🎧 ➤ Form of You by Kehlani
SUMMARY. A peek into the unforgettable moment they realize their love for you is more than a feeling—it’s a transformation, a blessing, and the start of something eternal.
Heeseung didn’t know why he’d been so fixated on it. The practice was over, the cameras had long been turned off, and the team had already packed up for the night. But there he was, sitting in front of the mirror, staring at the same reflection that had been tormenting him for the last few hours. He could see the tiny imperfections—the slight misstep during the routine, the small moment of hesitation during his solo. He’d replayed them over and over, picking apart every detail, as if the world would end if he didn’t get it perfect.
You had been quiet at first, watching him from across the room, knowing exactly what he was doing. He’d always done this—pushed himself until he was almost unrecognizable, until every mistake felt like it was a reflection of something much bigger. Heeseung could be so hard on himself, and you hated it.
You hadn’t said anything until now, until you walked up behind him, gentle footsteps soft on the hardwood floor. He didn’t hear you approach, didn’t feel your presence until your voice broke the silence.
“You know,” you say softly, the words almost hesitant at first, “I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.”
Heeseung’s gaze flickers briefly to you in the mirror, but his eyes quickly dart away, unable to meet yours. He didn’t need to hear it—he already knew what he had done wrong. But you, ever so patient, stood there, watching him, waiting.
“I mean,” you continue, your voice warmer, “you were amazing out there. Really.”
The way you said it was different than the usual praise. It wasn’t just another compliment, a passing remark meant to make him feel better. It was genuine, and he could hear the sincerity in your voice. You could tell that something had been eating at him, that he wasn’t okay with what he had done. And yet, you still saw it differently.
Heeseung tries to brush it off, shaking his head. “No, I messed up,” he mutteres, voice tight. “I’m not happy with it. I know I can do better.”
But instead of walking away, instead of letting him retreat into his self-doubt, you step closer, your hand gently placing itself on his shoulder. The warmth of your touch spread through him, grounding him, and his breath caught as you leaned in slightly, your voice just above a whisper.
“You always do that,” you say, your tone soft but firm. “You’re always so hard on yourself, and it breaks my heart because I see it. I see how much you care, how much effort you put into everything you do. But… you don’t have to be perfect. You are so much more than that.”
Heeseung stays quiet, unable to respond, a lump forming in his throat. There was something about the way you looked at him, the way you saw him—not as a perfect idol, not as someone who had to measure up to impossible standards, but as him. Just him. The boy who could make mistakes and still be worthy of love.
Your fingers squeeze his shoulder gently, and his heart swells, the weight in his chest lifting just a little. He didn’t realize it then, but something inside him shifted. You were the only person who could see past the masks he wore, who could understand the pressure he put on himself, and yet still manage to love him completely.
“I just want you to know,” you add, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips, “that what you see as ‘not enough,’ I see as everything.”
And just like that, it hit him—a wave of warmth, of understanding, of love so deep he couldn’t deny it any longer. You saw him. Really saw him. And it wasn’t just in the moments where he was shining. It was in his mess, in his imperfections, in his flaws.
Heeseung couldn’t say anything. There were no words that felt like they could match the way his chest had tightened, the way his heart beat louder in his ears. Instead, he turned to face you, his eyes soft with something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in so long: gratitude. And love.
He wasn’t perfect, not by any means. But you saw him as more than enough. And in that moment, Heeseung realized something he could never deny: he was utterly, irrevocably in love with you.
Sunghoon had been short with you all night, snapping at the smallest things. It wasn’t that he didn’t care; it was just that he was stressed, feeling the weight of everything on his shoulders, and he didn’t know how to let it out without pushing people away. He was so used to being the one in control, the one who handled everything with a cool composure, but tonight, something in him was fraying at the edges. He was sharp, irritated, and completely unaware of how his words were cutting through the air.
