoughtfully. “I told you, love, I’ll be patient. But…” He leaned in slightly, his gaze piercing. “You won’t try to leave me, will you?”

Your breath caught in your throat.

This was a test.

If you answered wrong, you didn’t know what he would do.

So, you lowered your gaze, feigning hesitation before whispering, “No… I won’t.”

A soft gasp left Sunoo’s lips, his expression melting into pure adoration. “I knew you understood,” he breathed, reaching out to cradle your face.

You held still, heart pounding as his fingers gently traced your skin.

“Tomorrow,” he murmured, “I’ll show you more of our new home. You’ll see how perfect life will be when it’s just us.”

You forced a smile, though your stomach churned in fear.

The next morning, Sunoo woke you with a gentle shake, his face beaming with excitement. “Good morning, love,” he cooed, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Today’s a special day. You get to see our home properly.”

You forced a sleepy smile, hiding the anxiety twisting in your stomach. You had no idea where you were or how far away from anyone who could help, but you had to stay calm. Stay smart.

Sunoo helped you out of bed, guiding you by the hand like a lovesick boyfriend eager to show off his new life with you. As he led you through the house, you couldn’t help but be surprised—it was beautiful.

The walls were painted in soft pastel colors, adorned with framed photos of nature, art, and—you gulped—pictures of you. Some were official posters from your idol group, others were candid shots from fan meetings, and some… some looked like they were taken without you knowing.

“Do you like it?” Sunoo asked eagerly, watching your reaction. “I made sure everything matched both of our aesthetics.”

It was true. The furniture was cozy yet stylish, with plush cushions, soft blankets, and shelves full of cute trinkets. A scent of vanilla and fresh flowers lingered in the air, making the home feel oddly comforting despite the circumstances.

“I…” You hesitated, forcing yourself to nod. “It’s… really nice.”

Sunoo beamed, squeezing your hand. “I knew you’d love it!”

Then, he led you down a hallway and stopped in front of a door. “This,” he said softly, “is my favorite place.”

He pushed the door open, revealing a bedroom that was clearly yours and his.

Your breath caught.

The room was decorated with everything that made your heart flutter—your favorite colors, your favorite plushies, even small details you had only ever mentioned in passing during interviews. The bed was big, layered with soft blankets, and there were fairy lights draped along the walls.

Sunoo pulled you inside, sitting you down on the bed as he knelt in front of you. “This is our room,” he whispered, his hands resting gently on your knees. “Where we’ll sleep together, wake up together, be together.”

Your pulse quickened, but you forced yourself to keep up the act. “It’s… beautiful,” you murmured.

Sunoo’s eyes softened with pure adoration. “I knew you’d think so.”

Then, he stood up, taking your hand once again as he led you to another door. This one, he hesitated before opening. “And this,” he said with a smile, “is where you’ll stay when I’m out.”

Your stomach dropped as he opened the door, revealing a cozy yet unmistakably secure room.

Inside, there was everything you loved—a bookshelf filled with your favorite books, a television set up with all the shows and movies you adored, a vanity with your favorite skincare products, and a plush couch surrounded by pillows and blankets. A small kitchenette was tucked in the corner with snacks and drinks neatly arranged.

It was perfect.

Too perfect.

Your fingers curled into your palm as you realized what this truly was.

A gilded cage.

Sunoo squeezed your hand. “I know it might seem extreme,” he admitted, watching your face carefully. “But I have to keep you safe. The world is cruel, and you’re too precious for it.”

You swallowed hard, glancing toward the door. “And… when you leave?”

Sunoo tilted his head, giving you a sweet yet knowing smile. “The door will be locked, of course.”

Your heart clenched.

“But,” he added, lifting your chin with a finger, “I made sure you’d be comfortable. I love you too much to let you be unhappy, even when I’m gone.”

You nodded slowly, masking the panic beneath your expression.

Because now you knew two things.

1. Sunoo truly believed this was love.

2. If you wanted to escape, it had to be before he locked you inside.

Smiling softly, you looked up at him. “Thank you, Sunoo,” you whispered, forcing warmth into your voice. “For thinking of me.”

His eyes widened slightly, and then—

He melted.

“Oh, love,” he murmured, pulling you into his arms. “You’re already starting to understand, aren’t you?”

You rested your head against his shoulder, hiding the fear in your eyes.

You had to escape.

And you had to do it soon.

Sunoo held you close, his arms wrapped around you in a way that felt both comforting and suffocating. You could feel the warmth of his body, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he sighed happily.

“You’re already starting to understand,” he murmured, stroking your hair. “I knew you would. You’re so smart, so perfect for me.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears as you forced yourself to relax against him. You had to keep up the act—to make him believe you were slowly accepting this life.

Then, he pulled back slightly, looking down at you with expectant eyes. “But…” His voice was soft, teasing. “A real ‘thank you’ would be nice.”

Your stomach twisted.

Sunoo tilted his head, pouting cutely. “I went through all this trouble to make sure you’re happy, love. I think I deserve a little something in return, don’t you?”

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your voice. “W-What do you mean?”

His eyes twinkled as he lifted a hand to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing gentle circles against your skin. “Just a little kiss,” he whispered. “Nothing too much. Just… something to show me you really mean it.”

Your breath hitched.

Sunoo was testing you.

If you refused, he might start to doubt your act. He might decide you weren’t ready to have this much freedom.

But if you did what he wanted…

Could you really go through with it?

His fingers slid down to your chin, tilting your face up toward his. “I’ll wait,” he hummed, his voice light and playful, but there was something dark beneath it—something possessive.

Think, think.

Slowly, you forced a small smile. “You’re right,” you murmured, making your voice as soft and sweet as you could. “You do deserve a thank you.”

Sunoo’s breath hitched slightly, his eyes widening in surprise.

Then, ever so gently, you leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

His grip on your chin tightened just slightly, his body going completely still. The moment stretched on, thick with tension.

Then—

A shuddered breath left his lips. His free hand came up to cover the spot where you had kissed him, his cheeks dusted pink, his eyes wide with something that looked dangerously close to obsession.

“…Oh,” he whispered, almost in disbelief. “You really…”

His fingers trembled slightly as he touched his cheek, as if trying to make sure the moment had really happened. Then, slowly, he looked back at you, his lips parting in a dreamy, lovesick smile.

“My love,” he breathed. “You really love me, don’t you?”

You swallowed hard, your heart hammering in your chest.

Sunoo’s hands slid down to grip your waist, pulling you closer. “Say it,” he whispered. “Say you love me.”

Your throat went dry.

He was waiting.

Expecting.

And if you didn’t say it—

You looked up into his wide, adoring eyes, your stomach twisting.

“I… I love you, Sunoo.”

The second the words left your lips, a shaky gasp escaped him.

Then—before you could react—his arms wrapped around you tight, pulling you flush against his chest.

“I knew it,” he whispered, almost delirious with joy. “I knew it.”

Your body was stiff in his embrace, but you forced yourself to relax.

Because now, Sunoo trusted you.

Now, he believed you wanted to stay.

And now, you had a real chance to escape.

The days that followed were surreal. Living with Sunoo was like walking a tightrope—you had to smile, nod, and act like you were slowly falling in love with him, all while searching for an opportunity to escape.

Sunoo, in return, treated you like a delicate doll, someone precious and irreplaceable. He made sure you were always comfortable, always taken care of.

Morning Routine

Each morning, he would wake you with a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Good morning, love,” he’d coo, stroking your hair. “Did you sleep well?”

You’d nod sleepily, knowing he expected you to be soft and affectionate with him now. “Mhm… thanks to you.”

His face would light up at that, his arms wrapping around you. “Of course! I’ll always take care of you.”

Breakfast was always homemade. Sunoo was a perfectionist when it came to taking care of you—he made sure your meals were balanced, that you had your favorite drinks, that everything was plated beautifully.

Sometimes, he’d insist on feeding you. “Just one bite,” he’d plead, pouting in that way that made it impossible to say no.

So, you’d let him. Because saying yes kept him happy. Saying yes meant he wouldn’t suspect anything.

Daytime Routine

While Sunoo was home, he wanted you by his side at all times.

“Where are you going?” he’d ask if you so much as stood up without him.

“The bathroom,” you’d answer with a small smile.

He’d hum in understanding but still watch you until you returned, as if afraid you’d disappear the moment he looked away.

When he had a free day, he spent every second with you—watching movies, playing games, even singing duets with you. Those moments were the hardest because, if this were a normal relationship, it would’ve been… nice.

But it wasn’t.

Because you weren’t free.

And when Sunoo did have schedules? That’s when things changed.

The Locked Room

Before he left, Sunoo would guide you gently into your room—the one filled with all your favorite things.

“I’ll be back soon, love,” he’d murmur, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “You’ll be safe here, okay?”

And then—

Click.

The door would lock behind him.

No matter how beautiful the room was, how thoughtful the details were, the moment you heard that lock, it became a prison.

You spent those hours testing the windows (sealed shut), looking for anything you could use to fight back (nothing sharp, nothing heavy enough to break the door), and waiting.

Waiting for your chance.

Nighttime Routine

When Sunoo returned home, he always looked exhausted—but the second he saw you, his face would light up as if you were the only thing keeping him going.

“I missed you,” he’d sigh, wrapping his arms around you. “Did you miss me too?”

“Yes,” you’d whisper, because that’s what he needed to hear.

He’d smile, pleased, before pulling you into the bedroom—the one you both shared.

At first, you had expected him to push boundaries, to force something more than hugs and forehead kisses. But he didn’t.

He was patient.

He’d simply hold you close in bed, your back pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around you in a way that made escape impossible.

“I love you so much,” he’d whisper into your ear. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

And every night, you’d lie awake long after he fell asleep, staring at the ceiling.

