This is a fictional Kim Seokjin x Ahri Sehun (OC) one shot fanfiction written for entertainment purposes only. The story, events, and character portrayals are entirely fictional and are not intended to represent the real person in any way. Enjoy reading ♡
The cameras adored conflict. Ahri had learned that years ago. One raised eyebrow. One sarcastic smile. One perfectly timed remark during an interview, and suddenly the internet had enough edits to survive another month. She hated it. Mostly because none of it was planned.
Her manager waved her over backstage at the Seoul Music Awards.
''You're presenting Album of the Year.''
''No, you can't switch.''
''Who's presenting with me?.''
Of course. Who else? The universe had a twisted sense of humor.
The first time they met had been five years ago. Her rookie showcase. She'd barely slept. Her ankle was wrapped under her stage boots after practicing until three in the morning. Some senior idols had come backstage to congratulate the new artists. Most smiled politely. Some barely acknowledged them. Then someone walked in carrying three bags of convenience store snacks. Kim Seokjin. He'd smiled at everyone. Even offered her a bottle of water.
She'd stared at him for two awkward seconds before muttering, ''I'm fine.''
Then she walked away. She hadn't meant to be rude. She'd just been terrified. He thought she'd brushed him off. She thought he'd forgotten. Apparently...neither had.
“Try not to start anything.”
Her manager adjusted the microphone clipped to her dress.
“You literally called him dramatic on live television.”
“He made it everyone else’s problem.”
Jin was already waiting behind the curtain. White suit. Perfect posture. Far too relaxed. He noticed her immediately.
“You could’ve been earlier.”
“You could’ve minded your business.”
“The Ahri everyone knows.”
She forced a smile as the stage manager counted down.
Jin stepped beside her. The curtain lifted. Instantly. Thousands of cheers. Lights. Cameras. Smiles. As if nothing had ever happened.
“…Please welcome Kim Seokjin of BTS and Ahri Sehun!”
They bowed together. Professional. Elegant. Perfect. Not a single person in the audience would guess that five seconds earlier they were arguing backstage.
The clip went viral anyway. Not because of anything they said. Because of what happened after. Ahri’s heel caught on the edge of the stage stairs. Barely. Hardly enough for anyone to notice. Except Jin.
Without looking at her, he reached out. Steadying her arm. For less than a second.
Then letting go before anyone could misunderstand.Except…
Someone always misunderstood.
By midnight there were already edits.
“The way he grabbed her.”
“He’s always nicer to her than everyone else.”
“Enemies to lovers energy.”
The comments had millions of likes. Ahri threw her phone onto the hotel bed. Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.
So why had she replayed the clip twelve times?
Three weeks later she walked into a conference room expecting another brand meeting. Instead. Her CEO. Several producers. HYBE representatives. And…
“You don’t even know the project.”
Jin leaned back in his chair.
“This is a terrible idea.”
“That’s exactly why audiences will love it.”
The concept was simple. A six-episode travel documentary. No performances. No stylists. No scripted interviews. Just two idols exploring different cities around Japan while completing challenges together.
“There is no chemistry,” Ahri interrupted.
They both said no. Their companies both said yes.So two weeks later…They found themselves standing in Tokyo Airport with matching production jackets. Neither spoke during boarding. Neither spoke after landing.
“We’ve been filming for an hour.”
“Can one of you please say literally anything?”
“I preferred it when you weren’t talking.”
The cameraman actually looked relieved.
That evening they got lost. Not because Japan was confusing. Because Jin insisted he knew where the hotel was.
“You’ve been walking in circles.”
“You literally waved at the same vending machine twice.”
She laughed. A real one. It escaped before she could stop it. Jin stopped walking.
“I thought you just judged people.”
But he smiled to himself. And for some reason..She didn’t hate seeing it.
The first night in Tokyo should have been simple. Dinner. A short interview segment. Hotel. Sleep. Instead, the producer handed them an envelope. Ahri stared at it.
“The face of someone about to ruin my evening.”
Jin leaned closer, reading over her shoulder.
“That is also my evening.”
He took the envelope before she could protest and opened it with unnecessary drama. Ahri sighed.
“Of course you open envelopes like that.”
“With attention-seeking behavior.”
He ignored her and read the card aloud.
“Tonight’s mission: buy dinner for each other with only 2,000 yen. You must choose something you think the other person will genuinely like.”
