DRIVE 'TIL THE END OF TIME pt. 1 (l.hs)
synopsis: "sometimes i wish i could just disappear." it was only meant to be a figure of speech. but when the world begins answering that wish, lee heeseung finds himself slowly erased from the lives of everyone he loves. with every passing day, another memory disappears, another relationship slips away, and another piece of him is lost — until even the person who promised she'd never leave can no longer remember his name.
pairing: lee heeseung x reader
genre: fluff / heavy angst / hurt-comfort / supernatural romance / psychological horror
tags: angst, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, soloist!heeseung, established relationship, boyfriend!heeseung, supernatural elements, magical realism, one wish willow, wish gone wrong, memory loss, identity erasure, existential crisis, slow burn horror, emotional hurt/comfort, "you don't know me but i know you", love against all odds, happy ending (?), bittersweet moments, protective reader, heeseung needs a hug, no beta we die like ot7 enhypen
warnings: depictions of emotional burnout, mental exhaustion, online hate/harassment, mentions of feeling overwhelmed and wanting to disappear (not suicidal intent), identity/memory erasure, existential distress, grief, loneliness, psychological horror elements, crying, possible angst-induced suffering
word count: 5.6k
author's note (1) : HI this was heavily inspired by the ride or die mv, but i also drew inspiration from highway 1009, overflow, and fatal trouble. also i am lowk #larping bc i actually STILL havent watched obsession (tho i really want to...) but yeah the one wish willow is in here! yippee! lowk i thought this was just gonna be a oneshot but i think with how my writing is going it might turn into a two... or three.... part series ...?
written for @kalelvix, hope u enjoy <33
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Heeseung was exhausted.
Everything just felt like too much.
It had barely even been three months since he'd gone solo. Three months of rushed debut preparations—studio sessions, meetings with his new team and staff, choreography practice, photo shoots for the concept images, and filming the music video. And on top of all that, his already packed schedule had only gotten busier. Brand ambassador deals came pouring in left and right, overseas trips for campaigns and fashion events, magazine interviews, variety show appearances, fan signs, livestreams, and endless rehearsals that bled into the early hours of the morning. Somewhere between airport terminals and dressing rooms, the days had begun to blur together. It just seemed like it would never stop.
Then there was the internet.
Almost every social media platform felt like an endless purgatory. Fan wars seemed to consume every corner of it; debates over "ENHYPEN IS 7" and "ENHYPEN IS 6" flooded his timeline day after day. Speculation about why he'd left ranged from plausible to outright bizarre. And, of course, there was the inevitable hate that came with it all.
He's so selfish.
Traitor.
He's going to flop as a soloist.
I never liked him anyway.
Heeseung had tried bringing it up to his team once, asking if there was anything they could do to help calm things down. The staff had only exchanged tired looks before one of them gave a small shrug.
"It's the internet," they'd said. "People will find something new to be angry about eventually."
Maybe they were right. Maybe the noise would fade with time. But that didn't make it hurt any less. Every notification, every trending post, every accidental glance at his mentions felt like willingly pressing on a bruise that never had the chance to heal.
He sighed heavily, putting his phone face down into the sofa. The gesture makes you glance over, suddenly concerned.
"Hee?" you ask, your tone gentle. "Are you okay?"
He looked over, offering you a smile that never quite reached his eyes. It lingered for only a second before slipping away. "Yeah, I'm okay," he replies, though he himself doesn't sound as convinced. He paused, shaking his head with a quiet chuckle as if trying to laugh it off. "Don't worry about me, Y/N. I'm alright."
You didn't answer immediately.
"Don't do that to me."
"Do what?"
"That," you gesture vaguely at him, studying him carefully. "That thing you do when you're clearly lying to me. When you're hiding something."
Heeseung looks away guiltily.
You sigh softly. You knew your boyfriend too well to know he'd almost never admit he's carrying too much. Nagging him for that wouldn't make things any better.
So instead, you reach for his phone, making his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Babe? What are you doing?"
"I just want to see what they're saying," you say, unlocking the screen and opening X, trying to view his timeline.
Heeseung just sighs, sinking deeper into the cushions. "It's not worth it, Y/N. It's just upset us both—"
Before he can reach over to stop you, you've already started scrolling.
The first few posts aren't too bad. Fan edits from old concerts, clips of him laughing during livestreams, fans counting down the days until his debut. You almost think he's overreacting.