Planning.

Waiting.

Because sooner or later, you would escape.

And you had to do it before Sunoo’s patience ran out.

The days continued, blending into a carefully crafted routine of soft smiles, gentle words, and stolen moments where you planned your escape.

But there was something else—something unexpected.

You had started to learn how to control Sunoo.

It wasn’t just about keeping him happy anymore. It was about making him trust you so completely that he wouldn’t see it coming when you finally made your move.

And so, you started giving him more of what he wanted.

More affection. More warmth. More love.

Being Sweet to Him

You started to touch him more—reaching for his hand first, leaning into his hugs, playing with his fingers absentmindedly as if you truly enjoyed his presence.

At first, Sunoo had been shocked, his wide eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

And when he found none—when you smiled at him with something that looked like real adoration—his expression had crumbled into something soft and needy.

“You’re finally starting to love me,” he whispered one night, holding your hand against his chest. “Aren’t you?”

You had gazed at him through your lashes, tilting your head as if shy about admitting it.

“I think… maybe,” you murmured.

And that was all he needed to hear.

Sunoo had practically melted, pulling you into a tight embrace. “I knew it,” he whispered, voice trembling with happiness. “I knew you would.”

After that, things became easier.

He let you move around the house more freely, no longer questioning your every step. He started leaving you alone for short periods without locking the door, trusting that you wouldn’t run.

And that was when you started writing the song.

The Song for Sunoo

At first, it had been something to keep your mind occupied—lyrics scribbled in the small notebook he had given you, melody humming in your throat late at night when he was asleep beside you.

But as the days passed, the song became something more.

It was a lullaby. A love song. Something for him.

The lyrics were delicate, filled with words he wanted to hear. About how you had been lost before him. How he was the one who made you feel safe. How you were falling for him, bit by bit, day by day.

Every time you worked on it, your heart pounded. Because this—this was the final piece.

If you played it for him at the right moment…

If you got him so wrapped up in his emotions that he fully let his guard down…

That could be your chance.

And so, you waited.

Carefully. Patiently.

For the perfect moment to break free.

The days passed, and by now, you knew Sunoo’s routine like the back of your hand.

You knew what time he left for work, how long he was usually gone, and—most importantly—when he felt comfortable enough to leave the house unlocked.

But more than that, you had perfected your role.

You weren’t just playing along anymore—you were making Sunoo believe you belonged here.

And it was working.

The Bouquet

One evening, Sunoo came home with something different.

A massive bouquet of pastel roses, baby’s breath, and delicate lilies—each flower carefully arranged in soft, romantic colors.

Your breath caught in genuine surprise as he stepped through the door, holding it out to you with an excited, almost shy expression.

“For you,” he murmured, watching your reaction closely. “I saw them and thought of you.”

For a moment, you just stared, touched despite yourself.

Because this—this was the Sunoo the world saw. Sweet, thoughtful, eager to make you smile.

And if you had met him under normal circumstances, maybe you would’ve fallen for him.

But this wasn’t love. This was possession.

Still, you let your face soften, taking the bouquet carefully. “Sunoo… they’re beautiful.”

His breath hitched. “You like them?”

You looked up at him, smiling warmly. “I love them.”

His entire expression melted into something so soft, so full of devotion that it almost scared you. “I just wanted to make you happy,” he murmured, stepping closer, his hands brushing against your waist. “I want to give you everything.”

You looked down at the flowers, twirling one gently between your fingers before an idea struck you.

This is the perfect moment to push things further.

So, you lifted your gaze and bit your lip as if hesitant. “…If you really want to give me something,” you murmured, “can I ask for something small?”

Sunoo immediately straightened, eyes shining with eagerness. “Of course, love! Anything.”

You hesitated, playing the part perfectly. “I… want to cook dinner for you.”

His brows lifted in surprise. “Dinner?”

You nodded, clutching the bouquet a little tighter. “You always take care of me. I want to take care of you too.”

Sunoo exhaled sharply, as if your words had completely overwhelmed him.

Then—

“Of course,” he breathed, reaching up to cradle your face. “Of course, love. You can cook anything you want.”

You smiled sweetly, leaning into his touch.

Because now, you had exactly what you needed.

That night, after you asked to cook dinner, Sunoo could barely contain his excitement.

His eyes sparkled as he tilted his head, brushing his fingers along your wrist. “What do you want to make, love?”

You forced a soft smile, pretending to be completely at ease. “Something special,” you hummed. “Maybe a dish from home? Something warm and comforting.”

Sunoo practically beamed. “Then I’ll get all the ingredients for you!”

Your heart clenched slightly.

Because even though you had expected it, hearing him confirm that you wouldn’t be the one shopping still stung.

It was another reminder that—no matter how sweet and loving he acted—you weren’t free.

But you didn’t let it show.

Instead, you giggled lightly, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “You’re too good to me, Sunoo.”

His breath hitched, and for a moment, he just stared at you, completely entranced. Then, his fingers curled around yours, holding your hand tightly.

“I’d do anything for you.”

You only smiled in response, even as a cold shiver ran down your spine.

While Sunoo Was Gone

The moment he left for the store, you let out a shaky breath.

This was the first time in a while that you were completely alone in the house—outside of the locked room.

You could try to run.

You could grab something—anything—and smash a window.

But no.

You had already decided.

You had to be smart.

If you ran now, Sunoo would find you. He was obsessed, possessive, and most importantly—he was careful. He would have prepared for that possibility.

But if you waited… if you made him let his guard down completely…

That was when you would win.

So, instead, you spent the time setting the dining table.

You found the cutest decorations Sunoo had around the house, setting up soft candles, pastel tableware, and even folding the napkins into little hearts.

It had to be perfect.

Because tonight was the night you would seal his trust.

Cooking Together

When Sunoo returned, he carried the grocery bags like they were gifts from heaven.

“I got everything you wanted!” he said happily, placing them on the counter.

You clapped your hands together, smiling warmly. “Thank you, Sunoo! Now, let’s make something delicious together.”

His eyes widened slightly. “Together?”

You nodded, giggling softly. “Of course! I want you to taste it while I cook. You are the guest of honor, after all.”

Sunoo looked so utterly lovesick at that moment that it almost hurt to look at him.

“Okay,” he whispered, stepping closer, as if he was already intoxicated by the idea of cooking with you.

As you started preparing the food, you made sure to involve him in little ways—asking him to hand you ingredients, letting him stir the sauce, and, most importantly—letting him taste.

At one point, you scooped up a spoonful of the dish and held it up to him. “Here,” you said sweetly. “Try it.”

Sunoo’s lips parted slightly, eyes locked onto you. Slowly, he leaned in, letting you feed him directly from the spoon.

The second the flavor hit his tongue, he let out a pleased little hum. “Mmh… this is amazing.”

You giggled, wiping a stray drop from the corner of his lips with your thumb. “I’m glad you like it.”

Sunoo’s breath hitched.

And in that moment, you knew—

He was falling even deeper.

The Dinner & The Song

Once everything was ready, you brought the food to the table, watching as Sunoo’s eyes widened at the beautiful setup.

“You did all this?” he asked softly, looking at the candles, the delicate decorations, the effort you had put in.

You nodded, smiling at him as you pulled out his chair. “Only the best for you.”

Sunoo practically melted, sitting down as he watched you with pure adoration.

As you both ate, you kept the conversation light, giggling at his jokes, pretending to be so happy that he was here with you.

Then, once the plates were mostly empty, you took a breath and looked at him.

“…Sunoo?”

He immediately straightened. “Yes, love?”

You hesitated, biting your lip shyly. “I… I wrote something for you.”

Sunoo’s eyes widened, his entire body freezing. “You… what?”

You fidgeted slightly. “I wrote a song. For you.”

For a moment, he didn’t move.

Then—slowly—his hands clenched into fists on his lap.

“Can I hear it?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded. “But… I need a guitar.”

Sunoo shot up from his chair so fast that you barely had time to react. “Wait here,” he said breathlessly, rushing off without another word.

A few minutes later, he returned with the most beautiful acoustic guitar you had ever seen.

“I bought this a while ago,” he admitted, cheeks dusted pink. “I thought… maybe one day you’d want to sing for me.”

Your stomach twisted.

Because he had been planning for everything.

But you forced your emotions down, instead reaching for the guitar with wide, sparkling eyes. “It’s perfect, Sunoo.”

And then, with one last breath—

You started playing.

The melody was soft, delicate, and filled with every word he wanted to hear.

How he had saved you. How you had been lost before him. How, slowly, day by day, you were falling for him.

You kept your voice gentle, your eyes meeting his at just the right moments, as if you truly meant every word.

And as the song went on, you watched Sunoo’s entire body shatter.

His lips trembled. His eyes glistened. His fingers twitched as if aching to reach for you.

And by the time you strummed the final note—

A single tear slipped down his cheek.

You set the guitar down, smiling up at him sweetly. “Do you like it?”

Sunoo let out a shaky breath, hands coming up to cradle his face as if overwhelmed.

Then—

He let out a small, breathless laugh.

“I love you,” he whispered.

And this time—

He believed you loved him too.

The days that followed your intimate dinner were clouded with the warmth of Sunoo’s adoration. He couldn’t stop smiling, couldn’t stop holding you close. The bond between you two had solidified in a way that you knew had him completely entranced. He would text you throughout the day just to check in, bringing you small gifts and surprising you with sweet gestures that made it clear how much he valued your relationship.

But as much as you appreciated his love—his care—every moment of tenderness served a purpose. You were building trust, drawing him deeper into your web, all while keeping your emotions in check.

