#idol reader

James nods, and the five immediately go back to their proper positions.

“3, 2, 1, and,” You counted down.

James sang his line while you focused on how the dance looked.

You step back, arms moving along the counting, and go to where you were supposed to end up.

“Oops, sorry,” Seonghyeon says, almost tripping.

“You stay there,” Keonho scolds jokingly, and they both look at each other for a while before letting out a synced laugh.

“Actually….” You started.

“That was great,” James continued. The other member nodded, agreeing to our statement.

“This is the spot we set.” Seonghyeon walks forward.

“Yeah, that’s right.” James nods. And once he went out of his place, so did the others.

You walked forward beside James.

“We’re kind of leaning to one side." You concluded, making the others nod.

"That's because Martin's tall." Keonho looked at you.

"Or...(Y/N)'s short," Juhoon said. You snapped your head towards him, jokingly offended, making the others laugh.

"It's true. Our heights contrast with each other." Martin agreed.

"No, it's more like…" James starts. "No, we kind of look like this." He leaned to one side and lifted one side of his body. You tried your best to hold back your laughter.

It was quiet for a while. Everyone was thinking of how to make the formation look balanced. Until Keonho started talking.

"Your body's asymmetrical, isn't it?" His fingers pointed at Seonghyeon.

"Yeah," Seonghyeon said.

"Knew it." He laughed.

Seonghyeon tried to avenge "It can't be helped."

Then Martin suddenly let out a laugh. "Hey guys, do you remember that time?"

The twins looked at him along with you, with curiosity. You hoped he wouldn't say anything stupid.

"When we took all our shirts off and did that asymmetry battle."

He said something stupid anyway. And you could feel yourself start to get red from the memory, and just thank the heavens they aren't mentioning that something else had happened.

"He's worse." Seonghyeon points at Seonghyeon.

"We stood like this." Martin faced the mirror, straightened his posture, and puffed his chest out. "We were like, 'Why are my shoulders like this?'"

He slanted his body just like James earlier. "And Juhoon was like—" Seonghyeon slumped his back, copying how Juhoon stood before.

"We had an asymmetry battle before debut," Martin explained to your choreographer.

"Oh yeah, then we started to correct each other like…" They continued to talk about how their battle went and who had the worst and best form.

You quietly laughed at the side. Until Juhoon's eyes met yours through the mirror.

Oh no...

"Oh, and," Juhoon interrupted them mid-debate. His hands hesitantly started pointing at you.

Please don't bring it up. Please don't bring it up.

"(Y/N) accidentally walked in on us…"

Keonho and Martin burst out laughing. "How could we forget about that?" They laughed diabolically, making you roll your eyes.

"How was I supposed to know you were in the middle of some dumb competition?" You threw your hands up as your face scrunched.

Even the choreographer was giggling along while you recalled your side of the story.

Two weeks before debut.

It was an amazing day. 

Your manager had called only you to come to the recording studio today so you could record your first solo release. While the others were in the practice room.

At first, you grunted and complained about how it felt like you were getting twice the amount of work and pressure just because you were the only girl in the group.

While they were enjoying their time dancing, resting, playing games, or doing God knows what in the practice room, you were working your ass off singing into the mic.

It didn't go so badly, though. This was your dream, and you made it. Now you had to work for it. Your voice went more smoothly than you would have hoped. 

And your producer complimented you many times. Jokingly saying how you were much easier to work with and how you would always make them have an early leave.

The joyful feeling stuck with you the whole time.

Even after recording, you enjoyed walking back to the dorm.

Your eyes drifted to a nearby Pizza store. And your stomach grumbles. You definitely deserve a treat, and you were feeling nice today.

So you stepped into the shop, bought pizza—pineapple and pepperoni, so they won’t have to go through a debate again—and paid.

The crispy scent ran to your nose, and you couldn't wait to get back to the practice. So they could appreciate your efforts in making sure they aren’t starving. 

Once the building came into view, you typed in the password and pulled the door open. 

“I’m here!” You announced in the hallways. You were just getting used to the building and didn't really know which practice room they were in. But you did know that the door you entered was solely for CORTIS.

“Hello?” You shout.

But there was no answer.

Weird…

Come to think of it. It was rather quieter than usual.

“Uh, guys?” You asked, stepping into the room, placing the pizza boxes down on the marble table near the water dispenser.

Your ears picked up murmuring behind you. It was coming from one of the practice rooms, all the way from the other side of the room.

What the hell?

“Hell nah! I mean, look at my shoulder!” Keonho’s muffled voice went through the walls.

Again. What the hell?

You shook your head, thinking they were doing something stupid that ‘you wouldn't understand because you were a girl’ type of thing.

You knock audibly before pushing the door open.

Your eyes widened before you shut them tight and turned around.

Inside, the 4 of them were all shirtless, standing in a straight horizontal line, staring into the huge mirror. While James went around, as if assessing them.

The fuck is happening?

“What the fuck?!” You screamed in horror.

You couldn’t see, but you knew their heads were whipped towards you now. 

“What the hell, (Y/N)?!” James screamed.

“How the fuck was I supposed to know?!” You argued quickly. 

“Knocking exists, you know?” Martin replied.

“I did!” You defended.

They were practically frantic behind you. Hurrying to find their shirts around the room, because they got too cocky and threw them elsewhere.

Teenagers, man…

“I swear, someone please dig my eyes out.” You sighed. 

Neither of them replied. 

“Okay, we’re looking proper now,” Seonghyeon says.

God. You still didn't want to turn around. But you still did, with eyes closed.

“What the hell were you even doing?!”

“Firstly, we aren't naked anymore, open your damn eyes, (Y/N)” Keonho spoke. 

As much as you can't trust him, you opened your eyes. To thankfully see them wearing shirts.

“Second, we were…in the middle of…correcting our…postures.” He smiles.

You gave them a ‘wtf’ face. 

“Shirtless?” Your face scrunched.

“Uh, yeah? That's how you can properly see the posture?” Juhoon shrugs.

Oh boy. You are not going to have this conversation.

“You know what? I don’t even want to know.” You raise your hands.

You turned back around and went back to where you left the pizzas.

“Pizza!!!!!” Kenho exclaimed, running towards the table.

You pulled out a chair and sat down. 

“Yeah, I was feeling a bit nice today.” You smile.

The four of them quickly filled behind, circling the table.

Your hands fiddled with opening the box, once it was open hands dived right into them. 

Surprisingly, only you and Martin went for the pineapple pizza. He was lucky you loved that flavor, or else there weren't going to be any presents.

For a while, all you could hear was the sound of mouth stuff with pizza, chewing, and munching them down. And as much as you tried to avoid the debate on pizza, they went at it again. Ragebaiting one another. 

For a while, you realized how lucky you were to be with these five. Even though sometimes, weird things happen, like earlier.

But you always cast your differences aside and learned to accept them. And they did too.

“So, (Y/N),” Martin started, halfway through his pizza. “Who do you think had the best—”

“You know, I think I’m kind of starting to hate pineapple pizza now.” You nodded, smiling at him.

His smile dropped. “What?!” He looked at your hands, which had a pineapple pizza on them.

“That might make you shut up.” You joked. The four laughed along. 

They started telling jokes about how their bodies were pretty much similar to each other. ‘Martin’s just being taller,’ Keonho said.

Now this is what completes your day, ignoring the posture competition from earlier. 

Everything is going as you had hoped for it to be. Fun, youthful, easy-going. 

You smiled to yourself.

“So (Y/N),” Keonho called. “I had the worst posture, right?”

He just had to ruin the moment.

Note: I have news for y'all... I am officially a SHOTTY!!! I love lngshot so much like it isn't a joke anymore. I was also thinking of also making fics of them using this account or opening an entirely new one 🤔 also about the fic with all 5 members (it's not this one) I PROMISE to try and finish it, man.

TAGLIST: @antheyaaa @reveczennie @vanillakirstei @yawnzz @emmaitoshi @minorwithchampagneproblems @imsocoolinpink @kpopsmutty69 @thelovelyjazzy @coffea-16 @2bamgyu @kweenisblog @septembercalls @pinklemonade34 @pumrikku @secretstuti @m4lb @juscoups @kamiliora @ririiluv @shadesofc00l @lexiyesirrr @yvalrik @dollangelicpretty @pix3lkitten

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The JYP CEO, along with two marketing directors, your solo team representative, and Stray Kids' manager, silently flipped through documents.

"Let's get straight to the point," the CEO began, his voice firm and leaving no room for emotion. "(Your Name)'s situation is critical. The leaked audio, the private messages... her image has plummeted. Sponsors are reconsidering contracts, social media is divided, and the hate is affecting the sales of the latest single. We need a strong, immediate, and effective action."

One of the marketing directors cleared his throat and projected a graph on the screen filled with red numbers.

"The numbers don't lie. Minus 47% positive mentions in the last three weeks. The dominant narrative is that (Your Name) is arrogant, mistreats staff, and is ungrateful for her success. The public apology helped a little, but not enough. The public wants to see real change."

You swallowed hard, feeling everyone's eyes on you. Your hands trembled slightly. You wanted to speak, to explain that you were exhausted that day, that the stylist had delayed everything, and that your tone was the result of months of accumulated pressure. But you knew any defense now would sound like an excuse. So you stayed quiet, biting the inside of your cheek.

The CEO continued:

"The solution we've found is a contractual relationship. Six months. Long enough to create a new narrative: an idol who made a mistake but is maturing, in a healthy relationship, and showing another side. And the ideal partner for this is Hyunjin."

Hyunjin, who had kept his gaze down until then, suddenly lifted his head. For the first time since entering the room, he showed a clear reaction.

"Me?" he asked, voice low but full of disbelief.

"Yes," the director confirmed. "You two are close in age, and your artistic concepts complement each other. The ship already exists lightly among some fans because of the dance comparisons. Also, Hyunjin's spotless image will help soften the perception of (Your Name). It's a win-win strategy."

Hyunjin let out a dry, humorless laugh.

"Win-win?" he repeated. "Did you all watch the same audio as the rest of the country? The way she spoke to the stylist... that wasn't just a simple outburst. It sounded like pure arrogance. And the messages? Complaining about being tired of everything, as if the rest of us don't work just as hard. Now you want me to pretend to be her boyfriend?"

His words landed like stones in the silent room. You felt your chest tighten. You lowered your gaze to your hands, blinking quickly to hold back the burning in your eyes. You knew he thought that. Most people did. But hearing it directly hurt differently.

"Hyunjin," his manager interrupted cautiously, "we understand your hesitation. But this benefits Stray Kids too. The group is in an international expansion phase. An indirectly associated scandal could harm schedules. Six months. After that, you end it amicably and each goes your own way."

You finally found the courage to speak, your voice lower than you wanted:

"I... I don't want to force anyone. If Hyunjin isn't comfortable, we can think of another solution."

All eyes turned to you. Hyunjin looked at you for the first time. His gaze was cold, analyzing. As if trying to figure out if you were sincere or just acting for the room.

One director shook his head.

"There is no other viable short-term solution. You two will sign the contract today. Clear rules: shared housing in an apartment prepared by the company, controlled public appearances, posts on social media, joint lives, dates that will be 'leaked' strategically. No unnecessary physical contact when there are no cameras, but enough closeness to make it look real. At the end of six months, an amicable breakup with a joint statement."

Hyunjin ran a hand through his hair, visibly irritated. He leaned forward, elbows on the table.

"And if I refuse?"

The CEO smiled, but it wasn't kind.

"It's not a recommended option, Hyunjin. We all have common goals here. Protecting careers."

The silence that followed was suffocating. You felt the weight of every gaze. The shame burned in your chest. You remembered the leaked audio, the messages taken out of context, the lives you watched while crying as people called you every name possible. And now this. Being forced to fake a relationship with someone who clearly despised you.

Hyunjin glanced at you from the corner of his eye. He saw your tense shoulders, the way you bit your lower lip. For a second, he almost felt pity. Almost. But the sound of your voice in the audio - cold and demanding - came back to his mind.

The meeting continued with the details, but your mind drifted to that fateful day.

---

Flashback

The practice room was chaotic. Sweat dripped down your back as you tried to run the choreography for the hundredth time. The important festival performance was only days away, and everything was going wrong. The stylist had brought the wrong outfits - again. The wrong colors, wrong sizes, completely off concept. The schedule was delayed by nearly two hours.

