Shadows pt. 3
part 1 part 2
18+ minors dni!!
pairings: toxic! hendery x fem! reader, slight yangyang x reader, best friend! ten x reader
warnings: manipulation, gaslighting, stalking, alcohol
—————————————————————————
The silence in the dance studio was deafening, punctuated only by Yangyang's ragged breaths and the hushed whispers of the other club members.
Just as the club president was about to move on, dismissing Yangyang's outburst, Ten stepped forward, his voice cutting through the tension. "Excuse me, but there might be a mistake."
Everyone turned to Ten, surprised.
"Yangyang has been practicing tirelessly for this showcase," Ten continued, his voice calm and steady. "He wouldn't withdraw. And if this application is, as he claims, forged, then it's a serious matter. We need to investigate."
The president hesitated, clearly flustered by the sudden challenge. "Ten, I understand your concern, but the deadline has passed."
"With all due respect," Ten interjected, "if a document is forged, the original deadline is irrelevant. This could be considered sabotage. We need to ensure fairness for all members. I propose we allow Yangyang to audition anyway, and in the meantime, we look into this discrepancy. If it turns out his claim is false, he faces disciplinary action. If it's true, then justice is served."
A few murmurs of agreement rippled through the room. The idea of a forged document, especially one impacting a performance opportunity, was unsettling. The president, faced with a potential scandal and a growing chorus of support for Ten's proposal, finally relented.
"Alright," she conceded, "Yangyang will be allowed to audition at the end of the scheduled performances. But we will be investigating this thoroughly."
Yangyang, still breathing heavily, nodded, his eyes wide with a mixture of relief and burning gratitude as he looked at Ten. Hendery, meanwhile, had completely dropped his innocent façade. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes, when they briefly met yours.
The auditions proceeded, a mixture of nervous energy and passionate performances. Yangyang, fueled by adrenaline and a desperate need to prove himself, delivered a powerful and emotional solo that left no doubt about his skill. You, despite your anxieties, performed your piece perfectly, your movements sharper, more urgent than usual. Ten, ever graceful, showcased his fluid contemporary style.
And then it was Hendery’s turn. His movements precise and captivating. He was undeniably good, mesmerizing even. He knew it, and you could feel his eyes on you.
The results were announced the next day. All four of you had passed. Yangyang, you, Ten, and Hendery were all selected for the showcase. There was relief in Yangyang’s eyes, and Ten clapped him on the back with a smile.
But the unspoken tension remained. The forgery incident was being "investigated," but you felt like you knew who was responsible. And the knowledge sat cold in your stomach.
Later that day, Hendery approached you as you were leaving the dance studio. He was alone, and the studio was quiet.
"Can we talk, Y/N?" he asked, his voice soft, almost pleading.
You hesitated, your heart hammering against your ribs. You couldn't ignore him. Not yet. You needed to understand.
"Sure," you said, trying to keep your voice steady.
He led you to a quiet corner, away from the main studio. He looked genuinely distressed, his usual charming confidence replaced by a subtle vulnerability.
"I need you to understand something," he began, his gaze earnest. "What Yangyang said yesterday… it's not true. I didn't forge anything. I wouldn't. And those rumors about him, I swear, I have nothing to do with them."
You studied him, trying to find a flicker of deceit, a crack in his façade. But he was good. Too good.
"Then why would he accuse you?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.
Hendery sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Because he hates me. He's always hated me. He sees me as a threat." He paused, his eyes locking onto yours. "He's in love with you, you know."
The words hit you with a surprise, even though Yangyang had confessed it when he was drunk. Hearing it from Hendery, with such a calm, knowing certainty, made it feel so real.
"He sees me as someone who's coming between you two," Hendery continued, his voice laced with a subtle sadness. "And that's why he's trying to turn you against me. He seems desperate. He's trying to make me look like the bad guy so you'll choose him."
You felt a fresh wave of confusion. Could it be true? Was Yangyang’s intense dislike of Hendery simply rooted in jealousy? You remembered Yangyang’s desperate words, his raw emotions when he’d told you he loved you, how he hated that he did. It fit. The pieces seemed to fall into place, painting Yangyang as the overly possessive, desperate one, and Hendery as the victim of his unrequited affections.
Hendery stepped closer, his hand gently reaching out to cup your cheek. "I care about you. More than you know. I would never do anything to hurt you. Or to hurt anyone, for that matter." His thumb stroked your skin, a soft, comforting gesture. "He's just trying to manipulate you. To make you doubt me."
He looked so genuine, so sincere. His eyes, usually holding a hidden glint, were now filled with a warmth that seemed so real.
You wanted to believe him. The idea that Yangyang, your best friend, was capable of such manipulative behavior, even out of love, was deeply unsettling. And Hendery's calm, rational explanation, contrasted with Yangyang's emotional outburst, made him seem so much more trustworthy.