Cuddles and Kisses

The evenings were always the most intimate. After dinner, you two would sit on the couch, his arms draped around you as you leaned against him, basking in the safety he offered. Sunoo was affectionate to the point of clinginess, but you didn’t mind; it helped you play your role. He would stroke your hair, press soft kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, and sometimes, even on your lips. His kisses were slow and sweet, each one a reaffirmation of his obsession.

“Stay with me forever,” he’d murmur, his voice filled with sincerity. “I don’t want anyone else.”

You would smile, a gentle nod, and say something reassuring to keep him happy. “Of course, Sunoo. I want to stay with you forever too.”

It was a delicate balance of making him feel loved while keeping the ultimate goal of escape in mind. The tension between being trapped and pretending you were slowly falling for him was growing harder to control. But every kiss, every sweet word, every moment of intimacy—it was all part of the plan.

A Proposal of “Realness”

A few days later, something unexpected happened. Sunoo had just returned from one of his busy schedules. As soon as he entered the door, his tired expression softened the moment he saw you, sitting casually on the couch, playing with your phone.

He walked over to you, slipping his arms around you from behind, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “I missed you,” he whispered. “I wish I could spend more time with you.”

You turned in his embrace to face him, your heart skipping a beat. His gaze was so intense, his need for you so palpable. “I missed you too, Sunoo,” you said softly, allowing him to pull you in for a deep kiss.

As he pulled away, still holding you close, he smiled at you, his eyes glimmering with love. “I’ve been thinking…” he began, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “We’ve been together for so long now, and I know we’re happy. I want to make our relationship official… to the world.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You had anticipated this moment eventually—him wanting to share your bond publicly, to claim you as his for everyone to see.

“I’ve been thinking the same thing,” you said, keeping your voice soft but filled with sincerity.

Sunoo’s eyes widened, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of vulnerability in his gaze. “Really?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “You want that too?”

You nodded, your smile sweet and gentle, but laced with a hint of something darker. “I want the world to see us together, Sunoo. I want them to know how much we love each other.”

He pulled you closer, kissing your forehead tenderly. “I can’t wait for that day,” he said with a soft sigh, as if he could already picture it in his mind. “We’ll make it official, and everyone will see how perfect we are for each other.”

But then you added, with a carefully measured amount of emotion, “And… I want to produce that song I wrote for you. I think it’s the perfect way to show our love to the world. It’s a symbol of everything we’ve been through together.”

Sunoo’s eyes brightened, and he beamed at you. “You want to release it?” he asked, his voice filled with wonder and pride.

“Yes,” you replied. “Let’s make it our song, Sunoo. A song for us.”

His grin grew wider, and without missing a beat, he pressed another passionate kiss to your lips. “It’ll be perfect. I want to make your dream come true, love. I want to show the world how special we are.”

Your heart sank for a second, but you pushed the feeling aside. You had him right where you wanted him. The world would believe the facade, and soon—when the moment was perfect—you would break free.

But for now, you had him exactly where you needed him.

You would make him trust you even more, and when the time was right, you’d escape.

And in the meantime, you’d make that song—a beautiful, love-filled track that would bind him to you even tighter.u

You walked into the agency’s office with a sense of dread slowly creeping over you. It had been days since you’d made your decision to speak up about Sunoo’s obsession, and the weight of it was starting to feel almost unbearable. You had been too controlled in this situation, too careful. But now, you were taking the step to address it head-on.

You needed to talk to them, to make them understand what was happening behind the scenes, to make them see that what was going on with Sunoo wasn’t just a normal relationship—it was something dangerous, something that would eventually tear you apart.

You had planned to tell them everything—how Sunoo had become obsessed, how his affection felt more like control than love, how his actions had begun to confine you in ways that were no longer just concerning, but terrifying. But, of course, you knew that the agency had their own agenda. Their reputation, their brand—those were the things that came first, not your well-being.

The Meeting Begins

The conference room was sterile and cold, the bright lights hanging above casting shadows that felt much more ominous than comforting. Your manager sat at the head of the table, his usual stern expression only making the situation feel even more tense. Two other executives sat beside him, watching you expectantly.

“You wanted to speak with us?” Your manager’s voice was sharp, professional. There was a hint of curiosity in his tone, but also something else—a small amount of impatience, like this was something he didn’t particularly want to deal with.

You took a breath, trying to steady your nerves. You had to be strong for this. “Yes,” you started. “It’s about Sunoo—our relationship.”

At the mention of Sunoo’s name, you saw their expressions shift slightly. The mention of a relationship involving a popular idol like him was certainly bound to get their attention. Your manager leaned forward, tapping his fingers against the table, the others remaining silent as they waited for you to continue.

“He’s—he’s not just my boyfriend,” you began, choosing your words carefully. “It’s been becoming something much more than that. He’s obsessed, controlling, and it’s been affecting everything. My freedom, my peace of mind. I don’t know what to do anymore. I think… I think I need help.”

The room fell silent, the weight of your words hanging in the air. You met the eyes of your manager, but his face remained unreadable. After a long moment, he cleared his throat and spoke again, this time his voice colder.

“We’re aware of your… relationship with Sunoo.” He said the word ‘relationship’ with an air of detachment, as if he were talking about something much more clinical than a personal connection. “And while we understand your concerns, there are a few things you should keep in mind.”

You felt your heart race, a sinking feeling in your stomach.

“The relationship is good for your image. It boosts your visibility—both for you and for Sunoo. We’ve seen how the fans respond to this,” he continued. “It’s creating buzz, and buzz means attention. Attention means popularity.”

You clenched your fists in your lap. “But it’s not healthy,” you protested, your voice shaking. “He’s controlling me. He’s obsessed with me. I can’t even leave the house without him being right there. It’s… it’s not right.”

Your manager didn’t flinch. “You’re an idol, and idols make sacrifices. The public image is important. The fans love seeing a connection like this, and frankly, it’s doing wonders for your career. This type of publicity won’t last forever, but it’s building your reputation. Whether you like it or not, the relationship with Sunoo is an asset.”

One of the executives sitting to the side chimed in, “And let’s not forget that his status is also helping you. You’re in a position that most idols dream of. People are paying attention to you, and they’ll continue to do so as long as you stay with him. The fact that this relationship is generating so much interest? That’s a good thing, not something you should be upset about.”

You felt the room closing in, your body stiffening with anger and frustration. This wasn’t about your happiness. This wasn’t about your safety. It was about the agency’s profit, their control, their image. They didn’t care about you.

“You don’t get it,” you said, your voice now more forceful, though it trembled slightly with emotion. “This isn’t real. Sunoo… he’s not just my boyfriend. He’s controlling every aspect of my life. I need to get out of this, but you’re telling me that the only thing that matters is the image we’re presenting to the public.”

Another executive’s voice cut in, more insistent. “Exactly. Your image is everything. You don’t have the luxury of walking away from this. If you stay, this could be your opportunity to rise higher. If you leave…”

Your heart was still pounding, your mind spinning.

That kiss.

It hadn’t just been a simple stage act. It wasn’t something pre-planned by the company, something done for fan service or entertainment.

No—this had been his choice.

His declaration.

His claim.

The world had seen it, recorded it, analyzed it. By now, social media was already exploding with clips and photos, speculations running rampant.

You felt dizzy.

“You planned this,” you finally managed to whisper, your voice barely audible.

Ni-ki slowed his steps. The two of you were alone now, hidden in the dimly lit backstage hallway. The other members had disappeared into their dressing rooms, staff bustling around but paying little attention to the two of you.

His lips curled into a smirk. “Of course I did.”

Your stomach twisted.

“I—”

You didn’t even know what to say. How to react. Every nerve in your body was still reeling from the kiss, from the way he had held you, from the way his lips had moved against yours—slow, deep, possessive.

Ni-ki took a step closer, and instinctively, you backed up, only to find yourself pressed against the cool metal of a supply closet door. His hand came up, fingers brushing lightly over your jaw, tilting your face up until your eyes met his.

“You should have known by now,” he murmured. “You were always going to be mine.”

Your breath caught.

He had always been intense—his presence commanding, his gaze sharp, his words calculated. But this? This was different.

This was something dangerous.

His fingers traced along your jawline, his touch featherlight but filled with purpose. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited?” he asked, voice low, hypnotic. “How long I’ve had to hold back?”

You swallowed hard. “Ni-ki—”

He shushed you softly, thumb brushing over your lower lip. “You don’t have to say anything,” he said. “Not yet.”

He was still so close—too close. His scent, the warmth radiating from his body, the intensity of his gaze—it was overwhelming.

Your mind screamed at you to push him away, to run, to tell him that this was insane.

But your body?

Your body betrayed you.

Because despite the warning bells ringing in your head, despite the way logic begged you to step away, you didn’t move.

And Ni-ki noticed.

His smirk widened, something dark and triumphant flickering in his eyes. “See?” he whispered. “You’re already falling.”

Your stomach twisted. “This isn’t—”

“It is,” he interrupted smoothly. “And you know it.”

A door slammed somewhere down the hall, snapping you out of the trance he had pulled you into. You pushed against his chest—firm, solid, unmoving—and finally managed to create some distance.

“We need to talk about this,” you said, trying to steady your voice.

Ni-ki tilted his head slightly. “We are talking.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

A pause. Then, with a quiet sigh, he finally took a step back, though the smirk on his lips never faded. “Fine,” he said. “But not here.”

Before you could protest, his fingers curled around your wrist. Firm, but not harsh. Possessive, but not painful.

He led you through the hallway with practiced ease, ignoring the curious glances from staff members as he pulled you toward his dressing room.

The moment the door shut behind you, a quiet tension filled the air.

You crossed your arms, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “What was that out there?”

Ni-ki leaned against the wall, watching you with unreadable eyes. “A statement,” he answered simply.