Your patience, already worn thin from weeks of back-to-back schedules and almost no sleep, finally snapped.

You turned to her, voice sharp and exhausted.

"Oh my god, girl, don't you know how to do your fucking job? We're already behind!"

The stylist looked at you with wide eyes. You continued, unable to stop:

"I try so hard not to be rude to you, but every single day it feels like you work with zero effort! Stop looking at me with that face and just do your job properly. I'm the one who's going to get all the hate if this goes wrong on stage, not you!"

It wasn't screaming. It wasn't a full meltdown. But the cold, tired, cutting tone was enough. The entire team went silent. The stylist's face flushed with embarrassment and anger.

---

Back in the present, you snapped out of the memory when papers were placed in front of you.

The documents were thick - full of clauses, million-dollar fines for breaking the contract, detailed rules about what you could and couldn't do. You both signed in heavy silence. As the pen moved across the paper, you felt like you were signing away a part of yourself.

After the meeting, the managers explained the next steps: moving into the apartment that same week, first "official date" on the weekend, initial subtle posts. As everyone started leaving the room, Hyunjin stood up quickly but stopped beside your chair for a second.

"Just to be clear," he murmured low enough for only you to hear, "I saw the audio. I saw the messages. I don't think you're a good person. We'll do the job, but don't expect me to like you."

You lifted your gaze, meeting his. There was hurt there, yes. But also wounded pride and exhaustion.

"I didn't ask you to like me," you replied, voice shaky but firm. "Let's just... survive these six months."

Hyunjin held your gaze for one more moment, then left the room without another word.

You remained seated for a few more seconds, alone in the now-empty room. Your chest ached. Your hands were still trembling. Six months pretending to love someone who saw you as an arrogant diva. Six months living with him. Six months smiling for cameras while everything inside you was falling apart.

You took a deep breath, wiped away a single escaped tear, and stood up.

The contract had begun.

And nothing would ever be the same again.

────୨ৎ────

The apartment was beautiful. Too beautiful. Located in a high-security building in Gangnam, it had floor-to-ceiling windows, modern minimalist furniture, a huge living room, and a kitchen that looked like it had never been used. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a small terrace with a view of the city lights. The company had prepared everything - even stocked the fridge with healthy meals and placed fresh flowers on the dining table like this was some romantic movie.

But the atmosphere inside felt like a frozen battlefield.

You arrived first with your two suitcases and a manager. The staff helped bring your things inside, then quickly left, saying "Good luck" with an awkward smile. You stood in the middle of the living room, arms wrapped around yourself, feeling completely out of place.

Ten minutes later, the door opened again.

Hyunjin walked in dragging a large suitcase behind him, a black hoodie pulled over his head, earphones in. He didn't even glance at you. He simply scanned the apartment with a neutral expression, then headed straight toward the hallway.

You stayed quiet, not wanting to make things worse. The silence was already loud enough.

After a few minutes, he came back to the living room. You were still standing in the same spot, unsure what to do. He stopped a few meters away, hands in his pockets.

"So... this is it," he said flatly.

"Yeah," you replied softly. "This is it."

Another heavy pause. Neither of you knew how to act. You were two strangers who had been forced into the same cage for the next six months. The air felt thick, uncomfortable.

Hyunjin sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Look... we should set some rules. So this doesn't become hell."

You nodded quickly, relieved he brought it up first.

"Okay. Rules sound good."

He leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed.

"First, bedrooms. You take the one on the left, I'll take the one on the right. We don't enter each other's rooms. Ever."

"Fine," you agreed immediately.

"Second, schedules. We both have crazy timetables. I'll send you my schedule every Sunday night so we can avoid... unnecessary overlapping in the common areas. If one of us is home, the other tries to stay in their room."

You bit your lip but nodded again.

"Third," he continued, voice cold but clear, "don't talk to me unless it's necessary. No small talk. No asking how my day was. We're not friends. This is work. Outside of cameras and public appearances, we're basically roommates who don't exist to each other."

The words stung, but you didn't show it. You expected this.

"Understood," you said quietly. "I won't bother you."

Hyunjin stared at you for a moment, as if trying to read whether you were being sarcastic. When he saw you were serious, he just gave a small nod.

"Good."

And with that, he grabbed his suitcase and disappeared into the right bedroom, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

You let out a long breath you didn't know you were holding and dragged your own bags to the left bedroom. The room was nice - soft lighting, big bed, private bathroom - but it felt cold. You sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the wall.

Six months.

This was going to be harder than you thought.

-----

The first night was painfully awkward.

You stayed in your room most of the time, only leaving once to get water from the kitchen. When you heard Hyunjin's door open, you quickly retreated back to yours like a scared mouse. He did the same. You could hear faint music coming from his room. You kept yours completely silent.

The next morning was even worse.

You woke up early and made yourself a simple breakfast - toast and coffee. While you were eating at the counter, Hyunjin walked out of his room, already dressed for practice. He stopped for half a second when he saw you, then walked straight to the fridge without a word. The silence was suffocating.

You finished eating quickly, washed your plate, and went back to your room. Before closing the door, you muttered a quiet "Have a good practice," but he didn't respond.

It felt like living with a ghost who hated you.

-----

Later that afternoon, while you were lying on your bed scrolling through your phone, your notifications started exploding.

You had followed Hyunjin on Instagram an hour earlier - as instructed by the company. It was supposed to be the first small "hint" for fans. What you didn't expect was for him to follow you back just ten minutes later.

The fandoms lost their minds instantly.

@stay4lifee:WAIT HYUNJIN FOLLOWED HER BACK??? He only follows the members!!!

@luminas_unite:Okay but why did she follow him first and he followed back so fast??? This is suspicious af

@skzupdat3s:New couple alert??? Or is this damage control after her scandal???

@hyyunjinnieverse:My boy would NEVER follow someone randomly... what is happening 😭

The comments were a mix of confusion, excitement, and suspicion. Some STAYs were happy, others were skeptical because of your recent controversy. Your own fans were split between protective and hopeful.

You stared at the screen, heart racing. This was really happening. The fake narrative had officially begun.

A message from your manager popped up:

Manager:Good job. The company is happy with the first move. Keep it natural.

You tossed your phone aside and buried your face in the pillow.

In the other room, Hyunjin was also on his phone, frowning at the rising comments. He had followed you back because the company told him to, but seeing the reaction made his stomach twist. He threw his phone on the bed and muttered to himself:

"This is going to be a long six months..."

---

That evening, the company sent new instructions: you two needed to post something subtle on your stories soon. Nothing too obvious yet - maybe a photo of coffee cups or the city view from the same apartment.

You were the first to do it. You took a picture of the sunset from the living room window (making sure Hyunjin wasn't in frame) and posted it with a simple heart emoji.

Hyunjin saw the notification. He rolled his eyes but knew he had to play along. Twenty minutes later, he posted a similar shot from the terrace - same sunset, same angle.

The internet exploded again.

"THEY'RE IN THE SAME PLACE"

"This can't be a coincidence"

"Hyunjin never posts sunset pics... this is shady"

You were sitting on the couch when his bedroom door opened. Hyunjin walked out, saw you there, and stopped. For a second, it looked like he wanted to say something. Instead, he just grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and headed back to his room.

Before he closed the door, he paused.

"You posted the sunset," he said without turning around.

"Yeah... they told me to."

He nodded once.

"Don't make it too obvious next time."

Then the door clicked shut again.

You hugged your knees to your chest, the heavy silence returning. Two strangers forced to share the same luxury prison. No talking unless necessary. No real contact.

And six months had only just begun.

Outside, the rumors were already spreading like wildfire.

And deep down, both of you knew this was only the beginning of something much more complicated.

────୨ৎ────

The message from the company came at 2 PM sharp.

"First public date scheduled for tonight. 8:00 PM at La Lumière. Private table near the window. Dress nicely but not too formal. Act natural. Photos will leak naturally - we have people on it. This is the first big step. Make it convincing."

You stared at the text for a long time, stomach twisting into knots. Just four days into this fake arrangement and they were already pushing you both into the spotlight. You knew it was coming, but the speed still made your head spin.

Hyunjin received the same instructions. When you passed each other in the hallway of the apartment earlier that afternoon, he didn't say a word about it. He simply glanced at you once, expression unreadable, and continued to his room. The silence between you two had become almost normal now - heavy, awkward, and filled with everything neither of you wanted to say.

You spent the rest of the afternoon getting ready in your room. You chose a soft beige dress that fell elegantly just above the knees, paired with light makeup and loose waves in your hair. You wanted to look put-together, but not like you were trying too hard. The last thing you needed was more comments calling you calculated or fake.

At 7:40 PM, the company van arrived. Hyunjin was already waiting inside, dressed in a black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, silver earrings catching the light, and black trousers. He looked effortlessly handsome, as always. You slid into the seat across from him. He didn't greet you. He simply nodded once and looked out the window.

The ride to the restaurant was dead silent. The only sounds were the low hum of the engine and the occasional vibration of phones. You wanted to say something - anything - to ease the tension, but remembered his rule: Don't talk to me unless necessary.So you stayed quiet, staring at your hands.

When the van stopped in front of La Lumière, a famous fine-dining restaurant known for its romantic ambiance and discreet VIP area, your heart started racing. The hostess greeted you both with a polite smile and led you to a beautifully prepared table near the large window. Soft golden lighting, fresh white roses in a vase, and two glasses of wine already poured.

You sat down. Hyunjin pulled out your chair first - a gentlemanly move that felt completely mechanical. Once seated, the real discomfort began.

For nearly twenty minutes, the conversation was painfully stiff.

"How was your day?" you asked quietly, trying to fill the silence.

"Busy," he replied, eyes fixed on the menu. "Practice ran late."

You nodded. "Mine too. We had vocal lessons until six."

Silence again.

You tried once more. "This place is beautiful. The company really went all out."

Hyunjin hummed in response, not even looking up. "Yeah."

The awkwardness was suffocating. You could feel the weight of it pressing down on both of you. To any outsider, it would be obvious something was wrong. You two looked more like business partners forced to share a meal than a budding couple. Hyunjin's jaw was tight. You kept fidgeting with the edge of your napkin. The distance between you across the table felt like an ocean.

That's when you noticed it.

A man sitting two tables away kept glancing in your direction, phone held a little too casually. Outside the window, someone pretended to take photos of the street but clearly angled the camera toward you. The company had done their job - the eyes were already here.

Hyunjin noticed at the exact same moment. His eyes met yours, sharp and alert. A silent message passed between you: They're watching.

In an instant, the entire dynamic shifted.

Hyunjin's posture changed completely. The cold, distant man disappeared. He leaned forward, a soft, charming smile forming on his lips - the same one millions of fans adored. He reached across the table and gently took your hand, thumb stroking the back of it with surprising tenderness.

"You look really beautiful tonight," he said, voice warm and low, perfectly pitched for the setting. "That dress suits you."

Your cheeks flushed instantly. Even though you knew it was fake, the delivery was flawless. You smiled shyly, playing along.

"Thank you... You look handsome too. I like the shirt."

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and convincing. Then he stood up, walked around the table, and sat in the chair right beside you instead of across. The distance closed. His arm draped casually over the back of your chair, fingers lightly brushing your bare shoulder. The contact sent a small shiver down your spine.

"I've been thinking about you all day," he murmured, leaning closer. "With everything going on... I worry about you working too hard."

You turned your head slightly, meeting his eyes. They were incredibly close now. You could smell his cologne - woody and clean.

"I'm okay," you whispered back, voice softer. "Having you here makes it easier."

The words tasted strange, but you sold them well. Hyunjin's gaze dropped to your lips for a fraction of a second before he leaned in and pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to your cheek. His lips were warm. The touch lingered just long enough to look intimate, but not scandalous. You felt your heart skip.

He stayed close after that, whispering small compliments and laughing at things you said like they were the funniest jokes in the world. You shared a plate of pasta, feeding each other small bites for the cameras. His hand never left yours. Every movement was calculated but looked completely natural.

For the next hour, you two put on the performance of a lifetime.

By the time you left the restaurant, hand in hand, the plan had worked perfectly. Phones had been discreetly snapping photos the entire time. The "leak" was already spreading like wildfire across social media even before you reached the van.

---

Back at the apartment, the act dropped the second the door closed.

Hyunjin immediately released your hand like it burned him. He kicked off his shoes and headed straight for the kitchen without a word, grabbing a bottle of water. You stood in the entrance, still feeling the ghost of his kiss on your cheek and the warmth of his hand on your waist.