Then your thumb slows.
"...Seriously?"
Heeseung doesn't bother asking what you found. The tired sigh that leaves him tells you he already knows.
He's so selfish for leaving.
You let out an incredulous scoff.
"They don't even know what happened."
Another swipe.
I heard the members couldn't stand him.
"...According to who?" You tap on the account, squinting at the profile. "An anime profile picture with thirty followers?"
Heeseung lets out a humorless laugh, leaning further back into the couch.
"People just make things up."
"Apparently." You shake your head, scrolling again. "Oh, here's another one."
Solo career's gonna flop.
You stare at the screen for a moment before looking over at him.
"...The teaser photos aren't even all out yet."
"I know."
"They don't know what the album sounds like."
"I know."
"They don't know the concept."
Another quiet, defeated—
"I know."
You slowly lower the phone into your lap, turning to look at him instead.
"...I'm getting mad enough for the both of us."
Heeseung just laughs again, reaching again for his phone. "See? I told you it wasn't worth it."
But you hold it out of his reach again, earning a pout from your bleach blonde boyfriend. "Y/N-"
"I wasn't finished."
"Please?"
"Just a little more?"
Realizing that there was probably no winning with arguing with you over this, Heeseung slumps back into the sofa, resorting to resting his head on your shoulder as you proceeded back to scrolling through his X timeline. "...Let's see."
A few more swipes.
Your nose wrinkles.
He's washed up.
You blink, then glance down at the boy who was currently getting himself comfortable in your side.
"...You're twenty-four."
Heeseung hums absentmindedly. "I know."
"How are you washed at twenty-four?"
"No clue."
You shake your head.
"They're acting like you're forty-eight with a bad knee."
That earns another laugh from him.
You grin, satisfied, before continuing.
Never got the hype. He's ugly anyway.
"..."
You look down at the tweet.
Then slowly turn your head toward the man currently resting on your shoulder.
His blonde hair was a little messy from leaning against you. He looked tired, sure—but even now, with dark circles under his eyes and an oversized hoodie swallowing him whole, calling him ugly felt objectively incorrect.
You look back at the tweet.
"...Are they blind?"
"I think that's just Twitter."
"No, because that's an insult to me, too." You wrinkle your nose, feigning offense. "They're accusing me of having bad taste."
He chuckles.
"But this one is just... factually inaccurate."
He laughs through his nose, eyes still closed. "I'm sure they'll be happy to hear that."
You scroll again. More baseless and brainless threads, conspiracy theories, fan wars and arguments here and there. But they were all the same to you, until…
"...Oh."
"What?"
"I think we've peaked."
Heeseung cracks one eye open.
"What now?"
You don't answer right away. Instead, you slowly turn the screen towards him.
Lee Heeseung is the JoJo Siwa of K-pop.
Silence.
The two of you stare at it.
"..."
"..."
You lower the phone again, looking him up and down. You stifle a laugh, glancing back and forth between the post and back to your boyfriend, who now looked just as baffled and amused as you were.
"I'm trying."
Heeseung snorts.
"I really am."
"What are you trying to do?"
"I'm trying to understand."
He lets out a tired laugh. "Have you figured it out yet?"
"No." You shake your head. "I'm completely lost."
You gesture vaguely in his direction.
"You don't wear giant bows."
"I don't."
"You've never rolled up to Music Bank in a glitter-covered car."
"I haven't."
"You've never aggressively rebranded yourself into a grown-up pop star after spending your childhood on reality TV."
"...Oddly specific, but no, I haven't."
"I'm covering all my bases."
He chuckles, letting his head rest more comfortably against your shoulder.
You continue staring at the tweet like it might eventually explain itself.
"No, because where did they even get this from?" You glance over at him, then back down at the tweet, trying to make sense of it. "Is it because you're blonde now?" You tilt your head, giving him an exaggerated once-over before shaking it almost immediately. "No. I'm sorry, but being blonde does not suddenly make you look like a former Dance Moms child star with an obnoxiously high ponytail."
A laugh escapes Heeseung before he can stop it.
"I'm genuinely trying to understand the thought process here," you continue, still staring at the screen. "Like, usually I can at least see where people are coming from, even if it's a stupid comparison. This one? They just put two names in the same sentence and called it a day."
A laugh escapes him before he can stop it, louder than the last few.
You can't help but smile to yourself.
"There you are."
