#carat

Your phone pings. It's late but you know exactly who it was. Cheoli. He was on tour, just a few hours ahead of where you were. You had stayed awake on purpose just so you could hear from him because you knew you would. He always messaged you after every schedule regardless but shows were a certainty. All the adrenaline from performing lingered and you could always expect a string of messages afterwards. Which is why you were kind of surprised your phone only pinged once. You curiously open your phone and sure enough, there's his name on your screen. Your stomach flutters as you click on his thread to find a video. And you click it without a second thought. Seeing his face and hearing his voice was far better than texting. The excitement fluttering in your stomach rolls down to your core as you immediately hear that soft, muffled moan you love so much. The one where he's trying to be quiet, trying to not moan at all

He was pure fucking evil because he had set the phone up perfectly. A full view from his head down to his lap where his hand was currently working overtime on his cock. It glistened, precum decorating the tip like little diamonds. His other hand was under the table or desk he was at, no doubt kneading and squeezing and tugging his balls like you know he likes, thinking about your hands doing it instead no doubt. His sighs filled the silence for what felt like not long enough before his words did.

“Fuck I miss you” he lets out in a gaspy breath. “The way your skin feels under my fingers, the way you wrap around me..” he's panting harder, hand moving faster. And you know the signs all too well. “Can't stop thinking about how perfect you are, how beautiful you look on top of me.” He groans this time and the sound is like a spark to a flame for you. “That’s it baby” you whisper to yourself, thighs clenching as you watch him slowly start to tip over the edge, like you were going to talk him through it.

He calls your name. One time. Two times. Three times. His opposite hand slides up his stomach to push his shirt up, revealing the soft but defined muscles underneath. He whimpers. He fucking whimpers, pouty as it radiates from behind his closed mouth, long and drawn out. Then his eyes flutter before the roll back, his head lolling backwards as well as your name drips from his lips like a prayer. His hand works overtime at this point as he twitches, strings of white shooting from his tip and landing on his skin.

You don't even know where the fuck to look at this point. His face twisted in obvious pleasure, his lap where his hips buck slightly into his as he fucks into his fist, or his exposed stomach where he's spilling rope after rope across it. He doesn't give you a choice when he finishes. You watch as he slowly strokes his hand up one last time, making sure to get out every last drop. You get three seconds of his fucked out, lust hazed face before his arm moves over the lens and then the camera zooms in.

---

Two decades later, you’re at the mall, hands full of shopping bags, when a very large presence appears behind you. 

“Why are you struggling?” he asks, already peeling the bags out of your hands. 

“I was not struggling,” you lie, bottom lip jutted out, fingers numb. 

He raises one eyebrow and transfers every single bag to one veiny arm. Including the fluffy, hot pink, heart shaped purse you just bought. 

It dangles from his thick forearm like a hypnotic watch swinging back and forth. You think you might be drooling. You try not to stare at how unfairly built he is. Broad shoulders. Biceps that make sleeves fight for survival. And veins. Veins. VEINS. You try not to think about his veins. Thick veins were everywhere on his body. Everywhere. Like a map leading you to-

“Shua,” you say carefully. “You don’t have to carry that one.” He looks down at it. Then back at you. 

“And let you carry it? Absolutely not.”

“It’s pink.”

“And?”

“It literally says ‘Miss Bitch’ on it.”

He adjusts it higher on his bicep and strikes a pose, hand on hip. “Correct.”

You narrow your eyes. “People are staring.”

Joshua slowly turns his head and makes direct eye contact with a guy who’s been staring for slightly too long. The guy immediately looks away. Joshua turns back to you, smiling sweetly. Angelic. Doe eyed. “They can look.” Menace. 

But then, without breaking stride, he reaches over and fixes the straps of your cardigan where it slipped off your shoulder. 

“Cold?” he asks softly. 

You melt a little. “Maybe.”

He doesn’t hesitate, shrugs off his hoodie and drapes it over you. Now he’s walking through the mall in a compression tee, veins visible, holding six shopping bags and a glittery hot pink ‘Miss Bitch’ purse. Zero shame. All confidence. 

A group of girls whisper as he passes. One of them says, “I need that.” 

You smirk. “You’re causing a scene.”

“I merely exist,” he replies calmly. 

You bump your shoulder into him. “You’re not embarrassed at all?”

He looks genuinely confused. “Why would I be embarrassed?” 

You gesture dramatically at the purse. 

He shrugs. “You like it.”

“That’s not the point.”

“That quite literally is the point.”

And that’s the thing about Joshua, he doesn’t carry your bags to prove anything. He doesn’t puff his chest out or make a show of it. He just does it. Because he wants to. Like it’s always the bare minimum. Like it’s obvious. Like of course he’s going to take the weight from you. Like of course you cannot struggle a second of your life. 

When you reach the parking lot, he loads everything into the trunk in one trip. Of course he does. 

You watch him close it, muscles shifting deliciously under his tee, and suddenly you’re six again. Juice box. Missing teeth. Pigtails. Absolute conviction. 

“You know,” you say slowly. 