The silence returned, heavier than before.

You finally spoke, voice quiet.

"...Thank you for tonight. You were really convincing."

Hyunjin paused, back still turned to you. He took a long sip of water before answering.

"It's my job now, isn't it?" His tone was cold again, the warmth from the restaurant completely gone. "Don't get used to it."

You nodded, even though he couldn't see you. "I won't."

He started walking toward his bedroom, but stopped in the hallway for a second.

"The photos will be everywhere by morning," he said without turning around. "Get ready for it."

Then his door clicked shut.

You stood there alone for a long time, fingers lightly touching the spot on your cheek where his lips had been. Your heart was still racing. The worst part wasn't the fake smiles or the forced touches.

It was how dangerously real some of those moments had felt.

And how terrified you were that, over the next six months, the line between acting and reality might start to blur.

Outside, the internet was already exploding with the new photos. The narrative was shifting.

But inside the apartment, the cold silence remained.

----------

The storm hit the very next morning.

Your phone started vibrating nonstop at 6:47 AM. Notifications flooded in - Instagram, Twitter, TikTok, news alerts, group chats with your team. You groaned, burying your face deeper into the pillow for a few seconds before finally grabbing the device.

The photos were everywhere.

Blurred but intimate shots from the restaurant: Hyunjin kissing your cheek, his hand gently holding yours across the table, the two of you sitting side by side with soft smiles, sharing food, looking at each other like the rest of the world didn't exist. The headlines were dramatic but effective:

"HYUNJIN AND [YOUR NAME] SPOTTED ON INTIMATE DATE AMID RECENT SCANDAL"

"From Controversy to Romance? Stray Kids' Hyunjin Seen Getting Close with Solo Idol"

"New Power Couple? Fans React to Viral Photos"

You sat up in bed, scrolling through the comments with wide eyes. The reactions were mixed, but the shift was undeniable.

@st4y4ever:Wait... they look kinda cute together? Hyunjin looks happy

@luminas_shine:Finally some good news after all that hate. She deserves this

@kpoptea_daily:This is so obviously PR but I'm still eating it up

@hyunjinbiaseed:My boy would never date someone who mistreats staff... these photos feel staged

@yournameupdates: Her smile looks genuine. Maybe she's not as bad as the audio made her seem?

For the first time since the audio leak and the private messages went viral, the comments weren't purely hateful. Some were still suspicious, calling it a desperate marketing move by the company. Others were already shipping you two hard. The hate hadn't disappeared, but it was quieter. The narrative was slowly, carefully, beginning to change.

A message from your manager popped up:

Manager:Great job last night. The company is very satisfied with the early results. Trending topics are positive. Keep it up.

You locked your phone and sighed, running a hand through your messy hair. Part of you felt relieved. The other part felt sick. None of it was real.

You got out of bed and quietly made your way to the kitchen, hoping Hyunjin was still asleep. No such luck.

He was already there, leaning against the counter drinking coffee, phone in hand. He was dressed in a simple black t-shirt and sweatpants, hair still slightly damp from a shower. He looked up when you entered but didn't say anything.

You moved around him carefully, grabbing a glass for water.

"Did you see?" you asked softly.

"Yeah," he replied, voice flat. "It's working. For now."

You nodded, unsure what else to say. The silence stretched again, heavy and familiar. You wanted to talk about how strange it felt seeing those photos, how convincing he had been last night, how his kiss on your cheek kept replaying in your head. But you remembered his rules. Don't talk unless necessary.

So you stayed quiet.

Hyunjin finished his coffee and placed the mug in the sink.

"The company wants more appearances soon," he said without looking at you. "Lives. Maybe another date. Don't get too comfortable with any of this."

"I won't," you answered quickly.

He paused for a second, like he wanted to say more, but then simply walked back to his room and closed the door.

You stood alone in the kitchen, gripping the edge of the counter. The warmth from last night's fake affection was still lingering in your chest, and it scared you.

---

Throughout the day, the buzz only grew stronger.

Your Instagram followers increased by thousands. Fan edits of the two of you started appearing - slow-motion clips of the kiss on the cheek, side-by-side photos comparing your aesthetics. Some STAYs were still wary because of the scandal, but many were warming up. Your own fandom was split between protective anger at the company and hopeful excitement that you might be happy.

But inside the luxurious apartment, nothing had changed.

You spent most of the day in your room, working on new music and answering emails. Hyunjin stayed in his. You only saw him once in the afternoon when he came out to make a protein shake. He moved around the kitchen like you weren't even there.

At one point, you worked up the courage to speak.

"Hyunjin... do you want to rehearse what we might say if we have to do a live together soon?"

He looked at you with a cold expression.

"No need. I'll act when I have to. You do the same."

The words stung more than you expected. You nodded and retreated back to your room, closing the door softly.

Alone, you lay on your bed staring at the ceiling. Your mind kept drifting back to the restaurant. The way he had leaned in so naturally. The warmth of his hand. The soft press of his lips on your cheek. The low tone of his voice when he called you beautiful.

They were all fake. You knew that. But your stupid heart didn't seem to get the message.

Stop it,you told yourself. This is exactly what you can't do.

---

Later that evening, the company sent new instructions: they wanted you two to do a casual Instagram story interaction within the next few days. Something simple - maybe commenting on each other's posts or posting a photo with a vague caption.

You were the one who posted first. A simple photo of a book and a cup of tea with the caption "Quiet nights healing ♡". It was innocent enough.

Hyunjin liked it within minutes.

Then, surprisingly, he posted a story of his own - a photo of the city view from the terrace with the caption "Peaceful evenings." The angle was suspiciously similar to yours.

The fandoms noticed immediately.

"They're definitely in the same place again"

"This is too coordinated"

"Hyunjin never does soft captions like this..."

You smiled faintly at the reactions, but the smile faded when you heard Hyunjin's door open. He walked into the living room, saw you on the couch with your phone, and stopped.

"You posted," he said.

"Yeah. They told me to."

He nodded once. "Good."

For a moment, he looked like he might sit down or say something else. Instead, he grabbed a water bottle and headed back toward his room.

"Hyunjin?" you called out before you could stop yourself.

He paused.

"Do you... hate doing this that much?" you asked quietly.

He turned slightly, eyes cold but honest.

"I don't hate you," he said. "I just don't trust you. There's a difference."

Then he disappeared into his room again.

You pulled your knees up to your chest on the couch, heart aching with confusing emotions. The company was happy. The public was slowly shifting. But you?

You were the only one starting to get lost in a story that wasn't even real.

And the scariest part was that you had no idea how to stop it.

────୨ৎ────

The company was pleased with the results so far.

The leaked date photos had done their job - the public conversation was slowly shifting from your scandal to the possibility of a new romance. Sponsors were reconsidering. Your streams were up. And the fans, although still divided, were buzzing with curiosity instead of pure hate.

So they decided to push the narrative further, but in a way that felt more "natural."

Hyunjin was instructed to do one of his casual solo lives from the apartment. Nothing too staged. Just him, the fans, and a normal evening. The perfect opportunity to show a soft, boyfriend-like side without forcing anything obvious.

You were in your room when he set up.

Hyunjin placed his phone on a small tripod in the living room, adjusted the lighting, and sat on the large sofa. He was wearing a loose gray hoodie and black shorts, hair slightly messy in that effortlessly attractive way. He started the live at 9:15 PM.

"Hey everyone," he greeted with his usual charming smile, waving at the camera. "It's been a while since I did a random live like this. How are you guys tonight?"

The comments flooded in immediately. Hearts, greetings, and questions poured across the screen. Hyunjin read some aloud, laughing softly at the funny ones, answering others with care. He talked about recent practices, a new painting he was working on, and how tired but happy he felt.

Everything was going smoothly.

Until it wasn't.

You had gotten thirsty after hours locked in your room working on lyrics. You didn't think he was doing a live - you assumed he was just on his phone. So you walked out of your bedroom in an oversized t-shirt and shorts, hair up in a messy bun, heading toward the kitchen.

For a brief second, you appeared in the background of the frame - just a quick blur of movement. You opened the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water, and closed it again.

Then you spoke, voice soft and low, not realizing the live was on.

"Hyunjin, did you eat dinner already? There's still some chicken in the fridge if you want..."

The words were quiet, but the microphone caught them.

The comments exploded instantly.

"WAIT WHO WAS THAT?!"

"DID SOMEONE JUST WALK BY???"

"WAS THAT HER VOICE?!?!"

"HYUNJIN IS NOT ALONE IN THE APARTMENT OMG"

Hyunjin froze for a split second. His eyes widened slightly before he quickly regained control, but the brief slip was enough. He laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Ah... ignore that," he said, trying to play it off. "Just the TV. You guys know I leave it on sometimes."

But it was too late. The fans had already seen. And worse - they had heard.

A few seconds later, when a comment asked "Who's there with you?", Hyunjin leaned forward slightly, still smiling, but his ears were turning red.

He answered without thinking, tone softer than usual:

"Don't worry about it, angel. Everything's fine."

The word slipped out so naturally - angel - in that gentle, low voice he rarely used with you in private. It wasn't loud enough for everyone to catch clearly, but sharp-eyed fans paused the live, zoomed in, and read his lips.

The chat went absolutely feral.

"HE SAID ANGEL I'M SCREAMING"

"SINCE WHEN DOES HYUNJIN CALL SOMEONE ANGEL???"

"THIS IS NOT PR ANYMORE, THIS IS REAL"

"He looked so soft oh my god"

Hyunjin realized his mistake almost immediately. He straightened up, cleared his throat, and tried to change the subject.

"Anyway, someone asked about the new comeback choreography..." he continued, forcing his usual bright tone. But the damage was done. His cheeks stayed slightly flushed for the rest of the live. He ended it ten minutes earlier than planned, saying he was tired.

The second the live ended, he dropped his head into his hands.

"Shit..."

---

You had gone back to your room right after grabbing water, completely unaware of what had just happened. You were sitting on your bed with headphones on when you heard a knock on your door.

Hyunjin stood there, looking frustrated.

"You walked by during the live," he said bluntly.

Your eyes widened. "What? I didn't know you were live! I'm sorry, I-"

"And you spoke," he added. "They heard your voice. And I..." He paused, jaw tight. "I slipped up."

You stared at him, heart beating faster.

"What did you say?"

He looked away, clearly annoyed with himself.

"Doesn't matter. It's already spreading."

The silence that followed was heavy. You wanted to apologize again, but something in his expression stopped you. He looked conflicted - angry at the situation, but maybe also at himself.

"I'll be more careful next time," you said quietly.

Hyunjin nodded once and turned to leave. Before he closed the door, he paused.

"...Don't overthink it. It was just acting."

But as he walked back to his room, you couldn't stop replaying his voice in your head. The soft tone. The word angel. The way his expression had changed for a split second.

You sat on your bed, hugging your knees.

For him, it was probably just a mistake. A slip caused by the pressure of the live.

For you... it was another crack in the wall you were desperately trying to keep up.

The company sent a message ten minutes later saying they were extremely happy with the "accidental" moment. The clips were going viral. The romance narrative was growing stronger by the hour.

You turned off your phone and lay down, staring at the ceiling.

This was all supposed to be fake.

────୨ৎ────

One month.

Thirty days since the contract began. Thirty days of shared silences, forced smiles, and carefully staged moments. What started as damage control had become one of the biggest topics in the K-pop industry.

The public no longer talked about the leaked audio or your “arrogant” messages. Instead, they talked about you and Hyunjin.

Photos of you two “accidentally” in the same café. Stories with suspiciously similar backgrounds. Lives where a second voice was faintly heard. Small puzzle pieces that fans collected obsessively. The company couldn’t have planned it better.

To keep the momentum going, they escalated.

Matching rings — discreet silver bands with a small engraved line on the inside — were delivered to the apartment. “Wear them naturally,” the message said. “Let the fans notice.” You slipped yours on every time you left the apartment. Hyunjin did the same, though he never commented on it.

The biggest step yet came on a quiet Thursday night.

A joint live.

For the first time, you would appear together officially on camera.

---

The setup was simple but intimate: the living room couch, soft lighting, a few snacks on the coffee table. You sat beside Hyunjin, closer than strangers but not quite as close as lovers. He wore a black hoodie. You chose a cream sweater. Both of you wore the matching rings.