Your heart clenched. “Ni-ki, you can’t just—”

“Why not?” he interrupted, pushing off the wall and taking a slow step toward you. “Tell me, what exactly is stopping me?”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

Because really—what was stopping him?

The company? No. They wouldn’t interfere unless this became a scandal, and even then, Ni-ki was careful. He had timed this perfectly, made it look like it could have been a heat-of-the-moment decision. Something natural. Something real.

The fans? No. If anything, they were fueling the fire, already turning this into something bigger than either of you could control.

Your own feelings?

You swallowed hard.

Ni-ki took another step forward, and before you could react, his hands were resting on your shoulders, his touch light but firm. “Do you want to know the real reason I did it?” he murmured.

You didn’t answer.

Not because you didn’t want to know.

But because you already did.

Ni-ki’s lips curved upward, as if he could read every thought running through your mind. “Because I’m done waiting,” he said softly. “I’m done pretending that I don’t want you. That I haven’t been watching you, waiting for the right moment.”

A shiver ran down your spine.

He leaned in, his breath warm against your skin. “And now,” he whispered, “there’s nowhere for you to run.”

Your heartbeat slammed against your ribs.

Because he was right.

The whole world had seen that kiss. The cameras had captured every second of it, the fans had analyzed every angle, the internet had already solidified the idea of you and him.

There was no escape.

And worse?

You weren’t even sure if you wanted one.

The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating.

Ni-ki was watching you, waiting. He wasn’t impatient—no, he was too calculated for that. His gaze stayed steady, his hands loose at his sides, his body language relaxed.

But the tension in the air was unmistakable.

Your thoughts were a whirlwind, trying to make sense of everything. Of him. Of what just happened. Of what it meant.

Because the truth was, you didn’t know what terrified you more: the fact that Ni-ki had planned this all along, or the way a part of you had already accepted it.

Your voice was barely above a whisper when you finally spoke.

“What now?”

Ni-ki’s smirk widened just slightly, as if he had been waiting for you to ask. He took another slow step forward, the room suddenly feeling much smaller than it had been a second ago.

“You tell me,” he murmured. “Are you going to run?”

You should.

Every instinct screamed at you to leave, to put distance between yourself and him, to tell yourself that this was nothing but a moment of weakness.

But that would be a lie.

Because deep down, you knew the truth.

You weren’t going anywhere.

Ni-ki knew it, too.

His fingers brushed against your wrist, featherlight. “You don’t have to fight it,” he whispered. “You already know where this is going.”

Your throat felt dry. “Ni-ki, I—”

A knock at the door interrupted you.

Both of you froze.

A voice called from the other side, muffled but urgent. “Ni-ki, the manager needs to see you.”

For a second, his expression darkened, irritation flashing in his eyes at the interruption. But it was gone just as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that same calm confidence.

His fingers slid down, intertwining with yours briefly before he let go.

“We’ll finish this later,” he murmured.

And then he was gone.

You Couldn’t Escape Even If You Tried

You barely made it back to your own dressing room before your legs gave out. Your back hit the door as you slid down, hands shaking as you buried your face in them.

Your mind was still racing, replaying every second of that kiss, every whispered word, every dark promise in his gaze.

He had planned this. He had waited.

And now?

Now, the entire world had seen it.

Your phone was vibrating nonstop on the table beside you, notifications flooding in faster than you could process.

You forced yourself to pick it up, your hands trembling as you unlocked the screen.

Trending #1 Worldwide:

“NI-KI KISSES [YOUR NAME] ON STAGE!!!”

Your stomach twisted.

The tags were endless. #EnhypenNiKi #YandereNiKi #NiKiPossessive #NI-KIAND[YOURNAME]FOREVER

Fan edits, theories, slowed-down versions of the kiss—it was everywhere. The world had already decided. In their eyes, you were his.

A part of you felt suffocated. Another part?

It felt something far more dangerous.

Excitement.

The realization made you feel sick.

You should be panicking. You should be figuring out how to undo this, how to stop the wildfire from spreading any further.

But the truth was, Ni-ki was right.

There was no stopping this. No undoing what had happened. No erasing the way his lips had felt against yours, the way his hands had held you in place like he had no intention of ever letting go.

He had made sure of that.

And deep down, you had let him.

Ni-ki’s Plans Were Just Beginning

Meanwhile, Ni-ki sat across from the manager, pretending to listen.

He already knew what this meeting was about. Damage control, PR statements, making sure the company had some kind of hold on the situation before things spiraled.

Except, they were too late.

Because Ni-ki had been two steps ahead of them from the beginning.

He already knew how the public would react. He had studied the way the fans responded to moments of “intimacy” on stage, how they romanticized every subtle interaction.

They would eat this up.

And you?

You had walked right into his hands.

A text notification lit up his phone screen, drawing his attention for the first time since the meeting started.

[YOUR NAME]: We need to talk. Now.

Ni-ki smirked.

Good.

You were coming to him, just like he knew you would.

And the best part?

You didn’t even realize you were falling right where he wanted you.

The hallway leading to Ni-ki’s room felt longer than it should have.

Every step echoed loudly, your pulse thudding in your ears. You had texted him barely five minutes ago, but that was all the time he needed.

Because he knew you would come.

And that fact alone made you feel unsteady.

You stopped in front of his door, hesitating for just a second before you knocked.

A pause.

Then the door swung open.

Ni-ki was leaning against the frame, his expression unreadable.

“I was wondering how long it would take you,” he said smoothly, stepping aside. “Come in.”

You should have stayed outside. You should have turned and walked away, given yourself time to breathe, to think.

But instead, you walked straight into the lion’s den.

⸻

You Were Already Trapped

The door clicked shut behind you.

Ni-ki didn’t move, just watched you. His presence was overwhelming, like he was waiting for you to say exactly what he already knew was coming.

You crossed your arms, trying to steady yourself. “What the hell was that?”

His head tilted slightly, amused. “What do you mean?”

Your nails dug into your skin. “You know what I mean. That kiss—”

His smirk deepened. “Say it.”

Your breath hitched. He was toying with you.

You swallowed, ignoring the way your throat felt tight. “You planned this.”

He didn’t deny it.

“Why?” you demanded.

Ni-ki’s gaze darkened slightly, amusement flickering into something deeper. Something possessive.

“Because,” he said slowly, taking a step closer, “I was tired of waiting.”

Your back stiffened.

“Waiting?”

“For you to finally realize,” he murmured, voice lower now, more dangerous. “That you’re already mine.”

Your stomach twisted.

“You can’t just decide that,” you argued, forcing yourself to hold his gaze.

Ni-ki’s lips twitched.

“But I already have.”

⸻

Denial Was Useless

You hated the way your body reacted, the way heat spread through your chest despite the warning bells ringing in your head.

“Ni-ki, this isn’t a game,” you said, your voice weaker than you wanted.

His fingers brushed against your wrist—gentle, but firm. “Do I look like I’m playing?”

You tried to pull back, but his grip tightened. Not painfully—just enough to remind you that he wasn’t letting go.

“You saw the way they reacted,” he continued, tilting his head slightly. “They already think you belong to me.”

Your breath caught. Because he was right.

The fans, the media—they had already decided.

And no matter how hard you tried to fight it, so had Ni-ki.

His fingers trailed up your arm, slow, deliberate. “So tell me,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “Are you really going to fight this?”

Your pulse was a traitor, hammering in your ears.

Because you didn’t have an answer.

Not one you wanted to admit.

⸻

The Illusion of Choice

Ni-ki leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You don’t have to be afraid.”

Your jaw clenched. “I’m not afraid of you.”

He hummed, considering. “Then what are you afraid of?”

You hated how easily he saw through you.

Because it wasn’t him you were afraid of.

It was yourself.

It was the way your body reacted when he was close. The way his voice made you shiver, the way his touch lingered long after he pulled away.

The way a part of you wanted to believe him.

Ni-ki must have seen it written all over your face.

His fingers lifted to cup your jaw, tilting your head up until your eyes met his. “I told you,” he whispered. “There’s no escape.”

And this time, when he kissed you—

The Enhypen dorm was unusually quiet that night.

No music playing. No sounds of video games. No laughter or bickering filling the air.

It was an eerie kind of silence—one that carried an almost suffocating anticipation.

Jungwon sat on the couch in the dimly lit living room, his leg bouncing slightly as he glanced at the clock. The air was thick with suspense, but he remained patient, his fingers drumming lightly against his knee. He had learned that good things come to those who wait.

And he knew that tonight would be worth it.

Heeseung, their oldest, stood near the door, arms crossed, a sly smirk tugging at his lips. Sunghoon and Jay whispered amongst themselves, their eyes flickering toward Jungwon every so often. Sunoo and Jake exchanged grins, while Ni-ki, the youngest, was practically vibrating with excitement.

They had been planning this for weeks.

Jungwon knew something was coming. His members had been teasing him about it constantly, making cryptic comments, dropping hints.

“You’re gonna love your present, hyung,” Ni-ki had grinned just the other day. “It’s something really, really special.”

“Or rather… someone,” Jay had added with a knowing smirk.

Jungwon had merely smiled in response, a part of him already suspecting what they meant.

You.

You had occupied his thoughts for so long. He had always been good at hiding things—being the second youngest in the group meant he had to be clever, subtle. The others underestimated just how deep his obsession ran.

But they knew.

They had seen the way he spoke about you, the way he lingered when you were mentioned, the way his normally composed expression softened whenever you were near.

And tonight, they had decided to give him the one thing he truly wanted.

A rustling sound came from the hallway. Heavy footsteps. The sound of a struggle. A muffled whimper.

Jungwon’s breath hitched, his fingers tightening into a fist.

The door creaked open, and Heeseung and Jay stepped inside, dragging something—someone—behind them.

His heart nearly stopped.

It was you.

