Chapter 21 - Three-Second Scandal
The fame didn't hit all at once.
It was more like a rising tide—gradual, but unstoppable. One variety clip went viral. Then a dance challenge. Then a fancam that trended on Twitter for three days straight. And suddenly, she was being called the new "it girl" of the fourth gen.
The past few weeks had been a blur of camera flashes, rehearsals, studio sessions, interviews, and fan events. Her face was everywhere. Her name showed up in hashtags. And at some point, between a 6 a.m. soundcheck and a midnight shoot—
Y/N hit a million followers.
It should've felt like a victory.
Instead, it just felt fast.
She barely had time to catch her breath, let alone process everything that was happening. The high from her debut had long since passed. What replaced it was structure. Noise. Endless movement.
But even through it all, Yunho had stayed close.
They didn't get much uninterrupted time anymore. But they made space for what mattered. A lunch break here. A phone call there. And every night—quiet recharges. A touch of wrists in a van. A tangled couch nap after a long day. Always enough to keep them steady.
Y/N swore she could feel it when they drifted too far apart—like her lungs worked half as well and the colors around her dulled.
So when she got called into a KQ strategy meeting one Thursday afternoon, she didn't expect what they'd say.
"You're going with them," one of the execs said, sliding her a stack of dates. "Not as a performer. But press, brand work, studio time—it's all happening in the same cities. It makes sense, logistically. And... medically."
Y/N stared at the tour schedule. "With them as in—"
"Ateez. You'll be traveling with the team."
Her first instinct was to laugh.
"Wait—are fans going to think I'm opening for them?"
"We'll frame it clearly," her manager said. "Soloist on a media cycle. Sharing travel for cost and efficiency. We'll make it look intentional."
She found Yunho in the practice room that evening, stretching out after a long choreo block. His hair was damp. His hoodie sleeves were pushed up.
"Depends on how you feel about long-haul flights and tour buses."
Then she handed him the printout.
He skimmed it once. Twice. His lips parted. "You're coming?"
"Technically, I'm working around the schedule. Doing U.S. press, filming stuff, recording where I can. But... I'll be there. With you."
He didn't say anything for a moment—just looked at her like he needed to double-check that she was real.
Then he grinned, slow and wide. "You have no idea how happy that makes me."
She raised an eyebrow. "Because of our bond?"
"Sure," he said, though something in his voice hinted at more.
The boys found out in the dorm later that night.
"You're touring with us??" San gasped, already pulling out his phone. "Content. Content. Content."
"We're not even rooming together!" Y/N shouted from the kitchen.
"Sure, sure," Mingi said, flipping his camera. "Just like you didn't mean to cuddle on the Japan trip."
"That was spooning," Wooyoung added. "Let's call it what it is."
Yunho sat at the counter, face pink and lips twitching.
"You're lucky I like all of you," Y/N said flatly, snatching one of the snack bags from Mingi.
"You like him the most," someone coughed.
And Yunho looked at his wrist—at the bar that pulsed a little warmer every time she smiled in his direction—and quietly said nothing at all.
This event had been circled in red on every company calendar for weeks—a sprawling charity gala hosted by one of the top broadcast networks, featuring idols from every major label. An open-floor, black-tie kind of night where cameras roamed, champagne was endless, and boundaries blurred more easily than anyone liked to admit.
Y/N had never been to something this big before.
Not as a name with followers and a debut that had already put her on brand watchlists.
She should've been nervous. But as she slipped into the sleek dark gown her stylist had chosen—a structured, off-shoulder moment that made her look amazing —she mostly just felt... curious.
And then her phone buzzed.
Yunho: facetime incoming...
She rolled her eyes and accepted.
"Are you kidding me?" was the first thing out of his mouth.
She blinked. "Hi to you too?"
"No, no, no. You're going to show up like that and expect everyone to behave? Are you trying to kill me?"
She fought a grin. "It's just a dress."
"It's a weapon," he deadpanned. "You look..."
His voice dropped off, and for a second his face actually pinked on the screen.
"...beautiful," he finished, quietly.
Her breath caught. "Thanks, Yun."
"Alright," he said suddenly, clearing his throat like he hadn't just short-circuited. "I need to go put on my boring black suit and try to look like I belong on the same carpet as you. See you there."
Photographers lined the red carpet outside the marble entryway, camera shutters flickering like lightning. Lights everywhere. Press pens. Screaming fans. Endless limbs in expensive fabrics.
Y/N arrived with a KQ rep but was escorted inside separately—no staged walk with ATEEZ, no pre-rehearsed posing. It was all intentional. Keep it mysterious. Let people ask questions.
But Yunho was already inside when she stepped into the reception hall, and when their eyes met across the room—
He looked just as good as she expected. Crisp lines, black-on-black suit, a hint of chain peeking from beneath his collar. And he wasn't hiding how he looked at her—eyes slow and reverent.
She walked over like the whole ballroom wasn't watching.
"You clean up okay," she said, bumping her shoulder against his lightly.
"You look like someone I'd dream about and never forget about when I wake up," he murmured.
Before she could respond, another voice interrupted them.
Soobin—from TXT—charming and tall and every bit the polished flirt he'd been rumored to be. He leaned in with a crooked grin and offered a hand.
"Would you dance with me?"
Y/N blinked. "Right now?"
"Second slow song just started," he said, glancing toward the open floor. "Feels like a good time to start a scandal."
She laughed, nervous but amused. "Bold."
"I've been accused of worse."
So she shrugged, set her drink down, and followed him to the edge of the dancefloor—fully aware of the pair of eyes burning a hole into the back of her head.