Hyunjin started the live with his usual easy charm.

“Hey STAYs… and everyone else watching,” he said, waving at the camera. “We thought it was time to do a live together. A lot of things have been going around lately.”

You smiled shyly, waving as well. “Hi everyone. Thank you for joining us.”

The comments exploded immediately.

“THEY’RE TOGETHER!!”

“MATCHING RINGS I’M CRYING”

“FINALLY OMG”

At first, the atmosphere was careful. Almost scripted. You answered questions about favorite foods, how you first met properly, and what it was like working in the industry. Hyunjin was polite, charming, and distant in the way only he could be.

But as the live continued, something shifted.

A comment asked: “How do you take care of each other?”

Hyunjin glanced at you. For a second, his expression softened.

“She works really hard,” he said, voice gentler than usual. “Sometimes I have to remind her to eat.” He reached over and lightly adjusted a strand of hair that had fallen over your face — a small, natural gesture that made the chat lose its mind.

You felt your cheeks heat up. You laughed softly and replied, “He pretends he doesn’t care, but he always leaves water and snacks for me when I have late schedules.”

Your hand brushed against his on the couch. Neither of you pulled away.

The tension in the apartment — the cold distance you had both maintained for a month — seemed to melt under the lights of the camera. Small touches lingered. Eye contact lasted longer than necessary. When you laughed at something he said, Hyunjin watched you with an expression that didn’t feel completely fake.

One fan commented: “Hyunjin looks at her so softly…”

He read it aloud and, instead of denying it, just smiled and said, “She makes it easy.”

Your heart stumbled.

For you, the live was becoming dangerous.

Every soft look, every casual touch, every time his voice dropped when he spoke directly to you — it all felt too real. You kept remembering the restaurant date. The accidental “angel” during his solo live. The way he had started leaving small notes or snacks for you even when the cameras weren’t watching.

You were falling. Slowly. Quietly. And you hated yourself for it.

---

For Hyunjin, things were more complicated than he wanted to admit.

Over the past month, he had watched you more than he should. He saw how you thanked every staff member sincerely when no cameras were around. How you cried silently in your room after particularly harsh hate comments. How you pushed yourself harder than anyone else, even when exhausted.

He still didn’t fully trust you. The leaked audio still played in his head sometimes.

But the version of you he had built in his mind — the arrogant, cold diva — was cracking.

During the live, when a fan asked about your first impression of each other, Hyunjin hesitated for half a second too long.

“She surprised me,” he answered honestly. “In a good way.”

You looked at him, surprised. He met your eyes and, for a moment, the scripted answers disappeared. The look he gave you was real.

The live ended after ninety minutes with both of you waving goodbye, shoulders touching.

The second the camera turned off, Hyunjin leaned back on the couch and let out a long breath. You stayed seated, heart still racing.

“That went well,” you said quietly.

“Yeah.” He didn’t look at you.

The silence returned, but it felt different now. Heavier. Full of things unsaid.

Hyunjin stood up first.

“I’m going to my room,” he said. But before he left, he paused. “You did good tonight.”

It was the closest thing to a compliment he had ever given you.

You stayed on the couch long after he disappeared, staring at the black screen of the phone. The fans were already making clips — zooming in on every touch, every glance, every soft smile.

The world was believing the lie more and more.

And you?

You were starting to wish it wasn’t a lie at all.

────୨ৎ────

Two weeks after the joint live, the apartment no longer felt like a battlefield.

It still wasn’t warm. But the ice had started to crack.

Hyunjin’s changes were subtle — so subtle that at first you thought you were imagining them. He was still reserved, still kept his distance, but the sharp coldness from the beginning had softened into something quieter. Something more confusing.

It started with small things.

One night, you came back from a long rehearsal completely exhausted. You barely had the energy to take off your shoes before collapsing on the couch. Twenty minutes later, a plate of food appeared on the coffee table in front of you — warm rice, grilled chicken, and vegetables. No note. No explanation. When you looked toward his room, the door was already closed.

Another time, you were struggling to reach something on a high shelf in the kitchen. Hyunjin walked by, silently grabbed it for you, and handed it over without a word. His fingers brushed yours for a second longer than necessary.

He answered your questions more gently. When you asked about his schedule, instead of a short “Busy,” he would say, “It’s been heavy, but I’m managing. How about you?”

Nothing dramatic. Nothing that couldn’t be explained as “good acting for the cameras.”

But it was enough to keep you awake at night.

The company, thrilled with the growing buzz, decided to take the next big step.

A major awards show — one of the biggest of the season. You and Hyunjin were both attending, and this would be your first official public appearance as a couple. Red carpet, interviews, sitting together, photos. Everything under the spotlight.

The night of the event, the tension in the apartment was thick.

You wore a stunning black gown with delicate silver details that matched the ring on your finger. Hyunjin looked breathtaking in a tailored black suit, hair styled back, silver earrings shining. When you stepped out of your room, he paused for a moment, eyes scanning you from head to toe.

“You look… nice,” he said quietly.

Just “nice.” But the way he said it felt heavier.

The ride to the venue was quiet, but when you arrived and stepped onto the red carpet, the act began.

Hyunjin placed his hand on your lower back as you walked. The touch was firm, warm, and steady. Cameras flashed endlessly. Journalists shouted questions.

“Hyunjin! Are you two really dating?”

He smiled — that dazzling, charming smile — and pulled you closer to his side.

“We’re taking things one day at a time,” he answered smoothly. Then he looked at you, eyes softer than they should have been. “But I’m lucky to have her by my side.”

Your heart skipped.

During the interviews, he never let go of your hand. When a reporter asked about your recent scandal, Hyunjin stepped in naturally.

“She’s one of the hardest working people I know,” he said, voice sincere. “The way she pushes herself… it inspires me every day.”

The compliments didn’t sound like lines. They sounded real.

You squeezed his hand, playing your part, but inside you were spiraling. Every touch, every look, every soft word was making the line between fake and real blur dangerously.

---

Hyunjin’s POV

He didn’t know when it started.

Maybe it was during the late nights when he heard you crying quietly in your room after reading hate comments. Or when he saw you thanking the tired staff members with genuine warmth after long schedules. Or how you never complained, even when you were clearly exhausted.

The image he had built of you — arrogant, cold, someone who mistreated others — no longer fit perfectly.

He still didn’t trust you completely. The leaked audio still echoed in his mind sometimes. But now, when he looked at you, he saw someone carrying too much pressure, trying her best, and slowly breaking under it.

Tonight, on the red carpet, he told himself it was all acting. The hand on your back. The soft looks. The compliments. It was all for the cameras.

But when he said you inspired him, part of him meant it.

And that terrified him.

So he hid it. Behind the role. Behind the “contract.” Behind the excuse that this was all just work.

Back at the apartment after the awards, the masks came off.

You kicked off your heels with a sigh of relief. Hyunjin loosened his tie, watching you from across the room.

“You did well tonight,” he said.

There it was again — that softer tone.

You turned to him, unable to hold it in anymore.

“Hyunjin… why are you being like this?”

He frowned. “Like what?”

“Like…” You gestured vaguely. “This. The touches. The compliments. The way you look at me sometimes. Is it all still acting? Because it doesn’t feel like it anymore.”

He stayed quiet for a long moment, jaw tight.

“It has to be acting,” he finally answered, voice low. “That’s what we agreed on.”

You nodded, but your chest ached.

“Right. Of course.”

You turned to go to your room, but his voice stopped you.

“…You looked beautiful tonight.”

You froze in the hallway.

This time, he didn’t add “for the cameras.” He didn’t justify it. He just said it.

And when you looked back, Hyunjin was already walking to his own room, shoulders tense, like he had said too much.

You closed your door and leaned against it, heart racing.

The public believed the love story more than ever.

But inside these walls, the lines had stopped being clear a long time ago.

And for the first time, it wasn’t just you who was getting lost.

Hyunjin was starting to lose his way too.

────୨ৎ────

The message arrived at 7:12 AM like a bomb.

It was a private group chat used only by high-level staff. Someone — no one knew who yet — had leaked internal documents. Screenshots of the original contract. Emails discussing “narrative control.” Payment details. Timelines. Everything.

Within minutes, the documents were everywhere.

“CONTRACT LOVE EXPOSED: [Your Name] and Hyunjin’s Relationship is FAKE”

The internet exploded.

Clips from your dates, lives, and red carpet appearances were replayed with new eyes. Fans who had defended the relationship felt betrayed. Others who had been suspicious from the beginning celebrated. Hashtags like #FakeCouple and #ContractLove trended worldwide.

The company reacted fast. By 9 AM, an official statement was released:

“We deny the rumors. Hyunjin and [Your Name] are in a genuine relationship. The leaked documents are fabricated and taken out of context. Legal action will be taken against those responsible.”

But the damage was done. The doubt had already spread like wildfire.

---

Inside the apartment, the atmosphere was suffocating.

You and Hyunjin sat on opposite ends of the couch, phones in hand, watching the chaos unfold in real time. Neither of you had spoken for almost twenty minutes.

Hyunjin was the first to break the silence, voice low and tense.

“They’re saying there’s no real proof we’ve ever been intimate. No real kisses. No proper couple moments outside the staged ones.” He laughed bitterly. “They’re not wrong.”

You swallowed hard, eyes still glued to the screen.

“What do we do now?”

“The company wants us to post something together today. Something that looks more… real.” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “They’re desperate.”

You nodded slowly. The pressure felt heavier than ever. The line you had both been walking was now razor-thin, and the leak had made everything ten times more unstable.

Throughout the day, the distance between you two became strange — closer in some ways, but more fragile in others.

Hyunjin started hovering more. He sat closer on the couch while you planned what to post. When you got anxious reading the hateful comments, he silently pushed a glass of water toward you without comment. Small things. Almost protective.

But the tension was also worse.

Every look lasted too long. Every accidental touch felt electric. The air between you crackled with everything unsaid — the fake kisses, the real feelings, the fear that this could all collapse at any moment.

In the evening, you finally posted together.

A simple photo: his hand holding yours, rings visible, with the caption “Through everything, we choose each other 💕”. It was carefully crafted, but after the leak, it felt hollow even to you.

Hyunjin posted the same photo on his account with the caption “Always.”

The comments were chaotic. Some believed it. Many didn’t.

That night, neither of you went to your rooms early.

You stayed in the living room, lights dim. Hyunjin sat on the floor leaning against the couch. You were curled up on the sofa. The silence wasn’t cold anymore — it was heavy with confusion.

“Can I ask you something?” you said quietly.

He looked up.

“Do you regret agreeing to this?”

Hyunjin stared at the floor for a long time before answering.

“At the beginning… yes. Now?” He shrugged. “I don’t know anymore.”

You turned to face him fully.

“Sometimes I forget it’s fake,” you confessed, voice barely above a whisper. “When you touch my hand or look at me during lives… it doesn’t feel fake.”

He didn’t answer right away. His jaw tightened, and for a moment you thought he would shut down like before. Instead, he spoke softly.

“I know.”

The admission hung in the air between you.

Hyunjin stood up slowly and moved to sit on the other end of the couch. Closer than usual, but still careful. He looked at you — really looked — and for the first time, the walls seemed thinner.

“The company wants us to do more,” he said. “Bigger gestures. Maybe even… a kiss for the cameras soon.”

Your heart raced.

“And what do you want?” you asked.

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he reached out and gently took your hand, thumb tracing the matching ring on your finger. The touch was warm. Real.

“I don’t know anymore,” he whispered.

The leak had broken something open.

The public was doubting the relationship.

But inside these walls, the real problem was the opposite:

You were both starting to doubt that it was fake at all.

────୨ৎ────

The company never stopped pulling the strings.

Even after the leak, they adapted quickly. New “accidental” moments were strategically planted: a blurry photo of Hyunjin leaving the same building as you, a story where your voices overlapped in the background, a paparazzi shot of you two getting coffee early in the morning. Everything looked spontaneous. Everything kept the fire alive.

The public was hooked. Some believed it was real. Others called it damage control. But the interest never died down.

To push the narrative even further, the company planned something softer.

A private — but not really private — date by the Han River.

---

It was a cool evening. The company had arranged a semi-secluded spot with beautiful city lights reflecting on the water. A picnic blanket, some snacks, and “discreet” security nearby. They wanted natural photos. Romantic ones. The kind fans would screenshot and analyze for days.