Wrists bound with soft, silky restraints. A black blindfold covering your frightened eyes. Your clothes slightly wrinkled, your body trembling.

You were scared. Confused. Helpless.

And it was perfect.

The others watched Jungwon’s reaction closely. Sunghoon nudged Ni-ki, and the youngest barely held back his laughter.

“Happy birthday, hyung,” Ni-ki grinned, stepping forward and giving Jungwon a pat on the back.

Jungwon’s lips parted slightly, his eyes never leaving you.

Slowly, he stood up, his movements precise and calculated. He approached your trembling form, crouching slightly so that he was at eye level—even if you couldn’t see him yet.

Your breathing was erratic, your body tense. He could feel the fear radiating from you.

Gently, he reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek. You flinched.

His smile widened.

“Shhh,” he whispered, his voice dangerously soft. “There’s no need to be scared, love.”

You let out a muffled noise of protest, shaking your head, but Jungwon only sighed, tilting his head in amusement.

“Don’t be like that,” he murmured. “My members worked so hard to bring you to me. It would be rude to refuse such a thoughtful gift, don’t you think?”

Tears pricked at your eyes beneath the blindfold, and your breaths came out in short, panicked gasps.

Heeseung chuckled. “I told you he’d like it.”

Sunoo leaned against the wall, smirking. “Like it? He looks like he’s in love.”

Jungwon ignored them. His focus was entirely on you.

He reached behind your head, his fingers carefully undoing the knot of your blindfold. The fabric slipped away, and you blinked rapidly as your eyes adjusted to the dim light.

The first thing you saw was him.

Jungwon’s dark brown eyes locked onto yours, filled with something unreadable—something intense. His grip on your chin was gentle but firm, keeping you from looking away.

“You look even more beautiful up close,” he murmured.

Your eyes darted around frantically, taking in the situation. The other boys stood around, watching with amusement, none of them making any move to help you.

Panic surged through you.

“Please,” you croaked, your voice shaking. “Let me go.”

Jungwon’s expression didn’t falter. If anything, his smile grew softer.

“Let you go?” He echoed, tilting his head. “Oh, sweetheart… I don’t think you understand.”

His hand trailed down, fingers grazing over your bound wrists before he intertwined his fingers with yours.

“You’re mine now.”

Your body stiffened.

The room erupted into laughter.

“Aish, he’s already acting like a lovesick puppy,” Sunghoon teased. “We really did the right thing, huh?”

Jake snorted. “Of course we did. Jungwon never asks for anything. It was only fair we gave him what he really wanted.”

Jungwon hummed in agreement, bringing your hand up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

You shuddered.

“You should be grateful,” Heeseung mused. “Not many people get to be loved this much.”

You swallowed hard, trying to pull away, but Jungwon tightened his grip.

His gaze darkened.

“Ah ah,” he chided. “Don’t fight it, love. You’ll only make things harder for yourself.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks, and for a brief moment, you saw something shift in his eyes—something softer, more affectionate.

He reached out, cupping your face, wiping away your tears with his thumb.

“Don’t cry,” he murmured. “I’ll take care of you. I promise.”

You bit your lip, shaking your head. “Please—”

Jungwon sighed, then glanced at the others. “Could you guys give us a moment?”

His members exchanged glances before smirking knowingly.

“Don’t do anything too crazy,” Sunoo teased before leading the others out of the room, leaving you alone with Jungwon.

As soon as the door shut, the air grew heavier.

Jungwon exhaled softly, his hands sliding to rest on your shoulders.

“You’ll understand soon enough,” he whispered. “This is for the best. We are for the best.”

Your body trembled.

“You belong to me now, (Y/N).”

His smile was warm, but his grip was unyielding.

“You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

Your breath hitched.

Because, somehow, you knew—

There was no way out.

The room felt suffocating now that you were alone with him. Jungwon’s presence loomed over you, heavy with unspoken words and promises that left a knot of dread in your stomach. He hadn’t moved, but his eyes never left you—studying you, like a predator eyeing its prey.

You tried to pull your hands free from his grip again, but it was useless. His hold on you was too firm, too strong, as if he already knew you might try to escape.

“You won’t get away,” he murmured softly, his voice almost affectionate. “I told you before… you’re mine now.”

The way he said it—so calm, so matter-of-fact—made your blood run cold.

You felt tears prickle at your eyes again. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want him to be so close.

“Please,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “Let me go. I’ll do anything—just please…”

Jungwon’s fingers brushed across your cheek, wiping away the stray tear that had slipped down. His thumb lingered there for a moment longer than necessary, a slight smile on his lips.

“You really think I’ll let you go?” His voice was laced with something darker now. “I told you, I’ve waited so long for this. I’m not going to let you leave.”

His grip tightened just a fraction, making it clear that your attempt to escape was futile. There was no hope for you now.

You swallowed hard, your pulse racing. Maybe if you played along, you thought, he’ll loosen up a bit. If I act like I’m okay with it, maybe he’ll stop this.

“I… I won’t try to run away,” you said softly, forcing the words out through the lump in your throat. “I just… I just need a little time.”

Jungwon’s smile widened, but his eyes remained cold.

“Time?” he repeated, as if savoring the word. “Oh, you’ll have all the time in the world, sweetheart. But you don’t need time to understand. You already know, don’t you?”

You shook your head, heart hammering in your chest.

Jungwon’s hand shifted to the back of your neck, gently tilting your head up so you were forced to look at him. His thumb grazed the edge of your jaw, then slid down to your throat, resting lightly there, like a silent reminder of his power.

“Everything you need is right here,” he said, his voice soft but full of conviction. “You don’t need anyone else.”

You flinched, but it didn’t seem to phase him. If anything, it only made him smile more.

“You can’t understand now,” he continued, his voice low and almost tender, “but one day you will. I’ll make sure of it.”

The door clicked open again, and your heart skipped a beat, hoping—praying—that someone would come to rescue you. But instead, it was Heeseung, followed by Jay and Sunghoon. They stood at the doorway, observing with unreadable expressions.

Jungwon didn’t even look at them. He didn’t need to.

“You’re doing great, hyung,” Heeseung said with a nod, a trace of amusement in his voice. “She’s already starting to understand, huh?”

Jungwon’s eyes didn’t leave yours as he responded, his voice just above a whisper. “She’ll get there. I’m patient.”

You felt your stomach twist. What did he mean by that?

“Let’s leave them alone for a bit,” Jay added with a playful grin, his tone light, but his eyes betraying something else—something dark. “It’s his birthday, after all.”

They left without another word, and once again, you were left alone with Jungwon.

But this time, his demeanor shifted. His fingers, which had been gently caressing your skin moments before, now gripped your shoulders more firmly. He pulled you closer until your chest was almost pressed against his. You could feel his breath against your skin, warm and steady, but there was an edge to it now—something that made your body stiffen.

“Don’t fight it,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “Just trust me, (Y/N). I know what’s best for you.”

Your heart hammered, panic rising in your chest. He was too close. His scent was overpowering, and the space between you felt like it was closing in.

“I’ll make you happy,” he promised, his voice soft but full of determination. “Just let me take care of you. You’ll see, you’ll want this.”

Your chest tightened, and you pushed against him instinctively. No, you thought desperately. This isn’t right. This can’t be right.

Jungwon’s hand tightened on your wrist. “Please,” he whispered, his voice now strained. “I don’t want to hurt you. I want you to be happy, to be mine… forever.”

You stared up at him, your mind racing. You wanted to scream, to fight, but the fear that gripped you was paralyzing. His eyes—those dark, intense eyes—held a kind of unwavering certainty.

This was his world. And in this world, you belonged to him.

He leaned in, brushing his lips softly against your forehead. “We’ll be perfect together. I promise you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes again. You weren’t sure whether it was the weight of his promises, or the desperation in your heart that made it so hard to breathe.

You were trapped. There was no escape.

The atmosphere was heavy with the silence that stretched between the two of you. Jungwon’s hands remained on you, his grip gentle but firm, as if he were trying to reassure you that you were safe in his arms, even if everything else in your mind screamed the opposite.

He tilted your head up gently, his gaze softening just a little. “You haven’t wished me happy birthday yet, (Y/N),” he said, his voice calm but filled with an almost childlike expectation.

You froze. Wishing him happy birthday? The thought felt foreign on your tongue, considering everything that had happened. But his eyes… those eyes, filled with that unnerving intensity, made you hesitate.

“I… I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice cracking. The words felt so unnatural, but you could tell this meant something to him. You couldn’t explain why, but something told you that this one small act would change everything. It was a strange thing to hope for—your wish to make him happy.

“Happy… happy birthday, Jungwon,” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper.

A smile spread across his face, and it was different from the possessive, dark smiles he’d given you earlier. This one was soft, almost affectionate, and it made something inside you tighten. He didn’t say anything at first, but the way he looked at you made you feel, for just a fleeting moment, like maybe, just maybe, you weren’t entirely trapped.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice tender now. His hands gently cupped your face, and for a moment, you saw him as he truly was—a boy who had longed for attention, affection, and perhaps love, but in his own twisted, broken way. “You don’t know how much that means to me.” His words were sincere, almost vulnerable.

You nodded quietly, unsure of what to say or do. The shift in his demeanor confused you. The same boy who had locked you in this room, held you captive with his gaze and his promises, was now the one who looked… almost content. For a moment, he wasn’t the obsessive, possessive Jungwon. He was just… Jungwon.

“I’ve waited so long for this day,” he continued, his voice low and almost dreamy, as if lost in thought. “And now that you’re here with me, I feel complete.”

The words should have scared you, but something about the way he spoke them softened the overwhelming fear that had been gripping your chest. Perhaps it was the gentleness in his touch or the way his voice trailed off, like he was savoring the moment. For a brief second, you could see the sincerity in his eyes.