“You want me to guess what he likes?”
The producer nodded. Jin smiled.
“You’re easy. You like anything expensive, shiny, or involving your own face.”
“Wrong. I also like noodles.”
They split up in a convenience store. The camera followed Ahri first. She wandered through the aisles with forced confidence, but the truth was annoying. She did know what Jin liked. Not because she cared. Because everyone knew. He liked food. He liked making people laugh. He liked pretending to be louder than he was. He liked strawberry-flavored things, at least according to some ancient fan compilation she absolutely had not watched at three in the morning.
She stood in front of the desserts for too long. The cameraman zoomed in.
He lowered the camera slightly. She grabbed strawberry milk anyway. Then instant noodles. Then a small pack of gummies shaped like little fish. She looked at them. Put them back. Paused. Took them again.
“Don’t make this weird in editing,” she warned.
The cameraman said nothing. Which meant they absolutely would.
Jin took longer. Much longer. When he finally returned to the hotel lounge, Ahri was already waiting at the table, arms folded.
“Did you harvest the rice yourself?”
He placed his bag down carefully.
“Some of us take missions seriously.”
“Good. Then you’ll appreciate my genius.”
She pulled out her items first. Noodles. Strawberry milk. Gummies. Jin stared. His smile faded for half a second. Not in a bad way. More like he had been caught off guard.
Ahri immediately looked away.
He pointed at the gummies.
“I mentioned these once. In 2018. During a livestream.”
She froze. The crew went silent. Jin’s grin slowly returned.
“You watched my livestream?”
“You watched a compilation.”
His laugh filled the room. Warm. Real. Unfairly nice. Ahri hated how easily it made the tension in her shoulders loosen. Then Jin unpacked his bag. He had bought her iced coffee. Spicy rice balls. A tiny matcha cake. And honey throat candies. She looked at the candies. Something in her chest shifted.
He shrugged, suddenly less smug.
“You were coughing during rehearsals last month.”
“I thought you didn’t notice things like that.”
For once, she had nothing sharp to say.
The producer whispered behind the camera,
Jin laughed again. But softer this time.
The episode aired three weeks later. The internet did exactly what the internet did. Clips. Edits. Slow-motion analysis. The strawberry milk became a scandal of its own. The throat candies became worse. Fans called it proof. Antis called it media play. Journalists called it “unexpected chemistry.” Ahri called it a headache. Her manager called it “excellent engagement.” She turned her phone face down.
Her manager raised an eyebrow.
The next filming location was Kyoto. It rained the whole first day. Not dramatic movie rain.
Cold, annoying, sideways rain that slipped under umbrellas and ruined every carefully planned outdoor shot. They were supposed to film at a temple. Then a market. Then a scenic walk. By noon, everyone was wet, irritated, and pretending not to be. Except Jin. Jin seemed physically incapable of being quiet when people were miserable. He sang badly on purpose. Made faces at the camera. Tried to balance an umbrella on his shoulder and failed. At first Ahri found it irritating. Then she noticed the younger staff laughing. The exhausted assistant director smiling for the first time that day. The makeup artist shaking her head while hiding a grin. Jin wasn’t trying to steal attention. He was trying to keep everyone warm. Not physically. Just enough. Just emotionally. It annoyed Ahri more than his arrogance ever had. Because it meant she had been wrong.
Later that afternoon, the rain got worse. Production finally paused. Everyone crowded under a covered walkway near the temple entrance. Ahri stood apart from the group, rubbing her hands together. She hadn’t said she was cold. She would rather die. A jacket landed over her shoulders. She turned. Jin was already looking away, pretending to check his phone.
“I’m broad-shouldered. The wind respects me.”
“That might be the worst sentence you’ve ever said.”
She tried not to smile. Failed. He saw it. Of course he saw it. But for once, he didn’t tease her. He just stood beside her while the rain hit the stone path in silver lines. The crew was busy packing equipment. No camera pointed at them. No microphone hovered nearby.
For the first time since the project began, the silence between them didn’t feel like a weapon. It felt like a secret.
That night, Ahri couldn’t sleep. The hotel room was too quiet. Her mind wasn’t. She kept thinking about the jacket. The candies.
The way Jin had noticed she was cold without making a spectacle of it. She hated that most. How careful he could be. Careful was dangerous. Careful made it harder to keep hating someone.
At 1:13 a.m., her phone vibrated.