Heeseung hums, lifting his head just enough to look at you. "Hm?"
"You." You gently nudge his shoulder with your own before giving his phone a small shake. "I've been trying to get this guy back all evening."
His eyes linger on you for a moment before his smile softens again. "...Thanks."
You simply smile back, locking his phone and setting it on the coffee table.
"Anytime."
You both linger in the silence, the air now noticeably much less tense than it was ten minutes ago.
"But if you ever do show up to a music show in rhinestones and a side ponytail..."
He groans.
"Y/N."
"...I'm taking pictures."
"And I'm deleting them."
"You can certainly try."
The smile lingering on Heeseung's face slowly fades as he stares up at the ceiling.
"...You know," he says after a while, his voice barely above a murmur. "Sometimes I wish I could just... disappear."
You look up almost immediately.
"Hee."
"Just for a little while," he adds quickly, shaking his head. "Not forever. Just..." He lets out a quiet laugh. "Long enough for everything to stop."
The room falls silent, the lighthearted atmosphere that was there mere minutes ago all gone now.
You shift so you're facing him properly, your expression far more serious than before.
"Don't say things like that."
"I'm serious."
"I know you are." You reach for his hand, your thumb brushing over his knuckles. "That's exactly why I don't want to hear you say it."
He lets out a quiet sigh, his gaze dropping to where your fingers were still loosely intertwined with his.
"I don't mean..." He trails off, shaking his head. "I don't mean disappearing forever. I just..." Another humorless laugh escapes him. "I don't know. I wish everything would stop for a while."
"It will."
"You don't know that."
"No." You gently squeeze his hand. "But I know this isn't forever."
He doesn't answer.
Instead, he leans into you again, his forehead brushing against your shoulder.
"I just hate seeing you like this," you admit quietly. "You spend so much time worrying about everyone else that you forget to be kind to yourself."
A small smile tugs at his lips.
"You make me sound like a saint."
"I make you sound like my boyfriend."
That earns another soft laugh.
You smile to yourself before resting your cheek against the top of his head.
"So no more disappearing, okay?"
He stays quiet for a moment.
"...Okay."
"You promise?"
"I promise."
You hum in satisfaction, wrapping your arms around him a little tighter.
"Good."
The apartment grows quiet again.
The television continues playing in the background, long forgotten as the two of you settle deeper into the couch, tangled up beneath the throw blanket. At some point, your breathing evens out against him, your grip around his waist loosening ever so slightly.
Heeseung glances down.
"...I love you," he whispers.
You don't answer.
Already asleep.
A small smile crosses his face as he brushes a strand of hair away from your face. then it slowly fades away, something that seemed more melancholic taking over.
"I promise."
The words barely leave his lips.
His eyes drift toward the window, where the city lights blur together against the night sky.
Just until everything settles down.
He closes his eyes.
Just... for a little while.
What would it be like... if I really did disappear?
Four hours later, Heeseung finds himself walking down the nearly empty streets of Seoul.
He'd tucked you back into bed before leaving, pressing one last lingering kiss to your forehead while you slept. By the time he quietly slipped out of your apartment, the city had long since settled into the calm that only came after midnight.
Now, he was on his way back to the dormitory.
His dormitory.
The thought still felt foreign.
Not so long ago, "home" had meant six other voices echoing through the halls. Late-night gaming sessions. Someone stealing food from the fridge. Arguments over whose turn it was to do the laundry. Now, it was just him.
His company had insisted it would be easier this way. More privacy. More space. Somewhere he could properly focus on preparing for his solo debut.
Heeseung wasn't sure he'd ever hated the word space more.
The silence waiting for him at the end of each day was deafening.
He lets out a quiet sigh, shoving his hands deeper into the pockets of his hoodie.
At least he still had you.
The thought manages to bring a small smile to his face.
His eyes wander absentmindedly across the street as he walks, only stopping when a brightly lit storefront catches his attention.
A novelty shop.
It looked like one of those places that sold everything and nothing at the same time—rows of keychains hanging in the window, shelves lined with tiny figurines, lucky charms, scented candles, crystals, and other trinkets promising good fortune or positive energy.
He almost walks past it.
Almost.
Instead, he finds himself pushing the door open, the tiny bell overhead chiming softly as he steps inside.
Warm light spills over crowded shelves, every corner of the little shop packed with something strange enough to make him stop and look.