But as the music shifted into something softer—strings and synth and murmured lyrics—he excused himself from his group, stepped through the crowd like it parted for him, and arrived at the edge of the floor like a tidal wave.
Soobin had one hand resting lightly on her waist, the other in hers. His head tilted closer like he was about to say something when—
"Excuse me," Yunho said, perfectly polite.
His hand was already extended.
"I'd like to dance with my soulmate."
Y/N's entire brain short-circuited.
Soobin laughed, light and amused, already letting go. "Fair enough."
She was still stunned when Yunho's hands found her waist, gentle and sure. "Speechless?" he teased.
"You can't just say things like that," she whispered.
He leaned in, forehead almost brushing hers. "I didn't want to watch anymore. Sue me."
Their steps fell into place naturally. Swaying gently under the chandeliered light. The world around them faded into color and blur.
They didn't say much more.
The press would talk. The internet would explode if anyone outside saw.
But right then, she was only thinking about how warm his hands felt through silk. And how slow his smile was when she accidentally stepped too close.
The glitter and chaos of the gala felt like a distant fever dream by the time they were curled up in sweats on her bed, shoes kicked off and heels discarded, sharing a greasy spread of fried chicken and burgers.
Y/N groaned, wiping sauce from her cheek with the back of her hand. "I think this burger just healed my soul."
"I think I ascended during that second nugget," Yunho replied, sprawled out beside her like a starfish, tie long gone, the top buttons of his shirt undone.
The floor was covered in wrappers and crumpled napkins. Her makeup was half rubbed off, his hair was an utter mess, and somehow it was still the most comfortable either of them had felt all day.
Y/N nudged a fry toward him with her pinky. "So."
He side-eyed her suspiciously. "So?"
She popped a nugget in her mouth. "Why'd you do it?"
She raised her brows. "Don't play dumb. Why'd you interrupt me and Soobin on the dance floor like you were declaring war?"
He shifted a little. "I didn't declare war."
"You declared... something."
Yunho sat up slowly, resting his arms on his knees, staring at the takeout bag like it had answers. "I don't know," he muttered, "it just didn't feel right. Watching someone else with you."
She narrowed her eyes. "So you were jealous."
"I didn't say that," he said quickly.
"You didn't not say that."
She grinned. "I'm just saying. If I can't even dance with someone, how am I ever gonna kiss someone again?"
Yunho whipped his head around so fast she nearly dropped her drink.
She blinked at him. "What?"
"Please don't talk to me about kissing other people."
The silence cracked open between them. Her drink stayed frozen halfway to her lips.
"Other people..." she said softly. "Yunho—do you want to kiss me?"
His eyes widened like she'd just slapped him with a frying pan. "Y/N."
"You are jealous" she teased, scooting closer. "That’s what this is?"
He dragged a hand down his face, voice strangled. "Oh my god."
She couldn't help it—she laughed. "That's all you had to say."
And before he could react, she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, quick and warm.
The sound Yunho made was somewhere between a gasp and a yelp—so dramatic that when he flailed backward, he completely missed the edge of the mattress and tumbled off, landing on the floor with a thud and an exaggerated wheeze.
Y/N burst out laughing, hand clapped over her mouth. "YUNHO."
"I'm fine," he groaned from the floor. "I just need to... lie here for a minute. Maybe cry. I’m gonna tell my grandma about this."
She threw a pillow at him. "Get up, we need to pack."
They moved around her room slowly, half-laughing through tired yawns, folding things and pulling out suitcases from under the bed. The clock was past 2 a.m., but they were still wired from the gala and the sugar rush of cheap cola.
"So," she asked, holding up two shirts, "do I pack cute or comfortable?"
"Both," he said. "We'll be gone for weeks. We need options."
"Do I bring my electric toothbrush or act humble?"
"Bring it," he replied. "You're successful now. Let them know."
She chuckled, tucking it into her bag. "How are we even gonna pull this off? Sharing hotel rooms without anyone knowing?"
"They'll probably room us close together again. We'll have to sneak around again."
"You're not exactly subtle."
She gave him a look. "I am extremely subtle. Like a stealthy little fox."
"You kissed me tonight in the middle of a sentence."
She rolled her eyes. "Whatever. The team'll have NDAs, right?"
He nodded. "Managers said they're already in place. But they warned us. If anyone finds out for real—it could get messy."
Y/N bit her lip. "Guess we better be careful."
Yunho looked at her then—really looked. "Yeah," he said softly. "But I'd still rather sneak around with you than be apart."
By the time they finished folding clothes and setting alarms, the adrenaline had started to crash. The weight of the day pressed down in the soft dark of the room, streetlights flickering outside her window.
Y/N pulled the comforter back. "You're staying, right?"
Yunho nodded, already toeing off his socks.
She crawled into bed first, stretching out with a quiet sigh. He followed, flopping down beside her, only to turn over and look at her with wide eyes.
"Can I be the little spoon?"
"I'm just tired. And soft. And delicate. Let me be the little spoon."
She snorted. "You're six feet tall."
She rolled her eyes fondly. "Fine. C'mere."
He wriggled under the covers and settled in front of her, head nestled into the pillow, arms curled up against his chest like a golden retriever in hoodie form.
Y/N wrapped her arms around his middle and rested her chin on his shoulder.
They were quiet for a long beat. Warm. Comfortable. The bars on their wrists pulsed low and steady.
Then—softly—Y/N whispered against the shell of his ear:
"You make me feel really safe, Yunho."
He didn't say anything back.
But the way he sighed, content and tucked close—