The worst part? You were letting it slide, smiling through it, being patient. But he could see the way your eyes would drop, the way you quietly withdrew when he brushed you off yet again. It wasn’t like you to let things go—usually, you were the one to call him out on his shit, to hold him accountable when he was being distant or cold. But tonight, you stayed quiet.
And that? That made him feel worse than anything else.
You finally stopped him as he was walking past you to the door, after he’d said something that stung more than it should have. His words were meant to be a defense against whatever was eating him inside, but they were coming out all wrong. You reached for his arm, stopping him mid-step.
“Sunghoon,” you say, your voice firm but steady. “Enough.”
It wasn’t a request. It wasn’t a question. It was an ultimatum. The kind that cut through the facade he’d been holding up all night. He turned to face you, his eyes slightly narrowed, defensive as always.
“What?” he snaps, the edge in his voice a reflex more than a real desire to fight. He hated when you saw him like this—imperfect, struggling, frustrated.
“You think this is about you, don’t you?” you ask, your tone still calm, but there was a clear line of disappointment in it now. “You think just because you’re feeling bad, you can lash out at me and get away with it? That I’ll just keep taking it?”
Sunghoon opens his mouth to argue, but you cut him off, taking a step closer, your gaze unwavering.
“You’re not the only one who’s been under pressure, Sunghoon,” you say softly, but firmly, your words cutting straight through him. “I’ve been patient, I’ve let you push me away when you’re like this. But you can’t keep treating me like I’m a punching bag every time something goes wrong in your life.”
He stands there, silent. You can see the way his jaw clenched, his pride rising, but there was something different in his eyes. Something that made him realize that this wasn’t about being called out, it was about being loved enough to be held accountable.
You step even closer, placing a hand on his chest, right over his heart. “I’m here for you, but I’m not going to let you take me down with your mood. If you’re upset, that’s fine, but you need to talk to me about it. Don’t shut me out, don’t make me feel like I’m the one in the wrong for just being here.”
Sunghoon stands frozen, the words you’d said washing over him. He’d expected to feel defensive, to brush it all off with some excuse. But the way you stand there, firm in your love, unshaken by his tough exterior, made something inside him unravel.
There’s no resentment in your voice. No bitterness. Just the raw honesty of someone who cared enough to not let him stay in a cycle of self-destruction.
For the first time, he didn’t want to run from it. He didn’t want to deflect. He didn’t want to keep pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t. You weren’t scared of his walls. You weren’t afraid to knock them down.
And in that moment, he realized what he had been missing all his life—someone who loved him enough to show him the truth, to call him out, and to do it with the softness and strength that only you could offer.
He steps closer, his hand brushing against yours, his gaze softening in a way it never had before. He swallowed, trying to find his words, but he didn’t need to say anything. The look in his eyes said it all. He didn’t want to fight anymore.
And it was because of you—because you weren’t going to settle for less than the person he could be.
Jay always thought he had to hold everything together, not just for himself, but for everyone around him. As the oldest, the reliable one, he’d grown used to carrying the weight—the pressure to be the backbone, the one who never cracked, who never needed help. He was the steady force, the person others could depend on. It felt like part of his identity.
And maybe, just maybe, that’s why he was so afraid of feeling anything more. More weight, more responsibility, more expectations… more vulnerability.
He’d never let you see the cracks before. He’d been so careful, so calculated, so guarded with you, as if showing any sign of weakness would push you away. But tonight, as the two of you sat on the couch, he couldn’t help it. The fatigue, the stress from the past few weeks, everything he had been carrying suddenly felt too much.
The conversation had been simple at first, an idle chat about your day, but somewhere along the way, his mind wandered, his focus slipping. He barely heard your voice anymore, the words muffling beneath the weight of everything on his shoulders.
He hated that he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was burning out—he wasn’t the kind of person who liked to admit that, even to himself. But he could feel it, deep in his chest. The exhaustion. The constant tension, always trying to be the best, to be enough.