He looks at you immediately, soft. Always soft for you. “What?”

“When I was little,” you start, trying not to laugh, “I used to run around yelling…”

His eyes narrow. “Oh no…”

You lean closer, dropping your voice into your most aggressive lisp. 

“I’M GONNA MAWWY JOTHUA HOTH.”

He freezes. Then groans. “It was not that bad.”

“It was worse,” you assure him. 

He steps forward, hooks a finger through the strap of your ridiculous pink purse still looped around his arm, and gently pulls you into him. 

“You were missing teeth,” he mutters. 

“I had a vision.” 

He huffs a laugh, forehead resting against yours. 

“And you know what?” you whisper. 

“What?”

You glance down at the purse, at his hand still holding it without hesitation, at the way he automatically shifts closer to block the wind from you. 

“You’re still the one.”

His expression changes, teasing fading into something steady. Certain. Determined. 

“Yeah?” he murmurs. 

You smile, heart embarrassingly full. 

“Yeah.”

He kisses your forehead like it’s a promise already made. And somewhere deep inside, a tiny, gap-toothed version of you is pointing triumphantly at the universe, yelling at the top of her lungs:

“I’M GONNA MAWWY JOTHUA HOTH!”

a/n... I AM SO SO SORRY this was so late... i don't have a lisp, but i had a dream and two hours before i had to leave the house again, so i hope you like it!! HAPPY SUPER LATE VALENTINES LOVE (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈) i scrapped a whole part of this that i wrote a couple weeks ago, so i had to start from basically scratch :( p.s if you were early enough to see the first published version i’m so sorry… i just went back and edited a ton :> whoopsies!!

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© intellectual property belongs to hanniehaeo 2026

images belong to original owners; the work isn't an accurate representation of reality.

---

At the first chance he got, he bought a little box to store it all in. It was his own little treasure chest, and every treasure taught him a little more about you. 

When he started training at Pledis he suddenly had a lot of shadows, which meant that everyone picked up things after him. 

The first time he had tried telling Jun not to pick up the little hearts that fell out of his backpockets, the man had only stared at him, not understanding a single word he was saying. It also made it impossible for him to be mad at him. 

So when they all talked through their marks, it lightened the burden a little, and the things lost were quickly just left on the floor, until they disappeared to wherever the universe stored them. 

Every once in a while he would lose something that he adored or desperately needed. The first thing was an in-ear, more precisely, his very first set. That had led to a scolding by their manager.

The second thing had been a personalized keyring his mother had gifted him when he decided to follow his dream of becoming a singer. It hurt a little extra because his keys were in fact stuck to it. 

He at least hoped that some of it would be clues as to who he was, that everything would lead you to him one day. 

You, however, lost everything. It was rare that he woke up without at least one scrunchie or a lipgloss on his pillow. 

It always brought a smile to his lips. 

You loved mint gum, not spearmint but mint. The scrunchies you lost were always black, so he assumed that it was the color you wore the most, until one day you lost a blue one. 

He assumed it had some significance, maybe it even brought luck, so he started wearing it whenever they were recording new music. 

One Saturday morning he woke up to a stiletto resting next to him. He had laughed long and hard about that. 

His very own princess. 

He was a romantic at heart, so he did really appreciate the sentiment.

The guys had all laughed at him, who would’ve thought his other half would be as chaotic as he himself were? 

It took you a little longer to finally have a gift waiting on the pillow next to you. But when you woke to a handful of carefully cut out hearts on your pillow, you knew exactly where it had come from. 

The romantic gestures were something he kept up, Valentine’s Day meant that you would wake up to a single rose on your pillow. 

On his first birthday you woke up to a little box with a bracelet inside of it. The following birthdays there was once again a little box waiting on your pillow, all containing a little charm inside for you to attach to the bracelet. 

Every box carrying a little note: 

Happy birthday to me.  To my love From J 

Your father had always teased you that your soulmate spoiled you more than he did. Which also meant he was in fact worthy to be the one to protect and carry your heart forever. 

Every little gift made your heart beat a little faster, and it made your cheeks heat up, a red hue painting them, a similar shade to the roses he always picked up. 

When he lost his in-ears it was the first real hint you got, and the Hangul writing on the tape attached to it was the second. 

So at the first chance you got you traveled to Seoul, and ended up settling down there. 

The keychain he had lost had become the one you used in your everyday life and everything else was kept in a box on your dresser. 

Your move to Seoul meant that you, unlike most of the soulmates of the group, got exposed to idols and Seventeen at a somewhat early age. 

Seventeen had become your favorite quickly, and it had been because of none other than your other half. 

The voice and overall look of Joshua Hong made you blush and stutter most of the time someone even mentioned him, something that of course made total sense since he was your bias. 

Everyone felt like that, right? 

Seoul was a big city so you had never run into the idol, thank all the gods, your little heart would’ve not have been able to handle that. 

The closest you had ever been had been at your usual salon where he had walked in, followed closely by none other than Hoshi, a man, as it turned out, that was your hairdresser's soulmate. 

You had been a blushing mess and it had been your luck that your bias hadn’t looked you way. 