Unknown number. Then a message.
The reply came instantly.
Your favorite broad-shouldered colleague.
She stared at the screen. Then typed.
How did you get my number?
Our managers made a group chat for emergencies. I used my detective skills.
That’s not detective skills. That’s basic reading.
She should not smile. She smiled.
Ahri’s fingers stilled over the keyboard. She erased three different replies.
That was it. No pressure. No teasing. Just okay. It made her feel worse. And better. She typed before she could stop herself.
I don’t like people thinking they know me from five edited minutes.
This time his reply came slower.
Ahri leaned back against the headboard. Outside, Kyoto rain tapped against the window.
Then why do you act like you don’t care?
Because if I care about everything, I won’t survive this job.
She read it twice. Then a third time. There it was. The first honest thing between them. No cameras. No audience. No witty comeback.
Sorry. I can send a dad joke.
Too late. Why did the idol bring a ladder to rehearsal?
Because they wanted to reach the high notes.
Ahri covered her mouth, half laughing, half horrified.
She stared at that message for too long. Then locked her phone without answering. But she didn’t delete the conversation.
The shift happened slowly. So slowly Ahri almost missed it. They still argued on camera. That was expected. That was the concept. But the edges changed. His teasing stopped landing like insults. Her comebacks stopped trying to cut. He started bringing her coffee before morning shoots. She started saving him the last piece of fruit from catering. He claimed he didn’t like pineapple. She knew he was lying because he ate it every time.
In Osaka, they had to share a cooking challenge. The task was simple: make takoyaki without help. Ahri was terrible at it. Jin was worse.
“This is not cooking. This is round chaos.”
“You’re holding the stick wrong.”
“You’re breathing wrong.”
“How does someone breathe wrong?”
He laughed so hard he nearly dropped the batter. The staff laughed too. Ahri tried to stay annoyed. It was becoming difficult.
During a break, she burned her finger on the pan. Not badly. Just enough to make her flinch. Jin noticed before anyone else. He caught her wrist gently.
His tone wasn’t loud. That was the problem. It was quiet. Serious. She let him look. His fingers were warm around her wrist. Too warm. He guided her to the sink and ran cold water over the burn. Ahri looked anywhere but at his face.
“You always say that when someone cares.”
She snapped her eyes to him. He looked back. No smile. No joke. The water ran between their hands. The kitchen noise blurred around them. For one second, Ahri forgot where she was. Forgot the staff. Forgot the show. Forgot that he was Kim Seokjin and she was Ahri Sehun and the world would eat them alive for standing too close.
Jin let go first. But not quickly enough. They both knew it.
After that, avoidance became necessary. Ahri stopped answering his texts immediately. Jin stopped sitting beside her unless the staff placed him there. On camera, the banter got sharper again. Fans called it tension. They weren’t wrong. But it wasn’t the old kind. This was worse. This was wanting to look and forcing herself not to. Wanting to stay and walking away first. Wanting to ask what he meant and being terrified he would answer.
The final city was Sapporo. Snow everywhere. White rooftops. Blue evenings. Cold air sharp enough to make every breath visible. The last shoot was supposed to be simple. A night market. A closing interview. Done. Then they would return to Seoul. Separate schedules. Separate lives. Everything back in place. Ahri told herself that was good. Clean. Safe. Necessary.
Then Jin stopped beside a street vendor selling roasted sweet potatoes.
“You always mean no until someone knows you well enough.”
She took the sweet potato only to have something to do with her hands. They walked ahead of the crew for a few minutes. Not far. Just enough that their microphones picked up less. Just enough that the world felt softer.
Jin looked at the snow falling on her hair.
“You’ll go back to pretending after this?”
Ahri kept her eyes forward.
“That we’re still enemies.”
The word hurt more than it should have.
She stopped walking. The market noise moved around them. Lights reflected in the snow. Jin turned to face her. He looked tired. Not physically. Emotionally. Like he had been smiling for too many years and finally wanted permission to stop. Ahri hated that she understood.
“We can’t just do whatever we want,” she said quietly.
“You know what happens if people find out.”
“Then why are you asking?”
“Because I want to know if I’m the only one who feels insane.”
Ahri’s breath caught. There it was. No joke to hide behind. No camera angle to blame. Just the truth standing between them in the snow. She looked away first.
She hated him for making her say it. She hated herself more for wanting to.
“No, you’re not the only one.”