Maybe buying something stupid would help. It wasn't like he had anything better to do tonight. So, Heeseung wanders aimlessly for a few minutes, absentmindedly picking up random trinkets before setting them back down.
A miniature lucky cat.
A tiny astronaut keychain.
Some oddly shaped stress toy.
Then, his eyes land on something tucked away near the register.
A small display of willow branches, each sealed inside a narrow glass vial with a handwritten tag tied around the neck.
One Wish Willow.
REMOVE FROM THE BOX AND JUST MAKE A WISH! SPARK THE MIDDLE AND BREAK IT IN HALF. WHAT ARE YOU WISHING FOR?
He snorts quietly to himself.
"That's a little dramatic." Heeseung murmurs.
Still, he picks the box up.
It was lighter than he'd expected. Turning it over in his hands, he finds the back covered in tiny blocks of text beneath the instructions. Almost like... an FAQ.
His eyebrows knit together.
How many times can I wish?
Single use only. Grants one wish. No multiple attempts. Using additional One Wish Willows™ will not change or affect your other wishes. Only one wish per life per person.
He huffs out a laugh. Who writes an FAQ for a magic stick? Before he could put it back down, another section catches his eye.
Can I change my wish?
Once made, a wish cannot be reversed or repeated. Consider long-term effects. Wishes are irreversible. Think carefully before wishing.
He rolls his eyes.
"Wow… they really thought this through."
As ridiculous as he found it… he keeps reading.
Is there anything I can't wish for?
Cannot grant wishes involving time manipulation, resurrection, immortality, or creating more One Wish Willows™.
It almost reads less like a joke and more like a legal disclaimer. At the very bottom sat one final section;
What if I'm dissatisfied with my wish?
TABI Cat Curiosities is not responsible for wish misinterpretations. Use at your own risk. Users assume all responsibility for wish outcomes.
"...Wish misinterpretations?" A quiet laugh escapes him as he gives the box one last look before placing it back on the shelf.
"Ridiculous."
"You'd be surprised."
The unexpected voice makes him glance up.
The cashier offers him a small smile from behind the register, pausing halfway through restocking a rack of keychains.
"They're surprisingly popular."
Heeseung raises an eyebrow, his gaze drifting back to the little display of boxed willow branches.
"...Really?"
"Mhm." She nods matter-of-factly. "I sell more of those than you'd think."
"Do people actually believe they work?"
The woman shrugs.
"I couldn't tell you." She goes back to straightening the display in front of her. "Some people buy them as gifts. Some think they're funny. Some..." Another small shrug. "...figure it couldn't hurt."
Couldn't hurt.
His eyes fall back to the boxes on the shelf.
It was obviously made up. Just another novelty item sitting among lucky charms and crystals, dressed up with enough disclaimers to make it feel convincing. A clever little cash grab for people with too much hope and not enough skepticism.
Heeseung had never really believed in things like this.
Wishes didn't solve problems. Magic didn't exist.
Still...
It wasn't exactly expensive. And if nothing else, it'd probably get a laugh out of you once he showed it to you. He picks one of the boxes up again, turning it over in his hands one last time before making up his mind.
"...Can I get one of these?"
The cashier smiles knowingly as she reaches for a paper bag.
"Of course."
By the time Heeseung gets back to his dormitory, it was nearing three in the morning.
He barely has enough energy to change out of his hoodie before collapsing into the chair by his desk. The room had long since stopped feeling like a bedroom. Lyric sheets covered nearly every inch of the floor, some neatly stacked, others scattered wherever they'd landed after another late-night rehearsal. The walls beside his desk were plastered with notes from producers and vocal coaches alike—tiny reminders scribbled in different handwriting.
More desperation.
Breathe here.
Smile through this line.
Again.
His laptop sat open in front of him, the instrumental to Overflow quietly filling the room. It had become second nature by now. He'd listened to it so many times over the past few weeks that he no longer had to think before mouthing along to the lyrics, absentmindedly following the guide vocal as he flipped through another page of notes.
The song had never been particularly difficult.
If anything, that was the problem.
Every lyric seemed to hit a little too close to home. The more he rehearsed it, the less it felt like he was preparing for a debut and the more it felt like he was reading from his own diary.
He lets out a quiet sigh, shaking his head and pen tapping absentmindedly against the edge of the paper before circling another note in the margin.
"...Aniyo."
The phrasing still wasn't quite right.