The following months after Pink and Hoshi had been introduced to one another the soulmates of the band had kept popping up here and there, it had been a pleasure to follow along in their story and celebrate their joy and excitement. 

Not long after the article about the women behind the band had been published you had awoken to a white green hydrangea on your pillow, with a little note attached to it; ‘our flower’ was all the note said. 

Which of course had to be a coincidence, right? 

On one particular morning Joshua was having a bit of attitude, one that Vernon as per usual was quick to catch up on. 

He raised a brow at his American brother and switched from Korean to English in the blink of an eye. Which meant that the two of them would be able to have a somewhat private conversation, despite being in a room full of people. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked with a raised brow and that expression that didn’t give away even a slither of emotion. 

Joshua sighed. “I tried with a letter again yesterday,” he shrugged. “It just came straight back to me”. 

It hadn’t been the first time he had tried communicating with more than just a little note attached to gifts. 

But it seemed that the universe was determined to keep the two of you apart, for just a tad bit longer. 

“She’ll pop up when you least expect it” Vernon said with a little smile.

Joshua only sent him a stern look. The one that said: ‘keep it up or I’ll spill your secret’ 

Which only made Vernon smile widened. 

“It’s her birthday soon, right? What do you plan on gifting her?” The young man said as he leaned a little closer. 

Joshua shrugged. “I don’t really know, I was hoping for something grand, something special. But it’s a little hard losing valuable gifts. People tend to just pick them up, or in some cases steal them” 

He couldn’t help but think back on one of the times someone had snatched the gift off the ground, meant for you, and ran off with it. 

“At least you can give her something,” Vernon said as he stood up from his place on the floor. 

“Well so can-” 

Vernon pointed at his brother with a stern look. “Don’t you even dare” he said, before he turned on his heel, leaving the conversation behind. 

The day had been terrible, long and soul crushing all at once. There was nothing you wanted more than to just drown a bottle of wine, stuff your face with a three course meal you hadn’t cooked yourself and then drift to sleep. 

You pulled the bottle of wine a little closer to your chest, as you stood in line at the grocery store, a little scared you were so tired you might drop it. 

When you pulled out your wallet from your jacket pocket, you didn’t notice how your keychain, his keychain, fell out of your pocket. 

However, the woman behind you did, and gently picked it up. And just as she was about to tap your shoulder and give it back to you, she looked it over, and felt her heart pick up. 

She knew it, she knew it well, after all she had been the one to pick it out for her son. 

An enthusiastic tap of your shoulder made you turn towards her. She was older, yet a beauty, there was no denying that, and she beamed as if she was the sun itself. 

“Excuse me, this might sound a little strange, but what are you doing tonight miss?” 

There was something familiar about her, something you couldn’t quite place with the mask covering most of her face. 

You smiled politely as you lifted the bottle of wine, which seemed to only amuse her. She gave you the keychain back and you thanked her profusely. 

“You know, I know that keychain…” She said carefully as her eyes searched yours. 

It took a little while for the sentence to stick to your brain, it took a little while for the word to make sense. 

“Y-you do?” you said as you swallowed once. 

She only nodded before she smiled even wider beneath that white mask of hers. You had searched for a similar keychain online, but nothing had really matched it. 

“I do, I designed it for my son” 

You felt yourself stumble back a little, and for a second there you almost dropped the bottle of wine. Lucky the woman before you were quick, and catched it before it had a chance to slip from your arms. 

“You’re… his… mine… This is insane” you said as you laughed a little

She grabbed onto your arm and pulled you next to her. 

“Let me cook you dinner darling, I’ll invite Jisoo as well” 

There was nothing you could do but nod, cause your body refused to cooperate with every panicked thought of your brain. 

You helped her pack her groceries and despite the fact that you knew you should be nervous, being with her felt natural. 

He held on to your arm as the two of you left the store and pulled you close to her. There was a smile on her lips that radiated nothing short of pride. As if she was already proud of you, as if she had already welcomed you into the family without even knowing anything about you. 

She made you feel right at home, all you could do now was hope that her son would invoke the same type of feelings. 

His mother had called twice in a row, but he hadn’t noticed with his phone in the other end of the practice room. 

And when her son didn’t answer she began calling his brothers. Jeonghan was the first to notice, and picked up at the first ring. 

“Eomma, are you okay?” he asked as he looked towards his so-called twin, worried for a second that she had bad news. 

“Jeonghan, darling, yes! I just need to get a hold on my son” she responded back through the phone, it was clear to hear a bubbling excitement in her voice, so he relaxed instantly. 

He smiled before walking the few steps towards Joshua, handing his phone to him. 

“Dude, it’s your mom” 

Joshua looked worried for a second, but the calm demeanor from his older brother helped him relax. 

“Mom” he said as he raised the phone to his ear, curiosity brewing in his veins. 

“Jisoo, I’m gonna need you to come home for dinner today” she didn’t specify why, but there was no denying that she was in fact okay. 

He looked to Woozi with a raised brow and made a face of confusion. The two of them had a standing date every other sunday for dinner or some other kind of activity, and this day was a friday. 