Jin closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them, something had changed. Not solved. Not easy. But real. The crew caught up before either of them could say more. The moment disappeared. Except it didn’t. Not really.
The closing interview was filmed in a small room overlooking the city. They sat beside each other on a couch, the production team gathered behind the cameras. The interviewer asked the usual questions.
“What did you learn about each other?”
Ahri smiled professionally.
“That Jin has a lot more patience than I expected.”
Jin placed a hand over his heart.
“A compliment. I’m honored.”
“What I learned about Ahri,” he said, turning slightly toward her, “is that she is not as cold as people think.”
Her smile almost slipped.
He continued, “She just chooses carefully who gets to see her warmth.”
The room went quiet. Ahri felt every camera in the room. Every microphone. Every person watching. She forced herself to laugh lightly.
“That sounded suspiciously poetic.”
But her voice was softer than usual. Too soft. Jin noticed. The producer noticed. The internet would notice. She knew before the episode even aired.
Their last night in Sapporo, Ahri packed her suitcase twice. Then unpacked it. Then sat on the edge of the bed feeling ridiculous.
At 12:02 a.m., her phone lit up.
She shouldn’t go. Obviously. There were cameras in hotel hallways. Staff on the same floor. Managers who would ask questions. Fans who could be waiting outside. A thousand reasons not to. She put on a coat.
Jin was already there. No styling. No makeup. Hair messy from the wind. Hands in his pockets. For once, he didn’t look like the version of himself the world owned. He looked like a man standing in the cold because he didn’t know what else to do with his feelings. Ahri stopped a few steps away.
“Because you’re usually right.”
She hated how much that made her smile. The rooftop was quiet except for the wind. Below them, Sapporo glittered under snow. Neither spoke for a while.
Then Jin said, “I don’t want to go back and pretend nothing changed.”
Ahri wrapped her arms around herself.
He looked at her then. Fully. Carefully.
“I want to text you without pretending it’s for work.”
“I want to see you when there are no cameras.”
“I want to argue with you in restaurants where nobody knows us.”
“I want to know what you look like when you’re not trying to survive.”
“But I can promise careful.”
That broke something in her. Not dramatically. Not all at once. Just enough. Enough for her to step forward instead of back. Enough for his breath to catch. Enough for the space between them to become unbearable.
“Careful might not be enough,” she whispered.
His eyes dropped to her mouth for half a second.
Ahri closed the remaining distance. The first kiss was not explosive. It wasn’t like the dramas. No fireworks. No perfect music. Just his hand hovering near her waist, waiting. Just her fingers curling into the front of his coat. Just both of them realizing, at the exact same second, that they had been moving toward this for months. Maybe years. He kissed her like he was afraid to rush her. She kissed him like she was tired of running. When they pulled apart, his forehead rested against hers. Both of them breathing too hard for a kiss that had been so gentle.
Ahri laughed once. Small. Shaky.
“That is not comforting.”
He kissed her again. She let him.
They returned to Seoul the next morning. Separate cars. Separate entrances. Separate schedules. By noon, Ahri was in a dance studio.By evening, Jin was at a recording session. By midnight, the first message came.
She stared at it for too long.
That’s your first secret relationship text?
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
Ahri’s smile faded. Not because she disliked it. Because she liked it too much.
Their relationship became a collection of almosts. Almost touching backstage. Almost smiling too long during interviews. Almost saying each other’s names in ways that felt too familiar. A coffee left in the corner of a dressing room. A scarf returned through a stylist. A five-minute phone call at 3 a.m. A shared playlist under a fake account. They learned the geography of privacy. Empty stairwells. Hotel rooftops. Cars with tinted windows. Practice rooms after midnight. They became experts at standing apart in public and finding each other in secret. It was painful. It was ridiculous. It was theirs.
The first time Ahri saw Jin after Sapporo was at a charity gala. The room was packed with celebrities, executives, cameras, and people pretending not to stare at each other. Ahri wore black. Jin wore dark blue. They did not arrive together. They did not sit together. They barely looked at each other. To anyone watching, nothing had changed. Then, halfway through the evening, Ahri excused herself to the hallway. She needed air. She found Jin already there. Of course. He leaned against the wall near the emergency exit, looking far too pleased with himself.
Her heart did something deeply inconvenient.
“You can’t say things like that here.”
“That has never stopped anyone from appearing at the worst possible moment.”