He presses replay.
The instrumental starts over from the beginning.
Again.
As he reaches into his backpack for another notebook, his hand brushes against something tucked inside.
The paper bag.
"...Right."
He'd almost forgotten.
Pulling the small box free, he sets the One Wish Willow on the corner of his desk without a second thought, more concerned with the pages spread out in front of him than the novelty trinket he'd picked up on the way home. It sits there beside his laptop, almost blending into the clutter.
His attention drifts back to the music.
The instrumental loops from the beginning once more as he adjusts the stack of lyric sheets in front of him, pen tapping idly against the paper while he follows along. Every now and then he'd stop to underline a word, circle a breathing mark, or scribble another reminder in the margins before starting over from the top. It had become a routine over the past few weeks—listen, sing, make a note, replay. Listen, sing, make a note, replay. Somewhere along the way, he wasn't even sure whether he was polishing the performance anymore or simply trying to convince himself he was ready.
Just as he begins another run-through, his phone buzzes against the desk.
He ignores it.
The instrumental continues playing, carrying him into the first verse, but another vibration follows only seconds later. Then another. Before long, the steady stream of notifications begins interrupting his concentration more than the music itself, each buzz pulling his attention away from the lyric sheet in front of him.
He doesn't have to check.
He already knows.
Another article. Another rumor. Another thread dissecting his every move. Another stranger claiming to know why he'd left, why the members no longer spoke to him, why his solo debut was doomed before it had even begun.
His grip on the pen tightens.
With a tired sigh, he reaches over and flips the phone face down, hoping the silence would be enough to help him focus again.
It isn't.
By the time he looks back down at the lyric sheet, he'd already lost his place.
The instrumental continues into the chorus without him.
"...Here we go again."
The words leave his mouth almost instinctively.
He isn't sure whether he was referring to the song... or himself.
The room falls quiet again.
Not because the music had stopped—the instrumental was still playing softly through the speakers—but because Heeseung had.
The lyrics continued without him as he leaned back in his chair, rubbing a tired hand over his face before letting his gaze wander across the cluttered desk. Crumpled lyric sheets. Half-empty water bottles. His headphones. A notebook he'd forgotten to close.
Then his eyes landed on the small box tucked beside his laptop.
Reaching over, he picks it up, turning it over absentmindedly between his hands. The cardboard gives slightly beneath his thumb, the printed instructions on the back just as dramatic as he'd remembered them being.
Make a wish. Light the center. Break it in half.
A quiet huff escapes him.
The whole thing was ridiculous.
Still, he found himself staring at the words a little longer than he probably should have. Maybe it was because it was nearly three in the morning. Maybe it was because he was exhausted. Or maybe it was because, after everything that had happened these past few months, the idea of fixing his problems with a single wish didn't sound quite as laughable as it should have. His thumb lingers against the edge of the box before he quietly slides it open.
Inside rested a single willow branch, thinner than he'd expected, tied neatly with a piece of twine. He turns it over once between his fingers, the dried wood feeling surprisingly fragile in his hands.
Make a wish.
Heeseung stares at the tiny branch for a long moment. It felt ridiculous, standing alone in his room at nearly three in the morning, about to make a wish to a twig he'd bought from a novelty shop on the walk home. It wasn't real. He knew that. It was probably manufactured in some factory alongside the keychains and lucky cats sitting on the shelves beside it.
Still...
"I wish the world would just… leave me alone."
His voice is barely above a whisper.
Not forever.
Just for a little while.
Long enough for everything to quiet down. Long enough to stop feeling like he had to be somewhere, doing something, answering to someone every second of the day.
He rubs his thumb against the middle of the branch before placing both hands around the willow, applying just enough pressure for it to snap cleanly in two.
Then he waits.
The room stays exactly the same.
The instrumental to Overflow continues playing softly through the speakers, the chorus drifting through the room as a car passes somewhere outside. His phone remains face down where he'd left it, blissfully silent for once. Nothing shifts. Nothing glows. Nothing happens.
A quiet sigh escapes him.
Of course nothing happened. He wasn't sure why he'd expected anything else. Maybe he hadn't. Maybe he'd only been curious. Or maybe, somewhere between all the exhaustion and the loneliness of the past few months, a small part of him had wanted to believe that things really could be fixed that easily.