And then, without warning, you stop talking. He glance over to find you watching him, quiet but intent, the softness in your eyes belying the quiet concern in your expression.
“Jay,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’ve been going non-stop lately… Are you okay?”
He shakes his head, brushing it off, but it wasn’t convincing. He could feel the sincerity in your words, the care that made it hard to keep pretending. He couldn’t let you see it. He couldn’t let anyone see how close he was to crumbling under the weight of his own expectations.
“I’m fine,” he mutters, his voice distant, barely masking the fatigue.
But you weren’t buying it. You were always able to see right through him. And you didn’t let it go.
Instead of pushing him, you simply slide closer on the couch. Without a word, you gently touch his arm, the warmth of your hand enough to make him freeze for a moment. The pressure in his chest seems to soften just slightly.
“Jay,” you repeat, this time with more assurance, “Let’s go for a walk. It’s okay. You don’t have to hold it all in.”
He wants to say no. To keep up the act. To refuse the comfort, the softness that you were offering him. He had always been the strong one, the one who didn’t ask for anything, especially not from you. But as you stood up and waited, patiently, the resistance in him began to melt.
It wasn’t just a walk. It was your way of saying you saw him. Not just the version of him that everyone else depended on, but the human part that was tired and overwhelmed, the part that needed someone to lean on.
You didn’t demand anything from him. No questions. No expectations. You simply offered him a moment of peace, a break from the weight of everything he carried.
You walk beside him in comfortable silence, your presence more soothing than any words could have been. When you reach the park, you don’t say anything, just sit beside him on the bench, your hand resting on his leg, a silent offer of support. And for the first time in a long time, Jay doesn’t feel the need to pull away.
For once, he didn’t have to be anything but himself—the tired, imperfect, vulnerable version of himself that he’d been hiding from everyone, including you.
You didn’t rush him. You just let him breathe.
And in that stillness, in the way you simply saw him, Jay felt something shift. The walls he’d built around himself, the pressure he had put on his shoulders, started to crumble. It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t a grand confession. But in the quiet, in the simplicity of the moment, Jay felt safe.
This—you, here beside him, offering nothing but understanding and acceptance—was everything he never knew he needed. You made him feel like it was okay to be human, to not always be the perfect, unshakable person everyone expected him to be.
For the first time, he allowed himself to just be.
And when your hand slips into his, warm and comforting, it was like a silent acknowledgment that he didn’t have to carry it all. Not anymore. Not with you by his side.
In this moment, Jay realizes what love truly was. It wasn’t about perfection or never needing help. It wasn’t about being strong for everyone.
It was about finding someone who would help carry the weight when it was too much to bear. Someone who would still love you, not for what you could do, but for who you were.
And in the silence that stretched between you two, Jay’s heart understood what his mind hadn’t fully admitted yet.
Jake sank into the backseat of the car, the door clicking shut behind him. The noise of the event still buzzed in his head, but he wasn’t listening. He hadn’t really been listening to anyone all night. Not to the designers who praised him, not to the models who flirted with him, not even to the photographers who shoved cameras in his face.
His mind had been elsewhere.
He glanced over at you. You were staring out the window, the streetlights casting a soft glow across your face. He could see the way you were deep in thought, as if you were in your own world—one that didn’t need to be filled with the noise of other people. He’d never been able to get over how you were always so… different from everyone else. So calm. So present.
“How was it?” You asked, breaking the silence without looking at him. Your voice was gentle, curious—but never intrusive.
Jake sighed, settling back in his seat. “It was fine.” His voice lacked the usual enthusiasm, the usual charm. Instead, there was a distance in it—a quiet tension that you couldn’t ignore.
You turned toward him then, catching his eyes with an intensity that made his stomach flip. “You don’t look fine,” you said softly, your words wrapping around him like a warm blanket. “You look… like you’re somewhere else.”
Jake didn’t know why, but suddenly it felt hard to breathe. He had been on autopilot all night, pretending like he was fine, pretending like it didn’t matter. But it did. It mattered. It all mattered because none of it felt the same without you there.
