CKSanPurpleLuv

Just as I took my seat, eyes skimming over the elegant layout of the room, there were many girls in the room chatting with their friends, but I just sat there and watch. Suddenly I heard some staff were talking and it seems that one voice is so familar. Heads turned. A tall figure quietly entered from the back.

Im Changkyun.

He walked down the aisle gracefully, dressed in the white button-up shirt with a blazer over it just same like me, offering subtle nods and small waves to fans and staff alike—lowkey but magnetic. As he passed each row, he paused to greet a few familiar faces:

“Hi, thank you for coming.”

“오랜만이야, 잘 지냈어?” (It’s been a while—how have you been?)

As he reached my row, a girl sitting right beside me stood up to adjust her seat, and in the shuffle, her lip gloss tumbled out of her bag—clattering onto the floor and rolling into the center of the aisle.

Without hesitation, he crouched down gracefully, picked it up, and handed it back to her with a soft smile:

“여기요.” (Here you go.)

“아, 정말 감사합니다” she replied, slightly flustered. (Ah, thank you so much!)

Then—he turned. He was right in front of me now. His gaze landed squarely on my face.

I quickly lowered my head, pretending to fix my jacket sleeve, hoping to avoid his eyes.

But he spoke.

“너무 예뻐.” (You’re so beautiful.)

For one second, it felt like all the blood in your body surged to your ears.

I bowed my head gently and smiled, my voice is no louder than a feather brushing across a violin string:

“아, 감사합니다…” (Ah, thank you…)

I tried to stay composed, but my fingertips trembled lightly on the armrest. He still hadn’t moved away. I slowly lifted my head—and saw him take out his phone.

His eyes were soft, but there was a playful mischief lingering behind his gaze.

He smiled faintly, held up his hand and made a “call me” gesture.

Then, he actually handed me his phone.

My eyes widened. For a moment, I bliked, stunned.

My heart was racing.

I was thinking:

"In front of all these people? Really? Me?"

But I nodded, keeping as cool as I could, and took his phone.

I tapped into the contacts app—though your hand was trembling just enough to make your thumb slide once or twice. Still, you typed in your number and, just before handing it back, saved your name:

Y/N

He stood quietly, watching me. There was a small smile on his lips—one I couldn’t quite decipher.

I returned his phone and said gently:

“Here you go.”

He glanced down at the screen and smiled.

“Y/N… I won’t forget this name.”

I was trying to act chill, but I knew my expression had already given away the shock and excitement. He grinned knowingly before heading to his seat.

I sat there frozen in my chair, eyes locked onto the silver screen like my life depended on it, pretending to focus on the pre-show countdown. But inside… my heart was beating so loud it echoed like a drumline.

My cheeks were warm. My hands wouldn’t stop trembling.

The lights dimmed. The first frame of the screen lit up slowly, and the theater fell into a sacred silence. Changkyun’s voice flowed from the surround speakers—deep, magnetic, like candles lighting one by one in the dark.

I were supposed to be focused on the film. But my peripheral vision kept being drawn to that familiar figure.

He sat two seats to the right and a little ahead of me, somewhere near the middle. Tall and composed, he radiated a quiet presence even while seated. At first, he was calm, watching his own story unfold on screen with focused eyes. His brows occasionally furrowed slightly, as if he was reliving a particular emotion.

But soon, I realized… he was also watching me.

I stole a glance at him through the reflection on the screen. As if sensing my gaze, he gently turned his head—his eyes found mine in the dim light.

I instinctively looked away, but in that moment—

I clearly saw the corner of his lips lift, just slightly, barely perceptible—but he smiled.

My heart leapt. I reached for your water bottle to hide the panic rising in your chest, but nearly choked trying to drink. Fumbling, I took a sip, trying to cool my burning cheeks. And just as I set the bottle down—

My phone buzzed.

I quickly glanced down. A new iMessage from an unfamiliar number:

💬 Y/N, you look like you’re in a movie.

My eyes widened, lips parted, hands frozen mid-air. I peeked in his direction—he sat reclined in his seat, phone loosely in hand, eyes on the screen, as if nothing had happened.

Biting your lip, I hesitantly typed back:

💬 This documentary is crazy… I can’t believe the you is sitting right in front of me.

Seconds later, he replied:

💬 Then I guess I should behave better. Or should I steal a glance again?

Me: “…!”

My cheeks flushed instantly, like steam would rise from my skin any second. I quickly flipped my phone face down on my lap and didn’t dare look at it again.

The lights hadn’t come fully back on yet. Credits were rolling up the screen, the his song fading out softly.

My eyes were a little misty. I dabbed at them gently with a tissue. Then, my phone buzzed again.

A message popped up—still from that same unfamiliar number, just recently saved as 창균 오빠🐈‍⬛💜:

💬 Don’t leave yet. Wait for me, please.

I stared at the message, and it was as if I could hear his voice whispering it directly into my ear. Just one simple sentence, but it stirred the air around my heart like a breeze over a quiet lake.

I bit your lip, didn’t reply. Just nodded slightly—even though I knew he couldn’t see it. I couldn’t help but feel the need to respond somehow. So I stayed in my seat, waiting while the rest of the audience began to rise and trickle out.

A few minutes later, the lights fully brightened. People were now filing toward the exits, chatting excitedly:

“Wow, Changkyun was incredible…” “That documentary was so touching!” “Did you see him say hi to me earlier?!”

I didn’t move. Head bowed slightly, waiting for the crowd to thin, sneaking glances toward the front.

He stood off to the side of the screen, chatting politely with a few staff members. He nodded, smiled with humility, low-key yet completely composed.

He responded to each warmly. His tone was gentle, unhurried, like a breeze at night:

“감사합니다, 와줘서 정말 고마워요.” (Thank you. I’m really grateful you came.) “오늘 밤 좋은 꿈 꿔요. 예쁜 밤 되길 바랄게요.” (Sweet dreams tonight. I hope you have a beautiful evening.)

From your seat, I watched him glow—not with the radiance of stage lights, but with the kind of warmth that feels real and safe.

He glanced at me every now and then, as if to make sure I were still there.

Finally, as the crowd dispersed, he slipped away from the attention and his gaze locked directly onto mine. He didn’t say a word, just walked toward me slowly, like each step was leading him down a path he already knew by heart.

When he reached me, he stopped and leaned in slightly, speaking in a soft voice:

“You waited. I’m glad.”

I nodded gently, my voice barely audible: “You told me to.”

The corner of his mouth curved upward—an uncontainable smile laced with something a little more serious behind his eyes. He glanced at my hand, then at your shoes, as if confirming something, and then asked:

“You free now?”

You blinked: “yeah, kind of.”

“그럼… 잠깐만요.” (Then… wait a sec.)

He turned around, walked to the last fan lingering for a selfie, and said gently:

“죄송해요, 오늘은 여기까지만 할게요. 조심히 가요.” (I’m sorry, that’s all for tonight. Please get home safe.)

The fan looked a little disappointed, but he smiled and patted her shoulder kindly, giving her a small bow.

Then he turned back to me.

“Shall we?”

In that moment, it didn’t feel like I were at the entrance of a movie theater.

It felt like I had stepped into a post-credit scene written just for me and him, Im Changkyun.