You arrived first, wearing a simple oversized sweater, jeans, and a coat. Hyunjin showed up ten minutes later in a black coat and scarf, looking effortlessly handsome as always.

At first, the awkwardness lingered. You sat on the blanket, the Han River flowing quietly beside you, the Seoul skyline glowing in the distance.

But something was different tonight.

Maybe it was the lack of immediate cameras in your faces. Maybe it was the gentle breeze and the sound of water. Or maybe it was the fact that both of you were slowly getting tired of pretending.

The conversation started slow, but it flowed.

“You’ve been sleeping better?” Hyunjin asked, voice softer than usual.

You looked at him, surprised by the question.

“A little. The new song is almost ready, so I’ve been less stressed.”

He nodded, picking at a piece of fruit. “I saw you practicing yesterday. You’re really good. The emotion you put in… it’s rare.”

The compliment felt genuine. You smiled shyly.

“Thank you. I’ve seen some of your new choreography too. You always make it look easy.”

He chuckled, a real one this time. “It’s not. But I like when it looks that way.”

As the minutes passed, the tension between you two began to melt. You talked about small things — favorite late-night snacks, embarrassing moments on stage, dreams you had before debut. Hyunjin listened more than he spoke, but when he did, his voice was calm and attentive.

At one point, he leaned back on his hands, looking at the river.

“This doesn’t feel so bad,” he murmured.

You turned to him. “What doesn’t?”

“Being here. With you.”

Your heart skipped. The city lights reflected in his eyes, and for a moment, the contract, the company, the rumors — everything faded.

You moved a little closer. He didn’t pull away.

The air grew thicker. Warmer. His gaze dropped to your lips for a second before returning to your eyes. Slowly, almost hesitantly, Hyunjin lifted his hand and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered on your cheek.

Neither of you spoke.

Then, gently, he leaned in.

The kiss was soft. Calm. Unexpectedly real.

His lips moved against yours with no rush, no performance. One of his hands cupped your face while the other rested on your waist, pulling you closer. You kissed him back, fingers gripping the front of his coat. It wasn’t passionate or dramatic. It was quiet. Honest. The kind of kiss that happened when two people stopped thinking about who was watching.

When you pulled apart, foreheads still touching, Hyunjin’s eyes were darker than before.

“…That wasn’t for the cameras,” he whispered.

You smiled faintly, breathless.

“I know.”

You stayed like that for a while — sitting close, shoulders touching, watching the river flow. His arm eventually wrapped around you. You leaned into him. For the first time in months, the silence between you felt comfortable.

But nothing in this relationship stayed private for long.

The next morning, photos from the river date were already circulating. Someone had taken them from a distance. The company denied leaking them, but everyone knew how these things worked.

The kiss wasn’t fully visible in the photos.

But the closeness was.

And the public went wild once again.

---

Back in the apartment the following day, the atmosphere had changed.

Hyunjin was quieter, more thoughtful. You caught him staring at you more than once. When you made coffee in the morning, he accepted the cup with a small “thank you” and a lingering look.

Neither of you talked about the kiss.

But you both felt it.

The line between acting and reality wasn’t just blurred anymore.

It was disappearing.

And neither of you knew what would happen when it finally vanished completely.

────୨ৎ────

The apartment was silent when you returned from the Han River.

You closed the door behind you quietly, heart still racing from the kiss. Your lips tingled. Your skin remembered exactly where Hyunjin’s hands had been — one on your waist, the other gently cupping your face. The way he had pulled you closer. The softness of his mouth. The quiet sound he made when you kissed him back.

You leaned against the door for a moment, eyes closed, trying to steady your breathing.

It was just for the moment, you told yourself. It didn’t mean anything.

But you knew you were lying.

You went straight to your room, closing the door and leaning against it. The memory wouldn’t leave you alone. The way the city lights had reflected in his eyes right before he leaned in. The warmth of his breath. The way his thumb had brushed your cheek so tenderly.

You changed into an oversized t-shirt and crawled into bed, but sleep refused to come.

Your mind kept replaying the kiss on loop.

The way he had whispered “That wasn’t for the cameras.”

The way your body had reacted — melting into him, wanting more.

Your hand slowly slid down your stomach, slipping under the hem of your shirt. You bit your lip, hesitant for a second, but the ache between your legs was becoming impossible to ignore.

You closed your eyes and let the memory take over.

You imagined Hyunjin’s hands again — this time sliding under your sweater, warm palms against your bare skin. You remembered how strong he felt when he pulled you closer by the river. Your fingers dipped lower, brushing over your panties. You were already wet.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you pressed two fingers against your clit, rubbing slow circles.

In your mind, it was Hyunjin touching you.

You pictured him pushing you gently against the railing by the river, kissing you deeper, hungrier. His tongue sliding against yours. His hand slipping under your clothes, fingers teasing you exactly where you needed it.

You moaned quietly, legs spreading a little wider under the sheets.

“Hyunjin…” you whispered to yourself, voice barely audible.

Your fingers moved faster, pressing harder. You imagined him whispering your name against your neck, voice low and rough the way it got when he was emotional. You imagined him kissing down your throat, sucking gently on your skin while his fingers pushed inside you.

The pleasure built quickly. Your free hand gripped the sheets as your hips started rolling against your hand. You were soaked now, the sound of your fingers moving wet and obscene in the quiet room.

You thought about the way he looked at you after the kiss — dark eyes, slightly parted lips, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t. You imagined him pinning you against the wall in this very apartment, kissing you like he meant it, grinding against you, telling you he couldn’t pretend anymore.

“Fuck…” you gasped, back arching off the bed.

Your fingers moved faster, chasing the high. The memory of his soft “That wasn’t for the cameras” pushed you over the edge.

You came hard, thighs trembling, biting down on your lip to stay quiet as waves of pleasure crashed through you. His name slipped from your mouth again in a broken whisper.

When it was over, you lay there breathing heavily, staring at the ceiling.

Reality came back slowly.

You had just touched yourself thinking about Hwang Hyunjin — the same man who had once called you arrogant. The same man who was only supposed to be pretending.

And the worst part?

You wanted the real thing.

---

In the room across the hall, Hyunjin couldn’t sleep either.

He lay on his back, one arm behind his head, staring at the ceiling. The kiss by the river kept replaying in his mind too.

He remembered how soft your lips were. How perfectly you had fit against him. How you had kissed him back without hesitation.

He turned on his side, frustrated.

It was just acting,he told himself.

But even he didn’t believe it anymore.

He had been avoiding direct contact with you since you got back. He stayed in his room more. Spoke less. But his mind wouldn’t stop. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw you looking up at him by the river, cheeks flushed, eyes wide and honest.

He groaned quietly and ran a hand down his face.

This was getting dangerous.

The contract was supposed to be simple. Six months. Fake it until the end. But the lines had blurred so much he couldn’t even see them anymore.

He wondered if you were thinking about the kiss too.

He had no idea you were touching yourself in the other room, moaning his name under your breath.

The emotional connection between you two was growing stronger every day, even as the physical distance remained. Small gestures. Long looks. Shared silences that felt heavier with meaning.

Neither of you was ready to admit it.

But the kiss by the river had changed something irreversible.

And now, lying awake in separate rooms, both of you were feeling the weight of it.

The contract was still there.

But the feelings?

They were becoming very, very real.

────୨ৎ────

Hwang Hyunjin couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss.

It had been three days since that night by the Han River, and the memory refused to fade. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw it again: the soft glow of the city lights on your face, the way you looked up at him right before he leaned in, the quiet sound you made when his lips touched yours.

He was sitting on the floor of his bedroom, back against the bed, sketchbook open on his lap but untouched. The pencil in his hand had been still for almost twenty minutes.

It was just acting, he repeated to himself for the hundredth time.We were supposed to make it believable. That’s all.

But the more he tried to convince himself, the more the lie fell apart.

He remembered how you hadn’t pulled away. How you had kissed him back. How, for a few seconds, the entire world had disappeared and it was just the two of you by the river — no cameras, no contract, no expectations.

Hyunjin ran a hand through his hair, frustrated.

He had created a very clear image of you in his head from the beginning. The arrogant idol who spoke coldly to staff. The one who complained in private messages. The “problematic” girl the company forced him to date for image repair.

That image was crumbling.

Lately, he noticed things he didn’t want to notice.

The way you thanked every staff member sincerely, even when exhausted. How you practiced until your body couldn’t take it anymore. The quiet way you handled hate comments without complaining to anyone. The small smiles you gave when you thought no one was looking.

He stood up and paced around his room.

This is dangerous.

The contract was clear. Six months. Fake it. End it cleanly. Falling for you — or even starting to care — was the fastest way to complicate everything. For his career. For the group. For you.

Still, he found himself doing things he couldn’t explain.

That morning, when he heard you coughing in your room, he left a warm bottle of honey tea in front of your door without a word. Yesterday, when you came home late from practice, he had ordered your favorite late-night soup and left it in the fridge with a note that simply said “eat.”

He told himself it was just maintaining the act.

But deep down, he knew it wasn’t.

---

Later that evening, you crossed paths in the kitchen.

You were making ramyeon, hair up in a messy bun, wearing one of your big t-shirts. Hyunjin walked in to grab water and stopped for a second when he saw you.

The memory of the kiss hit him again.

You looked up and gave him a small, tired smile.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he replied, voice quieter than usual.

The air felt thick. You both moved carefully around each other, hyper-aware of the space between your bodies. When your arm brushed his while reaching for something, he froze for half a second.

You noticed.

“Hyunjin… is everything okay?” you asked softly.

He looked at you. Really looked. His eyes traced your face — the slight shadows under your eyes from lack of sleep, the way you bit your lip when nervous.

“Yeah,” he lied. “Just tired.”

He wanted to say more. He wanted to ask if you had been thinking about the kiss too. He wanted to tell you that he couldn’t stop remembering how soft you felt against him.

Instead, he grabbed his water and left the kitchen without another word.

---

Alone in his room again, Hyunjin sat on the edge of his bed and buried his face in his hands.

He was scared.

Not of the scandal. Not of the company. Not even of the fans.

He was scared because for the first time in a long time, he was feeling something real — and it was for the person he had sworn to keep at a distance.

He remembered how you looked at him by the river. How your fingers had gripped his coat. How you hadn’t hesitated.

“Fuck,” he whispered to the empty room.

He stood up and went to the window, looking out at the city lights. The same lights that had witnessed your kiss.

He knew he should pull back. Create more distance. Protect both of you from whatever this was becoming.

But another part of him — a bigger part than he wanted to admit — wanted to get closer.

He thought about the way you smiled when you thought no one was watching. The way you worked so hard even when the world was against you. The quiet strength you carried every single day.

The old image he had of you was gone.

And in its place was something much more dangerous:

You.

Just you.

Hyunjin leaned his forehead against the cool glass of the window and closed his eyes.

He didn’t know what he was going to do.

But he knew one thing for certain:

The contract was no longer the hardest thing he had to deal with.

You were.

And he was starting to fall.

────୨ৎ────

The days after the kiss by the Han River felt like walking on thin ice.

Everything looked the same on the outside — the shared apartment, the matching rings, the occasional “couple” posts required by the company. But inside, the air had changed. It was heavier. More fragile. Like one wrong word could make everything crack.

Hyunjin started pulling away.

It wasn’t sudden or dramatic. It was slow, calculated, almost invisible. He went back to being polite but distant. Short answers. Avoiding eye contact for too long. Spending more time in his room with the door closed. When you were in the same space, he moved around you like you were made of glass — careful, but never close.

You felt every inch of the growing distance.

The warmth that had started to appear after the river kiss was disappearing. The small gestures — leaving snacks, asking if you had eaten, the lingering looks — became rare. He was trying to regain control, and you could see the struggle in his eyes every time he looked at you for a second too long before turning away.

One afternoon, the company scheduled another “casual” public appearance: a short café date in a private room for photos. You sat across from each other, smiling for the cameras that weren’t even in the room but would definitely see the leaked pictures later.

Hyunjin played his part well. He held your hand across the table. He smiled when the waiter came by. He even tucked a strand of hair behind your ear like he had done by the river.

But the moment the staff left, he let go of your hand like it burned him.

The silence on the way back to the apartment was painful.

You finally spoke when you were inside, voice quiet.

“Hyunjin… did I do something wrong?”

He stopped in the hallway, back still turned to you.

“No,” he answered after a pause. “You didn’t.”