You pulled back slightly, your gaze flickering to his hand on your cheek, then to his eyes. He was good. So good.
"I... I don't know who to believe," you whispered, your voice barely audible.
Hendery’s smile was gentle, understanding. "I know it's hard. But I hope, in time, you'll see the truth." He squeezed your hand softly. "I'll always be here for you, no matter what."
He walked away then, leaving you standing alone in the quiet studio, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions within you. Hendery's words had planted a seed of doubt, making you question everything Yangyang had told you.
You were caught between two narratives, two seemingly plausible truths. And the realization was that only one of them could be real.
Later that night, you were in your room, staring at your phone. You scrolled through old pictures and videos of you, Ten, and Yangyang laughing, your smiles genuine. Then, you looked at the recent pictures of yourself and Hendery, his arm around you, his smile always perfectly placed.
You sighed, a heavy weight in your chest. You had always trusted your instincts, but now, they were screaming contradictory messages. One part of you urged caution, whispered warnings of manipulation. Another part, seduced by Hendery's charm and his seemingly heartfelt words, desperately wanted to believe in his innocence.
A text message vibrated on your phone.
Yangyang: Hey. You okay?
You stared at the message, your thumb hovering over the keyboard. You wanted to tell him everything, to confide in him. But what if Hendery was right? What if Yangyang was just trying to isolate you, to push Hendery out of your life because of his own feelings?
You closed your eyes, you felt so filled with anxiety. The showcase was coming up soon. Weeks of intense practice, of being constantly in close proximity with both Yangyang and Hendery. And with each passing day, you knew, the truth would reveal itself.
——
The dance studio, once a sanctuary for you, now felt like a battlefield. The closer the showcase loomed, the more intense the silent war between Hendery and Yangyang became. You were caught in the middle, your mind a dizzying swirl of conflicting emotions and unsettling doubts.
Hendery’s subtle campaign of manipulation was masterful. After plea for your trust, he intensified his seemingly innocent demeanor. He started leaving you thoughtful gifts: your favorite coffee on your desk before an early class, a new pair of dance socks when yours developed a hole, a perfectly timed playlist of your favorite calming music when you looked stressed. These gestures, small and sweet, chipped away at your lingering suspicions. They spoke of genuine care, a stark contrast to Yangyang's increasingly volatile frustration.
He also worked on Ten. Hendery started seeking Ten out for "advice," discussing choreography with genuine interest, offering to help with Ten's more complex lifts. He'd express "concern" for Yangyang's recent behavior, framing it as protective worry rather than malicious gossip. "I'm just worried about Yangyang, Ten," he'd say with a practiced sigh. "He seems so stressed lately. I hope he's okay." Ten, ever the empathetic one, found himself softening. Hendery was so earnest, so normal. Perhaps Yangyang's accusations stemmed from a place of unaddressed jealousy, rather than a deeper, darker truth.
Yangyang, meanwhile, was unraveling. The dismissal of his forgery claim, the persistent rumors, and now your and Ten's hesitant acceptance of Hendery’s explanations, pushed him to his breaking point. He tried to talk to you, to Ten, to make them see.
"He's playing you!" Yangyang pleaded one afternoon, his voice tight with desperation. "Don't you see how he's isolating me? He's making me look crazy!"
You sighed, rubbing your temples. "Yangyang, he just seems genuinely concerned. And those rumors… maybe you were a bit out of hand that night. It's not Hendery's fault if people saw you."
Yangyang stared at you, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Are you serious? You're actually believing him over me?"
"It's not about believing anyone, Yangyang," you insisted, though your voice lacked conviction. "It's just… it doesn't make sense that he'd go to such lengths for no reason."
"The reason is you!" he yelled, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "He wants you! And he'll do anything to get rid of me!"
His outburst only served to reinforce Hendery's narrative. You flinched, and a shadow of hurt crossed Yangyang's face as he realized he was only pushing you further away.
Ten, witnessing the exchange, stepped in. "Yangyang, calm down. You're not helping."
"Not helping?" Yangyang scoffed, a petty laugh escaping him. "I'm trying to open her eyes, Ten! You're just as blind as she is!"
Despite the fractured trust, the three of you—you, Ten, and Yangyang—remained friends. Your shared history, your bond grown in years of laughter and late-night dance sessions, was too strong to break completely. You still shared meals, studied together, and practiced as a unit. But the easy camaraderie was gone, replaced a sense of unspoken tension. Yangyang often retreated into himself, his usual bubbly energy replaced by a simmering anger, a frustration that was obvious. He still loved you, and the pain of your trusting Hendery, even partially, was a constant ache.
Hendery, observing it all from a calculated distance, smiled inwardly. The wedge was firmly in place. He was now an accepted part of their circle, a charming presence, while Yangyang appeared increasingly erratic and jealous.
