Mute Button
Trope: Idol x Non-Celebrity | Secret Relationship | Soft Clingy Wonwoo | Mic Accident
🎧Still With You — Jungkook
“Even when the rain pours, I’ll stay by your side.🌙”
The thing about Jeon Wonwoo is that he’s quiet enough for people to build their own stories about him.
Fans say he’s mysterious. Some say he’s emotionally unavailable. Some swear he’d never survive a relationship because he “doesn’t look like the type.”
You laugh every time you read that.
Because if they only knew.
If they knew that the same man who barely speaks during interviews will pout for ten full minutes if you don’t reply fast enough. If they knew that he pretends he doesn’t like skinship but melts into you the moment you sit beside him. If they knew that Jeon Wonwoo calm, composed, reserved cannot fall asleep without hearing your voice.
But they don’t know.
And they can’t know.
Because you are the mute button in his life.
—
You met two years ago through a mutual friend. No dramatic fate. No slow-motion movie moment. Just a quiet introduction at a café where he barely spoke and you talked enough for the both of you.
Later he told you that was what made him notice you.
“You talk like you’re afraid of silence,” he’d said once, glasses slipping down his nose.
“And you look like you live in it,” you replied.
That was the beginning.
The relationship stayed hidden from the start. It had to. You weren’t a celebrity. You worked a normal job, lived in a small apartment, took crowded trains home. Dating an idol wasn’t something you could casually announce on Instagram.
So you became careful.
No photos together. No public outings without disguises. No comments under his posts. No calls when he was live.
But at night?
At night, the world belonged to you.
“Stay,” he murmurs into the phone one evening, voice low and sleepy.
You’re brushing your teeth, phone propped on the sink.
“I’m not going anywhere,” you say through foam.
“You always say that.”
“And I always stay.”
There’s a quiet shuffle on his end. The rustle of sheets. He’s already in bed.
“You’re not allowed to hang up first,” he adds softly.
You grin. “Since when?”
“Since always.”
This is the part no one sees.
Wonwoo after midnight.
Soft. Clingy. Vulnerable in a way that would break the internet if anyone witnessed it.
He doesn’t ask for much. He doesn’t demand. He just… needs. Needs your presence. Needs your voice. Needs to know someone exists outside the screaming crowds who sees him as just a man.
“Tell me about your day,” he whispers.
“You already know about my day.”
“Tell me again.”
So you do.
You tell him about your annoying coworker. The coffee you spilled. The stray cat you fed near your office building. You talk about nothing and everything.
And somewhere between your rambling and his quiet hums, his breathing evens out.
He falls asleep.
Every time.
The accident happens on a Thursday night.
He’s doing a casual live from his room. Hoodie on. Glasses slightly crooked. Gaming setup glowing faintly behind him.
You’re watching from your bed, like always.
The comments are flying.
“Wonwoo you look tired.” “Marry me.” “Oppa are you dating anyone?”
He reads that last one and chuckles softly. “No.”
You roll your eyes affectionately. You understand. You knew what you signed up for.
He keeps talking about music, about the new book he’s reading, about the game he’s been obsessed with.
Then his phone buzzes.
Your name lights up his screen.
He freezes for half a second.
You’re not supposed to call when he’s live.
He quickly glances down, probably thinking it’s urgent. You had texted earlier that you weren’t feeling well. Maybe he’s worried.
He mutes the call.
Or at least he thinks he does.
He looks back at the camera, resumes talking. Fans don’t notice anything.
But your name keeps glowing.
You call again.
He hesitates, then quickly reaches for his mic to mute it.
Except
He presses the wrong button.
Instead of muting the mic, he mutes the background music.
And the live continues broadcasting.
Clear as day.
He answers.
His voice instantly changes.
Softens.
“Hey.”
The chat pauses for a second.
Then
“Baby, I’m live,” he whispers.
The comments freeze.
“…Why are you calling twice? Are you okay?”
You say something on the other end. No one can hear you, but they can hear him.
He smiles not his idol smile. Not the fanservice one. The real one.
The one you see when he’s half asleep and entirely yours.
“I told you not to worry alone,” he murmurs. “Call me once, okay? Don’t panic.”
The chat explodes.
“WHO IS HE TALKING TO???” “DID HE SAY BABY???” “BABY???” “IS THIS A DRAMA??”
Wonwoo doesn’t notice.
He’s too focused on you.
“You took your medicine?” he asks quietly.
The internet is in shambles.
He shifts slightly on his chair.
“I’ll come over tomorrow after practice. Don’t argue.”
Your heart drops.
The comments are moving too fast to read now.
“WONWOO??? BABY???” “IS THIS A PRANK?” “HELLO???” “IS HE ACTING??”