“Mom that’s sweet of you but I already have plans…” 

He didn’t get to explain further before she interrupted him. 

“Jisoo Joshua Hong, you listen to me right now, you’re coming home for dinner, you’re picking up flowers on the way, and you better be freshly showered and good looking when you arrive!” 

Her voice was stern and for a second he felt like a child being scolded once again. 

He sighed as he rubbed his eyes with one hand in frustration. “Mom we’re practicing, we have the music video shoot in the morning and need to go over the last few things. So I’m not really sure I’ll be able to make it to dinner” 

He looked down at his watch. He definitely wouldn’t be able to make it. 

“Jisoo” she said once again, and all he did was sigh in response. “Jisoo, I found her” 

It was as if everything around him stopped. The music and the yells from his members fated into the background and all he could focus on was the words spilling from his mothers mouth. 

He said nothing so she continued. “I was out shopping, she stood in front of me in line. She dropped your keychain, you know the one you lost?” 

He nodded even though she wasn’t able to see it. 

“She’s currently walking around in the living room, no doubt looking at all your baby pictures, and I do not want to spoil who you are, so you need to get here, and you need to get here soon” 

He swallowed once. 

“Okay, I’ll be there in an hour” 

She hung up the phone and all the noise of the world returned. 

“SK! Thalia!” he yelled out as he gave the phone back to the rightful owner. 

The pair came up to him quickly. “I need flowers” was all he said. His brother looked like one giant question mark, but his soulmate on the other hand didn’t question him for even a second. 

Instead she took her other half’s hand and pushed him around the room until all the flowers of every member bloomed. 

He bent down and picked those he felt would go great together with yours, and then he headed straight for his things. 

Seungcheol ran up to him. “Josh, we still have practice, you can’t just leave” 

“Cheol I have too” there was a desperate sound to his voice, a need that the leader knew all too well, so instead of picking a fight he melted and let him leave with only a wish of good luck. 

Jisoo, as you had learned his name was, had an amazingly strong mother. The house she lived in was incredible, one her son had apparently brought for her. 

She had ordered you to sit down in the kitchen, then she had opened the bottle of wine you had bought, poured the two of you a glass and then started cooking for you. 

“I don’t want to ask too much, because some of it I would like to learn from him. But what can you tell me?” 

She smiled softly. “He’s my only child, but he has a lot of very close friends that he typically refers to as his brothers. Kind of a workaholic, his schedule can be a little hectic from time to time, but he always prioritizes what’s important to him” 

“That’s a good quality” 

“Well I did raise a pretty good man, if I do say so myself” 

You couldn’t help but laugh. “My dad says the same thing, he likes that he spoils me so much, even though we’ve never met” 

She beamed at that. 

The two of you talked back and forth for a while and then you saw a car pull up. You didn’t mean to but you instantly stood up. Fidgeting with your hands, you looked at Jamie with nervous eyes and all she did was send you a reassuring smile. 

She went to greet her son, you could hear the pair talk. And then he entered the kitchen and your entire world stopped. 

Because you knew him, you knew exactly who he was. 

He moved a little closer and laid the giant bouquet of flowers on the kitchen island. 

“Hi” He said with a gentle smile, and even more gentle eyes. “I’m…” 

“... Joshua” you finished. He beamed at that. 

“You know me?” He crooked his head to the side, and you couldn’t help but laugh. The Joshua Hong was standing in front of you, the Joshua Hong was your soulmate. 

You nodded, and the tears in your eyes threatened to spill. So instead you just opened your arms, and he moved towards you accordingly. 

He had you in his arms in an instant. Picking you up from the floor as he wellowed in the feeling of your legs closing around his torso, of your arms around his neck and of your cheek next to his. 

He felt right at home, and he knew you had belonged to him and him alone, since the day the two of you were born. 

He was huge, tall and muscular and the videos and pictures didn’t do him justice. 

All the waiting had been worth it, and you wanted nothing more than to stay in his arms like this, but at some point his mother cleared her throat. 

“Dinner is ready” she said with a gentle and happy smile. 

Joshua sat you back down, yet he made sure to take your hand in his as he let you to the dining room. 

The three of you ate dinner, talked and got to know one another, and at every point he either had your hand in his, or he had it resting somewhere on your body. 

It was as if he physically needed to make sure that you were in fact right there. 

When dinner was done, he offered to drive you home and there was no way you were saying no to that. 

He held out his hand for you to take as he drove, and you took it without a second thought. 

“So I have to ask, are you a carat?” He looked at you with that alluring smile that had always made something in you yearn for him. 

You laughed silently as you tried hiding behind your intertwined hands. 

“Yeah, I am” you said as you silently shoom your head. 

“You know I have to ask right?” he said teasingly. 

“Don’t worry, you’ve been my bias since the first time I saw you” 

It was almost as if you could see him puff up his chest at that comment. He felt pride stirring in his heart. Pride that you had been watching him and cheering him on for a while. 

“We actually almost saw each other once” 

He whipped his head towards you. “Really? Where? Was it at a concert?” 