The night before the showcase, nerves were at an all-time high. The four of them were doing a final run-through in the studio. Yangyang, still visibly bothered, kept his distance from Hendery. You felt a pang of sadness looking at him—he looked so tired, so guarded.
As everyone practiced a group Hendery subtly nudged Yangyang out of position, making him miss a key transition. It was so minor, so quick, Yangyang stumbled, recovering quickly, but his frustration was there.
"Watch it!" Yangyang snapped, glaring at Hendery.
Hendery simply offered an apologetic smile. "My bad, Yangyang. A little off tonight, I guess."
Ten, seeing the momentary friction, stepped in. "Alright, everyone, let's just focus. One more time from the top."
You watched Hendery as he repositioned himself, saw the quick, glint in his eyes that vanished just as quickly. It seemed as though he was doing this on purpose.
As the music started again, you found your gaze drifting to Yangyang. He was dancing with an almost desperate energy, as if trying to prove his worth through movement alone. Your heart ached for him.
—
The unease from the studio lingered, a subtle discord in the air even after practice ended. That night, an unspoken agreement formed between you, Yangyang, and Ten: you needed a distraction. Xiaojun, a friend of you 3 from dance class, readily agreed to join your gathering at your shared apartment. A few bottles of soju and familiar company seemed like the perfect antidote to the pre-show jitters and tension.
The initial atmosphere was lighter than it had been in weeks. Laughter bubbled up easily as you recounted embarrassing dance mishaps and inside jokes. Yangyang, though still carrying his earlier frustration, seemed to relax a little, his usual playful jabs returning. Ten, as always, was the peacemaker, his gentle humor weaving through the conversations, ensuring no one felt excluded.
Xiaojun, with his warm smile and witty remarks, effortlessly integrated into your dynamic. He and you found yourselves bantering about your shared dance class, teasing each other about missed steps and interpretations of choreography. There was a natural ease between you two, a comfortable energy that stemmed from mutual respect and shared passion.
Hendery arrived later, he carried a bottle of expensive wine, a gesture seemingly aimed at smoothing over any lingering awkwardness from the studio. "Hope I'm not intruding," he said, his tone light. "Just thought I'd join the pre-show celebration."
The atmosphere shifted subtly. Yangyang's jaw tightened a little, while Ten offered a polite but reserved greeting. You found yourself watching Hendery.
As the evening progressed, the soju flowed. You and Xiaojun were discussing a particularly challenging lift you were working on in class. Xiaojun, demonstrating with exaggerated gestures, leaned closer to you, his hand touching your arm. You were both laughing, your heads tilted towards each other as you dissected the move.
From his position on the couch, Hendery watched you, his smile faltering for a moment. A flicker of something raw and possessive crossed his features – a tightening of his eyes, a barely perceptible clench of his jaw. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual charming facade. But you, your senses heightened by the earlier realization in the studio, caught it. It was a brief, unguarded glimpse behind the carefully constructed mask.
He quickly recovered, interjecting into your conversation with a forced chuckle. "Having fun there, you two? Looks like things are getting pretty intense in contemporary class." His tone held a subtle edge, a hint of something that you couldn't quite place.
Xiaojun, oblivious to the situation, grinned. "We're just strategizing, Hendery. You should join us sometime, it's good cross training ."
You, however, felt unease tightening in your stomach. Hendery's reaction, though brief, felt significant.
Later, as the others were engaged in a lively debate about the best k-pop dance breaks, Hendery found an opportunity to pull you aside as you headed to the kitchen for more snacks.
"Looks like you and Xiaojun are getting pretty close," he said casually, leaning against the doorframe. His tone was light, almost teasing.
You frowned slightly. "We're classmates, Hendery. And friends. Is there a problem with that?"
He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "No problem at all. Just observing. You two seemed… very engrossed in your conversation earlier." He let the words hang in the air, a subtle insinuation.
"We were talking about dance," you replied, your voice flat.
"Of course, of course," Hendery said quickly, his smile a little too bright. "Just seemed like there was a lot of… chemistry there." He emphasized the last word with a playful wink. "You know, Xiaojun's a great guy."
You stared at him, trying to decipher his meaning. Was he trying to make you jealous? Or was he genuinely… bothered? The flash of possessiveness you had seen earlier replayed in your mind.
"What's your point, Hendery?" you asked, your tone sharper than you intended.
"Point? No point at all. Just making conversation. It's nice to see you laughing and having fun." He reached out and gently brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. "You look beautiful when you smile."
His sudden shift in demeanor, the return to his usual charming self, left you feeling disoriented. Was you imagining things? Had you misinterpreted his earlier reaction? He seemed so sincere now, so caring.
"Thanks," you said stiffly, pulling away slightly.