He exhaled slowly, leaning his head back against the seat. “I just kept thinking about how I couldn’t wait to get back here. Back to you.”
You raised an eyebrow, your lips curling into a smile that made his chest tighten. “Really?” you teased. “You’ve been thinking about me the whole time? Even with all those gorgeous women around?”
He looked at you, the weight of the night’s events finally hitting him. The models, the flashes, the adoration—none of it meant anything to him. You were the only thing that mattered. The only one who could make him feel seen.
“Yeah.” His voice was quieter now, more serious. “Because none of them… none of them are you.”
You looked at him, your expression softening. “Jake…”
He swallowed, his chest tight. “I’ve been so caught up in all the noise, I forgot what really matters,” he admitted. “What really matters is you.” His eyes searched yours, raw and unguarded. “You make me feel like I can just be… myself. No pretending, no acting like I’ve got everything together.”
He reached across the seat, his fingers brushing yours with a quiet urgency. “I’m sorry I don’t always show it. But you—” He shook his head, as if trying to find the right words, “You make me feel like I’m enough. And I don’t know how I ever got so lucky.”
You squeezed his hand, your heart aching with the tenderness in his words. You had always seen him for who he truly was, not for the model or the persona everyone else adored. And somehow, just that—just being seen—was enough.
“You don’t need to be perfect, Jake,” you said softly. “You’re enough just as you are.”
Jake let out a breath, his chest loosening for the first time that night. He could feel his heart swelling, this quiet realization settling over him like a warm wave.
He leaned in then, his lips brushing against your temple in a slow, deliberate kiss. “I’m so in love with you,” he whispered, as if it was something he’d always known, but now, in this moment, he could finally say it.
And with that, something shifted inside him. The whole night had been a blur, but now it was crystal clear. He’d been living his life like he was waiting for something, something to make him feel whole. He hadn’t realized that you—the one person who saw him completely, flaws and all—were what he’d been waiting for all along.
It was supposed to be a peaceful evening. You and Sunoo had snuck away from the hustle of the group’s schedule for a late-night walk by the beach, just the two of you. The air was crisp, the stars above reflecting in the gentle waves. It felt like the world had slowed down just for a moment, and for the first time in a while, Sunoo was quiet.
But something was off. You could feel the tension in the way his steps slowed, in the way his eyes occasionally flicked toward you and then away, as though trying to hide something from view.
“Sunoo, what’s wrong?” you asked gently, your voice soft, not pushing him, but making sure he knew you were there.
He didn’t answer immediately, just kept walking. You matched his pace, walking a little slower, giving him space but not letting him retreat too far into his shell.
Finally, he sighed, shoulders sagging, eyes staring at the sand beneath his feet. “I don’t know… I just feel like I’m not enough sometimes,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the words themselves were too heavy to speak.
You stopped, bringing him to a halt as well. Your heart ached for him, for the vulnerability that he rarely showed, for the insecurities that ran deeper than he ever let anyone see. You reached out, placing a hand on his arm, turning him to face you.
“Not enough?” you repeated, voice laced with disbelief. “What do you mean by that?”
He ran a hand through his hair, eyes flicking nervously. “I feel like I try so hard, but it’s never… it’s never enough. I feel like I’m always giving pieces of myself, but nothing ever fits together right. I’m always worried that one day, you’ll realize… that I’m just too much. Or not enough. I don’t know which one.”
Your heart hurt as you listened, realizing just how much weight he carried on his shoulders, how deeply he felt everything—even things you never realized he struggled with. He naturally wants to protect those he loved, but he also feels like he constantly had to prove his worth to be worthy of that love.
You stepped closer, cupping his face gently, forcing him to look at you. “Sunoo,” you said, voice steady but filled with warmth, “you’re not too much. And you’re certainly not too little. You’re more than enough. You’ve always been more than enough.”