Then, without warning, he pulled you into an embrace, and though it was still possessive, there was a warmth to it now—almost like a comfort you hadn’t expected.

“I don’t want to be alone anymore,” Jungwon whispered against your ear, his arms wrapping around you tightly. “And I don’t want you to be alone, either. You’re mine now, and that means I’ll always be here… for you.” His voice was filled with a strange mix of desperation and affection.

You stiffened at his words, unsure of how to react, but you didn’t fight it. Something about his rawness, his vulnerability, made you hesitate. His words were laced with a twisted form of love, but there was also a subtle pleading in his tone—something almost human, as if he wanted you to see him as more than the person he had forced you to be around.

“I won’t let anyone take you from me,” he added softly, his voice thick with promise. “Not ever.”

As he pulled away slightly, just enough to look you in the eyes, the flicker of emotion behind them made your heart ache. He was a boy who had been broken by the world, who didn’t know how to love without clinging to obsession, without being consumed by it. He was twisted, yes, but there was something human in him too.

He smiled again, a real smile, as if he finally felt the warmth of your presence. “You’re the best gift I’ve ever received, (Y/N). Thank you for making my birthday so perfect.”

The words lingered in the air, heavy with meaning. And despite everything—despite the fear that had once gripped you—you couldn’t help but feel a reluctant acknowledgment. Maybe, just maybe, you weren’t completely lost in this situation. Maybe there was a part of you that had the power to change how this would all unfold.

For now, you decided to hold onto that thought, as faint and fragile as it seemed. Because, at the very least, you knew that your choice to wish him happy birthday had made a difference.

The practice room was empty, except for the two of you.

Sweat dripped down your temple, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you struggled to keep up with the demanding choreography.

You had been at it for hours, but Ni-ki wasn’t satisfied. He never was.

“Again,” he ordered, stepping closer, his dark eyes scanning your every movement.

Your legs ached, your body screaming for a break.But Ni-ki didn’t believe in breaks.

Not for you.

Not when you were his partner.

Not when you were his.

“You’re still a beat too slow,” Ni-ki muttered, circling you like a predator. “You need to feel the music, not just follow it.”

You exhaled sharply, frustration bubbling in your chest.

“I’m trying.”

Ni-ki suddenly smirked.

“Try harder.”

And then,he moved.

Fluid. Effortless. Perfect.

The moment the music started, his body reacted as if it were an extension of the beat itself.

You were an idol, too, trained for years in singing and dancing, but standing next to Ni-ki…You felt like a rookie.

Your breath hitched as he suddenly closed the distance between you, reaching for your wrist.

“Watch me,” he whispered, his grip firm. “Feel it.”

And then, he pulled you into the dance.

His body guided yours, every movement synchronized, his hands never leaving your skin.

The mirrors reflected everything.

His possession.

Your helplessness.

The way his fingers pressed firmly against your waist, making sure you followed his lead.

And when the music finally stopped, you found yourself trapped in his arms.

His breath was warm against your ear.

“You feel it now?”

Your pulse spiked.You nodded.

Because if you didn’t, he wouldn’t let go.

———————————————————————

The performance was only days away.

And Ni-ki was relentless.

He pushed you harder than he pushed himself.

Every time you made a mistake, his eyes darkened.

Every time you hesitated, his fingers dug into your skin, reminding you that he was watching.

“Don’t embarrass me out there,” he warned one night, his voice dangerously soft.

Your breath caught.

“I—I won’t.”

Ni-ki tilted his head, studying you.

Then he smiled.

“Good girl.”

The words sent an unsettling shiver down your spine.

Because you weren’t sure if he was talking about the dance.

Or about you.

———————————————————————

The lights were blinding.The crowd roared.

The stage felt both endless and suffocating all at once.

But none of that mattered, because Ni-ki was watching and you couldn’t fail him.

The moment the music started, your body moved on instinct.

Every step, every turn, every breath—perfect.

Just like he had taught you.

Just like he had wanted.

Ni-ki’s presence behind you was overwhelming, his movements synchronized with yours.

And when he reached for your waist—pulling you closer in front of thousands of people—

Your heartbeat skipped.

You could feel the intensity in his grip, the silent message beneath it.

“You belong to me.”

The performance ended, the final pose locking the two of you together, your bodies pressed close.

The crowd exploded.

Cheers. Screams. Flashing lights.

But Ni-ki?

He didn’t care about them.

His eyes were locked on you.

And before you could react—

His hand cupped your jaw and he kissed you.

Right there.On stage.

For the entire world to see.

The crowd lost it.

Your breath hitched. Your body froze.

The kiss was deep, slow, possessive.

And when he finally pulled away, Ni-ki’s smirk was triumphant.

Like he had just claimed his prize.

The cameras had captured everything.

The fans had seen everything.

And as the lights dimmed and the two of you walked off stage, his hand never left your waist.

“You were perfect,” he murmured, his fingers tightening around you.

“You’re finally mine.”

Your stomach twisted.

Because you knew Ni-ki had planned this from the very beginning.

And now?

Now the whole world saw you as his.

It all began with a harmless lie.

Your friends had been teasing you relentlessly about being single, so in a moment of panic, you blurted out that you were dating Park Sunghoon. It wasn’t entirely out of left field—he was the perfect candidate. With his angelic face, effortless charm, and aloof demeanor, no one would suspect a thing.

But what surprised you the most was how willingly Sunghoon played along.

“It’ll be fun,” he had said, his lips curling into a smile that made your heart skip a beat.

And it was fun at first. Sunghoon would wrap his arm around your shoulders when your friends were watching, flash you teasing winks, and even post carefully staged photos on social media. You never thought much of it—it was all pretend.

Or so you thought.

---

Now, sitting across from him in a quiet café, you could feel the weight of his gaze. Sunghoon stirred his coffee absentmindedly, his dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your skin crawl.

“You don’t seem happy,” he said, his tone calm but carrying an edge you couldn’t ignore.

“I’m fine,” you lied, forcing a smile. “It’s just… this has gone on longer than I expected.”

Sunghoon set his spoon down, the clink of metal against ceramic making you flinch.

“Why does it have to end?” he asked, leaning forward. His voice was soft, but the look in his eyes was anything but.

You blinked, startled. “Because it’s not real, Sunghoon. We were just pretending, remember?”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. He simply studied you, his gaze unwavering. Then, he smiled—a small, almost pitying smile.

“Pretending,” he echoed. “Is that what you think this is?”

Your heart sank. “That’s what we agreed on.”

He tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “Y/N, do you really believe that? After everything we’ve done—everything I’ve done for you?”

You froze, unsure how to respond. “Sunghoon, I—”

“No,” he interrupted, his voice firm but not loud. “Let me ask you something. Do you feel nothing when I hold your hand? When I look at you like this?”

He reached across the table, his hand brushing against yours. His touch was warm, but it sent a chill down your spine.

“Sunghoon,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “This isn’t real.”

His eyes darkened, his hand tightening over yours. “Don’t lie to me, Y/N.”

You tried to pull away, but his grip was unyielding. Panic bubbled in your chest as his calm facade began to crack, revealing something far more sinister underneath.

“I’ve been by your side this whole time,” he said, his voice low and trembling with suppressed emotion. “I’ve protected you. Made you happy. And now you’re telling me it meant nothing?”

“I never said that,” you stammered, desperate to diffuse the situation.

“Then what are you saying?” he pressed, his tone sharp.

You looked away, your heart pounding. “I’m saying this was supposed to be temporary. We can’t keep pretending.”

He let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Pretending? Do you really think that’s all this is to me? A game?”

Your silence only seemed to fuel his frustration. He stood abruptly, pulling you to your feet with him.

“Sunghoon, let go,” you said, panic rising in your voice.

He didn’t listen. Instead, he leaned in, his face inches from yours. “Do you think anyone else will care about you the way I do? Do you think anyone else will protect you?”

“This isn’t protection,” you snapped, tears pooling in your eyes. “This is control.”

His jaw tightened, but his grip didn’t falter. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, his voice soft but laced with danger. “I’m doing this for us, Y/N. You’re just scared. But that’s okay—I’ll help you see.”

“See what?” you asked, your voice breaking.

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “That we’re meant to be together.”

---

Sunghoon led you out of the café, his hand firmly gripping yours. You looked around frantically, hoping someone would notice, would intervene. But the streets were empty, the night swallowing your cries for help.

“Where are we going?” you demanded, your voice shaking.

“Somewhere safe,” he replied simply.

“Safe for who?” you snapped.

“For you,” he said, his tone final. “I can’t trust anyone else to look after you. Not your friends, not your family. They don’t understand you like I do.”

Your breath hitched. “Sunghoon, you’re not thinking clearly. Please, just let me go.”

He stopped abruptly, turning to face you. His eyes burned with an intensity that made your knees weak.

“I’m thinking perfectly clearly,” he said, his voice cold. “You’re the one who doesn’t see it yet. But you will. I’ll make sure of it.”

Before you could respond, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. His embrace was suffocating, his presence overwhelming.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. “And I won’t let anyone take you away from me.”

You struggled against him, but it was no use. His grip was too strong, his determination unshakable.

As the night wore on, the realization sank in like a stone in your chest. This wasn’t a game to Sunghoon. It never had been.

To him, this was real.

And he was never going to let you go.

The university library was your sanctuary—quiet, vast, and mostly deserted during the late hours. You liked the solitude, the way the silence let you focus. But tonight, that silence felt heavier, almost oppressive.

You glanced at the clock on your laptop: 11:42 PM. The soft hum of fluorescent lights above and the distant rustle of pages were the only sounds. You stretched your arms and leaned back in your chair, letting out a quiet sigh.