"Everything okay?" he asked, his brow furrowed with what seemed like genuine concern. "You seem a little… tense."
"I'm fine," you lied, forcing a small smile. "Just tired. The showcase is tomorrow."
"Of course, the showcase," Hendery said, his smile widening. "You're going to be amazing. We all are." He clapped you lightly on the shoulder. "Don't let anything distract you, okay? Focus on your performance. That's what really matters."
He moved back into the living room, his easy laughter joining the others. You watched him go, your mind racing. What had that brief lapse in his facade meant? Was he jealous? Possessive? The thought sent a shiver down your spine.
You returned to the living room, your earlier lighthearted mood completely gone. You observed Hendery, noticing the way he subtly positioned himself closer to you on the couch, the way his gaze lingered on you a fraction longer than necessary. Then you looked at Xiaojun, who was now animatedly telling a story, his expression open and friendly. There was no hidden agenda there, no manipulation.
The contrast was stark. You felt a growing sense of unease, a feeling that you were slowly starting to see the real Hendery beneath the carefully constructed surface. But a part of you still hesitated, unsure if you were overreacting, if you were letting Yangyang's accusations cloud your judgment.
As the night drew to a close and Xiaojun said his goodbyes, Hendery made sure to walk him to the door, engaging him in a friendly conversation. When he returned, he found you staring out the window, your expression thoughtful.
"Everything alright?" he asked softly, placing a hand on your back.
You turned to face him, your eyes searching his. "Hendery," you began, your voice hesitant, "earlier, when Xiaojun and I were talking… you seemed… different for a second."
Hendery's eyes widened in feigned surprise. "Different? How so?"
"I don't know," you said slowly, trying to articulate the fleeting glimpse you had caught. "It was just… a look. Like you were… angry or something."
Hendery chuckled, a dismissive sound. "Angry? At you and Xiaojun talking about dance? Don't be silly. I was probably just tired. It's been a long day." He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low, persuasive murmur. "You know I only want what's best for you. And seeing you happy makes me happy."
He reached out and gently cupped your face in his hands, his gaze intense and seemingly sincere. "Don't let silly thoughts cloud your mind, especially not before the showcase. You need to focus, remember?"
You looked into his eyes, trying to see past the charming facade. There was a part of you that wanted to believe him, that wanted to dismiss your doubts as mere paranoia. But the memory of that fleeting, unguarded expression lingered, a nagging voice whispering that things were not as they seemed.
"Okay," you said softly, leaning into his touch despite your lingering unease. You didn't know what to believe anymore. Hendery's manipulations were subtle, insidious, leaving you constantly questioning your own perceptions. Was you being paranoid? Or was you finally starting to see the truth? The uncertainty was a heavy weight in your chest, a dark cloud hanging over the anticipation of the showcase.
The alcohol and the lingering tension from the evening’s subtle power plays left you feeling drained. After Xiaojun, Ten, and Yangyang had all retired to their own rooms, Hendery lingered in the living area, offering to help you with the last of the tidying. He moved with an easy grace, his presence a comforting, if slightly unsettling, warmth beside you.
"Long day, huh?" he murmured, leaning against the counter as you wiped down the table.
"Yeah," you sighed, running a hand through your hair. "And tomorrow's going to be even longer."
He chuckled softly. "Don't worry. You'll be amazing. I have no doubt." His voice was low, reassuring.
As they finished up, Hendery didn't immediately leave. Instead, he started talking about the showcase, offering gentle words of encouragement, subtly boosting your confidence. He spoke of their shared passion for dance, of the dreams they both held. There was a genuine camaraderie in his words, a connection that felt deeply personal amidst the lingering unease you felt.
One thing led to another. The late hour, the effect of the drinks, and Hendery’s comforting presence began to blur the lines of your resolve. He walked you to your bedroom door, and instead of saying goodnight, he gently placed a hand on your arm. "You're truly incredible," he whispered, his eyes soft. "Don't ever forget that."
—
The next morning, you woke with a jolt, the reality of the showcase hitting you instantly. Hendery was still asleep beside you, his arm loosely draped around your waist. A wave of conflicting emotions washed over you: confusion, a hint of regret, but also a strange sense of comfort. You carefully extricated yourself from his embrace, dressing quickly and quietly. You needed to focus on the performance, to push everything else aside for now.
—
The energy backstage was electric, a whirlwind of nervous excitement and last-minute preparations. Despite the personal drama, the four of them—you, Yangyang, Ten, and Hendery—transformed into professionals, their focus narrowing to the demanding choreography. They moved as a cohesive unit, their years of training kicking in, a silent understanding passing between them as they waited for their cue.
Their performance was a triumph. The crowd roared with applause, their cheers echoing through the auditorium. The intricate lifts, the synchronized movements, the raw emotion they poured into every step—it all resonated with the audience. As the final note faded, they stood panting, exhilarated, drenched in sweat and the sweet taste of success.