You shook your head. “No, it was the day Hoshi and Pink met one another. I was the customer in her chair"

He looked at you with big eyes. “Are you telling me that if I had just sticked around for a couple of minutes more, I might’ve actually have found you that day?” 

It was almost as if you could feel the sadness fill the car. 

You nodded. “I’m glad it didn’t happen that day though” 

He only raised a brow, almost as if he was to scared of why that was. 

“I would hate to share the spotlight of being the new addition to the group, this feels better, more like…” 

He smiled at that. “Feels more like us” 

You nodded once again. “Exactly” 

He laughed almost silently. “Well you know what we have to do now? Now we have to get you your spotlight” 

You were early, earlier than most of the staff and definitely earlier than all of the guys. Which was a part of the plan. 

It was supposed to be a surprise, that a mystery woman suddenly stood in their dressing room. Because how had you gotten there, and who the hell were you. 

Joshua pulled his arm around your shoulder and pulled you close to him. Gently kissing your forehead. “Breathe my love” was all he said as you nuzzled into his side. 

It melted his heart to have you this close, that you wanted to be this close to him. It felt good, it felt like home. 

The two of you had spent the night in your apartment, intertwined in bed as you tried learning as much about one another as you could, while still getting sleep, which he definitely needed before the shoot today. 

The first one to get there was Seungcheol, he was by Joshua's side in an instant, pulling the man into a tight hug before he turned towards you and introduced himself. 

People came as the minutes passed by, and then Pink and Hoshi joined. 

You looked at the woman you had seen so many times before. She crooked her head to the side. 

“B? What the hell are you…?” And then she saw the arm slung around your shoulder, and quickly after the screaming began. 

“OH MY GOD?! You’re kidding me?!” She had thrown herself at you and Joshua without any thought. 

The spotlight was officially on you, and you didn’t mind one bit, not as long as it meant that he was by your side. 

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The bar, a dimly lit haven of forgotten dreams and lingering scents of whiskey and regret, was a stark contrast to the vibrant, pulsating world you once inhabited. It was a place where the weight of daily existence was palpable, a tangible entity that pressed down on your shoulders. You, a ghost of your former self, sat at the counter, a drink swirling in your hand, its contents as stagnant as your life.

The years had been unkind, stripping away the joy that once defined you. The echoes of roaring crowds, the frantic energy of ticket sales, the sheer, unadulterated happiness of being a part of the SEVENTEEN fandom—all of it seemed like a distant, almost fantastical memory. Now, bills piled high, relationships crumbled, and the sheer exhaustion of survival had transformed you into a shadow, a hollow echo of the person you used to be.

"You stopped coming."

The voice, deep and resonant, cut through the haze of your thoughts. It was a voice you knew intimately, a voice that had once filled your life with joy. You turned, your heart pounding against your ribs, and found yourself face to face with Choi Seungcheol.

Even under the dim lights, concealed beneath a cap and hoodie, his presence was undeniable. The leader of SEVENTEEN, the man who had been your beacon of happiness, stood before you, his eyes holding a knowing, gentle gaze that sent a shiver down your spine. He recognized you.

"What?" you managed, your voice barely a whisper.

"You stopped coming to concerts. To fansigns. You used to be there—front row, every time." His voice was soft, laced with a hint of disappointment.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips. "Didn’t think you’d notice."

"I did."

Those two words, simple yet profound, were enough to shatter the walls you had meticulously built around yourself.

The stale air of the bar hung heavy, thick with the unsaid, the unspoken regrets that lingered like ghosts. You stared into the swirling amber of your drink, the liquid a distorted reflection of your own fractured emotions.

"Life happened," you repeated, the words sounding hollow even to your own ears. It was a cliché, a dismissive phrase used to brush aside the complexities of existence, but it was the only explanation you could muster.

Seungcheol remained silent, his gaze fixed on you, unwavering. He wasn't judging, wasn't offering platitudes. He was simply present, a silent witness to your unraveling. The weight of his attention, the intensity of his focus, was almost unbearable.

"Bills piled up," you continued, your voice barely a whisper. "My job… it barely covers rent. I'm constantly working, constantly exhausted. There's no room for anything else."

You paused, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. "And then there's my personal life. Or what's left of it. Relationships fell apart. Friendships faded. It's like… I'm slowly disappearing."

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with a raw, vulnerable pain. "It's not just about the money, Cheol. It's about feeling like I've lost myself. Like I'm just going through the motions, existing but not living."

You looked back down at the drink, unable to meet his gaze. "I used to find so much joy in being a Carat. SEVENTEEN was my escape, my happy place. But… I couldn't reconcile that joy with the reality of my life. It felt like a betrayal, almost. Like I was pretending everything was okay when it wasn't."

You took a shaky breath, the weight of your confession pressing down on you. "I felt guilty. Guilty for spending money I didn't have, guilty for taking time for myself when I should have been working, guilty for feeling happy when I felt like I had no right to be. And then… I just stopped. I stopped going to concerts, stopped buying albums, stopped watching your videos. I just… shut it all out."