His eyes were full of doubt, searching your face for the truth in your words, as though he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe it. You could see the hesitation, the wall he put up to protect himself from disappointment.
“You’re allowed to be everything you are,” you continued, your voice strong yet tender. “You don’t have to hide behind your doubts or second-guess how much you mean to me. You don’t have to keep giving pieces of yourself away until there’s nothing left. You’re enough. And I see you. All of you. The sensitive, the caring, the playful, the serious, the beautiful mess that you are.”
Sunoo’s breath caught in his throat, his chest tightening. He had never heard someone speak to him like that—so sure, so unwavering in their love. His chest felt full, his heart racing as he tried to process it all. You weren’t just telling him words. You were showing him—through your actions, through the way you looked at him, through the way you held him in that moment—that he didn’t have to be anything more than himself. That he was already perfect in your eyes.
And that? That was the moment he realized, as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a hug so warm and genuine, that this was what love was supposed to feel like.
He wasn’t broken, he wasn’t too much. You loved him, truly, as he was, flaws and all. And that made everything—every worry, every fear, every insecurity—seem so small in comparison to the love you were offering him.
“Thank you,” he whispered into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. He finally let himself melt into you, feeling the weight of all his uncertainties lift, if only for a moment. “I didn’t know I needed this. I didn’t know I needed you to remind me of this.”
You simply held him tighter, your heart full as you realized that in helping him see his worth, you had just given him the one thing he had been craving without knowing it: peace.
Jungwon stared at the night sky through the large windows of the studio. The moon hung low, almost full, casting a cool light over the room. He felt distant, lost in the silence that stretched around him, even though you were there beside him.
It had been a long day—rehearsals, meetings, and constant chatter about the future. He’d always carried a certain weight on his shoulders, a sense of needing to stay ahead, to think ten steps ahead, to always know. Love, in all its forms, was something he had tried to push aside, telling himself that he couldn’t afford distractions. He was too focused on his purpose, too concerned with what came next to even entertain the thought of anything real.
But there you were, sitting on the couch next to him, your presence warm and steady in contrast to the storm brewing in his mind.
He shifted his gaze toward you, noticing the way your hands rested in your lap, your eyes soft as you watched him. There was no expectation, no pressure from you. Just… acceptance.
Jungwon let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
“Why are you always so calm?” he finally asked, his voice low, though the question was not directed at you so much as it was an observation of how he felt. You were the stillness to his storm, and that contrast was something he never understood before.
You turned your head slightly, meeting his eyes. “Why wouldn’t I be? I’m with you.”
He felt a flutter in his chest at your words, but there was an uncertainty there too. He wasn’t used to this kind of reassurance. He wasn’t used to someone seeing him the way you did, without needing anything from him but himself.
The truth was, he’d never let himself believe that love could find him. He had always been the observer, the thinker, the one who kept his emotions at arm’s length. People had always seemed like an abstraction to him—distant, not for him. But you? You were real. You saw him in ways he never let anyone else.
The hesitation in his heart welled up, and he found himself speaking the words that had been gnawing at him, the words he never allowed himself to voice.
“Do you ever think maybe… love just isn’t meant for me?” Jungwon’s voice was barely above a whisper, but there was a vulnerability in it, one he couldn’t hide anymore.
You paused, your expression softening as you leaned forward, closing the distance between you. “What makes you say that?”
He exhaled slowly, his gaze falling to his hands as he thought about how to explain it. “I don’t know. I’ve always been… different. I’ve spent so much time thinking, analyzing… I’ve kept people at a distance because I thought I had to. I thought love was just a thing people talked about but never really had.” His voice faltered, his words quieter now. “And then you came along, and I—”
He stopped himself, not knowing how to finish the thought, but the look in your eyes was enough. You didn’t need him to finish. You understood.
“Love doesn’t just show up when it’s convenient,” you said, your voice soft but firm, laced with warmth. “It finds you when you least expect it. When you’re ready to accept it for what it is.”