Backstage, a flurry of hugs and congratulations erupted. Yangyang, his face split in a wide, triumphant grin, rushed towards you. Without a second thought, he enveloped you in a tight hug, lifting you off your feet in a moment of pure, unadulterated joy. You laughed, hugging him back just as fiercely, feeling the familiar comfort of your long-standing friendship. It was a shared victory, a bond reaffirmed.
The hug lasted a beat too long, a beat that Hendery noticed from across the bustling room. His eyes narrowed, a subtle tightening around his mouth. The casual, friendly smile he'd worn moments before vanished, replaced by a flicker of irritation.
As Yangyang finally set you down, Hendery was already moving towards you two, his expression carefully neutral. He clapped Yangyang on the back, offering a seemingly sincere "Great job, man!" before gently taking your arm.
"Can I talk to you for a second?" he asked, his voice low and smooth, but with an underlying firmness that caught your attention.
You, still buzzing from the performance, nodded, allowing him to lead you to a quieter corner of the backstage area, away from the celebratory chaos.
—
The moment you were out of earshot, Hendery dropped his pleasant demeanor. His eyes, usually so warm, now held an intensity. "What was that?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, but sharp enough to cut through the lingering adrenaline.
You frowned, confused. "What was what?"
"That hug with Yangyang," he clarified, his jaw tightening. "It was a bit… much, don't you think?"
You stared at him, your own irritation flaring. "Much? Hendery, we just finished the showcase. We've known each other for years. We were celebrating!"
"Celebrating is one thing," he retorted, his voice rising slightly. "But that was practically an embrace. Especially after last night…" He trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air.
The subtle accusation, the possessive undertone, made your blood run cold. The comfortable haze from the night before evaporated, replaced by a sudden, stark clarity. The facade had indeed slipped again.
"Last night was… it just happened," you said, feeling defensive. "And it doesn't give you the right to dictate who I hug or how I act with my friends."
"Friends?" Hendery scoffed, a bitter edge to his voice. "He's clearly still hung up on you, and you’re just encouraging it." He gestured vaguely towards the main backstage area. "He's always trying to get in between us."
"That's ridiculous!" you exclaimed, your own voice rising. "Yangyang is my friend! He's always been there for me! And he's not trying to get in between anyone. You're the one who's trying to push him away!"
Hendery stepped closer, his voice dropping again, regaining its manipulative softness. "I'm just looking out for you. I don't want you to be hurt. Yangyang's been acting erratic, making accusations… You deserve someone stable, someone who truly cares about you." He reached for your hand, his thumb stroking your knuckles.
You pulled your hand away, your resolve solidifying. The caring act, the subtle digs at Yangyang. The brief slip, the irritation you’d seen.
"Don't do that, Hendery," you said, your voice firm. "Don't try to twist this. I saw how you looked at Yangyang earlier. And I saw how you looked at Xiaojun last night. You're trying to control me, and you're trying to alienate me from my friends."
His expression hardened, the charming facade cracking further. "Control you? I'm trying to protect you! You're naive. You don't see what he's really doing."
"No, you're the one playing games, Hendery," you countered, your voice trembling slightly with anger and hurt. "And I'm tired of it. I'm tired of feeling like I have to walk on eggshells around you. I'm tired of your trying to make me doubt my friends."
A cold silence fell between the both of you, broken only by the distant sounds of celebration. Hendery stared at you, his usual confident demeanor faltering for a split second, a flicker of genuine shock in his eyes that you had seen through him. Then, his features rearranged themselves into a mask of hurt innocence.
"Is that what you really think of me?" he asked, his voice laced with wounded disbelief. "After everything? After last night?"
You felt another wave of confusion and doubt. Were you being unfair? Had you misinterpreted everything? But the memory of his possessive gaze, the arguments with Yangyang – it all screamed otherwise.
"I don't know what to think anymore, Hendery," you admitted, your voice deflating. "But I know something isn't right."
You turned and walked away, leaving him standing alone in the quiet corner.
You didn't get far before Hendery's voice, soft and hesitant, stopped you. "Y/N, wait. Please."
You paused, your back to him, your heart still thrumming with a mixture of anger and confusion. You waited, bracing yourself for another attempt at manipulation. But when he spoke again, his voice was different – stripped of its usual smooth confidence, replaced with a vulnerability that caught you off guard.
"I'm so sorry," he said, and you heard his footsteps approach, but he didn't touch you. "I was out of line. Completely. There's no excuse for how I acted, for what I said."
You slowly turned, your eyes searching his. He looked genuinely remorseful, his gaze steady and sincere. There was no flicker of the irritation you’d seen earlier, no hint of the manipulative glint. His shoulders were slightly slumped, and he ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit you hadn't noticed before.