Your voice cracked, and you swallowed hard, fighting back tears. "It wasn't that I didn't want to be there. It's just that I couldn't… I couldn't bear to see you all, to see the happiness I used to have, knowing I couldn't reach it anymore."

You closed your eyes, the memories flooding back, each one a sharp pang of longing. "I remember the first time I saw you perform. The energy, the passion, the sheer joy radiating from the stage. It was like… magic. And I wanted to be a part of that magic. I wanted to feel that happiness again."

"But I couldn't," you whispered, your voice thick with unshed tears. "I couldn't pretend anymore. I couldn't keep up the facade. And I didn't want to be a reminder of what I'd lost. So, I just… disappeared."

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze, and found them filled with a deep, unwavering empathy. He wasn't offering solutions, wasn't trying to minimize your pain. He was simply acknowledging it, validating it.

"I used to love SEVENTEEN," you admitted, the words heavy with a bittersweet nostalgia. "I still do. But loving something doesn’t always mean you get to keep it. Sometimes, life takes things away, and you have to learn to live without them."

You paused, a wave of exhaustion washing over you. "I didn't think you'd notice. I thought I was just another face in the crowd, another fan among thousands. I didn't think I mattered."

Seungcheol's silence was deafening, a stark contrast to the cacophony of your inner turmoil. He was absorbing every word, every nuance, every unspoken emotion. His eyes, dark and intense, held a depth of understanding that made your heart ache.

He didn't interrupt, didn't offer empty reassurances. He simply listened, his presence a silent acknowledgment of your pain. It was as if he was creating a space for you to unravel, to lay bare your soul without fear of judgment.

The silence stretched, heavy and charged. It was a silence filled with unspoken words, with the weight of years of unspoken emotions. You felt exposed, vulnerable, yet strangely comforted by his unwavering attention.

You looked away, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze. "I'm sorry," you whispered, the words barely audible. "I'm sorry I left. I'm sorry I stopped being a Carat. I'm sorry I disappointed you."

You felt a tear escape, tracing a path down your cheek. You didn't bother to wipe it away. "I just… I didn't know how to be happy anymore."

You closed your eyes, the image of SEVENTEEN's joyful performances flashing through your mind, a stark reminder of the happiness you had lost. "I felt like I was betraying myself if I was happy. I felt like I was pretending and I couldn't do it."

You opened your eyes, finding his gaze still fixed on you. "I didn’t want to be a reminder of what I lost. I didn't want to be a ghost in the crowd."

Seungcheol’s silence wasn’t indifference; it was a profound respect for your pain. He was allowing you to express the depths of your despair, to acknowledge the wounds that had festered for years. He was offering you a space to be vulnerable, to be broken, without judgment or interruption.

His silence was a testament to his understanding, a silent promise that he was there, that he was listening, that he cared. In that moment, his silence spoke volumes, conveying a depth of empathy that transcended words. It was a silence that held your pain, a silence that offered solace, a silence that promised understanding.

He let you finish, and when the last of your words faded into the murmur of the bar, he took a deep breath. He had heard you. He had truly heard you. And he understood. He understood more than you thought possible.

---

The glow of your phone screen became a familiar comfort in the quiet hours of the night. After that initial, raw conversation at the bar, the texts from Seungcheol were like a lifeline, a gentle reminder that you weren't alone. They started with simple check-ins, a way to ensure you were taking care of yourself.

Cheol: Did you eat a proper meal today? Not just coffee and a stale pastry, I hope. You: Okay, fine, you caught me. But I promise I’ll make a real dinner tomorrow. Cheol: That's what you said last week. I’m starting to think I need to send you a meal prep service. You: Or you could just cook for me. ;) Cheol: Now that’s an offer I can’t refuse.

The playful banter was a welcome change from the heaviness of your earlier conversations. It was as if Seungcheol was gently coaxing you out of your shell, reminding you that laughter and lightheartedness were still possible.

As the weeks turned into months, the texts became more frequent, more personal. He would share snippets of his day, the behind-the-scenes moments that fans rarely saw.

Cheol: Rehearsals were brutal today. But we got a new choreography down. I wish you could see it. You: I’m sure it’s amazing. You guys always put on incredible performances. Cheol: It’s not the same without you in the audience. You: Are you trying to make me blush? Cheol: Maybe. ;)

The subtle flirtation was a delicate dance, a push and pull that made your heart flutter. You found yourself looking forward to his messages, eager to see what he would say next.

One night, he sent you a picture of himself, a candid shot taken during a break from filming. He was smiling, his eyes crinkled at the corners.

Cheol: Thinking of you. You: You look good. Even when you’re tired. Cheol: Only for you. You: Smooth. Cheol: I have my moments.

The late-night calls became a regular occurrence, a way to bridge the distance between your worlds. You would talk for hours, sharing your thoughts, your dreams, your fears. He listened with unwavering attention, his voice a soothing presence in the darkness.

"You know," he said one night, his voice soft, "you never talk about yourself. You're always asking about me, about the members. But I want to know about you. Tell me about your day."

You hesitated, unsure how to articulate the mundane details of your life. "It's nothing special," you murmured. "Just work, errands, the usual."