The thought leaves almost as quickly as it comes. Shaking his head, he drops the broken pieces back into the box and pushes it toward the corner of his desk before gathering the scattered lyric sheets into a loose pile. The music cuts off as he closes his laptop, leaving the room to settle back into silence.
Tomorrow was another early morning.
Another rehearsal. Another schedule. He'd deal with it when he woke up.
With little more than that passing through his mind, Heeseung changes into an old T-shirt, slips beneath the covers, and lets sleep find him almost instantly.
By the time the sun rose over Seoul the next morning, the little box was already forgotten.
Morning comes far sooner than Heeseung would've liked.
His alarm blares from somewhere beneath his pillow, dragging him out of an already restless sleep. He groans quietly, fumbling around the sheets until his hand finds his phone. Without even opening his eyes properly, he swipes up out of habit.
The lock icon shakes.
Face not recognized.
His brows knit together.
"...Seriously?"
He lifts the phone a little higher, blinking the sleep from his eyes before trying again.
Face not recognized.
A quiet sigh escapes him. He punches in his passcode instead, figuring Face ID had probably bugged out again. It wasn't exactly the first time technology had decided to stop cooperating for no reason, and after barely four hours of sleep, troubleshooting his phone ranked pretty low on his list of priorities.
The home screen loads.
Almost immediately, something feels... off.
Usually, his notification center would've been overflowing by now. Messages from his managers reminding him of today's schedule. Group chats he'd muted months ago. Fans tagging him in edits overnight. News articles. Mentions. Brand emails. At least a dozen things demanding his attention before he'd even gotten out of bed.
Today...
There were barely any.
Just the weather. A reminder for rehearsal. One promotional notification from an app he'd forgotten to delete.
He stares at the screen for another second before locking it again.
"...Huh."
Maybe everyone had finally decided to leave him alone.
The thought lingers for only a moment before he shakes his head to himself, pushing the blankets aside and getting ready for the day.
The morning air is crisp as he steps out of the dormitory, his route carrying him down the same streets he'd walked almost every day for the past few months to years. A few early commuters passed by without paying him much attention, the city only just beginning to wake around him.
A few minutes later, the familiar little café came into view.
It had become something of a routine. Stop by before rehearsal, grab an iced americano, exchange a few words with the barista before heading to the company building. After enough mornings, they'd stopped asking for his order altogether.
The little bell above the door chimes as he steps inside.
The smell of freshly ground coffee fills the room almost instantly.
"Morning."
The familiar greeting comes from behind the register.
Heeseung glances up, offering the barista a tired smile as he fishes his wallet from his pocket and makes his way over. The café smells faintly of freshly ground espresso, the quiet hum of conversations and steaming milk blending into the familiar morning routine he'd settled into over the past few months.
"Annyeong." He slips his wallet onto the counter. "The usual, please."
The barista hesitates.
"...Sorry?"
"My usual." He gestures vaguely toward the espresso machine with a small, tired smile, thinking maybe she'd just misheard him. "Iced americano."
She doesn't move.
Instead, she looks at him apologetically, brows knitting together for just a moment before she lets out an awkward laugh.
"Sorry... is this your first time here?"
Heeseung blinks.
"...No?"
"I'm sorry." She gives him a sheepish smile. "I don't think we've met before."
For a second, he just looks at her, the words taking a moment longer than they should to register. Then, almost absentmindedly, his gaze drops to the name tag clipped neatly to her apron.
Jiyoon.
He looks back up.
Same short hair. Same silver earrings. Even the tiny moon-shaped pin she'd always worn beside her name tag was still there.
"...You're Jiyoon."
"I am."
"You've been working here for a while."
She nods easily.
"Almost three years."
"...Right."
He falls quiet, rubbing the back of his neck as he lets out a small breath through his nose. For a fleeting moment, he wonders if he's somehow mixed her up with someone else, but the thought disappears almost as quickly as it comes. No. This was definitely the same café. The same counter. The same barista he'd exchanged the same handful of conversations with nearly every morning.
"...Sorry," he says with a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "I must need more sleep."
"It's okay." Jiyoon smiles politely, already turning back to the register. "So... what can I get started for you today?"
He hesitates for the briefest moment.
"...An iced americano."
"Of course."
Her fingers move quickly across the register before she looks back up at him.
"And your name?"
...
Heeseung freezes.
The question itself wasn't strange. Plenty of cafés asked for names. This one never had.
"...Heeseung."
"Thank you."