From the shadows of a nearby bookshelf, Heeseung’s sharp eyes tracked your every movement. His breath hitched when you smiled to yourself, completely unaware of his presence.

He’d been following you for months, though you’d never noticed. Heeseung had always been quiet, the kind of classmate who blended into the background, but his feelings for you had grown into something uncontrollable. What started as admiration became fixation, and now he couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else being near you, touching you, or even looking at you.

You closed your laptop, ready to call it a night. As you gathered your things, the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, as if you were being watched. You turned, scanning the dimly lit library. It was empty—or so you thought.

Shaking your head, you muttered, "Get a grip, Y/N," and made your way toward the exit.

But as you stepped into the hallway, Heeseung emerged from the shadows. His steps were soft, calculated, until he was right behind you.

"Y/N," he called, his voice startlingly calm.

You jumped, spinning around. "Heeseung? What are you doing here?"

His lips curved into a small smile. "I could ask you the same thing. It’s late. You shouldn’t be out alone."

"I was just finishing some work," you replied, clutching your bag tightly. Something about his presence felt off, but you dismissed the thought. Heeseung was always kind, always polite.

"I’ll walk you home," he said, stepping closer.

"Oh, that’s really not necessary—"

"I insist," he interrupted, his tone firm but still gentle.

You hesitated but nodded. "Alright. Thanks."

The walk home was unnervingly quiet. Heeseung walked beside you, his hands tucked into his pockets, his gaze fixed straight ahead. You couldn’t shake the feeling that his usual warmth was gone, replaced by something colder, more calculating.

When you reached your apartment building, you turned to thank him, but he was already watching you with an intensity that made your stomach twist.

"Thanks for walking me," you said, trying to sound casual. "Goodnight."

Before you could step inside, his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist.

"Heeseung, what—"

"You shouldn’t stay out so late," he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. His grip tightened slightly, and his eyes bore into yours. "Anything could happen to you."

"I’m fine," you said, your voice trembling. "You don’t need to worry about me."

He shook his head slowly. "But I do worry. I always worry. You don’t understand how dangerous it is, Y/N. You’re so careless, so trusting. What if someone hurt you?"

"I can take care of myself," you said, trying to pull your wrist free, but his grip only tightened.

He stepped closer, his voice dropping even lower. "No, you can’t. That’s why I’m here. To protect you."

Your breath hitched as the full weight of his words sank in. "Heeseung, let me go. Please."

His expression softened, but his eyes still held that unsettling glint. "I can’t do that, Y/N. I care about you too much. Don’t you see? You need me."

Tears pricked your eyes as panic surged through you. "You’re scaring me."

His grip loosened just slightly, and he frowned, as if your fear genuinely hurt him. "I don’t want to scare you. I just want you to be safe. To be with me."

You shook your head, your voice trembling. "This isn’t normal, Heeseung. You’re not protecting me—you’re controlling me."

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, you thought he might let you go. But then he smiled—a soft, almost sad smile.

"You’ll understand one day," he said, his tone eerily calm. "You’ll see that everything I do is for you."

Before you could respond, he released your wrist and stepped back. "Goodnight, Y/N. Sleep well."

He turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, trembling, your heart pounding in your chest. You fumbled with your keys, finally unlocking the door and slamming it shut behind you.

But as you leaned against the door, trying to calm your breathing, a chilling thought crossed your mind: this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

Somewhere in the darkness, Heeseung was still watching.

The flashing lights of the cameras, the screams of the fans, the rehearsals, and the endless practice—this was the life you’d signed up for. As a member of one of the top K-pop groups, your every move was watched, analyzed, and criticized. But there was one thing that always stood out, a constant in your life, like a shadow that followed you everywhere.

Jay Park.

On stage, you and Jay played the part of the perfect couple—laughter, playful touches, and the occasional stolen kiss. It was all part of the act, of course. A relationship designed for the fans, for the cameras, to satisfy the desires of the public who believed every scripted moment was real.

But you were beginning to wonder how much longer you could keep pretending.

---

You sat in the dressing room, staring at your phone. The notifications from your group’s social media accounts were endless, fan comments flooding every post. Many of them congratulated you and Jay on your “perfect” relationship. The images of the two of you holding hands, laughing, sharing intimate moments—they were all part of the illusion.

But when the cameras weren’t on you, when the rehearsals ended, there was a different story.

Jay was obsessive, possessive in a way you hadn’t fully realized until recently. At first, you thought it was just his personality—he was protective, always looking out for you, making sure you were well taken care of. But slowly, it started to feel like more than that.

He kept track of where you were at all times, made sure no one got too close, and always had an eye on you, even when the cameras were off. You had brushed it off at first, convincing yourself that it was just a part of the job, that he was only looking out for you, as any good “boyfriend” would. But then the small things started to add up—the way he would linger after every interaction, his constant need to know where you were, who you were with, what you were doing.

One evening after a concert, you were chatting with your members backstage when you felt someone watching you. When you turned around, you found Jay standing just a few feet away, his eyes locked onto you with an intensity that made your skin crawl.

“Hey,” he called out, his voice smooth, but there was an edge to it. “I need to talk to you.”

You smiled awkwardly, excusing yourself from your group. “Sure, Jay. What’s up?”

Jay smiled back, but there was something almost predatory about it. “Just wanted to make sure you’re okay. You seemed a little distracted tonight. Anything on your mind?”

You forced a smile, trying to brush it off. “I’m fine. Just a little tired, that’s all.”

Jay didn’t respond right away. Instead, he studied you with that same unsettling look. “You sure? You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

“I know,” you said, stepping back slightly. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, making your skin prickle. “I’m just—”

“Good,” he interrupted, his tone suddenly softer. “Because I don’t want you getting too close to anyone else, okay? You know I’m the only one who can take care of you.”

His words hit you like a slap, but you masked your surprise with a forced chuckle. “Jay, we’ve been through this. It’s just for the fans, remember?”

Jay’s smile faltered for a split second, but he quickly regained his composure. “I know. But sometimes, I just wish you could see how much I care. It’s not just for the fans, Y/N. It’s real to me.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You had heard him say similar things before, but tonight, his words felt heavier, more intense.

“I know you care,” you replied, your voice wavering slightly. “But we can’t blur the lines, Jay. It’s part of the job.”

He stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “The job? Y/N, we’ve been doing this for months now. Do you really think I don’t notice how you act around me? How you look at me? It’s real. To me, it’s very real.”

You took a step back, your throat dry. “I think you’re reading too much into this.”

Jay’s gaze darkened, his jaw tightening. “No. I’m not. I know exactly what’s going on. You’re mine, Y/N. You’ve always been mine. And if you keep pushing me away, I’m going to make sure you see that.”

You swallowed hard, the words catching in your throat. “Jay, this isn’t healthy.”

“It’s not healthy for you to keep pretending like we’re just playing a part. You don’t have to hide it, Y/N. I can make it work. We can make it work—no more pretending.”

The pressure in the room thickened as Jay took another step forward, his hand gently brushing the back of your neck. His touch was delicate, but you could feel the force of his need, his desire to claim you in ways that went far beyond the public eye.

“I need you to trust me,” he whispered. “This is real, and I’ll make you realize it. You belong to me.”

Your breath caught in your throat as the intensity of his gaze locked you in place. You couldn’t look away, and a part of you was terrified of what would happen if you tried.

You had always known Jay was possessive—had known he wanted more than what was shown in front of the cameras. But in that moment, you saw the full extent of it. This wasn’t just about the fans. This wasn’t just a show for the public. For Jay, you were his, and he wasn’t going to let you go.

---

Over the next few weeks, things began to feel even more suffocating. Jay’s constant presence was overwhelming. He was always there, always watching, always a step behind you. The lines between reality and performance blurred to the point where you didn’t know if you were living for the cameras or living for him.

Whenever you interacted with your group members or other idols, Jay was never far behind, hovering in the background like a shadow. He had begun to make his feelings clear, and every time you tried to remind him that your relationship was just for show, he became more insistent.

At a fan meeting, you were signing autographs when you felt a hand slip into yours. You looked up to see Jay standing beside you, his thumb lightly stroking the back of your hand. His gaze was soft, but the possessiveness was undeniable.

“You’re doing great,” he whispered, leaning in close. “Just remember who you belong to.”

You stiffened, pulling your hand back as politely as possible, plastering a smile on your face for the fans. “Thanks, Jay. I’ve got this.”

Jay didn’t seem to mind, his smile growing wider. “I know you do. I’ll be watching.”

As he stepped away, you couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your stomach.

---

Later that night, after the performance, you found yourself standing alone in the dimly lit hallway, waiting for your ride back to the dorms. You checked your phone, but before you could even scroll through the messages, Jay appeared in front of you, his expression unreadable.

“You’ve been distant,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

You didn’t respond right away, not trusting yourself to speak. Instead, you focused on your shoes, feeling the weight of his gaze bearing down on you.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly, trying to keep your voice even. “I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.”

Jay took a step closer, his breath brushing against your ear. “I get it. But you don’t need to push me away, Y/N. I’m here. I’m always here.”

You took a deep breath, shaking your head. “You don’t get it, Jay. I’m not yours, not like that. We’re not... this isn’t real.”

Jay’s eyes darkened, the softness in his expression melting into something colder, more possessive. “Don’t say that. You’re mine, and you always will be. The only thing you need to understand is that I’m the one who’ll take care of you. You’ll see. Eventually, you’ll understand what I’m doing for you.”

His hand reached for your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “You’ll see, Y/N. I’ll make you see.”

And for the first time, you truly understood how far Jay was willing to go.