He looked down the hallway. Then back at her.
She stared at him. He smiled. Not the loud one. Not the variety-show grin. The soft one. The one that had become a problem.
“You keep saying that like it’s not working.”
She grabbed his tie and pulled him behind the emergency door. Thirty seconds became two minutes. Two minutes became five. When she returned to the gala, her lipstick was fixed but her pulse wasn’t. Jin came back ten minutes later, looking innocent enough to be suspicious. The internet still found a photo of them standing in the same hallway. It became a rumor by morning.
Her company called first.
“Are you dating Kim Seokjin?”
The lie tasted awful. Her CEO studied her.
“Because if you are, you need to end it before it becomes a problem.”
Ahri’s expression stayed calm. Inside, something cold settled.
That night, she didn’t text Jin. He texted her four times. Then once more.
She stared at the message until her eyes hurt. Then put the phone away.
Three days passed. Then four. On the fifth, Jin showed up at her practice building. Not inside. He wasn’t stupid. He waited in the underground parking lot, cap low, mask on, hands shoved into his coat pockets. Ahri froze when she saw him.
“You wouldn’t answer me.”
“That does not mean show up.”
“It does if I’m worried.”
The question cut through her anger. Because he wasn’t accusing her. He looked genuinely afraid of the answer. Ahri looked away.
She tightened her grip on her bag.
She nodded. He inhaled slowly.
The parking lot hummed quietly around them. Fluorescent lights. Concrete walls. A secret too big for both of them.
Ahri’s voice came out smaller than she wanted.
“They told me if it was true, I should end it before it becomes a problem.”
“And is that what you want?”
The answer came too fast. Too honest. His shoulders dropped slightly, like he’d been holding his breath for days. Ahri hated that she had done that to him.
“I got scared,” she admitted.
“No, you don’t. Not like this.”
She laughed without humor.
“Tell you what? That I spent years building this image because one wrong rumor could swallow everything? That people already think I’m cold, arrogant, difficult? That if this comes out, you’ll be romantic and charming and I’ll be the woman who trapped you?”
Jin stepped closer. Not enough to touch. Enough that she felt less alone.
“I can’t control what they’ll say,” he said. “But I can control what I let you face alone.”
“You can’t protect me from everything.”
This time she didn’t tell him to stop saying it. Because his voice broke around the words. He reached for her hand slowly. Giving her time to move away. She didn’t. His fingers closed around hers. Warm. Steady.
“Then don’t disappear on me,” he said. “If you’re scared, be scared with me.”
Ahri looked down at their hands. It should not have been enough. A hand in a parking lot. A promise neither of them could guarantee. But for now, it was. She squeezed back.
Secret relationships were not romantic all the time. Sometimes they were missed calls. Cancelled plans. Pretending not to care when the person you loved was standing across the room. Sometimes they were watching interviewers flirt openly with him and smiling like your stomach wasn’t twisting. Sometimes they were seeing articles speculate about you dating someone else because you smiled at a co-star.
Sometimes they were Jin texting:
I’m jealous. I know that’s stupid. Ignore me.
He sent twelve heart emojis. She threatened to block him. She did not block him.
The show aired its final episode in spring. Sapporo rooftop was not included, obviously. But everything else was. The convenience store. The rain. The jacket. The cooking challenge. The closing interview. Fans lost their minds. Their ship name trended for thirty-six hours. Every entertainment account posted clips. Every comment section became a battlefield. Ahri watched none of it. Jin watched all of it and sent her the funniest edits. She replied to none of them until he sent one where someone had edited dramatic violin music over him buying throat candies. Then she broke.
She stared at the message. Then at the time.
Ahri closed her eyes. That was unfair. He had learned exactly where she was weakest.
His apartment was quiet when she arrived. No staff. No makeup. No schedules. Just Jin opening the door in sweatpants and a soft grey sweater, looking like he had no right being that comfortable.
He said it quickly. Too quickly. She smiled.
“You are absolutely not.”
He stepped aside to let her in. The door closed behind her with a soft click. For a moment, neither moved. They had kissed before. In stolen places. Risky places. Places where time pressed against their backs. This was different. There was no immediate deadline. No hallway camera. No staff member around the corner. Just space. Just choice. Jin reached for her coat.
She nodded. He helped her out of it, his fingers brushing her shoulders lightly. The touch was careful. Always careful. It made her heart ache.