"I... I got jealous," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "Seeing you with Yangyang, so happy, so close… it just hit me. I've never felt like that before, that rush of possessiveness. It's not right, I know. It's a flaw I need to work on, and I'm truly embarrassed by it."
He took a step closer, his eyes pleading. "And about what I said about Xiaojun, about Yangyang… that was me being insecure and trying to deflect. They're your friends, and they care about you. I have no right to try and come between you all. I've been a jerk, and I hate that you're seeing this side of me."
His words, delivered with such raw honesty, chipped away at your defenses. The anger that had been simmering within you began to dissipate, replaced by a surprising rush of empathy. He wasn't trying to twist things or blame you; he was admitting his faults, something you hadn't expected.
"I really like you," he continued, his voice earnest. "More than I've liked anyone in a long time. And the thought of losing you, especially after… after last night, it just made me act irrationally. I'm not trying to excuse it, but I hope you can understand." He looked down at his hands, then back up at you, his gaze unwavering. "Can you… can you forgive me?"
You studied him, trying to find any trace of insincerity, any sign of the calculating individual you'd glimpsed. But all you saw was a man laid bare, vulnerable and seemingly truly apologetic. The way he spoke, the sincerity in his eyes, felt undeniably genuine. You remembered the warmth of his presence the night before, the genuine encouragement, the shared passion. Maybe, just maybe, this was the real Hendery, and the other moments were just him struggling with unfamiliar feelings.
A soft sigh escaped you. "I… I believe you, Hendery," you said, the tension finally leaving your shoulders. "It's just… it was really upsetting. And honestly, it scared me a little."
A flicker of relief crossed his face, followed by a renewed sense of regret. "I know, and I'm so sorry for that. I promise you, I'll work on this. I don't want to be that person, and I definitely don't want to make you feel that way ever again."
He reached out, tentatively taking your hand this time. His thumb gently stroked your knuckles, a familiar, comforting gesture. "Y/N" he began, his voice dropping to a soft murmur, "I know this is probably the wrong time, but… I really want us to be something. Officially. I want to be your boyfriend."
The question hung in the air, unexpected yet not entirely unwelcome. Despite the drama, despite the flashes of his darker side, there was an undeniable pull you felt towards him. His charm, his passion, his sudden vulnerability – it was a potent combination. And in that moment, seeing him so open and seemingly sincere, you felt a surge of hope. You looked at him, truly looked at him, and saw the potential for something wonderful.
A small smile touched your lips. "Okay, Hendery," you said, your voice soft but clear. "I'll be your girlfriend."
—
News travels fast backstage, especially when it involves the personal lives of performers. It wasn’t long before Yangyang found out. He'd been heading towards you, a grin still plastered on his face, ready to suggest you guys go grab a celebratory meal. He saw you, standing a little too close, Hendery still holding your hand, a soft, intimate smile on your face. His own smile faltered, a knot forming in his stomach.
When Hendery finally released your hand and pulled you gently into a brief, possessive hug, Yangyang knew. His blood ran cold. He tried to tell himself it was just a friendly gesture, a continuation of their earlier conversation, but the way Hendery’s eyes met his over your shoulder, a subtle, a smirk playing on his lips, confirmed his worst fears.
Later, in the quiet of the dorms, after the last of the celebratory buzz had faded, Yangyang confronted you. He cornered you in the kitchen, his voice low and urgent.
"You and Hendery?" he asked, his brow furrowed with disbelief. "Are you serious? After everything?"
You sighed, leaning against the counter. "He apologized, Yangyang. Truly. He said he got jealous, that he was insecure. And… I believe him."
Yangyang threw his hands up in frustration. "Believe him? Y/N, he's playing you! He’s been manipulative this whole time, trying to push everyone away from you, and now he’s pulling this innocent act?" His voice rose slightly with each word. "Did you not see how he looked at me after the performance? The way he's been trying to get under my skin?"
"He admitted to all of that, Yangyang," you insisted, your voice firm. "He knows he messed up, and he promised to change. I really think he means it."
Yangyang stared at you. "You're being naive. He's good, I'll give him that. He knows how to charm his way out of anything. But he hasn't changed. He’s just playing a different game now." He felt a pang of despair, a deep ache in his chest. "I just don't want to see you hurt."
Across the living room, where he was engrossed in his phone, Hendery heard every word. A slow, knowing smile spread across his face, hidden from your view. He leaned back against the sofa, a quiet chuckle rumbling in his chest. Yangyang's frustration, his obvious distress, was almost comical. He had apologized, he had won you over, and now he had something truly worth holding onto. The fact that it visibly upset Yangyang so much only made the victory sweeter. He glanced up, catching Yangyang’s furious gaze over your head. Hendery offered him a small, almost imperceptible wink, a silent taunt that spoke volumes. The amusement in Hendery's eyes was clear, a stark contrast to Yangyang's growing despair.