"Try me," he insisted. "I want to hear about it."

So, you started to share, recounting the small moments that made up your day—a funny interaction with a coworker, a beautiful sunset, a new book you had started reading. He listened intently, asking questions, offering his own observations.

"You have a way of seeing beauty in the ordinary," he said, his voice filled with admiration. "It's one of the things I admire most about you."

You blushed, surprised by his compliment. "You're just saying that."

"I mean it," he said, his voice firm. "You have a unique perspective, a way of finding joy in the little things. It's refreshing."

The compliments, the gentle teasing, the genuine interest in your life—it was all so unexpected, so different from the distant idol you had once admired from afar. He was human, vulnerable, and undeniably charming.

One night, he called you late, his voice a little breathless.

"I just finished a concert," he said. "The energy was incredible. But all I could think about was you."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Me?"

"Yeah," he said, his voice soft. "I kept looking out into the crowd, imagining you there, singing along, cheering us on."

"I wish I could have been there," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

"Me too," he said. "But next time, I promise, you'll be there. Front row, center stage."

The promise hung in the air, a tangible expression of his desire to bridge the gap between your worlds. It was a promise that filled you with hope, a promise that made you believe that maybe, just maybe, you could find your way back to the joy you had lost.

The texts and calls became a constant in your life, a source of comfort and connection. You found yourself sharing more of yourself, opening up about your fears, your dreams, your insecurities. He listened without judgment, offering support and encouragement.

"You're stronger than you think," he said one night, his voice filled with conviction. "You've been through so much, but you're still here. You're still fighting. And that's something to be proud of."

His words were a balm to your wounded soul, a reminder that you were capable of more than you thought. He was slowly piecing you back together, helping you rediscover the strength you had forgotten you possessed.

One late night, after a particularly long conversation, he sent you a final text.

Cheol: Sleep well, my love. You: You’re so cheesy. Cheol: Only for you. You: Goodnight, Cheol. Cheol: Goodnight. And dream of me.

You smiled, the warmth of his words spreading through you. You closed your eyes, the image of his smiling face filling your mind. You were falling, slowly but surely, and you knew that you were falling for him all over again.

2 years had passed by since you both had started texting and you had become a carat all over again; developed feelings for cheol but knew you had no chance with him. Or thats what…you thought.

The phone rang, a sharp intrusion into the quiet of your apartment. The name 'cheolie' flashed across the screen, and your heart pounded in your chest. His voice, when it came, was strained, a raw edge to it that sent a shiver down your spine.

"I can’t do this anymore i need to tell you something, And sorry to this over a fucking call i wanted to see you talk to you- this idol life is a fucking mess-" he said, the words heavy with a desperate sincerity.

Your stomach dropped, a cold knot forming in your gut. "Chill out cheol its fine- And you can't do what anymore?"

"Pretend you’re just a fan. Pretend I don’t—" He paused, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. "I don’t want to see you in the crowd. I want you beside me."

The words hung in the air, a declaration that shattered the delicate balance you had maintained for so long. You were silent, your mind racing, trying to process the weight of his confession.

"Say something," he pleaded, his voice laced with a vulnerability that made your heart ache.

"Cheol… I don’t think I’m—"

"Don’t." His voice was sharp, cutting through your doubts like a knife. "Don’t say you’re not good enough. Don’t say you don’t matter. I swear, if you say that, I’m coming over just to knock some sense into you."

Tears pricked your eyes, a mix of fear and longing swirling within you. "I’m just me. I’m nothing special."

"You’re everything," he countered, his voice softening, filled with a tenderness that made your breath catch in your throat. "And I want you to be mine."

You swallowed hard, the words echoing in your mind, a declaration that felt both surreal and intoxicating. "Cheol… I don’t understand. Why me? I’m not… I’m not pretty. I’ve gained weight. I’m just… ordinary."

A low growl rumbled through the phone, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "Don’t you dare say that. Don’t you ever say that again."

His voice was firm, laced with a raw intensity that left no room for argument. "You are beautiful. More beautiful than you know. You have a light inside you, a warmth that radiates from your soul. It’s in your eyes, in your smile, in the way you care for others. And yes," he continued, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, "you've gained a little weight. And honestly, it drives me crazy. You look so damn good, so… edible. You’re soft, you’re real, and you’re absolutely stunning."

Your cheeks flushed crimson, a wave of heat washing over you. You had never heard him speak like this, with such raw desire, such unfiltered adoration.

"I don’t care about the superficial things," he continued, his voice filled with conviction. "I care about your heart, your mind, your soul. I care about the way you make me feel, the way you make me laugh, the way you understand me without me having to say a word."

He paused, a heavy silence settling between you. "You’re the only person who sees me, truly sees me, beyond the idol, beyond the leader. You see the man beneath it all, the man I keep hidden from the world. And that… that means everything to me."

"Cheol…" you whispered, your voice choked with emotion.

"I know I’m asking a lot," he said, his voice softer now, laced with a gentle vulnerability. "I know this isn’t easy. But I can’t keep pretending. I can’t keep watching you from afar, longing for something I can’t have. I need you in my life. I need you by my side."