“Do you want tea?” he asked.
“You invited me here at almost two in the morning to offer tea?”
She laughed, stepping closer.
This kiss was slower than the rooftop. Less afraid. His hand settled at her waist. Hers found the back of his neck. The city moved outside the windows, but inside everything narrowed to warmth and breath and the quiet sound he made when she pulled him closer.
When they finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers.
It was one word. Small. Dangerous. Ahri knew what it meant. Not just tonight. Not just physically. Stay in this. Stay with me. Stay even when it gets hard. She brushed her thumb along his jaw.
But the way he looked at her said it wasn’t. And the way she kissed him again said she knew. The rest of the night disappeared behind closed doors, soft laughter, whispered confessions, and the kind of tenderness neither of them would ever give to the cameras.
Morning came too soon. Ahri woke to pale light through curtains and the smell of coffee. For half a second she forgot where she was. Then Jin appeared in the doorway holding two mugs. Hair messy. Face bare. Smile sleepy. Her chest tightened so sharply it almost hurt.
She sat up, pulling the blanket around herself.
“I like you in the morning.”
He handed her coffee and sat beside her. They drank in comfortable silence. That terrified her more than the kissing. The ease. The normalcy. How quickly her body accepted him as something safe. Jin looked at her over his mug.
“You have your thinking face.”
“I don’t have a thinking face.”
He laughed. Then grew quiet.
“I have rehearsal until late tonight.”
The silence returned. This time heavier. Their lives waiting outside the door. Ahri set her mug down.
“This is going to be hard.”
“We might go weeks without seeing each other.”
“People will keep guessing.”
“You’re very calm for someone whose entire life could become chaos.”
His hand found hers under the blanket.
Ahri stared at their intertwined fingers.
It was too much. Too simple. Too impossible. She looked away before he could see too much on her face. But he already had. He always did.
Months passed. Spring became summer. Summer became humid nights, airport photos, festival stages, comeback rumors, and schedules so full they sometimes only spoke through voice notes. Ahri saved every single one. Jin singing nonsense while cooking. Jin complaining about choreography. Jin whispering goodnight from hotel rooms in countries she wasn’t in. She sent fewer voice notes back. But when she did, he kept them too. Her sleepy complaints. Her laughing at something stupid he had said. Her quiet “I got home safe.” He told her once that her voice made empty rooms feel less empty. She didn’t know what to say.
So she sent him a voice note saying,
“That was disgustingly sweet.”
“Play it again when you miss me.”
The first real problem came in August. A leaked backstage video. Ten seconds. Blurry. No sound. Ahri and Jin standing too close near a dressing room corridor. Nothing happened in the clip. No kiss. No hand-holding. No obvious proof. But his body was angled toward her. Her smile was too soft. His hand hovered near her back like muscle memory. It was enough. The internet exploded. Their companies denied everything within two hours.
“No romantic relationship.”
Ahri read the statement in her dressing room. Her name trending in three countries. Comments moving too fast to process. Some kind. Most not. She felt cold all over. Her phone vibrated. Jin. She answered. Neither spoke for a few seconds.
She laughed. It sounded awful.
“No. They’ll follow you.”
“I hate that I can’t stand next to you.”
“I hate that they get to decide what you are to me.”
She pressed her hand to her mouth.
The tears came before she could stop them. Silent. Angry. Exhausted.
“You are the person I love,” he said.
The world stopped. Not outside. Outside, everything kept burning. Notifications. Statements. Articles. Speculation. But inside her, everything went still.
“Say that again,” she whispered.
Ahri closed her eyes. She had imagined hearing it in better circumstances. Maybe on a rooftop. Maybe in his kitchen. Maybe after a stupid argument where they both forgot why they were fighting. Not like this. Not with the world clawing at the door. But maybe that made it more real. Because he said it when it cost something.
“I love you too,” she said.
It came out broken. But true. On the other end of the line, Jin exhaled like he had been waiting his whole life.
They survived the leak. Barely. The world moved on because the world always did. Another rumor. Another comeback. Another scandal. The video became an edit. Then a meme. Then old news. Their companies watched them more closely for a while. Managers asked sharper questions. Schedules became less convenient. But Ahri and Jin became better at being careful. Not colder. Just smarter. Their relationship continued in margins. Between flights. Between songs. Between obligations. A private life stitched together from stolen hours. It should have felt like less. Somehow, it felt like everything.