The next few days settled into a new, slightly awkward, rhythm. Hendery, citing a need to "give you some space" and "focus on my own commitments," had opted to return to his own apartment across town. While you felt a pang of disappointment at his absence, a part of you welcomed the return to the familiar comfort of your shared apartment with Ten and Yangyang. The silence without Hendery’s constant, charged presence was a relief, allowing you to process the whirlwind of emotions from the past week.
Yangyang, however, remained visibly bothered. The vibrant energy that usually radiated from him was dampened, replaced by a quiet watchfulness. He tried to act normal, offering you casual conversation about their dance routines or upcoming schedules, but his usual easy banter was gone. You noticed the way his eyes lingered on you, a flicker of hurt and concern in their depths that twisted your stomach with a quiet guilt. You knew he was struggling with your decision, and it made your own happiness with Hendery feel tinged with a bittersweet ache.
Ten, ever the observant one, walked a careful line. He offered you gentle smiles and reassuring pats on the back, acknowledging your new relationship without overtly praising it. He also tried to engage Yangyang, attempting to coax him back into their usual easygoing dynamic, but even Ten's efforts seemed to hit a wall. He was supportive of you, as he always was, but a subtle tension hung in the air between the three of them.
—
Hendery, though physically absent, was far from out of the picture. His texts to you were constant, a steady stream of sweet nothings, compliments, and playful inquiries about your day. He built you up, reminding you of your talent, your beauty, and how lucky he was to have you. Amidst these declarations, however, a new, theme began to emerge.
"Just thinking about you," one text would read, "and how lucky I am. It's just a little strange, isn't it, having your roommate so obviously into you? I mean, while you're dating someone else?"
Another time, after you mentioned Yangyang's quiet demeanor, Hendery replied, "It's understandable he's upset, I guess. But for your sake, you deserve to feel comfortable in your own home. Having someone pining after you, especially your roommate, can't be good for your peace of mind. It’s a bit… disrespectful to you and to our relationship, don’t you think?"
You found yourself rereading these messages, a slow unease unfurling within you. You tried to dismiss them at first. Yangyang is just my friend, you’d tell yourself. He'll get over it. But Hendery's words, so carefully phrased, began to plant seeds of doubt. You started to notice Yangyang’s lingering glances, his quietness, his occasional sighs, through a new lens. Was he indeed "pining"? Was it truly disrespectful to you and Hendery? The idea of Yangyang's affection, once a comforting constant in your life, now felt like a subtle burden, a shadow on your new relationship.
—
Hendery wasn't limiting his communication to you. He also reached out to Ten, subtly weaving his narrative into their conversations. These interactions were always framed as friendly check-ins, brotherly advice, or lighthearted jokes.
"How’s Y/N doing?" Hendery would text Ten. "She seems a little preoccupied lately. Is Yangyang making things awkward?"
Another time, "It’s a tough spot for you, isn't it? Having a roommate who's clearly still hung up on another, especially now that we're together. I just want her to be happy and stress-free at home."
Ten, who genuinely cared for both you and Yangyang, found himself in a difficult position. He wanted to be a good friend to you, to support your new relationship, but he also saw Yangyang's pain. Hendery's comments, however, began to subtly influence his perspective. He started to view Yangyang's sadness not just as unrequited love, but as something that was creating an uncomfortable atmosphere for you. He saw it as a burden you shouldn't have to carry, especially when you were trying to build something new with Hendery.
One evening, after Hendery's latest text about Yangyang's "pining," Ten approached you in the living room. "Hey," he began, his voice gentle. "Are things… okay, between you and Yangyang? He's been really quiet."
You hesitated, Hendery’s words echoing in your mind. "I don't know, Ten," you admitted, rubbing your temples. "Hendery thinks… he thinks Yangyang being so obviously upset is making things weird. Like it's not fair to me or to Hendery."
Ten nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. He didn't disagree with Hendery's sentiment, not entirely. "I can see that," he said, his tone supportive. "It's a tricky situation. I mean, it's not fair to you to have to deal with that kind of emotional… intensity, especially in your own home. You deserve to feel comfortable and happy here." He paused, then added, "Maybe Yangyang just needs a bit of space, or a clearer understanding of where things stand. For everyone's sake."
You looked at Ten, grateful for his understanding. You respected his opinion, and hearing him echo, even in a softer way, Hendery's concerns, solidified the idea in your mind. It wasn't just Hendery being possessive; it was a legitimate issue. The idea that Yangyang's emotional state was a burden on you, a disruption to your newfound happiness, began to take root. The subtle manipulation was working, slowly but surely, turning your compassion for Yangyang into a growing sense of exasperation.