"But… the fans…" you stammered, the reality of his world crashing down on you.

"We’ll figure it out," he said, his voice filled with determination. "We’ll find a way. We’ll be careful, we’ll be discreet. But I won’t hide you. I won’t pretend you don’t exist. You deserve to be seen, to be loved, to be cherished."

He paused, taking a deep breath. "Please," he whispered, his voice laced with a raw vulnerability that made your heart ache. "Please, say you’ll give me a chance. Say you’ll let me love you."

You were silent, tears streaming down your face, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within you. You had never felt so seen, so cherished, so loved. His words were a balm to your wounded soul, a testament to the depth of his feelings.

"I… I don’t know what to say," you whispered, your voice trembling.

"Just say yes," he pleaded, his voice filled with a desperate longing. "Just say you’ll be mine."

You closed your eyes, the image of his smiling face filling your mind. "Yes," you whispered, the word barely audible. "Yes, Cheol. I’ll be yours."

A sigh of relief escaped his lips, a sound that was both shaky and filled with joy. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for giving me a chance. I promise, I won’t let you down."

The phone line went silent, but the connection between you remained, a bond forged in vulnerability, in honesty, in love. You were his, and he was yours, a secret whispered in the darkness, a love that defied the odds.

Your relationship, born in the shadows of fame and fueled by a deep, undeniable connection, became a delicate dance of stolen moments and whispered affections. It was a world of late-night phone calls, coded messages, and clandestine meetings, a world where every touch, every glance, was charged with the thrill of forbidden love.

Backstage at concerts, amidst the chaos and adrenaline, they would find fleeting moments of intimacy. A quick, stolen kiss behind a curtain, a lingering touch of hands in a darkened hallway, a whispered "I miss you" amidst the roar of the crowd. These moments, though brief, were precious, a reminder of the love that bloomed in the midst of their busy lives.

One night, after a particularly grueling concert, Seungcheol found a way to slip away, his manager covering for him. He arrived at your apartment, a figure shrouded in a hoodie and cap, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"I couldn't stay away," he whispered, his voice hoarse from singing.

You pulled him inside, locking the door behind him. He shed his disguise, revealing the tired but happy face you had come to adore. He pulled you into a tight embrace, burying his face in your neck.

"I need you," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

He showered you with neck kisses, each one a tender expression of his longing. The touch was electric, a reminder of the raw desire that simmered beneath the surface of their relationship.

"I missed you so much," he whispered, his lips tracing the delicate curve of your ear.

He pulled you to the kitchen, where he proceeded to make a late-night snack. He moved with a quiet efficiency, his movements fluid and graceful.

"I've been practicing," he said, a playful grin spreading across his face. "I wanted to impress you."

You watched him, your heart swelling with affection. He was so different from the charismatic idol the world saw. He was a man, vulnerable and loving, eager to please.

They cooked together, a silent dance of shared intimacy. The kitchen, once a place of solitary meals, became a haven of shared laughter and whispered secrets.

After they ate, they settled on the couch, wrapped in each other's arms. They put on a movie, but neither of them paid much attention to the screen. They were content to simply be together, to feel the warmth of each other's bodies, to lose themselves in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

"I wish we could do this every night," he murmured, his fingers tracing patterns on your arm.

"Me too," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

Movie nights became a regular occurrence, a way to escape the pressures of their lives. They would cuddle on the couch, sharing popcorn and whispered jokes, their laughter echoing through the quiet apartment.

Sometimes, they would simply talk, sharing their dreams, their fears, their hopes for the future. He would tell you about the challenges of being a leader, the pressure to always be strong, the fear of disappointing his members and his fans. You would tell him about your own struggles, the loneliness of your past, the joy you found in his love.

He listened with unwavering attention, his eyes filled with a deep understanding. He never judged, never minimized your feelings. He simply offered his support, his love, his unwavering belief in you.

One night, he surprised you with a handwritten letter, a declaration of his love that brought tears to your eyes.

"My dearest," he wrote, "I never thought I would find someone who understood me so completely, someone who saw me for who I truly am. You are my light, my strength, my everything. I love you more than words can say."

He signed it with a simple "Cheol," a reminder of the man beneath the idol, the man who loved you with all his heart.

Their secret relationship was a tapestry woven with stolen moments, whispered affections, and unwavering love. It was a world of hidden kisses, late-night cuddles, and heartfelt confessions. It was a world they built together, a world that was theirs and theirs alone.

He would send you goodnight texts every night without fail, no matter how late he was working.

And in those quiet moments, when the world felt too loud, he reminded you of one thing:

"You won’t leave me again, right?"

You smiled, fingers tracing the words on your screen.

"Never."

The secrecy was hard, but it made their moments together all the more precious. Each stolen kiss, each whispered "I love you," was a testament to the strength of their bond, a reminder that their love was worth fighting for. They were building a world within a world, a haven of love and understanding in the midst of the chaos of their lives. And in that haven, they found a love that was both extraordinary and deeply personal, a love that was theirs and theirs alone.