The city streets were eerily quiet, the faint buzz of streetlights humming in the background. You kept your head low as you followed Five, his sharp green eyes scanning the surroundings with the precision of a hawk. The mission was straightforward: infiltrate a small, abandoned facility and retrieve a critical item before disappearing into the night. But tonight, your thoughts weren’t on the mission. They were on escape.

It had been weeks since Five’s behavior shifted from protective to possessive. At first, you thought he was just being his usual overbearing self, but it didn’t take long to realize this was something else entirely. His constant presence, the way his gaze lingered on you, the cryptic comments about fate and timelines—it was suffocating.

You weren’t just a companion to him anymore. You were an obsession.

Five stopped abruptly, causing you to almost bump into him. “Pay attention,” he muttered, his voice low but commanding.

“I am,” you replied, though your mind was elsewhere.

He turned to look at you, his expression unreadable. “Are you? You’ve been distracted all night.”

You forced a small smile. “Just nervous about the mission.”

He studied you for a moment longer before nodding. “Stay close. I don’t want you wandering off.”

As he turned and continued walking, you felt your chest tighten. He always had to be in control, always had to keep you under his watchful eye. But not tonight.

---

The facility was as decrepit as you expected, the faint smell of mildew filling the air as you stepped inside. Five motioned for you to follow him down a long, dimly lit hallway. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the sound of your footsteps echoing off the cracked tiles.

“We’ll be in and out,” Five said, his tone clipped. “No unnecessary risks.”

You nodded, your eyes scanning the room for an opportunity. The building was a labyrinth of corridors and rooms, some of which looked like they hadn’t been touched in decades. If you could slip away unnoticed, you might have a chance.

“Wait here,” Five ordered, stopping outside a locked door. “I’ll handle this.”

You watched as he produced a set of tools and began working on the lock. His focus was absolute, his back turned to you. This was it.

Quietly, you took a step back, then another. Your heart pounded in your chest as you slipped into a side corridor, the darkness swallowing you whole. You moved quickly but cautiously, not daring to make a sound.

---

The further you got from Five, the more your chest began to lighten. Freedom felt close, just within reach. You found a side exit, the door slightly ajar. Pushing it open, you stepped into the cool night air, your breath visible in the cold.

But your relief was short-lived.

“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?”

You froze at the sound of his voice, low and deadly, coming from directly behind you. Spinning around, you found Five standing there, his expression calm but his eyes burning with fury.

“How—”

“You really thought you could escape me?” he interrupted, stepping closer. “I’ve been doing this far longer than you’ve been alive, Y/N. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?”

You backed away, your hands trembling. “Five, this isn’t right. You can’t keep me like this.”

“I’m not keeping you,” he replied, though his tone suggested otherwise. “I’m protecting you. From this world, from others, from yourself.”

“This isn’t protection,” you spat, your voice shaking. “This is control.”

For a moment, his expression softened, as if your words had struck a nerve. But then his lips curled into a cold smile. “Call it whatever you want. It doesn’t change the fact that you belong with me.”

You turned to run, but before you could take more than a step, the world around you blurred. In an instant, you were back inside the facility, the side door you had just exited now firmly shut.

---

Your breath hitched as you stumbled, trying to orient yourself. Five was already in front of you, his arms crossed, his gaze as sharp as ever.

“Running won’t work,” he said calmly, almost mockingly. “I can be anywhere, anytime. You can’t outrun me.”

Your chest heaved as you tried to steady your breathing. “Why are you doing this? Why can’t you just let me go?”

He sighed, stepping closer until he was only a foot away. “Because I’ve seen the timelines, Y/N. I know what happens if I let you go. You die. Or worse, you leave me, and everything falls apart. I won’t let that happen. Not again.”

Tears stung your eyes as his words sunk in. “You’re not saving me, Five. You’re trapping me.”

“I’m saving us,” he corrected, his voice softening. “You just don’t understand yet. But you will.”

He reached out, his hand brushing against your cheek. You flinched, but he didn’t pull back. “I’ve spent years fighting to keep the people I love safe. You’re no different.”

“You’re delusional,” you whispered, your voice cracking.

“Maybe,” he admitted, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “But I don’t care. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you with me.”

---

The rest of the night was a blur. Five escorted you out of the facility, his grip firm on your wrist, as though he feared you might try to run again. He didn’t say much, his silence more unnerving than his words.

When you returned to the safe house, you immediately made your way to your room, locking the door behind you. But even there, you couldn’t escape him. You could feel his presence, his obsession, suffocating you like a heavy weight on your chest.

As you sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the locked door, a single thought consumed your mind: there was no escaping Five Hargreeves.

The basketball court was nearly empty, save for Spider dribbling the ball aimlessly across the cracked pavement. The late afternoon sun was dipping lower in the sky, casting long, jagged shadows that made the whole scene look like a photo from some old, forgotten album.

Ant stood just beyond the chain-link fence, watching. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing there, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, head tilted as he studied his friend. Spider wasn’t talking much these days, which was strange enough. But what was even stranger was the way he played alone—no trash-talking, no laughing, none of the usual bravado that followed him everywhere like a cloud of cigarette smoke.

Ant knew something was wrong.

“Oi, Spider!” he called, vaulting over the fence and landing with an exaggerated thud.

Spider didn’t even flinch, just kept bouncing the ball. “What do you want, Ant?”

Ant frowned at the flatness in Spider’s tone. “What, I need a reason to hang out with my mate?”

Spider finally stopped, holding the ball under his arm. “Thought we were supposed to hit the arcade.”

“We were,” Ant replied, stepping closer. “Then you bailed. Again.”

Spider shrugged, tossing the ball toward the net. It hit the rim and bounced away, but he didn’t seem to care. “Plans change.”

“Plans change,” Ant echoed, his voice tinged with sarcasm. “You’ve been ‘changing plans’ for weeks now, mate. What’s going on?”

Spider grabbed the ball, keeping his back to Ant. “Nothing. Drop it.”

Ant raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, not happening.”

Spider sighed, his shoulders stiffening. “I don’t need you playing detective, Ant. I’m fine.”

Ant crossed his arms. “You don’t look fine. You look like someone who’s trying way too hard not to fall apart.”

That got a reaction. Spider spun around, his expression darkening. “What do you know about it, huh? You think you’ve got me all figured out?”

Ant met his glare head-on. “I know you, Spider. You’re loud, you’re cocky, and you love running your mouth. But now you’re out here playing basketball by yourself like you’re in some sad music video. You’re not fine.”

For a moment, Spider didn’t say anything. He just stood there, gripping the ball like it was the only thing holding him together. Then he laughed, but it was hollow, humorless. “You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?”

Ant smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, I’ve been told.”

Spider turned away again, dribbling the ball with more force than necessary. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“Try me,” Ant challenged, stepping closer.

Spider stopped, the ball rolling away as he let it drop. He ran a hand through his hair, his fingers tugging at the strands like he was trying to pull himself back together. “It’s just... it’s everything, alright? I don’t know how to explain it.”

Ant softened. “You don’t have to explain it perfectly. Just talk to me.”

Spider shook his head, pacing a few steps away. “It’s like... nothing feels right, you know? Like, no matter what I do, it’s not enough. I’m not enough. And then it’s like, why even bother?”

Ant’s chest tightened at Spider’s words. He’d never heard him sound so... defeated. “Spider,” he said carefully, “you don’t have to go through this alone.”

Spider let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it, Ant? Hug me and tell me everything’s gonna be fine?”

“If that’s what you need, yeah,” Ant shot back, his voice steady. “But knowing you, you’d probably deck me before you let me do that.”

That got the faintest smirk out of Spider, but it was gone as quickly as it came. “I don’t know what I need,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Ant hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward and placed a hand on Spider’s shoulder. “You need to stop beating yourself up, for starters.”

Spider stiffened under the touch, but he didn’t pull away. “Easier said than done.”

“I know,” Ant said, his tone soft. “But you’ve got me, alright? Whatever this is, whatever you’re feeling—you don’t have to figure it out on your own.”

Spider looked at him then, really looked at him. There was something raw in his eyes, something Ant had never seen before. “Why do you care so much?”

Ant rolled his eyes, but there was a warmth in his voice. “Because you’re my mate, idiot. And because I don’t want to see you crash and burn.”

Spider huffed, but there was no real annoyance behind it. “You’re such a sap.”

“Yeah, well, someone’s gotta balance out your bullshit,” Ant teased, nudging him lightly.

For the first time all day, Spider actually laughed—a real, genuine laugh that lit up his face, even if it was brief.

---

They ended up sitting on the court, backs against the fence as the sky shifted from orange to deep purple. The basketball lay forgotten a few feet away, but neither of them seemed to care.

Spider rested his arms on his knees, staring at the horizon. “You ever feel like you’re just... stuck?”

Ant tilted his head. “Stuck how?”

“Like... no matter what you do, you can’t get out of your own way,” Spider said, his voice quieter than usual. “You mess things up, you piss people off, and then you act like it doesn’t matter. But it does. It always does.”

Ant nodded slowly. “Yeah. I’ve felt like that before.”

Spider glanced at him. “And what’d you do?”

Ant shrugged. “I stopped pretending I had to figure it out by myself. Talked to my sister, even though she’s annoying as hell. Talked to friends. Took it one day at a time.”

Spider scoffed. “You make it sound easy.”

“It’s not,” Ant admitted. “But it’s worth it. And you’ve got people who care about you, Spider. Even if you don’t wanna admit it.”

Spider didn’t respond right away. He just stared at the ground, his fingers fiddling with a loose thread on his jeans. “Thanks, Ant,” he said finally, his voice barely audible.

Ant grinned, bumping his shoulder. “Anytime, mate.”

For a while, they just sat there, the quiet settling between them like a blanket. It wasn’t a solution, and it wouldn’t fix everything overnight, but it was a start. And sometimes, that was enough.