“Then why does it feel like you’re running away?”

He didn’t answer. He just went into his room and closed the door softly.

You stood there for a long time, chest aching. The kiss that had felt so real now felt like a dream you were being punished for believing in.

---

Hyunjin was fighting a war inside his own head.

Every time he closed his eyes, he remembered the way you had kissed him back. The way your fingers had gripped his coat. The way you had looked at him afterward — soft, surprised, and honest.

He hated how much he wanted to do it again.

So he distanced himself. He told himself it was the smart thing to do. The safe thing. Getting emotionally involved would only destroy both of you when the contract ended. The company would never allow it. The fans might turn against you. His members could get dragged into the mess.

But the more he pulled away, the more he noticed you.

The way you tried to act normal even when hurt. The quiet way you moved around the apartment so you wouldn’t bother him. The tired smiles you gave during forced public appearances.

He was confused. Angry at himself. Scared.

Because no matter how hard he tried to put you back in the old box — the “arrogant idol” box — you no longer fit.

---

The company, completely unaware of the internal chaos, kept pushing.

They scheduled more appearances: a shopping “date” where you were photographed leaving a store together, a joint Instagram live where you answered fan questions while sitting close on the couch, and even a planned “surprise” visit to one of his rehearsals.

During the live, Hyunjin was perfect on camera — smiling, playful, calling you “angel” again for the fans. But the second the camera turned off, he stood up and went to the kitchen without a word.

You stayed on the couch, staring at your hands.

Later that night, you found a small note on the kitchen counter.

“There’s soup in the fridge. Heat it up before eating.”

No signature. No explanation.

Just another silent gesture that made your heart hurt even more.

You wanted to talk to him. You wanted to ask if the kiss had meant anything. You wanted to know if he was feeling even half of what you were feeling.

But you stayed quiet.

Because you were terrified of the answer.

---

The emotional distance between you two grew every day.

Hyunjin became more calculated in public — the perfect fake boyfriend. But in private, he was a ghost. Present, but unreachable.

You started questioning everything.

Was the kiss real?

Was any of the softness from the past weeks real?

Or had you just been a better actress than you thought?

One night, after another forced public appearance, you sat on the living room floor with your back against the couch, exhausted. Hyunjin came out of his room to get water and stopped when he saw you.

For a moment, it looked like he wanted to say something. His eyes softened. He took a small step forward.

But then he stopped himself.

He grabbed the water and went back to his room without a word.

You hugged your knees to your chest and whispered to the empty room:

“I don’t know how to do this anymore.”

The contract still had months to go.

But the feelings?

They were no longer under control.

And both of you were slowly drowning in the space between what was fake… and what was becoming terrifyingly real.

────୨ৎ────

The silence had become unbearable.

For days, Hyunjin had been pulling away — short answers, closed doors, avoiding your eyes like you were something dangerous. Every small progress you thought you had made after the kiss by the Han River seemed to have vanished. The warmth was gone. The distance was back, colder than before.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

It was past midnight when you finally knocked on his bedroom door. Your hands were shaking. Your heart was pounding so hard you could hear it in your ears.

Hyunjin opened the door. He was wearing a black t-shirt and sweatpants, hair messy like he hadn’t slept either. When he saw it was you, his expression tightened.

“What?” he asked, voice low.

You stepped inside without waiting for permission, closing the door behind you. The room smelled like his cologne and fresh paint.

“Why are you doing this?” you started, trying to keep your voice steady. “Why did you suddenly go back to being cold after the river? After everything?”

Hyunjin crossed his arms, leaning against his desk.

“I’m not being cold. I’m being realistic.”

“Realistic?” Your voice rose. “You kissed me like that and now you act like I don’t exist? Like nothing happened?”

He looked away, jaw clenched.

“It was a mistake.”

The words hit you like a slap.

“A mistake?” you repeated, voice cracking. “You said it wasn’t for the cameras. You said—”

“I know what I said!” he snapped, finally raising his voice. “Fuck, do you think this is easy for me? We have a contract, (your name). Six months. Fake. That was the deal. I’m trying to not make this any more complicated than it already is.”

You felt tears burning in your eyes.

“So you’re just going to pretend it didn’t mean anything? That pulling me closer, kissing me like that… it was all acting?”

Hyunjin ran a hand through his hair, frustrated.

“I don’t know what it was, okay?!” he raised his voice. “I’m confused as fuck! One minute I’m telling myself this is all fake, the next I can’t stop thinking about you. About the way you kissed me back. About how you looked at me. This wasn’t supposed to happen!”

You took a step closer, tears now falling freely down your cheeks.

“I’m falling for you, Hyunjin,” you confessed, voice breaking. “I tried not to. I swear I did. But every time you touch me, every time you look at me like you care… I can’t pretend anymore. And now you’re running away like a coward.”

Hyunjin’s eyes widened. For a second, he looked completely lost.

“Don’t say that,” he whispered, almost pleading. Then his tone hardened again. “You think I’m not scared? I’m fucking terrified! If we let this become real, what happens when the contract ends? What happens when the company finds out? What happens when the fans turn on us — on you — again?”

“I don’t care!” you shouted, crying harder. “At least be honest with me! Stop treating me like I’m nothing after making me feel like I was something!”

Hyunjin stepped forward, eyes blazing with frustration and something deeper.

“You think I don’t feel anything?” he yelled back. “Every time I see you, I want to kiss you again. Every time you smile at me, I forget why I’m supposed to stay away. You’re driving me insane, (your name)! I hate this. I hate how much I want you. I hate that I can’t stop thinking about you even when I’m trying to push you away!”

The room fell silent except for your quiet sobs.

You wiped your tears angrily, voice trembling.

“Then stop pushing me away… or just tell me you don’t want me. Say it clearly.”

Hyunjin stared at you, breathing heavily. His eyes were red, conflicted, full of emotions he didn’t know how to name.

“I can’t say that,” he admitted, voice rough. “Because it would be a lie.”

You stood there crying, chest heaving. He looked like he wanted to reach out and wipe your tears, but he held himself back, fists clenched at his sides.

Nothing was solved.

The silence between you had finally broken, but what replaced it was raw, messy, and terrifying.

Hyunjin looked away, voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know what to do anymore.”

You wiped your face one last time and headed toward the door.

“Neither do I,” you said softly. “But I can’t keep pretending like this doesn’t hurt.”

You left his room without closing the door.

Hyunjin stood there for a long time after you were gone, staring at the empty space where you had been.

For the first time since the contract began, both of you were completely lost.

And the feelings you could no longer ignore were becoming stronger than any contract ever could be.

Your manager had to rearrange everything last minute. You didn't even have the energy to check your phone. So Heeseung came. Using the spare key he quietly carried around in his wallet, he opened the door to your apartment to find a disaster—tissues everywhere, the air was warm and stuffy, and you were curled up on the bed, nearly falling off your shoulder.

You were breathing heavily, slow and shallow, head burning up as he placed the back of his hand on your forehead. 

You let out a soft whine at the cold touch.

"...Hee..." you croaked, blinking open your eyes to find him kneeling beside your bed.

"Take it slow, baby," he said softly, brushing your hair back slowly. "I'll make you some soup, okay?"

You managed to give a small nod before he disappeared into your kitchen, and somehow just hearing him move around your apartment was comforting and made you feel at home. You pulled yourself out of bed just enough to wash your face and slowly shuffled into the living room.

Heart pounding, you opened your group's Instagram and Weverse notifications—the announcement was out. You weren't going to be performing today. Your fans were already asking questions and worrying about where you were.

You suddenly felt a little guilty, so you opened the live and set your phone up on the table in front of you, curling up on your couch. "Sorry, gu—" you broke into a rough cough, already hoarse.

Your fans could tell immediately that something was wrong. Your usually radiant skin looked pale, your lips were dry, and even though you had attempted to brush your hair just a little, you still looked awful and tired.  

"I'm sick, so I'm not going to be performing," you mumbled, voice soft and cracked. "I'm sorry, bunnies... I promise I'll do my best when I recover." 

From the kitchen, Heeseung watched with a faint smile as he poured soup into a bowl and brewed some herbal tea. He made sure to stay out of the camera's view, even as he walked over and gently placed the bowl of soup in front of you on the coffee table.

But your fans were fast.

"WHO JUST GAVE YOU SOUP?!"

"wait was that a GUY'S HAND???"

"THOSE RINGS..."

"that looked like Heeseung's ring. DON'T PLAY WITH ME."

You panicked, barely having the energy to lie properly. "It's my friend, guys... she's taking care of me right now."

Your voice broke again in the middle of a sentence. You coughed, even warmer, and could feel the throbbing in your temples return worse than before. Even the fans were chirping at you to log off. Heeseung gave you a slight reprimanding look through the screen before you pouted.

"Okay, bye guys!" You rushed out with a heavy wave as you ended the live.

You let out a long exhausted sigh and melted into the couch. Heeseung walked over as you leaned on him, and he hugged you against his chest, trying to invite a little warmth into your cooled body. You could hardly even keep your eyes open.

"Mm... shh," he whispered, and gently kissed your cheek. "I'll bring the food to the table, okay?"

He fed you the soup slowly, helped you take your medicine, and let you rest on his lap while stroking your hair. His phone buzzed. It was Jake.

jake: "bro get on fortnite rn we're wait-"

jake: "WAIT. LOOK AT THIS." [link to a post comparing the rings on "your friend's" fingers to Heeseung's] 

Jake was panicking. Heeseung only sighed, one hand still running along your forehead as you quietly whined in your sleep about the air conditioning being too cold.

Who cared if people suspected?

Let them talk. Let them wonder.

As long as you were by his side—and he could take care of you like this—Heeseung didn't care who found out.

jay ˎˊ˗

You were staying over at Jay's place because last night the rain came down in thick sheets and thunder rumbled so loudly you didn't dare walk home—he'd insisted you stay. And now, less than twelve hours later, the sun was scorching hot outside like it hadn't just stormed. The kind of sudden weather switch that made you feel like your body had been hit by a bus.

And with your weak immune system?

Yeah, you were fucked.

You hardly noticed Jay skittering around in the bathroom, brushing his teeth and lightly humming to himself as he prepared for morning practice. The ache in your head made the world feel as if it were spinning. You opened your eyes slowly, blinked a couple of times, throat was prickly, nose congested, and your head was cloudy.

Jay appeared from the bathroom a second later, towel around his neck, wearing a large smile that was fading fast—until he caught a glimpse of the haze in your eyes.

"Morning, princess," he said, walking toward you to kiss your forehead, never fully finishing his motion, coming to a halt. "...Baby, are you sick?" he said quickly, his brows knitted together as he placed his palm onto the back of your neck.

You were burning up. You gave him a weak nod and curled into the blanket, voice barely above a whisper. "I think I may have caught something..."

Jay wasted no time. Guilt written all over his face. "God! I should have brought an umbrella last night. We should never have been out in the rain..."

You sniffled and reached for him. "It's okay, Jayjay..."

He melted at how you held on to him like a sleepy koala, giving a soft sigh before scooping you up and moving to the bathroom. He wiped down your forehead and back with a cool towel in order to bring your fever down, mumbling apologies while he scrubbed the sweat off of your skin.

Once you were settled back on the couch, propped with all the pillows, Jay tucked a blanket in tight, told you not to move, and raced off to the nearest pharmacy for medicine. You knew he was worried, Jay always had that look of a worried parent when you were sick—the deep furrowed brow and concerned furrowed forehead.

While you waited, you made your way over to Jay's vinyl collection. He had played records for you before; the best jazz and mellow artists, that always felt warm. You picked one and let the soothing piano notes fill the apartment as you tucked back on the couch, missing Jay already.

You must have fallen asleep because the next thing you felt was his soft voice waking you up. "Sweetheart... wake up just for a bit... I made food."

He fed you warm homemade chicken soup with veggies, spoonful-by-spoonful, and made sure to watch closely to see that you ate enough before giving you medicine.

You took a quick photo of the meal after he left the bowl on the table, a cute little spread of home-cooked dishes. You uploaded it to your private account with a soft, simple caption:

"oops 🍵💤"

Immediately, fans flooded the post trying to guess if you had caught a cold. Some mentioned how comforting the food looked and a couple of the sharp eyed ones spotted the shadow cast by the glaring sunlight—two shadowy silhouettes.

One of the shadows had a slight fluff of hair that some fans questioned if looked... familiar. Some even commented that the food looked very similar to something Jay made during a prior cooking live.