You whisper something that makes him sigh.
And then it happens.
The sentence that detonates the entire fandom.
“Baby, don’t hang up.”
Silence.
The kind of silence that only exists for half a second before a nuclear explosion.
And then—
Chaos.
Caps lock. Crying emojis. Question marks. Conspiracy theories forming in real time.
Wonwoo finally glances at the screen.
And sees it.
He goes still.
His eyes flick to the mic.
Then to the screen again.
Then back to the mic.
“Oh,” he breathes.
You hear it too. The shift in his tone.
“Wonwoo?” you ask softly.
He swallows.
“…I think my mic was on.”
The chat is now pure static.
You sit up in bed.
“What?”
He closes his eyes briefly.
“…I’m sorry.”
He doesn’t mean sorry for the fans.
He means sorry for you.
Because you didn’t choose this life.
And suddenly, you’re being dragged into it.
—
Within minutes, clips are everywhere.
“BABY DON’T HANG UP” trends worldwide.
TikToks. Twitter threads. Reddit analyses.
Some fans are devastated. Some are defensive. Some are supportive.
Theories spiral:
“It’s staff.” “It’s his cousin.” “It’s acting.” “He was reading comments.” “It’s a prank.”
But the softness in his voice? That wasn’t acting.
Everyone can tell.
—
Your phone starts blowing up too.
Not from fans — they don’t know who you are.
But from friends.
“IS THAT YOUR MAN?” “HELLO???” “DID HE JUST EXPOSE HIMSELF?”
You sit on your bed, staring at the ceiling.
Your chest feels tight.
You knew this risk existed.
You just didn’t expect it to come from a single button.
Wonwoo calls you back ten minutes later, this time definitely muted.
“I’m so sorry,” he says immediately.
You hear the panic he’s trying to hide.
“I should’ve double checked.”
“It’s okay,” you say softly, even though your heart is racing.
“No, it’s not. You didn’t ask for this.”
“I asked for you.”
Silence. You can almost see his expression through the phone. “Are you scared?” he asks quietly.You consider lying.
Instead, you answer honestly.
“A little.” Another silence.
Then—
“I won’t let anything happen to you.” There’s no dramatic tone. No hero voice. Just certainty. And that’s what makes it powerful.
The company releases a vague statement the next day: “Wonwoo was speaking to a close acquaintance.”
Close acquaintance. You snort when you read it.
Wonwoo comes over that evening like he promised. Hoodie, cap, mask. He slips into your apartment like a secret.The moment the door closes behind him, he pulls you into his arms.
No words at first.
Just holding.
His chin rests on your shoulder.
“I messed up,” he murmurs. “You pressed the wrong button,” you correct gently. He pulls back, looking down at you. “I was worried about you.”
Your chest tightens.
“You always answer when I call,” you say softly.
“Of course I do.”
He studies your face like he’s memorizing it. “If this gets harder,” he says carefully, “if people start digging… I’ll protect you. Or we stop. If that’s safer.”
There it is.
The reality.
The part no one romanticizes. Dating an idol isn’t just cute midnight calls and soft whispers.
It’s risk.
It’s exposure.
It’s choosing each other over and over in a world that doesn’t leave much room for privacy. You step closer.
“You don’t get to decide alone,” you tell him.
His fingers tighten around yours.“I don’t want to hide you forever,” he admits.
You blink.
He exhales slowly.
“I’m tired of pretending I don’t have someone who matters.”
Your throat burns.“You don’t owe the world anything,” you whisper.
“But I owe you honesty.” He presses his forehead to yours.
“You’re not a mistake I’m trying to mute.”
And suddenly, the fear feels smaller.
Over the next few days, the chaos slowly settles.
Some fans move on. Some stay suspicious. Some quietly support the idea that he might be happy.
Wonwoo doesn’t address it directly. But he changes in small ways.
He smiles a little more during lives.
He doesn’t look flustered when relationship questions pop up.And sometimes, when he’s about to end a live, he pauses just for a second like he’s remembering something.
Like he’s remembering you.
A week later, he’s live again.
Calm. Collected. The comments are normal now.
Someone asks, “Wonwoo, do you believe in love?”He adjusts his glasses.Smiles faintly.
“Yes,” he says simply.
The chat floods again, but not in chaos this time. Just curiosity.
Hope.
He doesn’t elaborate.
He doesn’t need to. Because later that night, when he calls you after the live ends, his voice is soft again.
“Are you sleepy?” “Not yet.” “Stay on the phone.”
“I’m not hanging up first,” you tease. He hums contentedly.
“Good.”
A pause. Then, quieter: “…Don’t hang up.” This time, the mic is off.And the world doesn’t hear it. But you do.And that’s enough.
End.