Jungwon’s breath caught in his throat as he looked at you, that familiar feeling of being seen swelling inside him. It was something he hadn’t even realized he craved.
“You’re telling me that I was just waiting for it to find me?” he asked, the disbelief coloring his words.
You smiled, your gaze gentle, but with a knowing intensity that cut through his doubt. “I think love finds us when we stop fighting it. When we stop trying to control it, when we let ourselves be who we really are.”
His chest tightened at the sincerity in your voice. He didn’t realize it, but his walls had already started to crumble the moment you entered his life. And now, in this stillness, it became clear—he hadn’t been searching for love because he hadn’t known how to let it in.
He reached for your hand without thinking, his thumb brushing gently over your fingers. His heart pounded, the weight of the moment sinking in. You were here with him, and for the first time, he wasn’t afraid to feel.
“Who sent you here for me?” he whispered, the words slipping out before he could stop them, an echo of his disbelief.
You didn’t say anything at first, simply squeezing his hand in yours. But in that simple gesture, he felt the truth. You didn’t need to speak for him to understand—he hadn’t been waiting for love to find him. He had been waiting for you.
Niki had always carried a quiet weight. A constant longing for home—his family, the food, the familiar streets of Japan. There were moments when the loneliness hit him harder than others, especially when the world outside seemed so loud and busy, but his thoughts kept drifting back to the peace of his hometown.
He never said anything about it. He wasn’t the type to show his vulnerability. He was strong, resilient, and dedicated. But there were days when his eyes would grow distant, his smile a little smaller. And you noticed.
You’d heard him mention the small things he missed—the taste of his mother’s cooking, the scent of the ocean, the sound of the streets in the morning. Little things that seemed trivial to others, but to Niki, they were home.
So, when you invited him to your apartment one evening, you’d made sure to do something extra special. You didn’t say anything, but you had prepared a Japanese dish, something he hadn’t had in months. You’d gotten the ingredients from a local market, knowing exactly what to make.
When he walked in, he was met with the smell of something familiar—something that brought him back home, if only for a moment. His eyes widened in surprise, and his lips parted slightly as he took in the scent of miso soup, sushi, and rice.
You smiled softly at him from the kitchen. “I thought you might like it,” you said, your voice gentle, knowing how much it meant.
He stepped forward, his gaze still lingering on the food, his chest tightening. He didn’t know how to put it into words, but the warmth that rushed over him wasn’t just from the food—it was from the thought behind it. The care you’d put into making him feel at home when he hadn’t even asked for it.
“I… I didn’t expect this,” he said quietly, almost as if the words weren’t enough to express what he was feeling. His hands gripped the edge of the counter, his heart racing with something unfamiliar.
You shrugged lightly, not wanting to make it a big deal. “You’ve mentioned it before, and I thought it would be nice. I’m happy to make it for you.”
But he wasn’t looking at the food anymore. He was looking at you. There was a softness in his gaze that he hadn’t shown before—a tenderness that was so raw and real, it made his heart ache.
Niki stepped closer, still speechless, before pulling you into a gentle embrace. He was young, unaccustomed to the feeling of love, but this moment—the kindness, the care, the thoughtfulness—you had given him, was more than he ever imagined.
“I never thought… I never thought I could feel this way,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t think anyone has ever done something like this for me.”
You pulled back just slightly to look into his eyes. There was a depth there now, something he hadn’t let others see before. “Well, I guess you deserve it,” you said softly, your thumb brushing the side of his face.
“I didn’t think I needed it,” Niki continued, his voice cracking ever so slightly. “But now… now I don’t know how I ever lived without it. Without you.”
And in that moment, Niki realized—this was love. This was what it meant to be cared for in a way that was so real, so effortless, that it left him speechless. It wasn’t just the gesture. It was you. You, who saw him when no one else did. You, who made him feel like he wasn’t so far from home.
You were his home now. And he’d never been more certain of anything in his life.