Whoops.

But no one could really tell. No name. No face. Just a soft launch gone slightly sideways.   

Jay didn't care. When he saw the post he softly chuckled under his breath then lightly rubbed your back while whispering, "Next time I will make sure my shadow is more subliminal."

You just smiled sleepily resting your head against his shoulder. Fever aside, you always felt better when Jay was near.

jakeˎˊ˗

Jake had finally recovered from his weekly IV drip—the kind he still got squeamish about despite being used to it—and now, right on cue, you were sick too. Perhaps it was the cold snap, perhaps it was the jet lag from flying out to Japan with him right after you had your own tour, either way, your immune system didn't stand a chance.

Still, you showed up for him.

You sat in the VIP area with a few friends, bundled up in his favorite black leather jacket. Fans began murmuring, cameras clicked, whispers started going around on online forums. Eventually, even the loudest people in the room went quiet when they noticed you were there; at first trying to guess which member's jacket it was. 

"That jacket looks like Sunghoon's. Didn't he wear that in a photo a few weeks ago?"

"Wait no, isn't that Jake's?" 

Then someone zoomed in and caught the tiny detail no one expected: a small, gold retriever pin tucked near the zipper. The same pin Jake had worn a few times—once on his bag, once on his jacket in a Weverse live.

Oops.

Fans connected the dots faster than you could sneeze.

"SHE HAS THE SAME DOG PIN AS JAKE."

"Didn't she say on live last month she said she loves golden retrievers too??"

"Is this a soft launch or we keep being delusional again?"

Some were in denial, just a coincidence.

"No way. Everyone loves dogs. It is probably just a similar pin. She probably got it after seeing Jake wear his 🫠"

But others were already finding and editing side by side images. And in the middle of all this chaos, you were just sitting back stage, tissues in hand, warm paper cup of water providing lukewarm comfort for your raw throat. The lights and audience made your head spin so a staff member helped you find your way behind the stage, as you were trying not to faint.

Jake, while performing, had been searching the audience for your face. His heart sank when he was unable to see you anywhere. Then he rushed back stage during break and saw you right away, tucked away on the bench, passed out, bundled up in his jacket and sniffling miserably.

"Y/n," he said quietly, crouching down in front of you. "Why did you not tell me you felt this bad?" 

You blinked up at him. "Didn't wanna distract you. You're mid-show, Jakey."

He exhaled softly, brushing your hair behind your ear. "You're more important anyways."

A manager filled him in—how you'd likely gotten sick from the back-to-back traveling and sudden cold winds. Jake stood, nodding, then pressed some cash into the manager's hands.

"If she gets worse, take her to the hotel. And please grab some soup for her. Something comforting. Nothing spicy," he added with a knowing glance, knowing your love for spicy stuff.

Before he headed back to the stage, he kissed your temple, his hand gently cupping your cheek for a little too long. "I'll be back soon, angel... just wait for me."

Later that evening, Jake quietly opened the door to your hotel room, tossing the key card on the table before he slipped his shoes off completely. You were there, curled in a burrito of blankets wearing one of his oversized white shirts—legs bare and cold feet tucked into the covers. The tissue box was nearly empty on the nightstand and your nose was an angry red from previously blowing it so often.

He smiled softly, slipping between the sheets next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your back against his chest. "You took the medicine, right?" He murmured against your hair.

You groaned. "I hate that syrup. It tastes so bitter.

Jake chuckled, kissing you softly first on your forehead, and then your cheek, and progressing to kissing your jaw. "You need it, bitter or not."

You shook your head, trying to hide under the blanket again, but he gently pulled you back. "Baby," he whispered, "I'll kiss you every time you take a sip."

Your eyes peeked out. "Everywhere?"

His smirk was immediate. "Everywhere."

You sighed dramatically. "Fine."

He held the cup up, waited while you pinched your nose and gulped it down, then kept his promise—pressing warm, feathery kisses all over your face, down your neck, even to your shoulders.

"See?" he whispered, settling under the covers with you again. "Not so bad."

You nuzzled closer. "You're lucky you're cute."

Jake chuckled, kissing your nose. "And you're lucky I'm hopelessly in love with you."

The fans could speculate all they wanted. But your head on Jake's chest, his arms tight around your waist, his whispered I love yous between medicine doses—was real, and he was yours only. 

sunooˎˊ˗

Lately, you and Sunoo had been obsessed with spicy food—spicy fried chicken, spicy tteokbokki, even spicy ramyeon at 1 a.m. The cravings hit both of you hard, and after every fiery meal, you two would cool off with mint choco ice cream like it was your thing.

The thing was—your spice tolerance wasn't like Sunoo's. Your throat was starting to bother you, but you didn't want to ruin the fun so you kept quiet. 

Not the best move. 

That night, after the spicy food coma set in, you and Sunoo did your skincares together—Sunoo dabbing toner with a cotton pad to your cheeks, while adjusting your headband like the skincare king he was. He laughed when you pouted at your sniffling, red, nose. "Too much spice, baby," he teased. You smiled, snuggling up beside him in bed, swiftly falling asleep. 

Then the alarm rang the next morning. 

You blinked awake slowly, throat so dry it felt like paper, damn near scratchy as hell. You reached over to shut the alarm off, hardly able to hum at all. Sunoo was already awake, arms around your waist softly, scrolling through his phone. 

He looked down to you the moment he felt movement in bed. 

"Morning, baby," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

You hummed again. That was when he noticed.

His head snapped up. "Wait... are you sick? And you didn't tell me last night?!"

You croaked, "Sorry... it's just my throat."

"Ugh, you're going to go from that to coughs to fevers. We've been eating spicy food and mint choco like it's a game! Why didn't you tell me?!" Sunoo groaned dramatically as he pulled you closer.

You gave him a small shrug, feeling too tired to faze it. He didn't scold you for long.

He wrapped you tighter in his arms, guiding you to the kitchen, making you sit while he brewed warm herbal tea. He even gave you one of his throat-soothing pills from his little skincare/pill kit. He showered you himself, rubbing your back gently, then gave you little massages where your muscles ached, whispering, "My poor baby..."

"Next time," he said shyly with a pout, "we're eating sweet and sour food only. No crazy spice unless I approve." You nodded into his chest, throat sore but heart completely full.

Later that morning, while bundled up in Sunoo's hoodie, legs over his lap as he massaged your calves, you posted on Weverse:

Never eating spicy food and then mint choco again 😿

It was innocent, but your fans immediately caught on.

You never mentioned mint choco before—always claimed it was "too toothpaste-coded." And last night, Sunoo posted a picture of a spicy feast and a suspicious bowl of mint choco beside it.

The comments flooded in.

"Wait didn't Sunoo post the same food?? 👀"

"THE TIMING DON'T PLAY WITH US"

"Bestie just soft launched her bf I fear 😭"

"Omg are you and Sunoo dating?! This can't be a coincidence."

Meanwhile, Sunoo peeked over your shoulder, reading the comments and laughing.

"You outed yourself," he teased, pecking your cheek. "My little mint-choco victim."

You groaned, voice still raspy. "Worth it... maybe."

He giggled. "Next time, we're eating rice and soup. That's final."

ni-kiˎˊ˗

You had just gotten off the plane and already felt like you were in hell. Your hoodie was glued to your skin, your cramps were worsening by the second, and to top it all off=—your period was going rogue in the middle of an extremely busy airport.

The air conditioning were blasting, but you were sweating as if it were 40°C. Fans were cheering, calling your name, waving signs and phones in your face. You loved them, just not today. Not when your head felt heavy, your body felt weak, and every nerve ending was screaming for silence and space.

You were wearing a baggy grey hoodie—Ni-ki's hoodie, of course—and a cap low over your face, a black mask covering your pale skin. You didn't want anyone to see how bad you looked. You just wanted to make it to the SUV outside. That's all.

Unfortunately, today wasn't going to be easy.

The sea of fans was insane. Bodyguards were attempting to keep the fans away, but some even the male fans were just pushing in too close. You kept your head down, ignored the flashing cameras, and didn't wave—not that you didn't care to, but your body wasn't processing the situations engendered by fandom.

That didn’t stop the fake fans from filming you anyway, uploading clips online with captions like:

"She didn't even smile."

"Why is she always acting like she's better than everyone?"

"Ugh, such a bitch. Not even a wave?"

"Look at her face, it's like she's disgusted by her own fans."

"I've supported her since debut but this? I'm done."

Real fans, however, were not buying the charade at all. They saw the slumping shoulders. The members gently holding you. The sweat on your forehead. The mask was hiding a certain paleness. And they came to your defense as much as the posted needed, writing:

"Guys... she looks sick."

"Leave her alone, she literally looks like she's about to faint and y'all are screaming in her face."

"Fake fans are exposing themselves fr."

 "Protect her at all costs. She doesn't deserve this hate." 

From the opposite gate, Ni-ki spotted you instantly. You were hard to miss, even in disguise. The hoodie. The posture. He could tell from meters away something was wrong. Your head was down. You were barely moving. You looked like you were seconds away from collapsing. And then... you did.

Your knees gave out, your vision went black for a second, and you dropped.

Chaos broke loose. Fans gasped, phones shot up, and your members swarmed to you. But it was Ni-ki that got to you first, pushing past airport staff urgently to reach you, gently grabbing your shoulders and saying your name softly. His group's SUV had just arrived, and without missing a beat he wrapped you in his hoodie, hiding you from view as he helped you inside the car.

Fans lost it.

Photos and videos of the two of you were circulated on the internet within minutes. The matching grey hoodies. The careful way he was holding you together as if you were glass. The way he pulled you into his car.

And of course, the rumors began to explode. The supportive fans were the first to jump into the fray:

"He literally carried her into the van. He didn't care who was watching."

"That's his hoodie. That's HER hoodie. That's THEIR hoodie now."

"Ni-ki was livid when he saw her faint. He cares so much I'm crying."

"Whether they are dating or not, she needed help and he was there. Respect."

But the toxic crowd quickly followed:  

"So unprofessional of her to faint in public."

"Why is he babying her like she's five?"

"I swear if they're dating I'm unstanning."

"She's not even that pretty why would Ni-ki go for her?"

"She always needs someone to save her, can't stand girls like that."

When you saw the trending Twitter tags - #ni-ki, #getwellsoonY/N, #matchinghoodie, #Y/Nattheairport, you clicked into the replies. 

Bad decision. You scrolled on in silence, chest tightening with every scornful reply, tears in your eyes, not just from being sick but from the sheer stupidity of it. That was when Ni-ki took your phone away.

Locked it up with one hand and put it out of reach. "You're not looking at that garbage," he said flatly.

"But-"

"No. I don't care what they say. You're sick. You fainted. And I'm here. That's what matters." He tucked you into the hotel bed, hoodie still wrapped around you, soup warming on the tray table.

He massaged your temples and brushed brushes hair out of your eyes, kissed your forehead and whispered,   "They don't deserve to know who you really are anyway."

Later on, that night, the hate just got worse. Clips of you fainting. Of Ni-ki helping you. Of the hoodie. The SUV. Fan edits with sad dramatic music. People scrutinizing every breath you took like it was a crime scene. And I mean the comments... they hurt.

So you went live. You just couldn't stay quiet any longer. You popped on wearing your pajama hoodie, your nose visibly red from blowing it so often. Your voice came out raspy, lower than usual, broken by coughs and sniffles every few words.

"Hey... I just wanted to clear something up" You began quietly and within seconds thousands of people were lifting up your notification. "I wasn't trying to be rude. I wasn't trying to ignore anyone when I was at the airport. I've been sick... I've been really sick."

Fans started flooding the comments: 

"You sound so sick omg :("

"Don't explain yourself we understand!!"

"Your voice TT please rest!!"

"Red nose and raspy voice oh no baby T_T"

"We love you no matter what. Health comes first."

You gave a weak laugh, sniffling. "Even though it was cold at the airport, I felt like I was burning up. And I was on my period, I... I genuinely thought I was gonna faint. I didn't mean to look cold or annoyed. I was just trying to get to the car."

You sighed, taking a sip of tea.

"And about Ni-ki..." you paused. "He just happened to be there. He brought his SUV before ours, and he helped me out because—Well, he's nice. That was all, I didn't ask him to help me, and it was dead nice of him." You bowed your head a bit, saying in a quiet voice, "I am sorry I didn't smile or wave or stop. I truly am. I just wasn't okay."