—
The atmosphere in the apartment grew increasingly strained. You, influenced by Hendery’s whispers and Ten's well-meaning but misguided reinforcement, found yourself becoming subtly irritated by Yangyang’s quiet presence. You started to perceive his silence as sullenness, his lingering glances as intrusive, and his general sadness as a deliberate attempt to cast a shadow over your relationship.
One afternoon, Hendery decided it was time to move beyond subtle hints. He’d orchestrated a visit when he knew you would be out, leaving Yangyang and Ten as the only ones home. He found Yangyang in the living room, sketching in a notebook, a familiar look on his face. Ten was in his room, listening to music.
Hendery walked in with an air of casual confidence, but his eyes held a steely glint. He clapped Yangyang on the shoulder, a gesture that felt more like a claim than a greeting. "Hey, man," he said, his voice smooth but with an underlying edge that Yangyang immediately picked up on.
Yangyang looked up, his expression guarded. "Hey, Hendery, y/n isn’t here."
Hendery settled onto the sofa opposite Yangyang, a feigned lightness in his tone. "So, listen, I wanted to clear the air. About y/n."
Yangyang's grip tightened on his pencil. "What about her?"
"Look, I know you guys have a long history," Hendery began, leaning forward slightly, his gaze unwavering. "And I get that old feelings can linger. But you and I are together now. Officially. And frankly, your… pining… is making things really uncomfortable for her. And for me."
Yangyang's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and hurt. "Pining? What are you talking about? I’m her friend, Hendery. I'm worried about her."
"Worried, or wishing things were different?" Hendery’s voice remained calm, almost conversational, but each word was a calculated jab. "Come on, Yangyang. It's obvious to everyone. The way you look at her, the way you act around her. It’s not just friendly. It's affecting her, making her feel like she can't even relax in her own home without someone being upset about her choices."
Yangyang pushed himself up from the sofa, his voice rising in frustration. "You're twisting things! You're the one who's trying to isolate her, to make her think her friends are a problem!"
Hendery stood up too, closing the distance between them. "Let's be clear, Yangyang. I care about y/n. A lot. And I won't have anything or anyone disrupting her happiness, especially not something as childish as unrequited feelings from her roommate. It's time you moved on. For her sake. And for the sake of our relationship." He paused, a subtle, cold smile touching his lips. "She deserves to be with someone who’s fully committed to her, without any lingering emotional baggage."
The implication hung heavy in the air. Hendery was essentially telling Yangyang to get over his feelings, or get out of your life – or at least, out of your apartment. Yangyang stood there, fuming, but the sudden calm and calculated menace in Hendery’s eyes stifled his retort.
—
Later that evening, after Hendery had left, Yangyang found you alone in the kitchen, making tea. He knew he had to talk to you, even if he risked your further annoyance.
"Y/N" he started, his voice strained, "we need to talk. Hendery was here."
You turned, your expression already tinged with defensiveness. "I know. He texted me. Is everything okay?"
"No, it's not okay," Yangyang said, stepping closer, his voice urgent. "He just… he confronted me. About my feelings for you." He saw a flicker of something in your eyes, a mixture of surprise and discomfort. "He said I was making things uncomfortable for you, that I was 'pining' and that it was disrespectful to your relationship with him."
You looked away, fiddling with your teacup. "Yangyang, I… I know it's hard. But he has a point. It's just… it's a bit much, you know? Having that kind of tension in the apartment."
Yangyang felt a cold dread spread through him. You were buying into it. "Tension? You, that's not tension, that's him manipulating you! He's twisting everything. He wants you to believe I'm some kind of problem, so you'll push me away. He's always done this, you!”
He reached out, placing a hand on your arm, his eyes pleading. "Please, Y/N , think about it. Since you two got together, he's been constantly putting me down, making you doubt me. He's trying to control who you can be friends with. This isn't about my feelings; it's about him isolating you."
You pulled your arm away gently, your gaze distant. You remembered Hendery's "apology," his vulnerable admissions. You remembered Ten's agreement that it was a "tricky situation." And now, Yangyang's passionate outburst, while sounding sincere, also felt exactly like what Hendery had warned you about – "erratic," "making accusations."
"Yangyang, stop," you said, your voice quiet but firm. "I… I don't know what to think. Hendery apologized, he admitted he was jealous, he's trying to be better. And Ten even said he understands why it's uncomfortable. You're just… you're upset. And I get it, but you're making it seem like he's this evil mastermind, and it's not fair."
You looked at him, your eyes clouded with confusion and a hint of weary resignation. "I care about you, Yangyang, you know that. But I’m with Hendery now. And if your feelings are making it difficult for me to have a healthy relationship and feel comfortable in my own home, then… then maybe something does need to change."
Yangyang stared at you, his heart sinking. He saw the doubt in your eyes, the way you were already starting to pull away. Hendery’s web of manipulation was tightening, and you were caught right in the center of it.