In November, BTS had a concert in Seoul. Ahri wasn’t supposed to attend. Too obvious. Too risky. So naturally, she went anyway. Private box. Mask. Cap. No announcement. No photos. Just her, hidden in the dark, watching Jin under thousands of lights. He was radiant on stage. Funny. Confident. Beloved. The crowd screamed his name like prayer. Ahri had seen him perform before. But loving someone changed the way you watched them. She noticed the tiny things now. The way his shoulders dropped when he was tired. The way he checked on the members without making it obvious. The way his smile changed when he was truly happy.
During one of the final songs, he looked toward her section. He couldn’t see her. Not really. The lights were too bright. The crowd too massive. But his gaze lingered anyway. Ahri’s heart clenched. For one impossible second, it felt like he knew exactly where she was. After the concert, she waited in a service hallway wearing a staff hoodie two sizes too big. When Jin appeared, still flushed from stage lights, he stopped dead.
“Because you keep surprising me.”
He looked around. No one nearby. Then he stepped close enough that she could feel the heat still coming off him.
She smiled. He smiled back. Then voices echoed from around the corner. They separated instantly. A staff group passed, bowing politely, barely glancing at them.
When they were gone, Ahri let out a breath.
“I hate pretending I came here for networking.”
“I hate pretending I don’t look for you in every room.”
Ahri’s expression softened. There were moments when the whole thing felt impossible. Then he said something like that. And impossible became worth it. She reached for his hand in the shadow between them. Only for a second. Just long enough.
“After this,” she whispered, “come home.”
His fingers tightened around hers.
Jin went completely still. Ahri realized what she had said at the same time he did. Her face warmed.
She swallowed. He smiled slowly. Not teasing.
Not smug. Happy. Terribly, beautifully happy.
“Okay,” she said, “I won’t.”
They did not become public that year. Or the next month. Or the month after that. Life wasn’t a drama where love fixed contracts, fandoms, companies, privacy, and fear in one brave scene.
They still hid. Still lied by omission. Still hated parts of what loving each other required. But they stopped pretending with each other. That became the difference. On the anniversary of their first Tokyo shoot, Ahri received a package. No sender name. Inside was strawberry milk. A packet of fish-shaped gummies. Honey throat candies. And a note.
''For the woman who definitely never watched my livestreams.''
Ahri laughed so hard her manager asked what happened.
“Nothing,” she said, hiding the note. That night, she met Jin on the roof of his building.
It had become their place. Not because it was safe. Because it was theirs. He arrived with two convenience store bags and a ridiculous scarf wrapped around his neck.
“You look like a drama lead who lost his stylist,” Ahri said.
“You look like someone who missed me.”
They sat on the rooftop floor, backs against the wall, sharing cheap snacks under expensive city lights. No cameras. No scripts. No award-show smiles. Just them. Jin opened the strawberry milk and handed it to her.
“To our successful work relationship.”
“To being close colleagues.”
“To absolutely no romantic relationship.”
They clinked bottles. Then laughed until their shoulders touched. When the laughter faded, Jin looked at her.
“Do you ever wish it was easier?”
Ahri leaned her head against his shoulder.
She looked at Seoul spread below them. The city that watched. The city that gave them everything. The city that took just as much. Then she looked at him.
“But I don’t wish it was someone else.”
Jin’s expression softened in a way she still wasn’t used to. Even after all this time.
Ahri rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.
“You say that like you’re trying to win.”
Her heart did the stupid thing again. The thing it always did with him.
He laughed. Then kissed her. Slowly. Carefully. Like a promise they had to keep making. Like a secret that wasn’t shameful. Just protected. Below them, Seoul kept moving. Above them, the sky was clear.
And for once, Ahri didn’t think about who might see. She thought only of Jin’s hand in hers. His warmth beside her.
The years they had wasted hating each other for all the wrong reasons. The years they might still get, if they were brave enough. Maybe love like this would never be simple. Maybe it would always require closed doors, quiet hallways, and messages sent at impossible hours. But when Jin pulled back and smiled at her like she was the only person in the city, Ahri thought..
Fine. Let the cameras have the conflict. Let the world have the rumors. Let everyone else think they knew the story. The truth was better. The truth was theirs.
Thank you so much for reading! ♡ Let me know what you think in the comments. I would love hearing your feedback. Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated!