Comments blew up with reassurance, hearts and "it's okay's" galore. But then—just as you wiped your nose and reached for another tissue—your hotel room door creaked open behind you.

You didn't even realize at first. Ni-ki came into frame, barefoot, hair a mess, wearing a black tank top and your hoodie wrapped around him. He noticed your propped-up camera, and paused.

"...Are you live right now?" he asked, confused.

Your eyes widened in horror, slowly turning your head towards the camera and blinking. "....Yeah," you whispered.

Ni-ki squinted at the screen, and then at you. "Wait—wait, did you you just apologized?"

"Ni-ki—"  

"Are you kidding me?" He stepped fully into view now that he was visibly annoyed. "Why are you saying sorry when it's not even your fault?"

The comments exploded:

"WAIT HE'S IN HER ROOM??"

"NAH. NAH. NAH."

"YALL LIVE TOGETHER??"

"So, they're DATING???"

"Is this a soft launch or a HARD EXPOSE???"

You panicked to mute the mic, eyes wide and waving your arms. "Ni-ki, you're on live—!"

He blinked. "...So?."

You turned back to the camera all flushed, "So... yeah."

He leaned in and didn't even bother to conceal it now. "Hey. I'm already here—she's not going to read any other comments tonight. She's going to get rest. That's all we have. Goodnight."

Just like that, he ended the live for you. The screen went black. But the internet exploded.

"he's literally so protective over her??? ending her live, talking about 'us' not even'‘her'😭😭 "

"just say you're dating already omg we're not stupid"

"they didn't even hide it... same hoodie, same room, same SOUL"

"my mama and papa"

"he said 'she's not gonna read comments tonight' like who gave you husband rights?? oh wait"

"this is literally their soft launch and I'm crying"

"they're not even denying it anymore lmfao"

"she looked so sick but he looked at her like she hung the stars???"

"you mean to tell me ni-ki's been taking care of her while she's sick and getting hated on?? king behavior"

"y'all bullied a sick girl and then watched her bf walk in and protect her like a k-drama. embarrassing tbh"

"we owe her an apology fr she didn't even do anything but exist and faint"

Though of course, there's still bitterness going around: 

"she's milking this for clout now"

"i bet it was staged. who goes live when they're sick?"

"not her crying again"

"ni-ki deserves better"

"This isn't professional. Idols dating is okay, but being messy with it? NO WAY."

But that was immediately drowned out. Because the next trending comment thread was:

"anyway, when's the couple vlog?"

"pre-debut we got hints. WE BEEN KNOWING."

"them in grey hoodies is more iconic than the Eiffel Tower now"

"I'm framing that 'she's not reading comments tonight' moment. ACTUAL HUSBAND ENERGY." 

Ni-ki chuckled softly as he scrolled through the flood of comments, the glow of the screen reflecting in his eyes. You were curled up against his chest, face nuzzled into his hoodie, barely keeping your eyes open from how drained you felt. Still recovering, still tired—mentally and physically.

"Look," he murmured, tilting the phone a bit so you could see. "These are the ones you should be reading."

He gently tapped the screen, showing a thread of sweet comments.

You hummed weakly, barely glancing, your forehead still resting against his chest. He could feel how warm you were—your fever hadn't fully gone down—but you managed a small smile at the corner of your lips.

Ni-ki kissed the top of your head and whispered, "That's more like it." Then, with one arm still wrapped protectively around you, he set the phone down again and pulled the blanket tighter around both of you.

🤍 check my masterlist HERE !

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ! ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

-

The line snakes around the venue like a pastel-coloured serpent, fans clutching albums, posters, photobooks, gifts. He stands in the middle of it — small, shaky, hoodie pulled up like he’s hiding from the sun — but you could spot his energy from a mile away. A live wire. A fever.

You don’t know him, but he knows you. Too well.

When he gets closer, security watches him with that look. The “please don’t make this difficult” look. But he barely notices. He’s too busy staring at you from behind the person ahead of him, breathing shallowly, eyes wide like he’s witnessing a god descend.

You smile when he steps forward. You always smile. Occupational requirement. “Hi! Thank you for coming today!”

His breath catches like he wasn’t prepared for you to speak directly to him — like he didn’t spend the last three nights rehearsing that exact moment.

“H-Hi,” he mumbles, voice small, breaking at the edges. “You—you look… different in person.”

The phrasing lands weird. Offbeat. A little too raw. You keep smiling anyway. “I hope that’s a good thing?”

He nods too fast. “Yeah. Yeah. You’re… softer. Smaller. Warmer.” His eyes rake over you, not sexual outright, but intense in a way that prickles your skin. “You look touchable.”

The air shifts.

You laugh politely, the trained kind. “Thank you…? Do you have anything you’d like me to sign?”

He doesn’t hand you merch. He hands you a photo of yourself — not official, not from any event. A candid. You walking into your agency building. Your smile falters, just for a millisecond.

“I—I printed it,” he says, fiddling with his sleeves. “You looked so… tired that day. I didn’t like it. I wanted to keep it safe.”

You sign it because protocol demands it, but your hand trembles almost invisibly.

When you go to slide it back across the table, he suddenly reaches out — not fast, not aggressive — but his fingers brush yours. Barely a graze. Enough to make your body tense.

His eyes widen like he felt electricity. “You’re warm,” he whispers.

You gently pull back. “Please keep your hands on the table, okay?”

He obeys instantly, palms flat, fingers twitching. “Sorry. I just— I needed to know.”

“Know what?” you ask, trying to keep the conversation moving, trying to get him to the exit.

“That you’re real.” The words land heavy.

You swallow. “I… am.”

He leans in slightly — not enough for security to intervene, but enough for you to smell that he hasn’t stepped outside in a long, long time. “I think about you a lot,” he murmurs. “Like… a lot. Every day. Every night. You’re the reason I get out of bed. Sometimes I don’t, but… you’re the only reason I ever try.”

You offer a gentle nod, hoping that encouragement will move him along. “Well… I’m glad my work means something to you.”

He shakes his head quickly. “Not your work. You. Just you.”

There’s a beat — one too long.

Then he says the thing that makes your stomach twist:

“Can I ask you something personal?”

You freeze internally. “If it’s appropriate.”

“…What does your bed look like?” You blink. “Excuse me?”

He doesn’t flinch. “Your bed. Your sheets. Your room. I want to picture where you sleep. I—I think about it a lot and I need it to be accurate.”

Security subtly steps closer.

You try to steer the interaction back to normalcy. “That’s not something I can answer, sorry.”

“Oh.” His face crumples a bit, disappointment sinking deep. “Okay. That’s okay. I’ll keep guessing.”

You force a smile and try to guide him to the door. “Thank you for coming today. its been very busy”

He pauses. Then lifts his hand again — hovering near yours but not touching. “Can I… one more time? Just your hand..”

Your voice softens into professional firmness. “sorry..ive got to continue signing for others” You excuse, talking to him like hes a child.

Something in his eyes cracks — not anger, but fragile, desperate yearning. “…Okay,” he whispers. “I’ll wait until next time. I’ll be better then. I promise.”

He steps back slowly, eyes never leaving you until a staff member gently guides him down the stairs.

Later, when the meet-and-greet ends, you still feel phantom fingertips that never touched you.

Charles squinted up at the billboard of a girl with bright eyes and a smile so dazzling it almost hurt. “Wait—she looks kind of…”

“Familiar,” Pierre finished, pulling out his phone to snap a photo.

“Yeah,” Carlos agreed slowly. “Like… Yuki?”

Yuki, red-faced, tugged his cap lower. “Shut up.”

The arena was massive. Tens of thousands of fans streamed in, waving lightsticks and chanting already, even though the show hadn’t started.

Lando, eyes wide, bought three glowsticks from a merch stand before anyone could stop him. “They’re color-coded!” he explained, twirling them. “This is… scientific research.”

“Scientific research?” George repeated flatly.

“Yeah,” Lando nodded. “Into how not to be lame.”

Max muttered, “You’re failing already.”

Meanwhile, Lewis was quietly impressed. The stage set-up, the scale, the energy—it all screamed superstar. “Whoever this idol is,” he murmured, “she’s bigger than most Western acts. This is no small deal.”

And then the lights dimmed.

🌟 The Performance Begins

The roar of the crowd was deafening.

Spotlights swept across the arena, music swelled, and then—

✨ You. ✨

The nation’s angel. The idol who had Japan (and half the internet) wrapped around her finger. Your smile lit up the stage as you appeared in a glittering costume, microphone in hand, waving to the sea of fans who screamed your name like a prayer.

The grid? Absolutely losing their minds.

“WAIT—WAIT A SECOND—” Logan yelped, grabbing Charles’s arm so hard he almost dislocated it. “DO YOU SEE THAT??”

Charles’s jaw dropped. “No. No, no, no. That’s— That’s Yuki’s face. Onstage. But—sparkly.”

Pierre practically fell over. “Oh my god, it’s his sister. HE’S BEEN HIDING THIS FROM US.”

Lando, shrieking, “BROOO YOUR SISTER IS LIKE—THE JAPANESE TAYLOR SWIFT??”

Max, deadly serious: “No. Bigger than Taylor Swift. Look at this crowd. Look at this production. She’s—global.”

Meanwhile, Yuki sat smug in his seat, arms crossed. “Told you she’s the best. Shut up and watch.”

🎤 “Idol”

And then you launched into that song. The one that broke streaming records. The one with the impossible fanchants that every single person in the arena knew by heart.

The audience exploded in unison, chanting perfectly timed words between your lines, glowsticks pulsing in waves of color.

The F1 grid? They tried. God, they tried.

George was clapping—two beats late. Lando screamed random Japanese words he’d learned from anime, startling the people around him. Carlos just stood there, looking overwhelmed, muttering, “How is she smiling, singing, AND dancing at the same time? She’s—she’s not human.” Charles looked like he might actually cry. Lewis nodded along, deeply impressed, murmuring, “That’s stage presence. She owns the crowd.” Max, for once, looked awed. “She’s… already at the top. This is it.”

And through it all, Yuki muttered under his breath, “Idiots. Of course she’s good. She’s my sister.”

🎇 Backstage Mayhem

After the concert, the drivers swarmed Yuki.

“You’re introducing us. NOW.” Pierre demanded, grabbing his arm.

“I don’t think security will let you in,” Yuki tried, but it was too late—Charles was already attempting broken Japanese on a poor security guard, Logan was brandishing his glowstick like a VIP pass, and Lewis had simply strolled past with the quiet confidence of a man who had seen it all before.

When you finally walked into the backstage lounge, still in costume, face glowing from the performance, you lit up at the sight of your brother.

“Onii-chan!” you called, hurrying over to hug him.

The grid? DEAD.

Pierre whispered, “She called him Onii-chan. I can die now.” Lando tripped over his own feet trying to bow and yell, “ARIGATOU IDOL-SAN!!” Carlos awkwardly presented you with flowers he may or may not have stolen from the green room. Lewis, calm as ever, asked for a signed poster—“Roscoe’s a fan now.”

And Yuki, dragging you behind him protectively, muttered, “Don’t talk to them too much. They’ll corrupt you.”

📱 Internet Meltdown

Within hours, Twitter/X blew up.

“Why is the ENTIRE F1 GRID at Y/N Tsunoda’s concert holding glowsticks??”

“Charles was CRYING during Idol.”

“Max staring at Y/N like she just invented racing.”

“Yuki hiding the fact that his sister is literally Japan’s biggest superstar?? KING.”

Clips went viral:

Lewis vibing like a proud dad.

George failing the fanchants spectacularly.

Lando’s glowstick dance that somehow started a new meme.

Yuki side-eyeing the whole grid like a tired chaperone.

Trending tags:

#TsunodaSiblings #YNTsunoda #IdolBrotherYuki #F1xIdol

🏁 The Aftermath

By the end of the night, the F1 grid had sworn themselves into your fanclub.

“We’re coming to every Japan concert from now on,” Charles declared firmly. “Front row,” Lando added. George muttered, “I’ll practice the chants next time.” Lewis just smiled knowingly. “She’s already a legend.”

And Yuki? Absolutely traumatized.

“I hate all of you,” he groaned.

But when you giggled and said, “Don’t worry, Onii-chan. I think your friends are cute,” Yuki turned an alarming shade of red— —just as the grid screamed in unison again.

✨End.