She types it in without so much as a flicker of recognition before tearing the receipt from the machine and sliding it across the counter.
"It'll be ready in just a few minutes."
He nods absently, taking the receipt before stepping aside to wait. The conversation had lasted less than a minute, no different from any other order placed that morning. Jiyoon had already moved on to greeting the next customer by the time he reached the pickup counter.
It shouldn't have bothered him.
Really, it shouldn't have.
But for reasons he couldn't quite explain, that tiny interaction lingered in the back of his mind long after it was over.
The coffee tastes the same as it always does.
Maybe that was enough to convince him he'd simply imagined the whole thing.
By the time he reaches the HYBE building, the strange encounter at the café has already begun fading into the back of his mind.
The lobby is just as busy as ever.
Staff hurry through the revolving doors with coffees in hand, trainees weave through the crowd carrying backpacks far too big for their shoulders, and idols slip in and out with baseball caps pulled low over their faces. It was the same organized chaos he'd walked through almost every day for years.
Normal.
Everything looked normal.
Employees streamed through the lobby like they always did, coffee cups in hand and lanyards hanging from their necks. The security gates chimed every few seconds as people tapped their IDs against the scanners before disappearing toward the elevators. Somewhere off to the side, someone was laughing over a conversation Heeseung couldn't quite make out.
It was just another morning at HYBE.
He adjusts the strap of his bag before making his way toward the security gate, the familiar route so ingrained into him that he barely has to think about it anymore.
"Morning."
One of the guards looks up from his monitor.
"...Good morning."
Heeseung returns the small nod automatically as he reaches for the lanyard around his neck, already pulling out his company ID. It was a routine he'd repeated hundreds of times before. Tap the card. Wait for the gate to unlock. Head upstairs.
Before he can bring the card to the scanner—
"Excuse me."
His hand stops midair.
He looks up.
The guard is watching him now, his attention no longer on the monitor in front of him but fixed entirely on Heeseung.
"...Yes?"
"Can I help you?"
For a second, Heeseung just blinks at him, the question taking a moment longer than it should to register. A small, confused smile finds its way onto his face as he glances toward the security gates behind the guard before looking back at him again.
"...I'm heading in."
"I'm sorry, sir." The guard steps around the desk, his expression polite but firm. "This entrance is for employees and artists only."
Heeseung can't help but let out a small laugh.
"Oh." He lifts the lanyard hanging around his neck. "Sorry. Here."
The guard takes the ID from him without another word. His eyes scan the card once. Then a second time, before they lift back to Heeseung's face. His brows slowly pull together.
"...Where did you get this?"
The smile slips from Heeseung's face almost immediately.
"What?"
"This identification."
"...You gave it to me."
"I'm sorry?"
"I mean..." He rubs the back of his neck with an awkward laugh, already feeling strangely embarrassed. "Not you, specifically." He gestures vaguely around the lobby. "The company."
The guard doesn't laugh.
If anything, his expression only grows more suspicious.
"I'm going to have to ask you to step aside."
Something twists uncomfortably in Heeseung's stomach as another security guard makes his way over. He recognizes him immediately. The older one had congratulated him after his first music show win. The younger one always wished him luck before overseas schedules. They'd exchanged greetings almost every morning for years.
"...Guys."
Neither of them reacts.
"...Seriously? It's me, you know me—"
The older guard shares a brief look with his coworker before turning back to him, his voice calm enough that it almost makes the situation feel worse. The older guard shares a brief glance with his coworker before looking back at him, his expression no longer suspicious so much as confused.
"Sir... what's your name?"
The question makes something in Heeseung's chest tighten.
It was the second time someone had asked him that today.
Just a few hours ago, the barista at the café had looked at him with that same polite confusion, asking for his name as if she'd never seen him before. He'd brushed it off then, blaming it on a lack of sleep. But now, standing in the lobby of the building he'd walked into almost every day for years... It didn't feel like a coincidence anymore.
He swallows.
"...Lee Heeseung."
Nothing.
"...Evan."
Their expressions don't change.
His heartbeat begins to pick up.
"I'm an artist under BE:LIFT LAB."
Silence stretches between them for another beat before the older guard lets out a quiet, almost sympathetic sigh.
"I'm sorry sir," he says gently. "There isn't an artist under this label by that name."
author's note (2) : shits only gonna go downhill from here bwahahahaha... pt2 in the works <33
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